ash

There were a handful of profanities waiting on the tip of Jungkook's tongue right now — funny, considering he rarely cursed. Then again, he rarely found himself cock-blocked by his five-year-old son. It wasn't his fault, of course, but Jungkook still mourns the press of your lips against his, a reality that now seemed thousands of miles away.

"Santa— Is it you?" 

Cassian was half-awake at best. On rare occasions he would sleep walk, leaving Jungkook to patiently follow him up and down the stairs a couple of times as he tries to guide him back to bed without waking the boy entirely. He hopes that isn't the case tonight — God have mercy on him and this creaking house if he had to be walked like a dog on a leash behind a sleep-dazed Cassian. 

Luckily, that does not seem to be the case for a moment later his son pries his heavy eyes open fully, adjusting to the kitchen lights slowly. Jungkook exhales a relieved breath as he turns back to you — well, where you had been standing a second ago. You'd already torn yourself from his grasp, and when he peers down, Jungkook finds his empty hands staring back at him as they clutch weakly at the air. 

"Hi sweetie," your voice is coated in sugar and it makes his head whip in your direction. He finds you crouched in front of his son, the same hands that should've been resting on the back of his neck by now, instead cradling Cassian's small face. The corner of his lip tugs into a frown but he says nothing when approaching the two of you. 

Cassian stifles a yawn as he glances around the kitchen. "I thought I heard something," he says, clearly disappointed that what he came down to find was not Santa. Their eyes meet and for a second Jungkook fears that his son might start asking question he has no answers to — thankfully you're faster. 

"It was probably just the wind, old houses make noise sometimes," you tell him with a smile. 

He accepts that with a sleepy nod, his gaze wandering back and forth between you and Jungkook once more as his brows furrow across his forehead. "What are you and daddy doing in the kitchen? It's night." He points an accusing finger to the window where the moon can be seen beyond the glass. 

Taking another step forward, Jungkook closes the distance between you and his son. "We were just getting some water," he says, hoping that the simple explanation would be enough to put a lid on the child's curiosity. 

"Hm…" Cassian hums, blinking slowly like it made perfect sense. 

Not wanting to give his son room for further prying, Jungkook hauls him into his arms. "Alright, back to bed," he announces without leaving air for argument. Cassian's tiny body goes pliant in his embrace within seconds, his head becoming a warm and comforting weight where it lolls forward to rest on his shoulder. 

You, too, rise to back to your full height, fingers reaching up to brush a strand of hair from the boy's face. The gesture was mindless and you probably thought nothing of it — but Jungkook's heart did. It squeezes hard in his chest and he has to pry his eyes away until your touch no longer lingers right under his nose. 

"Goodnight sweetie," you say when taking a small step back, to which Cassian mumbles a tired response. It still makes your lips stretch into a grin and Jungkook hates himself for wishing that the affection had been directed at him and not his son. 

He shoves the dangerous thoughts aside as he adjusts his grip on the small child. Then he gives you a quiet nod, not trusting himself to speak. His attention strays by the necklace around your neck before he turns to leave — the gold glinting softly under the kitchen lights where it rests against your skin, the taste of you a permanent mark on his tongue. 

His parents' house is quiet when he makes his way up the stairs. He does not glance back to see if you've followed, but when the steps don't creak behind him, he figures that you hadn't. 

"Daddy?" 

Cassian's voice is a drowsy murmur against his chest, barely audible despite the reigning silence. "Yes?" Jungkook hums when he walks through the door his son had left ajar, heading toward the lower bunk where the younger slept. 

It takes him a moment to respond and Jungkook uses the delay to tuck him in, arranging the duvet carefully over his smaller frame. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he waits his son out. 

Rubbing his fist over his eyes, Cassian makes a sound that told Jungkook he was thinking intently about something. Finally his lips part, "Do you always hug nanny like that?" 

The room drops ten degrees and suddenly he wishes that his son had been sleep walking after all. He shifts just enough for the mattress to groan and Jungkook almost does the same. At the very least, the kid had thought his father's busted attempt at a kiss to be nothing but a hug — which was more than he could've prayed for. 

"Well you see…" he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, silently thanking the darkness of the bedroom for hiding the flush on his cheeks. "Grown-ups hug," shrugging, he tries to appear indifferent, "Just like how I hug your nana and papa." 

"But papa and nana is your mommy and daddy," the boy quickly counters, "Nanny is just nanny." 

"Right," Jungkook drags his palm down the line of his face, "Nanny is just nanny." He thinks of something else to say, something that will either bore the child or have him fall asleep in an instant. Unfortunately he's at his wits end and Cassian's eyes aren't growing any heavier as they await his response. 

"Sometimes people need hugs, even if they're not family." The words are pulled out of him in a most unsure way but he deems the answer good enough. 

His son frowns, "Is nanny sad?" Concern has crept its way onto his tired expression. Try as he might — and try he did — Jungkook could not for the life of him figure out what you had done to make the usually introverted and quiet boy so enamored with you. 

"No," he shakes his head, "Nanny is fine." The last thing he needed was any talk of what his child had witnessed to be taking place at the breakfast table in the morning. 

Silence settles over the bedroom both of his children share. In the distance the faint ticking of whatever nonsense-trinket-clock his mother had found at a flea market, can be heard. Jungkook remains seated on the edge of his son's mattress, making sure not to move a fin and disrupt the possibility of the latter falling into a deep slumber. 

Minutes pass — how many? he has no idea. But the fact that his back was beginning to hurt from the hunched over position he sat in was telling enough. He listens for the faint hum of breaths, trying to gauge if the kid was any closer to sleep. 

"Daddy…?"

Never mind, Jungkook sighs. He shifts enough to face him better, or as best as one could given the looming shadows of the night. "Yes?" he quires, hoping that whatever came next would be brief. 

Cassian hesitates, had it been any lighter he might've caught the sight of him chewing up his bottom lip. Instead he is faced with quiet darkness — until his son finally speaks again. "Are you sad?" 

The question has him glancing down at his lap, where his hands rest idly on top of his knees. He turns one of them, bending his thumb slightly. "No," his tone is certain, almost too sure of itself, he softens it before adding, "I'm fine." 

When there's no response Jungkook turns fully toward the small boy. He leans forward, reaching the same hand up to brush the soft, slightly curly ends of his hair back. "I'm happy," it's not a lie, but he doesn't know if it's the full truth either. 

Cassian tilts his head into his father's palm, "You are?" 

Jungkook hums, then he bends down to press a gentle kiss to his son's forehead. "Of course, I have you and your sister," he murmurs against the soft skin of the boy's temple before pulling back a fraction. 

"Okay," Cassian seems content with that as he snuggles a little deeper into the duvet. "Promise—" he's' interrupted by a yawn, "You tell me if you're sad." After a moment he says, "I'll make you feel better. We can hug." 

Often times Jungkook found himself wondering what he might have done in a past life to deserve his own children. If he stopped to think about it for too long he knows that he will only deem himself unworthy of their unconditional love. So he doesn't. Instead he presses another chaste kiss to Cassian's forehead. 

"I will," he promises, so quietly that it would have only been audible if you listened close. The moonlight bleeds onto the young boy's face, his dark lashes fluttering as his father's answer registers — then they grow heavy. Jungkook stays a moment longer, watching as Cassian's body sinks further into the matters. 

His lips part, "I really thought Santa was in the kitchen," he sighs. Despite being upset over the missed opportunity to meet the white-bearded man, exhaustion was quickly winning out and a few seconds later, soft snores fill the space between them, signaling that he had passed out at last. 

With a final brush to his son's forehead, then his cheek, Jungkook rises from the bed — nearly hitting his head on the top bunk where his daughter slept. Making sure to watch his step, he manages to exit the room without waking anyone, sliding the door shut behind him with a muted click. 

The study he had offered to sleep in was far from comfortable. Jungkook thought that perhaps he had become somewhat picky when it came to having his bedding done. Still, he settles onto the tiny spare bed, grimacing at how the stiff mattress dug into his back before turning to his side. He's greeted with the sight of books. Books stacked on top of more books that crowd the old shelves. 

Brows furrowing together, he studies the nonsensical order in which the titles were structured. His father had always been somewhat of a character. He'd probably lose track of his right arm if it hadn't been attached to his torso. So the chaos on his bookshelves should come as no surprise. It still makes Jungkook's fingers itch where they tap restlessly against the covers. 

Forcing his eyes shut with a sharp inhale through his nose, he tries to think about anything else. The darkness behind his eyelids feel like a clean slate, no mess, no nothing. His sanctuary lasts for about ten seconds before images of you flood his vision. He tries to shake them at first, not that it ever worked. 

Jungkook figures that there was no harm in imagining your face rather than the chaotic bookshelves in front of him, if only for a little while. So he lets it be his last thought before succumbing to sleep that night. 

It had been three-hundred and sixty five days since the last time he spent Christmas at his parents house. It had been different back then, a year ago the holiday seemed bleak. The carols were too loud, the animated movies only a messy flicker of color in front of his tired eyes. He'd tried to smile for his children as they opened their gifts — it ended with his mother stepping in to do what he couldn't, as if to add onto the list of his failures. 

His guilt consumed him during the weeks that followed. For a long time it was all Jungkook felt. 

Christmas is different today as well, but he finds that he doesn't mind it. Rayne and Cassian are perched on the floor, the younger riffling through the mountain of presents excitedly as Jungkook and his parents watch from the couch. You sit beside them, there's still adequate space on the soft cushion next to him, but you had insisted on staying by the kids' side. 

The sun had just broken the horizon and a few pale streaks of yellow managed to pierce through the windows, basking the three of you in their warm hues. Jungkook didn't have to force a smile on his lips today — that was nice. 

"Hm…" Cassian scratches his chin thoughtfully, "This one." He reaches out to grab one of the neatly wrapped packages, turning it over in his hands as the struggles to read the card attached to it, probably thrown off by the cursive hand writing. 

You lean forward, peering over his shoulder with a hum. "To Rayne from Nana and Papa," you nod when pointing to the card, letting him follow the tip of your finger as you read. When you're done you sit back to let him extend the gift to his sister who took it with careful hands. 

The sound of paper ripping fills the living room and his mother shifts eagerly in her seat as she watches her grandchild open the first gift of the day. Rayne's fingers are gentle where they undo the red wrapping. Her eyes soften around the edges when they land on the contents inside. 

"Thank you," she says when holding up the set of purple pajamas. The shirt has flowers sewn onto it, scattered across the sleeves and the chest piece — Jungkook recognizes the patterns as his mother's touch in an instant, similar to the stitches she would do whenever she mended his broken clothes when he was little. 

"Now, I didn't make the entire thing because there wasn't enough time. But I thought the flowers could be a nice personal touch for—" his mother is cut off mid sentence as Rayne wraps her arms around her. Having already gotten up from her spot on the floor, she now clung to her grandmother tightly. 

"Thank you, nana," she says, the words muffled against the woman's shoulder. 

"Hey now," his father suddenly clears his throat, drawing attention toward himself, "I paid for it." 

The corner of Rayne's lip twitches and she goes to hug him as well, letting her grandfather place a kiss to her forehead. 

Jungkook watches the exchange quietly, his gaze drifting over to you without meaning for it to. But you're not looking at him, no, you sit entirely captivated by the sight of Rayne and her grandparents. The smile on your face reminds him of a time since long lost and the strange flutter in his chest doesn't help ease the situation. 

Rayne reclaims her spot beside her brother on the floor and the present unwrapping continues. Jungkook is mostly oblivious to what is being said as he regards the scene with half-lidded eyes. Gifts are passed back and forth, Cassian receives a similar pajama set from his grandparents, the dinosaur Jungkook had seen you pick out at the store. 

The majority of things from the humongous pile were all Jungkook's doing. Rayne especially was hard to decide on appropriate presents for, so he'd tried to compensate by getting them a large spread instead. 

"Thank you, daddy!" His son crashes into his arms, the box of shiny toy cars that he still cradles gets squished between them, but he doesn't mind. Placing a kiss on the crown of his head, he then leans back as Cassian returns to shuffle through the steadily shrinking mountain. 

Rayne gets a book from her grandfather — the palette of makeup that Jungkook has little knowledge on from you. He recalls the hot and stuffy air of the mall as you dragged him up and down the aisles, discussing different brands that seemed indifferent to him. Though his daughter pauses when the gift registers. 

Her brows furrow before softening again, finger tracing the edge of the plastic cover as she reads the name under her breath. Then she turns to you, who'd been watching her whilst chewing on your nail — a nervous habit of yours Jungkook had realized. 

"I wasn't sure about the colors— So if you want another palette we can go and have it changed but I thought that you might like your own since—" 

"Thank you." Rayne interrupts you halfway through your ramble, dark eyes meeting yours as she smiles, an awkward but sincere smile that Jungkook rarely saw. "The colors are perfect," she then adds, her attention lingering by the purple shade, "I love it." 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, nodding as your posture relaxes again. The moment is short-lived, mostly because her brother was far too eager to continue. He'd already grabbed another, rectangular shaped present and was now reading the card to the best of his abilities. 

Rayne leans in to help out, her face going through a handful of expressions before she turns to you. "It's for you," she announces as she turns back to where you had just gotten comfortable again, "From father." 

Jungkook blinks, immediately pulled from his thoughts as his attention snaps toward the gift his son was now handing you with a beaming grin. He recognizes the wrapping in an instant, the one he had spent a ridiculous amount of time choosing only to settle on a dark green with red dots. 

You accept it with a tiny frown, surprised almost, at least so he thinks. He doesn't know why he feels nervous all of a sudden and he hopes no one notices the way he shifts in his seat, hands locking together across his lap as he bites his cheek. It shouldn't be any different from last night, except today he has an audience. 

Your fingers linger on the card he'd written, was it not enough? Should he have said something else — maybe he should say something right now? 

The paper rips before he can and Jungkook exhales through his nose as he watches you open the present he'd gotten for you. It takes less than a minute but it's enough time for him to rethink the entire thing and he can feel sweat beading on his forehead. 

You, however, have not looked up from the box in your lap and when the wrapping comes off your brows shoot high on your forehead. A soft breath escapes you, then a small chuckle and his heart does a weird little skip against his ribcage. 

"How did you know?" You ask when opening the cardboard lid. 

The corner of his lip twitches and he shrugs, "A hunch." It was admittedly more than a hunch, not that he would ever confess to that — the grin you wear is well enough to have his head spin. 

"Well go on, show us!" His mother squeals on her end of the couch, leaning forward for enough for Jaejoon to place a hand on her shoulder to prevent an unnecessary fall. 

Doing as she says, you hold up the box to display the shoes inside. Sneakers, not anything extravagant — unless you peeked at the price tag, though Jungkook had been smart enough to remove that. 

Your worn out excuse of footwear had bothered him since your first day, even when he'd refrained from making any comments on their state. With the current weather that itch had become almost impossible not to scratch, and your displeased grimace whenever snow managed to wet your socks was enough to have him make up his mind. He'd taken the liberty of checking for your size when arriving back home last week, taking a mental note of the color and going with something similar for these. 

"Thank you," you say, and he can tell you mean it. For a second it looks as though you might just get up and hug him like the children had done. He tries not to appear disappointed when all you give is a smile. "Seriously, these are great," your gaze stays with him a moment longer, making him nod slowly. 

"You needed a new pair," he says, his voice a lot hoarser than he'd like for it to be. His parents seem to approve of the message as well, though not more than his son who was taking a very close look for himself. 

Cassian points excitedly to the window, "We can play outside and you can wear them later!" 

You agree to his suggestion enthusiastically and Jungkook allows himself to relax back against the couch with a sigh. His eyes wander toward the snow outside, the idea of spending time getting cold and wet does make his nose scrunch, but he keeps quiet as he watches the slowly rising sun. In fact he was so focused on it that he nearly missed the way you leaned forward to whisper into the young boy's ear, pointing subtly toward one of the presents under the tree. 

Without further questioning, Cassian turns to grab it and with your help he reads the card easily. "To Jungkook, from nanny," and as if it weren't obvious enough, he holds it out toward his father, "It's for you daddy!" 

Jungkook blinks dumbfoundedly as he stares down at the present held out before him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a present for Christmas, no less one wrapped in shiny red with a green bow on top.

It's light in his palms and he glances over to find you with your arms hugging your legs, bottom lip bit in anticipation. Clearing his throat, he turns back to carefully undo the neat bow. He tries not to picture your own hands instead of his as he peels the wrapper apart, tries not to think about how you might have looked when you sat down to prepare this gift for him. 

The living room is awfully quiet, save for the rustle of paper as he finally strips the box bare. He barely glances at the brand name, it didn't matter where it was purchased, as long as it was from you. Pausing for a second, his gaze flickers up to meet yours one last time before removing the lid. 

Inside is a tie. Not like the ones he'd usually wear, the sleek black and navy ones that blended in with the rest of his wardrobe. No, this one is a deep red, it reminds him of a rich wine. He runs the pads of his fingers across the smooth fabric, the texture feels no different from the ones he already owns, this one might even be softer. 

"I figured you could use a little more color," you say and Jungkook looks over to see you smiling. 

The corner of his mouth curves upward as he takes in the sight of the tie once more. He imagines when he could wear it — proudly to the office — or perhaps only for you. Any other day he might've tried to pry those thoughts from his mind, tell himself that there was no point in dwelling on things he knows he shouldn't want. But right now, he lets himself think of what it would be like to take you to dinner, to spend time with you outside of his house, out in the real world. 

"I definitely could," he muses as he traps the fabric between two fingers, "Thank you." 

Sometimes Jungkook finds himself wanting to kiss you for no apparent reason all. This is one of those times. He wishes his family was elsewhere, despite the sacred holiday and the presents that have yet to be opened, he wishes to be with you and only you. 

The fantasy is quickly interrupted by his father who leans closer to take a look for himself. "This one will suit you nicely, son," he says, turning to you with a pleasant grin, "You have good taste, dear." 

The flustered giggle you emit makes his heart thunder in his chest, not quite the same way it had on your couch almost a week ago, it's fiercer now. "I'm glad," you hum when placing your chin on one knee. Jungkook feels your attention on him, it makes him warm, a nice kind of warm that he clings onto even as the conversation shifts and Cassian goes back to giving out more gifts. 

The next fifteen minutes or so are spent with the children opening the rest of their presents — his parents opening their own which he had gotten them. An electrical whisk for his mother, something she had insisted on not needing though he didn't see why not since she spent more time baking than anything. A chess board for his father, under the guise of them playing together in the future, which the man seemed very eager about. Jungkook often found that it was easier to express himself through materialistic resources — words never came out right for him anyway. 

Soon there was only one lonesome package left under the tree. The shape makes him frown, it wasn't soft, nor was it square or rectangular. Rayne picks it up, having taken over the role of reading the cards out loud rather than having her younger sibling struggle. 

She turns the lumpy present in her hands, its wrapping was different from all the others, a pale blue with reindeer on. Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she gets her expression under control again and clears her throat. "To Cassian, from… Santa." 

Her brother's head whips in her direction at that and for a little while he sits completely frozen on the floor. Then he's scrambling over to his sister, practically tearing the gift from her hands as he checks the card for himself. "Santa?!" He sounds disbelieving as he scans the room, like he was expecting the man himself to walk in at any given moment. 

"Well go on, open it," Rayne urges, clearly invested too, even if she tried not to show it. Cassian wastes no time in getting to work, tearing the paper with less care than he had previously. 

Jungkook frowns as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs through his own list in his head, but he couldn't for the life of him remember using that wrapper — and he certainly wouldn't have wrapped it like that. When glancing toward his mother and father, he finds them looking just as confused yet intrigued as himself. 

It's not until he looks over at you and sees the grin you're fighting off that it clicks. 

Cassian's ear piercing shriek pulls him back toward his son who'd already finished breaking through the paper that now lay scattered around him. "I told you! I told you!" he says as he holds up the box of rainbow colored crayons to his sister, "I knew Santa would read my list!" 

"What are those?" Jaejoon inquires as he squints behind his glasses. 

"Rainbow crayons!" The boy says, stumbling to his feet as he plops down in his grandfather's lap. "Look! Only Santa can make these, that's why I put them on my list." 

Ye-seo leans forward as she, too, studies the crayons closely, her face lighting up into a grin that matches her grandson's. "Why, you must have been a really good boy this year for Santa to give you something so special," she says as she pinches one of his cheeks lovingly. 

Jungkook regards them for a moment longer as he tries to piece together where you had managed to get that. Then he remembers the run-in with that Namjoon at the store. He'd just come back after acquiring the gifts he intended to give you, already tired and sick of the crowded mall to find another man chatting with you like one would an old friend. 

The encounter had left a bitter taste in his mouth which he tried to rationalize over and over on his way home to little avail. He thinks he might vaguely remember you holding a colorful box of something, though he'd been too caught up on the stranger in front of him to pay it any mind. 

When he turns to where you sit on the floor you meet his gaze, your head tilted to the side and a knowing look on your face. He mouths a quiet 'thank you' under his breath to which you nod. 

The air inside the living room feels warmer after that and Jungkook's chest feels warmer than it had in a long time. 

Tradition on Christmas Day includes an endless marathon of animated movies that Jungkook couldn't care less for. The dialogue and soundtracks were imprinted into his head by now and sometimes he found himself begrudgingly muttering them in real time as whatever film on-screen played. 

The kids' channel offered a variety throughout the entire morning and afternoon. It was one of the rare times in which he'd let the children spend time in front of the TV and if they had it their way, it would be a good couple of hours. 

Lady and the Tramp had already started by the time Jaejoon got the remote control in his hand and Cassian had bounced up on the couch, claiming what little space remained on the cushion alongside his sister. The sofa wasn't spacious per se, it allowed for a family of four — five if two of them were small enough to be counted as a half. That left you, still sitting on the floor as everyone else huddled up on the soft cushions. 

"Dear, come up here and join us," his mother says as she beckons you over, clearly not having thought over how that was supposed to work. 

You glance up, brows scrunching together as your gaze trails over the already crammed couch. "Oh— I'm fine here," you say, flashing Ye-Seo a small smile. 

"You can sit here," Jungkook barely registers the fact that he's on his feet, towering over everyone in the room as he gestures awkwardly to the spot he'd just been occupying. 

It doesn't fully sink in until he realizes that everyone had gone painfully quiet — even the movie playing on the TV had faded into background noise. He clears his throat, refusing to back down as he steps aside to offer up his seat for you. 

You blink, eyes darting between him and the available spot on the sofa. "No—" shaking your head, "It's alright I can see well from here." 

"I insist."

He knows that he's pressing the matter more than what could be considered appropriate in front of his parents and children, but he can't come to terms with you sitting on the floor while he lounged on the comfortable piece of furniture. 

Jaejoon finally shifts slightly, "Alright," he says as he hauls Cassian up into his arms, easily maneuvering the boy to sit on his wife's lap. "You too kid, come here," he pats his thigh for Rayne who raises a brow but shuffles over without protest. 

Jungkook watches the entire scene with his lips pressed into a firm line as his father easily solves the problem for him in a much simpler and more dignified manner. He glances to the extra space on the sofa, his mouth running dry as you murmur out a shy 'thanks' and slide onto the cushion, fitting in easily next to his family. 

He waits a second before joining you, careful not to brush up too close, which was nearly impossible. His thigh ends up pressed against yours, the warmth of your body radiating through the layers of clothes, straight into his own. 

"I love the girl dog," Cassian says as he points to the TV, content to be in his grandmother's gentle embrace. 

Rayne scoffs, "Her name is Lady, not the girl dog." 

"Lady doesn't sound like a real name," her brother retorts with a scrunch of his nose.

His sister looks ready to argue but Jaejoon diffuses the tension with a pat to her arm. "Such an insignificant detail to get hung up on, let us just enjoy the movie, hm?" he says in a cheerful voice. It does make the two of them settle down again and the topic shifts to the cruel Siamese cats instead. 

Jungkook is hardly paying them any mind. He's far too preoccupied noticing each part of you that connects to him. Your joint hips, the way his knee occasionally bumps against yours when he tries to get comfortable — always to no avail. His hands are clasped together on his lap, thumbs twiddling restlessly with one another. 

The movie is lost on him and he doesn't try to tune in. You are though, eyes moving in tune with the different scenes that play out, humming along softly to whatever song was playing. It makes him frown. Jungkook wants you to look at him, doesn't have any idea why, he just does. 

One of his palms move across his thigh, the edge of his hand resting just a breath from yours. Everyone is preoccupied, there's no harm in letting his pinky brush against the expanse of your leg, he thinks. 

The touch is light, a barely-there caress of his finger but you still tense up beside him, your gaze meeting his without turning your head. For a very short moment he believes that you might swat him away, perhaps read his innocent attempt at contact wrong and think him perverted. 

But you simply turn back to the film, forcing Jungkook to swallow down the disappointment building in his throat. He shifts his attention to the animation on screen, it fails to immerse him, not when you sit just beside him — and he doesn't move his hand. 

It's somewhere between the Tramp and the Lady's first meeting that he feels the subtle brush of skin against his own. His shoulders stiffen and upon glancing down, he sees your pinky resting against his own. You're still not looking at him, but the corner of your lip twitches and he knows it has nothing to do with the movie. 

Lady and the Tramp wrapped up a while ago and a new movie which he did not know the name of had began playing, though Cassian and Rayne were now more invested in their presents than anything. His parents had made their way to the kitchen in order to prepare the large breakfast you were to have. Jungkook joined them, he figured he would be of more use out there anyway. 

His mother was already fussing over being behind schedule, even as his father tries to reason with her by saying that it was not yet ten in the morning. 

"Oh for goodness sake, don't just stand there — go on, set the table!" Ye-seo ushers her husband through the doorway, his hands filled with plates and glasses. 

Jungkook for his part, remains silent as he slices two oranges to go along as sides. The knife wasn't as sharpened as he'd like but he made no comment on it to his mother who was now frantically stirring porridge on the stove. "Will you pass me the ginger, sweetie?" she asks without glancing up. 

Knowing better than to make her wait, Jungkook abandons the fruits he'd been cutting with a nod. The pantry was a complete mess compared to the comforts of his own home and it takes him a good minute to find it as he scours the shelves. "Top left," she calls out when he took too long. 

Finally spotting the small jar, he grabs it and heads over. His mother hums out a 'thank you' as she adds a generous amount into the pot. In the distance, the echoes of Cassian's giggles can be heard, the sound is soon followed by the familiar tune of your own laughter. Without thinking, Jungkook turns his head toward the source, trying to catch a glimpse of you in the living room. 

The knife lies loose in his grip now, passively resting there as he listens to your muffled conversation in the distance. His heart does this weird leap in his chest and he tries to brush it off as quickly as it had came. 

"She's quite lovely." 

His mother's hummed comment makes Jungkook pause and he nearly gives himself whiplash when turning to back to the cutting board where the forgotten oranges lay. "Hm?" he tries to feign nonchalance as he angles the blade once more. 

"Your nanny," she continues as she stirs the porridge, "She takes good care of Cassian and Rayne." 

Jaejoon had chosen that exact moment to return, instantly tuning in to the topic as he walks up beside his wife. "She does," he agrees when placing a hand on Ye-Seo's waist, "Got her life figured out too. That's some impressive work ethic at her age, not to mention that she studies full time." 

Jungkook nods, his gaze trained to the orange he slices thinly. He takes comfort in the repeated motion as he guides the knife slowly, the thud of it hitting the wooden board ringing loud in his ears. Suddenly, his mother speaks up: 

"Is she not a bit too young for you?" 

The sudden inquiry makes him freeze, fingers curling tighter around the knife's handle. "What?" His response comes out short and colder than he'd like but he cannot help the frown that etches its way onto his face, nor the way his jaw clenches when she continues without missing a beat. 

"I mean—" she shrugs, "She's a lovely girl there's no doubt about that. But she's only twenty." 

His next swallow goes down his throat thickly, he's sure they notice. "I think what your mother is trying to say," his father interjects as he shifts uncomfortably next to Ye-Seo, "Is that there are complications when it comes to certain… age differences." 

The words bring out a bitter taste in Jungkook's mouth and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying something he would end up regretting. He scoffs, grabbing another orange even when he'd already cut plenty as he forces the blade through it with more force than necessary. It was insulting of them to think that the matter hadn't kept him up for weeks now. That he hadn't even taken your age into consideration when it had in fact been on his mind for far too long. 

"I assure you there is nothing to worry about," he grinds out, "Our relationship is nothing of the sort." The lie comes easily but he makes a point of not looking up from the cutting board — he knows that his mother will see right through him if he does — part of him fears that she already has. 

In the living room the TV is still going, a dramatized sound effect from whatever movie you and the children were watching fills the dense air between him and his parents. Jungkook wills his gaze to remain on the task in front of him, even when it longs to find you. 

Ye-Seo huffs under her breath, "You take your own mother for a fool?" She means to come across as scolding but her tone is far too soft for it to ever be. Giving the porridge another stir, she turns to face him fully — his father had gone quiet next to her. 

Jungkook can feel her eyes on him though he makes no move to meet them as he mindlessly cuts away at the orange in uneven slices.

"You may have your own kids now, but you are still my son." She inhales a quiet breath, "I haven't seen you look at anyone like that since— since…" 

There's no need for her to finish her sentence. He knows who she speaks of and it makes his lips twist into a grimace. Yet, the longer he lets the thought sit with him, the more dangerous it becomes. Jungkook hadn't allowed himself closeness for a long time, for his sake and for the children. You were never meant to be any different. 

And Jungkook knows that he's being selfish. He knows that each time he kisses you he lures you deeper into a false reality that he for some reason allows himself to cling to. What he doesn't like is that his mother knows this too. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." It's a pathetic excuse that shames him to the core but he utters it anyway — hoping to bury the entire conversation. 

Ye-Seo stops stirring the porridge entirely, her expression growing almost solemn as she says, "I just want for you to be happy." But could she not see that was trying? That he had been trying for so long now — wasn't that enough? 

"I'm worried about you," she then adds, "After everything that happened with Yelena, I—" 

The knife makes a deafening sound against the tiled counter top when Jungkook slams it down, startling his mother into aborting whatever she was about to say next. He turns to his parents with his chest tied up into knots, teeth grinding against each other with an intensity that borders on painful. 

"Son…" His father finally speaks in a low, cautious voice, like one would a frightened animal. He's got a hand on his wife's hip, the other on her shoulder as he hugs her close. The pity on his face makes everything worse — so does the weak attempt at comfort that he tries to provide. 

"Don't," Jungkook spits, moving to wipe his hands on a nearby towel, "I don't need to hear it." He bunches the fabric up between clenched fists in an attempt to channel his emotions onto the unsuspecting rag. 

His mother untangles herself from her husband's embrace, taking a couple of steps in his direction. "Sweetie," her fingers caress his tense forearm, "Your father and I only mean well. What happened between you it's…" She trails off, hesitation flickering across her features before she says, "It's still affecting you." 

Jungkook knows she's right, knows they both want what's best for him. That's what stings the most. He was tired of being pitied. The month that followed at work had been torture enough. The lingering glances from his employees. The apologetic smiles and the condolences. His parents had undoubtedly been the worst — not that he ever told them. It was enough that he was hurting, he hadn't needed his mother and father's feelings on his conscience. 

"I'm fine," he turns his head in the direction of the living room as the sound of approaching footsteps reaches his ears. "Don't bring her up again," he tells them both as Cassian comes barreling through the doorway with you and Rayne in tow. 

Both his parents fall silent at that and Jungkook turns his back on them as his son comes up to show what he had drawn with his new rainbow crayons. "Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!" Discarding the towel on the counter, he crouches down to come eye-level with the boy and as Cassian eagerly points to different parts of the painting, Jungkook glances up to peer at you subtly. 

You're smiling from ear to ear, oblivious to the conversation that had taken place in your absence. The necklace he'd given you last night sits prettily around your neck, its golden hues shimmering softly under the kitchen lights — a constant reminder of his affections, the ones he cannot bring himself say out loud — he hates himself for his own incapability. 

The uncomfortable twist of guilt in his chest returns as he regards the serene expression you wear. His parents had been right, he thinks. 

Jungkook was taking more than he could offer in return — a selfish man he was. 

── [ ✉️ ] Okay... Peeking out from behind my hands very nervously right now. Hopefully the quality wasn't horrible, it was even harder to write this from Jungkook's POV which I did not expect so I honestly don't know how to feel. Hopefully it is okay?

“another win today.” namjoon says, leaning back against the couch with a sigh.

jeon jungkook, kim taehyung, park jimin, kim namjoon, kim seokjin, jung hoseok and min yoongi, seven powerful businessmen had spent the whole day in boardrooms acting like actual hunters in sealing the deal that left everyone else speechless. exhausted and filled with the adrenaline of victory, they'd all collectively decided to head straight to one of the city's most exclusive clubs. they didn’t wanna face the quietness and loneliness of going back to their house, where everything seemed too consuming but coming here wasn’t any better.

they had everything one could only ever dream of, endless money, private jets, yachts and influence over the highest ranks yet the men today felt a certain hollowness in their chest. a void that no amount of luxury could fill, it was mocking because they were supposed to celebrate winning billions today.

they were all seated in the vip section that had been prepared for them before they even arrived, their status was known too well by everyone.

jungkook the youngest yet fiercest among them, who is used to getting what he wants slumped back against the cushions, his black suit jacket unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose around his neck, revealing the tattoos that traveled up his arm to the side of his chest. taehyung was beside him as he accepted a glass from the waitress, his own tie loosened as well. jimin fiddled with his cufflinks before tossing them aside while namjoon, who was often like the leader when it came to their business, crossed one leg over the other.

seokjin the eldest ran a hand through his hair, loosening his tie completely to be able to breathe properly. hoseok beside him, probably the least grumpy and bubbliest in the group, leaned forward with elbows on his knees but he also tends to be intimidating at times when necessary. yoongi the quietest and most intimidating was right beside him, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. he was the most feared and intimidating one among all of them, those sharp eyes alone sent shivers down people's spines.

“it feels empty..” hoseok broke the initial silence as he exhaled smoke from his own cigarette. the vip rooms glass walls allowed a view of what was going on outside but inside it felt too isolated.

“billions more in the bank—we should be celebrating shouldn’t we?”

but even as he spoke, his eyes drifted to the ashtray, his usual vibrant energy dimmed by that same hollow feeling they all shared. they were tired of the constant days of work and the same routine that nothing seemed to spark that feeling of being alive anymore.

“yeah.” jungkook replied with a frustrated tone as he stared into the distance, lost in thoughts of the day that should have left him exhilarated but instead left him numb.

“fuck… it feels like i'm losing myself amidst so much work.”

taehyung nodded slowly, swirling the alcohol in his glass before taking a sip, his gaze distant as he took off his suit jacket throwing it over the armrest.

“i feel it too… there's no excitement anymore, no one to share it with that truly gets it.”

it felt like they'd climbed every mountain to reach the top and they finally had but now the view is just empty sky. the conversation went on between them comfortably until jimin chimed in too.

“i caught myself standing by the office window earlier.” he mutters.

“i was thinking about how we used to make such a big deal of every win. now we’re making billions and i barely feel anything.”

he lets out a dry laugh.

“that's messed up isn’t it?”

namjoon ever the philosophical one, nodded.

“i get it, we spent years working for it convinced it'd make us happy then we get here and.. life just keeps going.”

“exactly.” seokjin added.

“i brought the latest new car last week, the one everyone won't shut up about.”

“and?” hoseok asked making jin snort.

“and nothing, it was cool for ten minutes then it was just another car you'd brought.”

a few chuckles spread around the table. yoongi remained quiet but his rare interjection cut through, taking a drag from his cigarette before speaking.

“every day feels the same lately.”

the others looked up at him.

“wake up, work, make money, go home, repeat.”

“and the worst part?” taehyung says quietly.

“we should be happy..”

“but we’re not.” jimin finished.

silence settled as they sat there with just their thoughts. a stripper began her usual routine just outside their enclosure, her body moving in a seductive dance catching the attention of every single man present there but not one of the seven men so much as glanced her way, their eyes remained unfocused staring into space, occasionally sipping their drinks or puffing smoke out. all their thoughts were interconnected in some way.

jungkook traced the rim of his glass absentmindedly while taehyung's brow lifted when yoongi spoke up again.

“we're sitting here acting like a bunch of depressed old men.”

that earned a few genuine laughs.

“maybe we are old men.” seokjin admits.

“speak for yourself.”

the laughter faded but the mood felt lighter for a moment even though the silence returned because it wasn’t awkward just familiar.

in the main area outside the exclusive section, you walked around balancing a heavy tray full of cocktails and liquors. you'd worked this job for far too long, your sweet smile remained fixed on your lips as always but that never quite reached your exhausted eyes. the uniform you wore was the standard for the club and what all the waitresses here must wear, a tiny shirt and a black blouse with a neckline plunging enough to reveal your cleavage but not overly vulgar. it was tiny and tight leaving little to the imagination and you'd grown used to the wandering eyes and glances of drunk men while working. your feet ached in those heels today and the constant barrage of customers earlier had left you drained but you still pushed forward with determination.

just a few more hours before you can go home and relax and get out of this hellhole.

as you continued serving in the main area moving between tables, you hadn't even glanced toward the vip section yet, focused entirely on the section you were serving placing drinks in front of some loud men nearby but you didn’t know that taehyung's eyes had lifted suddenly, scanning the crowd out of habit before locking onto you. for whatever reason, you caught his attention immediately and completely.

there was something about the way you carried yourself, even from where he sat he could see the tiredness etched deeply in your eyes, the way when you thought no one was watching you let your posture slump. he couldn’t help but notice the subtle bounce of your breasts with each step and the way your hair was styled but slightly messy from the busy night. it wasn’t just the physical allure even though you were one of the sexiest women he had laid eyes on, it was also the authenticity, the way there was something real in you. it was like a cherry on top, making you look even more attractive in his eyes even though he hadn't interacted with you and it made his heart race. unexpectedly.

intrigued taehyung straightened, genuine interest flickering in his usually bored gaze as he leaned toward the others.

“hey all of you, look over there, the waitress serving the main floor.”

the group shifted their attention subtly, eyes following his direction. jungkook raised an eyebrow crushing out his cigarette as he took in the sight of you balancing another tray.

“damn… there's something about her.” jungkook observes.

jimin tilted his head, a small smirk forming as he observed you.

“i know right?”

he was clearly intrigued as namjoon nodded thoughtfully, eyes assessing you even from afar. it reminds them of something genuine almost, she doesn’t even know they're watching and it makes them want to learn more about you. why do you stand out so much? and why even though they haven’t interacted with you, are you already making the night feel less lonely?

jin chuckled as yoongi finally speaks up, his tongue coming down to lick at his bottom lip collecting a stray drop of alcohol.

“she caught my eye too.” he confesses.

they go quiet for a bit just watching you, feeling that unexplainable pull that took away the heaviness from their chest for a fleeting moment. taehyung grinned, eyes still tracking your movements.

“told you she's something else. makes you wanna know more doesn’t it?”

everything else was put aside, now all their fascination is on you as you continue to work completely unaware.

you leaned over a corner table to set a drink in front of a middle aged man with a sweaty face and bloodshot eyes clearly several drinks past his limit. you were about to turn around to leave but that’s when a meaty hand clamped down hard around your wrist. it happened so suddenly that you jumped, turning around to look at him with wide eyes.

“hey there sweetheart.” he slurred, his breath reeking of whiskey and something stale that made your nose wrinkle. his other hand hovered dangerously near your waist.

“what's a pretty thing like you doing serving drinks when you could be sitting on my lap instead? bet you'd look even better with that skirt hiked up. i could show you a real good time.”

you were used to this. it had happened several times before in this club filled with entitled men who mistook your politeness for availability, thinking that they had free rein to touch you or grope you whenever but bills didn’t care about your comfort or the dread you felt, they demanded payment and this job as risky as it was, was what kept the roof on top of your head and food on the table.

some backed off easily when you threatened to call the manager, a kind hearted woman who had always had your back and also all the other girls who worked alongside you, knowing the difficulty of handling men and got security involved without hesitation. others, the way too gone ones or insistent ones, required her intervention and you'd be so grateful each time the guards kicked them out. still the constant risk gnawed at you. you wondered sometimes what if your manager wasn’t nearby, if things escalated too far before help arrived, you could never protect yourself from these men. you weren’t strong enough.

these days you hated the job more than ever but what choice did you have? it was the curse of never having enough money.

you tried to pull your hand away gently at first, twisting your wrist in his grasp while maintaining that professional smile though it felt strained because of the disgust you felt just from his touch.

“sir please let go, i need to get back to work.” you said evenly even as fear started rising in you. his grip was tightening painfully.

“if you don’t, i'll have to call the manager right now. this isn’t okay.”

but he didn’t listen, leaning closer with his lecherous grin.

“aw come on, don’t be like that baby.”

his crude words continued making your stomach churn as you looked around hastily, no other staff was close enough to notice anything and the music drowned the majority of the noises as genuine fear gripped you, now realizing how trapped you were against the wall and the table’s edge.

from the section overlooking the main floor, all seven of them watched the scene unfold with growing anger but before any of them could react, jungkook's eyes narrowed, his tattooed hand clenching around his glass as he watched the man disrespect you. he didn’t think twice and stood up walking straight up to the table. his hand shot forward from behind the drunk man, yanking his grip away from your wrist with such force that the man stumbled back.

you gasped sharply at the sudden interruption, looking up at the handsome stranger who just became your savior. he radiated such power and fury. the man immediately recoiled as he took in jungkook's tall frame and the glare he had.

“w-what the hell man? this isn't your business.” he sputtered, trying to puff up but clearly intimidated.

“it is now, touch her again and you'll regret it. get your hands off her and fuck off before i make you.”

the man tried to protest, his hand reaching towards you once more and that’s when jungkook's control fully snapped. you watched, eyes wide in horror as jungkook grabbed the man's wrist hard before it could touch you once again and twisted it so hard that the crack of bone was audible even over the club's noise as the man howled in pain, doubling over.

“shut the fuck up!” jungkook growled, not wanting the man's scream to pull even more attention and put you in the spotlight.

“or i'll break the other one too. now leave and don’t even think about coming back here.”

the man now pale faced and squirming in pain, nodded frantically before scrambling away, clutching his injured hand. you watched as he disappeared into the crowd. you stood there frozen for a long moment trying to process what just happened, your heart fluttering.

no one had ever defended you like this before and it was so foreign that you struggled to find words now, not being able to compose yourself.

“i… t-thank you.” you managed shakily as you rubbed your sore wrist absentmindedly.

jungkook's gaze softened as he looked at you, scanning you for any other signs of injury.

“are you okay? are you injured anywhere else?”

you nodded attempting a small smile, not wanting to think about what would happen if he didn’t interfere on time.

“yeah i'm… i'm fine. thank you again really. i appreciate it more than you know.”

“you don’t have to worry anymore, i'm jungkook by the way.” he rasps, holding out his hand for you to shake it.

you stared at it for a bit, your lips parting as you shakily gripped his hand, your hand looking comically small and delicate in his tattooed one. he held your hand in his gently like giving you the free rein to pull back if you want, not the forceful grips that you're so used to.

“y/n.” you breathe, his thumb brushing on the back of your hand in a comforting manner but it instead sends a shiver of thrill down your spine.

how long has it been since a man’s touch excited you instead of making you disgusted? and now with you holding his hand, it made you realize how much you’ve been yearning for it.

“y/n.” he repeats as if tasting your name on his tongue.

the emotions swirling in his eyes almost hold you captivated for a long time before you pull your hand away from his as he studies your face for a long moment.

“you don’t have to go back out there right now.” he starts.

“wanna take a break? come sit with me and my friends over there just for a bit.”

his offer surprised you as you hesitated only briefly, your feet ached in your heels and you'd been working for so long, you didn’t want to lose contact with this stranger named jungkook so soon so you nodded.

“okay a little break sounds good.” you whispered.

jungkook's lips curved as he guided you to the vip section amidst the crowd, his presence parting people like they knew who he was but you still didn’t grasp who he was yet as you stepped inside the area, you paused, recognition finally drawing into you. you'd seen their faces a few times in newspapers or news channels even though you'd never paid enough attention to learn about them in depth.

they were extremely rich, powerful businessmen and they looked so different in real life even more fierce and dominant. six of them lounged across the couches and they were big not just in height and muscularness but also in the aura they exuded. they made you feel small and out of place, they looked you up and down taking in the way your uniform hugged your curves tightly.

their gaze didn’t hold anything lustful but something appreciative like you were truly worth noticing and deserved adoration. it made your stomach twist with a strange heat as you shifted on your feet, smoothing your hands down your uniform self consciously, not knowing how to step past the door but jungkook led you further, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“this is y/n.” jungkook announced to the group as he gestured to you.

“figured she could use a minute away from it all.”

the way the men straightened immediately told that they didn’t mind having you in their space one bit as if they'd been dying to have you near, their eyes locking onto you with undivided attention. one by one they introduced themselves, the one with the broadest shoulders spoke up first.

“i'm kim namjoon. nice to meet you y/n.”

next to him, a man with such perfect handsome features smiled.

“kim seokjin but you can call me jin.”

a bright eyed man leaned forward.

“junghoseok.”

right beside him was the quietest man yet with such a piercing gaze that spoke more about him louder than any words can.

“min yoongi.” he offered a small nod only.

the two other men introduced themselves next, the one with plush kissable lips whose name was jimin and the man who noticed you first, a smirk present on his expression named kim taehyung, a little stubble present on his jawline that made him look even sexier, his voice also the deepest among them.

there was so much masculine energy and the smell of male in this small room that you felt fully surrounded by it in the best way possible and that you might as well have just fainted from how weak in the knees you were. you’ve always been so confident in handling everyone in your job but this was the very first time that you were so fidgety.

“come sit please.”

one of them spoke up and you nodded dumbly before taking a seat on an empty couch right in front of them. you realized quickly with just a little introduction of how different they all were yet fundamentally similar to each other in some way. maybe that’s what deepened their bond so much. the men exchanged glances, their thoughts still clearly fixated on the incident outside.

“fucking prick.” jungkook muttered as he settled near you, cracking his knuckles.

“a guy like that thinks he can grab whoever he wants, i saw red when his hand touched her.”

taehyung nodded, his eyes still on you.

“we all did, no one should have to deal with that shit in their workplace.”

“it's good that you handled it kook. i was so close to beating his ass up too.” namjoon turns to look at you.

“are you sure you're okay?”

their protectiveness made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“yes i'm okay.” you bite your lower lip, looking down at your hands, twisting them together.

you were acutely aware of how their eyes followed your every small movement and the tension was palpable even when there was silence. you noticed one thing, none of them, not once had glanced at the stripper dancing just outside even though the other men were staring at her like a hawk and catcalling her but to these men, it seemed as if she didn’t exist and you were the only center of their attention, like you were the only one that existed in their world.

it was overwhelming.

intoxicating

“so y/n tell us about yourself. how long have you been working here?” jimin broke the silence, wanting to learn more about you.

“i've been working here for a while… pays the bills you know? it's not ideal but it's what i have right now.”

you talked shyly at first but words started flowing more easily than you expected. you shared bits about your long shifts and the exhaustion and how you dreamed of something more stable but life doesn’t always go the way you want it to. they listened intently, asking thoughtful questions as if they really wanted to know more and cared about your life. they also shared about themselves too.

“we just closed a massive deal today… but honestly? it feels empty.” jimin explains.

they looked at you like you were the only spark they'd felt after months, watching you as you laughed lightly at a joke hoseok cracks. you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with pink cheeks when you felt all their eyes on you at once.

“you're cute when you're shy.” seokjin chuckles.

their compliments weren’t crude, they admired your beauty and the efforts you made at your work, your confidence and how despite everything, you were so strong to do this every day.

time seemed to pass by without any of you realizing when the topic turned deeper, they learned of your financial struggles too. you never let anyone know about your weakness but for whatever reason, you trusted them so easily to let the words flow.

“i manage, i make it work somehow.” you shrugged.

their expressions shifted with concern.

“you also don’t have to worry about that guy from earlier bothering you again, he's suspended from his job.” namjoon clarifies.

information on that man was retrieved by the guard outside and namjoon learned that he worked at a measly low grade company that they could probably buy within seconds but they wanted him ruined so they made him lose his job instead with just a few texts, they held the power to do so. seeing him touch you like that pissed the hell out of them.

you paused, blinking in shock.

“what? y-you did that for me? but why? i'm used to it, men are always around in this place so it's nothing new for me.” you croaked.

they reacted immediately as yoongi's jaw clenched.

“used to it? you shouldn’t have to be. no woman deserves to face this every day.” his voice was low with anger while jin's usually light demeanor hardened.

“you're handling all this out there?”

you smiled sadly, looking down at your lap.

“you really didn’t have to do all that for me—”

but jungkook interrupts you before you could finish your words.

“we'd do it again in a heartbeat. you're worth more than being treated like that.”

you swallowed at their words, almost feeling tears brim in your eyes that you pushed back, your heart not being able to handle such affection and possessiveness but in a good way from them, in a way that you’ve never received before in your life. it left you speechless and with a thousand unknown feelings and little did you know that even to them you seemed even more extraordinary than their words could convey as taehyung leans back on the couch, his eyes locked on yours like he hasn’t missed a single word.

“you know.” he starts speaking.

“most people in places like this… they're always acting like someone else but youre just... you, even after a shift like that its nice to see it honestly.”

the others nodded in confirmation, knowing what taehyung means by heart. they've been constantly surrounded by too many fake smiles and even women who have had eyes on their wallets rather than them. they've had countless encounters before with girls trying to be too close to them because of an intention, none of them were honest and wanted them for who they are.

“yeah i get what he means.” hoseok added softly.

“it's just… refreshing talking to you feels normal like actually normal.”

“o-oh?” your heart thuds harder at their words.

“you're honest.” yoongi said simply.

“people don’t really do that much around us anymore.”

“i'm not that special.” you breathe.

“you are y/n.” jungkook glances at you.

“when that guy grabbed you… you were about to handle it even before i intervened. you're tougher than you look.”

you're the kind of woman who could bring kings to their knees without even trying, that's how they saw you. they made you feel desired, not merely physically but as someone captivating in her entirety, your your smiles and beauty and your confidence mixed with shyness, they loved everything.

you felt this certain heat all over you that pulled you towards them, your legs clenching together and that didn’t go unnoticed at all. sensing the shift and needing a moment to compose yourself amid the overwhelming feeling, you offered them a slightly breathless smile.

“um do you all want some drinks? i can go get a fresh round.” you offered, noting how all their glasses were empty but that none of them seemed even the slightest bit drunk because of how well they were at handling alcohol.

they nodded in agreement and you rose from the couch, feeling their eyes follow every movement as you turned, feeling their stares caressing the curves on your back and it made goosebumps of excitement rise up on you as you walked to the bar, almost hurrying to be back to them, not wanting to waste any second with them.

returning moments later with a tray balanced with their liquors of choice but nothing too heavy, you felt the intensity multiply upon re entering their space. you set the tray down on the low table slowly which required you to bend forward but you did so almost intentionally and coyly so that they'd get a good view of your cleavage. doing a subtle arch of your back that allowed the already short skirt to ride up exposing the curve of your ass, you heard sharp intakes of their breaths and that makes your heart pound harder.

your uniform was so short that you'd always avoid bending down but doing so in front of them made you feel wanted. your cleavage pressed forward against your top, the soft swells visible for the men in front invitingly.

“damn y/n...” jungkook breathed first as he shifted in his seat.

“are you trying to kill us bending over like that?” jimin lets out an appreciative hum, not complaining one bit to have you like that while hungrily tracing your figure.

“she's perfect isn't she?” namjoon murmurs quietly.

seeing you like this is stirring things they haven't felt in ages. you bite back a grin when you hear yoongi let out a growl when he catches a glimpse of your white lace panties. your thighs pressed together subtly as you straightened, feeling exposed yet empowered.

you handed each of them a glass, jin's fingers brush yours when grabbing the glass and the contact makes you gasp.

“easy guys, we've got all night.”

what started as conversations and shared stories had slowly turned into something deeper as the tension and intimacy grew that none of you could deny it anymore. there wasn't anything normal anymore, there was too much need and their eyes were growing increasingly hooded. it was like both of you guys were in a game wanting to see who'd break first and take what they need, challenging each other through eyes alone. jin was the first one to break, not being able to fight the pull anymore.

“come here y/n.”

you watched him manspreading so sexily as he patted his thigh and you let out a shy smile, standing up almost immediately to walk to him. he guides you onto his thick thigh, his large hand resting at your lower back, the heat of his body and his scent make you tremble as you place a hand on his chest. sitting on his lap made your skirt ride up and you made no move to fix it, your feet dangling off the ground because of the height difference with jin and not only him but also all the other six of them were just so huge especially namjoon, whom you guessed was the tallest of all.

you felt a subtle shift of his muscles as he adjusted, supporting your weight with literally no effort. the others watched with appreciative eyes, already jealous that jin gets to have you so close at first, their focus on the cigarettes and drinks was completely forgotten.

“are you comfortable like this y/n?” jin rasps leaning closer, his warm breath hitting your ear.

his hand stayed put, thumb rubbing circles against your thigh and you nodded jerkily, the proximity making it hard for you to breathe. you forgot about the club, the music outside. it was just the seven of them who were pulling you in their spell even deeper. then taehyung, not being able to help himself, leaned forward from his seat.

“can i kiss you sweetheart?” he asked directly, eyes searching yours for any hesitation.

the way he asked for consent made you flush, you were not used to it at all and it only made your need bubble higher and more fiercely.

“yes please.” you plead.

he closed the distance slowly, his hand cupping your jaw before his lips met yours right there with you still on jin's lap. it started soft but quickly deepened, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth before slipping inside making you moan into it which he swallowed. the breathy sound began to ignite something in all of them because even if your eyes were closed, you could sense their expressions.

the kiss was unhurried, he took his time exploring every inch of your mouth as both your salivas intertwined. he tasted like something entirely different like dark chocolate. his fingers threaded through your hair and he pulled back his eyes half lidded and breathing unevenly.

“fuck you taste good.” he mutters, thumb brushing your swollen lower lip.

hoseok joined right after taehyung, sliding closer on the couch, looking at your lips with dark eyes, wanting permission without any words and you reached for him grabbing the collar of his shirt. while your other hand pressed harder on jin's chest for balance, fisting his shirt. the makeout with hoseok was different, it was hungrier like he couldn’t get enough as he sucked your bottom lip and you let out a louder whimper.

“mmph!”

jin's hand on your back slides lower, brushing against your butt and it makes you shiver, your bottom pressing harder on his thigh. he rearranges you until you are straddling one of his thighs, only causing the entire pressure on your clothed pussy alone making you squeal. you shifted on his thigh to chase more of that friction, your skirt now rode up further revealing your lace panties fully.

one by one they each took their moment and kiss until you were surrounded by heated touches and kisses. namjoon cradled the back of your head as he explored your mouth thoroughly.

“you're so responsive baby.” yoongi growls against your throat, all the men enjoying your cute little noises.

he takes his turn too. yoongi's kiss was full of bites and clashes of teeth from how impatient he was that you were afraid your lips would start bleeding from how he wouldn’t let go. jimin placed slow open mouthed kisses on your neck and jawline while the others observed what made you moan and squirm. like the expert jimin was, he immediately found the sensitive spot below your ear and locked his mouth there to suck a mark while you struggled to breathe into yoongi's mouth.

jungkook held you in place with a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly and his kiss was a bit more rough while he took your mouth like he was starving for it.

jimin took his turn too, sweetly.

their hands roaming everywhere they could find every exposed skin, gripping your waist or thigh, getting busy making out with you or leaving hickies on your throat and cleavage while your hips twitched occasionally on jin's thigh. your lips remained parted, tongues tangling lewdly with each of the men. jin takes your mouth and sucks on your tongue making you whine and rock on his thigh, his hand fully cupping your butt, encouraging you to grind harder.

“u-uh…”

you whined as jungkook's hand caressed your inner thighs so close to your panties. your body responded eagerly, nipples hardening as you pulled away from jin's mouth, panting hard from all their devoted attention feeling yourself melt into a puddle just from touches and kisses alone. you squirmed on jin's thigh, feeling his hard muscle flex beneath you.

the other men breathed heavily too, chests rising and falling, your whimpers and their rough breaths the only sound that could be heard. they were visibly affected too and you could feel the growing hardness pressing against your thigh from jin. their eyes roamed your flushed face and how kiss swollen your lips were, their jaws clenching as after a particularly heated kiss with jimin that left you gasping you pulled back slightly.

a sudden wave of nervousness took over you. the vip room was private, not see through from the outside yet it made you pause when you realized what you were doing in the haze.

“i… i don't do this.” you whispered shakily, glancing towards the door.

“my shift isn’t even over, i should go back out there. this isn’t… i'm not that kind of girl.”

you’ve never slept with anyone here in the club, probably the last time you had sex was years ago with your ex and the heartbreak of it never led you forward to another relationship even though your body pined for the touch of a man who made you feel wanted in every way and for the first time in years, they made you feel that. never in your dreams would you have assumed that it would be seven of them doing so.

the men looked at you but there was no judgment, only understanding and want as jin's hand stayed comfortingly on your back.

“we stop whenever you say but fuck.. we want you, not just like this but more.” taehyung growls in that deep husky voice of his that makes you weak in the knees.

“yeah exactly…” namjoon added.

“you make us feel alive again and we don’t just want a quick thrill here, we want you for the whole night.”

you made the fire in their veins rise once again after years, you made them forget the hollow feeling they’ve been carrying, it eased the second you walked in here even though you were hesitant, your body betrayed you, shifting again on jin's lap and feeling that delicious friction.

“but why me? i'm just… me, a waitress. you guys could have anyone, someone who fits better with your world. i don’t understand.”

the insecurity was evident in your voice and you didn’t understand why they'd want you and care so much when they could have someone of high class. women probably threw themselves at them every day yet they looked at you like this. they look at you like you are the center of their universe. jungkook cupped your cheek, making you face him so you could see the sincerity visible on his expression.

“because none of that other shit matters. you caught our attention because you're you, it feels right and it’s the best thing ever.”

hoseok grinned, tracing a finger along your arm.

“and we can see you want this too baby, those pretty eyes of yours are telling us everything… the little hitch in your breathing.”

your bottom lip quivers at their words as your thighs clench around jin's thigh, the action pulling a small wanton noise from you.

“let us give you the best night of your life sweet girl.”

you remained quiet even if your hand clung onto jin's chest hard

“please?” he breathes.

they dominated everyone, high status companies and billions, yet for you they'd be ready to beg on their knees. your body ached for them but most importantly, it was your heart too that was screaming at you to say yes.

namjoon leans close to you, the tempting column of his throat exposed from where you'd pulled at his shirt while kissing.

“you don't have to decide right now but... come home with us tonight.” namjoon said with such genuineness and the others nodded with him. they murmured their approvals in a chorus as jimin's eyes locked onto yours, seriousness in his expression now.

“no pressure at all beautiful, it's whatever you want…”

they knew one thing for sure, they couldn’t forget the way you looked at them and the way your body responds to every little touch. it makes them want to know how you'd react to touches at your most private places. hoseok reaches out to brush a lock of hair from your face.

“we've got a black card here, if you need anything, leave this job and take this. come with us whatever that helps you feel secure.” he whispers.

it wasn’t about buying you with the card, it was about wanting to give you the world because you deserve it. all their words made your chest tighten with emotions.

you sat there stunned as you thought of their offer. the black card in hoseok's hand represented everything, a lifetime of not worrying about bills, living with no fear of not making ends meet and being able to breathe without feeling like you have to survive but more than that, it was them and you knew money or no money, you wanted this, wanted all seven of them so you made your decision in a heartbeat.

“i… i agree.” you whispered at first almost quietly before finding a bit more strength at their encouragement.

“yes i'll come with you.”

their reactions were immediate as they let out chuckles. yoongi's hand squeezed your knee and he let out the first real grin since he came here.

“that's our girl. fuck you have no idea how happy that makes us.”

getting praised by yoongi made your clit throb, your face falling on his chest as you nuzzled against it while jin rubbed up and down your back.

“we'll take care of everything, you don’t have to worry.” jin confirms.

with the decision made, they didn’t wait any longer, wanting to have you in their place so they could claim you there with all the time in the world. they guided you out of the vip section with possessive hands at your waist. your heart raced so fast you could feel it in your throat and you felt like it might burst right open.

you spotted your manager near the bar, her eyes widening when she saw you flanked by the seven most well known business owners whose faces had been everywhere. she straightened up instantly not finding words, instantly terrified of what might happen as they stopped in front of her.

“she's not working here anymore.” namjoon stated firmly, his arm slipping around your shoulder.

“y/n is coming with us. consider her shift over permanently, we'll handle any necessary paperwork if needed later.”

your manager blinked rapidly, clearly intimidated but nodded quickly.

“o-of course sir, y/n take care of yourself.”

she shot you a quick look but the men's presence left no room for her to question anything else while you still couldn’t grasp the reality fully. feeling freedom and disbelief all at once.

they led you outside to the waiting matte black limo which was pure luxury, starting from the exterior to the interior. they helped you inside and once the door closed, the vehicle started moving and just along with that, their hands on you were at full force.

this time yoongi didn’t hesitate and pulled you onto his lap first, gripping your hips as he ate at your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours drawing out whimpers as the others shifted closer. jimin's hand slid up to cup your breast through the fabric of your uniform making your back arch even through layers of clothing, their touches felt so prominent.

you didn’t know what would happen once you reached their penthouse and they wouldn’t hold back anymore. hoseok sucks and bites on the side of your neck while jungkook placed a loving kiss against your cheek, his eyes blazing as the ride felt too long because of of what was to come.

“can't wait to have you spread out for us at home.”

you couldn’t wait either.

the limo pulled in front of their penthouse and you stepped out on shaky legs still buzzing from their heated touches that had filled the ride over.

the door opened, welcoming you inside the open living room before you could admire the poshness and extravagance of the place, you were surrounded by all seven of them, their presences closing in like a wall of dominance until you were fully trapped between them. like seven predators closing in on their little prey and they wouldn’t let you go easily especially when there was so much impatience and all the teasings from earlier had left everyone on edge and frustrated.

jin and jimin positioned themselves on either side of you immediately, their breaths ghosting over your skin as hoseok's hand boldly slid under the hem of your uniform, tracing your skin and the skin around your belly button.

“you're so damn soft.” hoseok murmured huskily.

jin's lips found the curve of your neck, placing delicate kisses along your throat, tongue darting out to taste your skin while jimin mirrored him on the other side, alternating between pecks and nips that made you gasp softly. they went oh so slow as if they wanted to memorize every inch of you with just their hands alone, pulling you deeper into their circle.

“look at her already trembling for us.”

jimin whispers against your ear before capturing your lips in a hot kiss, his tongue making that sex act of thrusting in and out that left your knees weak, your hand grasping onto one of their shirts.

“can i?” taehyung gruffs out.

his gaze never left yours as he reached for the zipper at the back of your dress.

“y-yes.” you stuttered, letting out excited huffs of breath.

his fingers worked it down slowly while his mouth sucked on the exposed cleavage of your breast as the fabric parted, revealing the expanse of your back and all seven men watched with rapt attention, their fists clenching in need. you could see their hard cocks straining against their suit pants.

namjoon stands behind you now while yoongi leans against the couch with a smirk enjoying the scene, his arms crossed, eyes devouring every revealed inch, jungkook's hand brushed your hair aside to help taehyung pull the zipper down properly as the dress finally slips down your arms and pools at your feet, leaving you in just your heels, stockings and those tiny lacy white panties, your uniform didn’t need a bra so your breasts jiggle free, making them all groan in unison at the sight. your hand instinctively goes up to cover yourself but taehyung holds it, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss against the back of your hand.

“don't hide from us… god you're perfect.”

you let out a needy moan at his words and how they traced every inch of you with such fascination that you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world and most worshipped. you never thought one could be worshipped with eyes alone and for the first time, you also believed that you could feel perfect… because when you viewed yourself through their eyes, you indeed felt that.

“you look like a dream.” seokjin grumbles.

their praises seemed to reach every corner of your soul. they didn’t take off the panties wanting to admire you like this first, watching the way your nubs were pointed in the air into twin peaks the more as cool air brushed against them.

“we've wanted this since we saw you out there…”

namjoon rumbled, his fingers brushing your spine while yoongi stepped closer, his cold facade cracking as he ran a hand down your side making you lean onto him while panting.

“fuck these curves…”

you were driving him fully insane, their chests puffed up because you were letting them see you like this, your body a bit squirmy at first from being bare in front of them while they're all fully clothed but slowly adapting confidence from their words. all their hands joined in touching you until you couldn’t tell them apart anymore, gliding over every curve, caressing your breasts while thumbs brushed against the nipples.

“oh… hahh.” you whined, your head falling back on jimin's shoulder, your panties wetly clinging to your folds as you clenched your legs together hard but it did little to relieve your ache.

hoseok drops to his knees to kiss along the tops of your stockings while his cock throbs inside his pants, the smell of your arousal hitting him so directly that his nostrils flare but before they could start properly and things could escalate further, they all paused suddenly making you look at them with confusion, your breasts rising and falling. they had to force their eyes from your blossoms to speak to you.

“we need to hear it from you y/n. are you sure about this? fully sure?” namjoon asks.

“i am sure.”

you crooned, your lips forming a pout due to them suddenly stopping and it makes their eyes narrow at how the sweet action pulled at their heartstrings. they'd do anything you asked if you gave them those eyes and that expression but they need to finalize a few things.

“you can use the safe word anytime, red for stopping completely, yellow to slow down and green to keep going yeah?”

you nodded, seeing the care in their faces even in between so much tension and need.

“we've seen how men treat you at the club… so we won't do anything without your consent. we want you so bad but only if you want us just as much.” jungkook rasps.

you didn’t know if you'd ever felt so valued and safe before in front of men and it makes tears of gratefulness well in your eyes as you pressed yourself closer to them, giving your body to them fully.

“i've never been more sure in my life. i want all of you please… please.”

you whimper, feeling their chest and nuzzling against taehyung who is in front of you now and he makes a low noise right beside your ear. they were ready to lose themselves in you completely, all their restraints and control gone.

you were laid back on the couch in the center of the room as you looked up at them, nervousness yet anticipation in you, your body already hypersensitive from being touched. jin leans down to your right side when he cups the underside of one of your breasts, feeling its weight. his thumb flicked it, your nipple hardening even more under his ministrations. you felt his touches all the way down to your clit.

“oh god…”

a squeal left you when taehyung left wet kisses along the side of your other breast, not wanting to keep your other breast neglected before he captured the peak between his lips, sucking at first then with more pressure while jin's skilled pinching and rolling combined with taehyung's warm suction. your back arched off the couch as your breaths came out in short gasps, every pull of tongue and twist of fingers on both your nipples drew involuntary moans from your throat.

the others watched everything, their own need evident as they shifted closer even though taehyung and jin were having their moment, the hands of others would occasionally brush your arms or thighs in reassurance.

“ahh.”

you let out a particularly loud moan as taehyung bites slightly on your nipple before soothing it with laps of his tongue making you feel heady as seokjin's mouth joined too, leaving your breasts wet with saliva. your breasts were like a glistening playground of sensation.

“ahh… jin taehyung… it feels so good.” you whimpered, your hand gripping onto the couch from the pleasure. jin lifted his head briefly, his lips shiny.

“yeah? you like when we suck on these pretty tits baby?

“it makes your pussy feel good mhmm?” he asks.

taehyung hummed in agreement, switching to light nibbles and soothing licks, their words making you even more horny as you nodded dumbly.

“she's dripping so much just from getting her nipples played with… just look at that wet patch.”

jungkook comments, all their eyes falling on your panty covered cunt where a damp spot had started forming from the amount of arousal you leaked and the white lingerie made everything see through. meanwhile, namjoon began kissing torturously down your stomach, his tongue leaving a trail as shivers race up your spine as he worshipped your belly, circling his tongue around your belly button. when his teeth scraped a certain ticklish spot, it made you giggle and you grabbed onto taehyung's shirt who was beside you.

“mm…”

taehyung grinned at your giggle while namjoon glowed softly.

“so beautiful, every inch of you.”

he praised, nipping just below your navel. your legs couldn’t stay spread, feeling a little shy from the copious amount of essence you were leaking and also from the building ache but hoseok and jungkook didn’t let you hide away so easily, holding one leg apart, each opening you completely to their gaze. jungkook leaned in first, pressing his face close to your soaked panties inhaling deeply with a guttural groan.

“shitt she smells so good.”

he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your covered core making you twitch.

“i know right?” hoseok adds, already too obsessed from earlier after getting a waft of your pussy when he was so close to it. jungkook begins kissing and sucking marks onto your inner thighs, starting high near the crease and working inward, each harsh suck leaving reddish hickeys.

“j-jungkook..” you stammered as his tongue avoided your pussy entirely and focused around it, only puffs of air hitting it and you squirmed helplessly as hoseok's fingers dug in near your panties.

“spread wider for us princess, let us see how much you need this.” hoseok encouraged when your thighs trembled.

jimin and yoongi were the only ones left to join and they didn't hesitate anymore. their fingers joining to touch you over your panties, fingers expertly finding your swollen clit through the lace.

you whimpered, the pressure was never enough to push you over the edge but just enough to keep you teetering on the brink. jimin's touch was precise, he used the pads of his fingers to rub tight patterns between your folds that made your hips buck, with taehyung and jin watching your pleasured expressions with focused intensity.

“feel that sweetheart?”

yoongi asks as he flicks your clit side to side.

“hmm?” he persists when you don't reply, pressing his thumb against your clit even harder and it felt so much even without them touching you directly.

“y-yes haggh.” you mewled.

yoongi presses the fabric against your folds, rubbing up and down the length of your slit until the lace lewdly sticks between your pussy lips.

“listen to those sounds she's making… fuck.”

seokjin and taehyung conversed among themselves, their eyes focused on your pussy and what the other men were doing and it makes you even more excited if that was even possible, there was something so naughty about having the others comment on you while you were being touched as if there was an audience itself. it doubled the sensations for you as jin and taehyung occasionally tweaked your nubs just to hear you gasp between your moans from the maddening clit rubs that left your pussy clenching, your arousal coating your inner thighs messily now. you couldn't take their teasing anymore as your head thrashes.

“please goshh more... i need more.” you begged breathlessly, not being able to stay still.

jimin offered two fingers, pressing them against your lips.

“open up baby. suck them like you mean it.” he instructed.

you obeyed, eagerly opening your mouth as he slid them past your lips. you swirled your tongue around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks as you bobbed your head slightly. the others watched intently, already imagining you sucking their cocks exactly like this and all their cocks twitched inside their pants while jimin groaned at the wet feeling of your mouth, his eyes growing half lidded wondering how his cock would feel inside your mouth.

“look at that mouth working so well.” jungkook added.

he pushed in his own fingers right next to jimin's, pushing his tattooed fingers so deep that it brushed the back of your throat, his fingers giving slight thrusts as tears brimmed your eyes trying not to gag.

“just like that, get them nice and wet for us.” jimin murmurs.

jin grabs ahold of your hair, not enough to hurt but hard enough to make you feel the slight pain mixed with pleasure as he pulls your mouth to him for a sloppy passionate kiss that leaves you dizzy, swallowing all your noises. you made a throaty sound when jungkook's fingers finally left your mouth, his eyes focusing on your pussy, not being able to stand seeing it covered anymore and from the state of others around, they're impatient as well.

he went down your body as you watched with wide eyes but instead of using his hands to slide them off, he leaned down, your breathing growing ragged. with a dirty glint in his eyes, he caught the edge of the panty between his teeth and began to tug them downwards slowly making the fabric peel away from your core with a wet sound.

your pussy now fully exposed to the seven men and jin and taehyung also joined the others below to look at you making your cheeks flame from the vulnerability of it all and how exposed you felt while two of them spread your legs further until you were eagle spread, your folds parted as well, the soaked panty dragging along your thighs, leaving a trail of your own slickness. your entire body trembles as the cool air hits your center. the panties finally slip past your ankles and jungkook tosses them aside with a satisfied growl.

all of them leaned in closer where you lay bare as if inspecting you and it makes your brow furrow, heart pounding hard. you've never felt more exposed at once while your clit throbbed helplessly. they let out a mix of curses and loud exhales. their eyes held something else entirely, it went far beyond lust like they wanted to eat you whole and never stop. you felt like you were surrounded by seven hungry wolves and you'd give yourself up to them willingly. namjoon's breath hitched audibly, his large hands clenching at his sides as if fighting the urge to touch immediately.

“fuck...” he murmurs.

they'd never seen anything more perfect, it was like you were a work of art.

you were bare except for your thigh stockings and your heels. jin lets out a hum, his plush lips parting as he stared. your folds were swollen and parted slightly to reveal your labia and your gaping entrance, the clit on top shiny from your arousal and throbbing under their gaze. it was as if they were touching you from their stares alone and they hadn't even touched you yet.

“look at how she's clenching around nothing. fuck that's so hot... you're so empty aren't you angel?” jimin asks so adoringly that you let out another soft sound at his endearment.

taehyung stared in awe as he tilted his head, it was as if your pussy itself was begging for their tongues and fingers on its own. they've never wanted anyone more, it was like you're the only woman in the world. they've always appreciated a female body but their bodies never reacted in such a way. they were never so mesmerized. they wanted to learn more about what made you moan or cry, where you liked being touched, what made you giggle and most importantly, what made your precious heart happy.

jimin chuckled with admiration when he saw you hiding your face between your hands because of how overwhelmed you felt from all their eyes on you at once.

“hey baby...”

he removed your hands from your face and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“don't be shy… you're stunning. look at how hard you make us just from staring at you.”

your eyes fall on their tented bulge and it makes you exhale shakily, it was the proof of how true their words were and it gives you a little more strength. yoongi's tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“i bet she tastes even better than she looks.” he comments, tilting his head making your breath hitch.

jungkook still positioned closest, looked up at you with those piercing eyes. you gulped, feeling your stomach flutter.

“i... i've never had anyone look at me like this.” you whispered, trying to find words to say what you truly wanted.

“especially not all of you, i-it feels… too much but good. i feel wanted.. really wanted.”

your pussy gave a clench along with your words, drawing another groan from them by the sight of it and from your words.

“do you want me to eat your pussy baby? nice and slow mm?”

you nodded desperately and jungkook didn't waste time and dived in first, his tongue pressing against your entrance, dragging upward in one lap stroke all the way up to your clit.

“ahhh mm fuck—”

you squeaked at the sensation of his tongue and lip piercing combined and he let out a hiss at the taste. he took his time, eyes locked intensely on yours the entire time, never breaking contact as he repeated the motion, savoring every drop of you like it was the finest wine. the pressure was perfect, not too light and not too rough yet enough to make your hips jerk and your hands fist into the cushions beneath you.

“she tastes incredible joon.” he murmurs to namjoon beside him. you squirm at the feeling of the cool metal of his piercing hitting your clit.

you tasted sweet and tangy at once, it was everything.

your eyes fall closed, not being able to keep them open as your head falls back in sensation. jungkook paused, biting onto your inner thigh, making you gasp as your eyes pop open.

“look at me while i taste you or i stop.” he threatened.

you let out a long moan and kept your teary eyes open, the touches of others sending jolts straight to where jungkook was eating you. namjoon groped one of your breasts, squeezing it while hoseok rubbed his still clothed cock against your thigh not being able to help himself. a damn spot formed on his pants from the precum.

“you want a taste too?”

jungkook smirked at taehyung, who was watching him eat at you with hungry focused eyes and jungkook moved aside to let taehyung have a chance. his tongue felt different, slow yet so deep as he traced every fold with the tip of his tongue. he suckled gently on your clit, humming around it to make your toes curl. your pussy was blooming more and more for them.

“i could do this for hours mmm.” he moaned against you, his tongue dipping inside your hole a bit to collect your fluids.

during all these, your legs were held open so they could eat your pussy with no resistance at all. namjoon's mouth was on your breast now, replacing his hands sucking on your nipple and also leaving a hickey on the underside of it while yoongi watched everything with hooded eyes, squeezing himself over his pants.

“pleaseee!”

you whined loudly, pressing your hips harder towards taehyung's face, feeling yourself getting close but he pulled back slightly with a chuckle looking down at you.

“not yet darling, we all have to have a taste first don't we?”

from his words you knew that the torture was just beginning and you already felt like you'd cum but they were just beginning, they were about to take their sweet time. jimin pressed his mouth against you giving you teasing flicks of his tongue across your clit quickly that built the pressure rapidly before pulling back, leaving you whining pathetically and he almost felt bad but he enjoyed teasing you.

“aww.” jimin cooed, wickedness present as the others smirked.

“you want more don't you? but this pussy is too good to rush.” he rasps, catching a droplet of your arousal that leaks with the tip of his tongue.

in the meantime, jungkook and hoseok latched onto your nipples, simultaneously sucking and biting while their hands roamed your body taking the chance to discover your breasts too since they didn't before and you grabbed onto their hair, holding them to your chest while sobbing. yoongi grunted, watching your pussy while the denial makes your body shake. the room filled with your breathy moans and the wet sound of their mouths working on your body.

namjoon was the first to slide his fingers along your mound and his intentions make you pant as his middle finger presses against your clit, a needy whimper leaving you.

“so fucking wet baby. this pussy's been begging since the club hasn’t it?”

“want it uh…” you whined needily.

taehyung ran two of his long fingers along your outer lips, spreading them apart with his thumbs so namjoon and he could see every slick detail making your thighs quake.

“feel that? she's pulsing so much.” namjoon observed.

you moaned loudly, head falling back when namjoon's fingers breached your entrance before dipping inside so slowly while taehyung continued his exploration on the outer part of you. the feeling of having something inside you from them even if it's just one finger, felt heavenly almost euphoric as he curled his finger immediately against that spongy spot inside you.

“oh god… oh please.”

you let out brokenly your hand fisting jungkook's hair, who still lets little licks on your sensitive nipple. jimin chuckled, his fingers replacing taehyung's on your clit as namjoon added a second finger, scissoring them to open you up as you bit your lip to stifle the cries that were trying to escape and they didn’t like that one bit, they didn’t like you holding back in any way.

“let us hear you princess. don't hold back… that’s it.”

your lips parted to quiet little “ah ah ahs” as namjoon pumped two of his fingers while jimin and taehyung took turns flicking your clit up and down, side to side, whatever motion they desired. your arousal coated their hands and dripped down to soak the couch. your eyes widen when hoseok's hand joins namjoon's, his fingers teasing your entrance around namjoon's thrusting fingers. namjoon's lips curl up as he makes space for hoseok's, whose two fingers slide inside you so easily considering how wet you were.

“nghh oh god i—”

your words cut off in a cry as you felt your pussy stretch and accommodate four fingers. their fingers were already so thick that you were stretched beyond imagination, stretched more than even dicks alone had done to you from just their fingers. you couldn’t imagine what their cocks would do to you then. the burn was delicious, your hips rocked against them chasing the pleasure, feeling your orgasm get so close.

“unngh!”

you bite onto jungkook's clothed chest because he was the closest beside your head making him fist your hair.

“come on boys, make her feel it.”

he grins, earning aroused laughs from namjoon and hoseok. both their fingers curled against your g-spot while taehyung pressed his thumb on your clit, holding it there with a blinding pressure that has your eyes rolling back. your pussy clenching continuously on their invading fingers as they wiggled and twisted their finger inside you as if they were searching for something deep inside you and your legs thrashed, not being able to take too much.

“shhh… you're going so good.”

taehyung soothes you, sensing the overload of sensations. you cried out, back almost lifting off the couch despite the men holding you from all around, your walls fluttering wildly around the intrusion.

“yess fuckk, ah r-right there!”

you wanted more and wanted to escape at once, your mind couldn't catch up from the stretch and the curl, the constant pressure on your clit from multiple hands now taking turns also your breasts never being left alone. you didn’t even realize when namjoon and hoseok left your pussy so that jungkook's three fingers could take place inside you almost immediately, they slid in with no effort as he pumped them roughly.

squelch. squelch. squelch.

it makes loud wet noises that seem to override even your moans and gasps and the men around you groan at the noises too, a pained look on all their faces from holding back. jungkook watched your face contort in ecstasy, his jaw clenched.

“atta girl, squeezing so tight around me, so damn hot… yess.”

he hisses, his thighs starting to grind against the corner of the couch, wanting stimulation from how crazy you are driving him. jin watched everything with dark eyes rubbing against your inner thighs.

“you ready for two more fingers baby?”

jin asks, stroking one of your butt cheeks as you watch him with a swallow, wondering how you'd take two more fingers while jungkook had three inside already but your orgasm was so close you couldn’t think straight and by the way, your pussy was gaping, you wanted more.

“y-y-yes.” you stammered nervously.

“i'll be gentle yeah?” he coaxes.

slowly jin penetrated two of his fingers alongside jungkook's three moving ones, basically fisting you and you let out a loud cry, your toes curling.

“oh god, oh god.” you chanted.

they all watched the way your pussy accommodated several fingers, lips parting hungrily while you were a mess beneath them. they moved their fingers in and out slowly now, mindful of the fullness in a rhythm that had your juices overflowing with pornographic sounds leaving you. your thighs trembled hard and uncontrollably as you struggled to breathe, choking on your saliva.

“i-i can't... it's too much.. feels so good.”

the others paused their actions just to watch jungkook and jin having their moment, hitting your spots relentlessly. taehyung pressed down on your lower belly to heighten every sensation and to feel their fingers moving inside you. your hips bucked wildly but strong hands pinned you down, forcing you to take every bit of pleasure they gave and it was building higher and higher without mercy.

“ah please please let me cum! i need it, i'm so close hahngh.”

you babbled, not even making sense, your hand gripping hoseok's shirt so hard that it ripped, buttons flying all over. the orgasm was so close to hitting you and that's when they decided to stop altogether, fingers leaving your cunt and their touches stopping.

“noooo why?”

you sobbed out tears streaming down your face now. it was as if someone had just snatched your high from you after so long and it left you heartbroken and your body aching.

“we've got you baby.” jimin murmurs soothingly, his hand rubbing circles on your belly while you try to recover from the denial.

amidst that, taehyung had gone upstairs to grab a bottle of lube from a drawer before walking back downstairs, it's like they knew exactly what they planned to do. taehyung's eyes met yours with a smile that somehow made even this intimidating moment feel safe.

“you ever had your ass played with sweetheart?”

jungkook questions and you flush at the question, the hint of what's about to happen making you restless.

“i-i yes… i did touch myself a few times but i didn't have anyone inside t-there.” you stuttered shyly.

you had experimented and fingered yourself on your back hole during moments of need all alone, you even tried butt plugs but that was pretty much it. you weren't so experienced because no one had you there before.

“yeah? do you want us to be your first?” taehyung questions.

you huffed, leaning onto taehyung, your lips falling onto his throat and sucking a mark.

“just make me cum please.” you sign.

“fuck anything you want sweet baby.” he grunts.

their hands are already soothing over your thighs and palms spreading your legs wider, pressing them upward and against your breasts to give them better access to your lower portion.

“we'll go slow okay?”

hoseok's palm stroked the inside of your knee while jungkook's hand rested on your hip. you shuddered from a mix of nerves and arousal. you felt thrilled and excited for what was to come even despite the fact that they didn't let you cum.

yoongi grabs the lube from taehyung, his eyes falling on you, looking almost feral. he had been controlling himself all this time, watching the others have their fun with you while he didn't intervene at all because he was the type to strike at the right time and also because he wanted the part of you that no one took first so he'd held back. your heart races as you look at him lean over you, your hand gripping his shoulder on its own.

yoongi always did the most calculative unthinkable moves and when he attacked, it was always in the most intense way. he drizzled the lube, making the liquid trickle slowly over your tight asshole, you gasp at the sudden unfamiliar sensation.

“breathe for me, in and out.” he instructed and you tried following him, breathing in and out. he circled the pad of his finger around the puckered rim not pushing in yet, just feeling around.

“mmmmm… yeah…”

his free hand rubbed circles on your thigh, coaxing you to relax.

“you're doing so good already.”

jimin murmurs, leaning in closer from the other side, adding more lube with his fingers. it mixed with the juices already leaking from your pussy making everything even more slick while their eyes watched every twitch of your body and the moans that left you.

“ahh... it's cold but feels… good gahh.”

you whimpered, your hips shifting slightly as namjoon held one of your legs steady. they worked you open with patience. multiple fingers from different men joined in. yoongi's thumb continued rubbing over your rim along with jungkook's finger.

“oh—!”

you squealed as taehyung's two fingers sank back into your pussy, doing that scissoring motion making you sob. it seemed more intensified because of your rear being touched.

“fuck she's so tight back here.” jungkook groans and yoongi nods in acknowledgement before slowly pushing the tip of his finger inside as you tense.

“relax just let me in...” yoongi rasps.

you gripped his wrist, whining, trying to not clench too hard while hoseok grabs your thigh, stroking your skin to distract you from any discomfort. yoongi's finger sank deeper and the lube made him sink all the way in so suddenly that you cried out raw.

“oh god... h-hahh.”

yoongi cursed at the feeling of how tight you are.

“color?”

he asks, your bottom lip quivers at his caring tone despite how long he'd held back.

“g-green.”

you gasped and he smirked slowly, starting to pump his fingers while jimin and jungkook touched around your stretched rim or your clit while taehyung still had his fingers pumping, both of them delivering careful thrusts. there was pleasure, pain and so so much ecstasy. you never thought getting fingered on the pussy and ass could feel so good as you couldn't stop moaning. namjoon's mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hard while his tongue flicked the sensitive nipple.

“haah… haah…”

you felt like you'd burst when hoseok leaned closer to your pussy to lick at it, flicking it over your clit. the dual assault combined with the fingers till stretching and pumping inside both your holes was mind shattering and you could barely think straight. namjoon's suction on your nipple intensified, teeth grazing while the others held your legs open, preventing you from closing them against the overwhelming stimulation. yoongi's fingers curled inside your ass, touching the spot that you didn't even know existed and his fingers were extra long, as were taehyung's and both of them continued fucking you with them.

“ah-ah-ah-ah—fuck!”

you saw stars behind your eyelids with tongues on your pussy and the slide of fingers knuckle deep in your ass and cunt and the pull on your breasts. your nipples felt like they were on fire from the constant sucks and bites they received, they were swollen and almost reddened. all of the several sensations were about to do it for you.

“please… p-please! i can't...”

your voice breaks into a series of whimpers.

“i'm gonna... i need to cum... ahh please let me cum!”

they didn't stop their movements at all, drawing it out even slower to heighten the peak.

“yeah?”

he curled his fingers again and again just to see you tremble.

“you only get to cum when we say so.”

jungkook rasps against your clit before sucking into it even harder between his lips, humming vibrations through it making you twitch and wail out.

“please please.” you chant, your head thrashing side to side.

hoseok licks you all over, lapping at the lube and your juices mixed together. namjoon switched to your other nipple, biting down gently while his other hand massaged the first breast. the pressure built unbearably. your asshole and pussy clenching around the digits, every muscle in your body tensed, toes cuddling in your heels as the orgasm finally crashed over you with their permission.

“that's it, let go. cum for us.” yoongi commanded softly, his hand stroking your thigh.

your first orgasm of the night ripped through you and it was more intense than anything you've felt, the first best orgasm of your life. your pussy gushed around taehyung's fingers and your ass spasmed around yoongi's while you screamed, body shaking violently.

“ahh! fuckkk.”

you cursed as you saw stars behind your eyelids while they continued licking and fingering you through it. spurts of liquid left your pussy soaking the couch and their hands and they all groaned, licking at it. even yoongi leaned down to get a taste while making animalistic noises. the aftershocks making you twitch and whimper, your chest heaving as they slowly eased their fingers out making you whimper at the loss. their hands didn't leave you entirely, now murmuring praises.

“you did so well angel...” jimin cooed, kissing your thigh.

their eyes couldn't get enough of you as yoongi brought his glistening fingers to your lips for you to taste yourself.

“mhmm.” you licked obediently, feeling dazed and blissful, doing the same to taehyung's sloppily while still breathing hard.

they let you catch your breath while they looked at you with hunger and need that it made your chest tighten, wondering what they'd do next. that's when one by one they began to undress themselves fully, shedding off their dress shirts and pants that had already been partially opened. the clink of belts and the metallic sound of it makes your eyes hooded as you swallow, staring at them.

taehyung undressed first, taking off his shirt then pushed down his pants and boxers together, revealing his big cock. your eyes widened at how long it was, flushed at the tip from his need as he kicked away his pants. namjoon was next, taking off his shirt to reveal his muscular body, the type that came from gym sessions. his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving slightly upward with a prominent vein running along the underside, already glistening with precum.

jimin had all lean muscle, his abs rippling, the nevermind tattoo and the tattoos on his back as he revealed a perfectly shaped dick, not the longest but girthy enough to make your pussy clench at the sight, it looked like it was perfect to hit every sensitive spot. jungkook revealed his tattooed body next as he stripped, your mouth watering at the sight of his tattoos and muscles, revealing a cock that was both long and thick, veiny and aggressive looking, standing proud and pointing at you.

hoseok was confident in his bareness, he just seemed to have a flexible physique like he could put you in any position he wanted, his huge cock bouncing free, slapping against his stomach. jin moved next, revealing his broad chest and shoulder that you stared at with parted lips, his cock was thick as well and he was utterly shameless in it when he grabbed it and gave it a slow stroke, smirking at the way your eyes widened.

finally yoongi undressed last because he was too busy savoring your reactions to the others getting naked. his body was lean and strong, his pale skin makes him sexier and you gasped when his cock was exposed like it was a weapon, along with a slight thickness that promised deep thrusts and he was leaking steadily.

you were in pure awe as you took them all in, surrounded by such raw masculinity in every way possible. it felt so much more fierce because they were all bare. that you didn't even know whom to admire, you wished you had the capability to admire them all at once and to your heart's content. they were magnificent, each uniquely breathtaking and exerted dominance and masculine perfection and their cocks? they were all intimidating despite being different and you couldn't stop staring at them, you wondered if you were drooling.

you felt so incredibly powerful and unreal that you affected the men like that, they were all hard and leaking precum just for you. your pussy still throbbed from the aftershocks but couldn't stop clenching.

“oh my god...”

you whispered, your cheeks burning as you stared openly unable to look away. nothing in the world mattered in that moment except them, the way their bodies looked and the way muscles shifted under their hard and ready cocks because of you. you still couldn't believe that this was happening.

“you're all... so big.”

your tongue felt loose, the words leaving on their own. the men's egos boosted at your reaction, some smirking while the others looked at you heatedly. jungkook ran a hand through his hair, his piercing caught between his teeth.

“fuckk look at her staring like that, like we're the only thing she's ever wanted.”

he murmurs and namjoon chuckles deeply before nodding. you got that look in your eyes. they've had such powerful companies bow for them yet nothing compared to the way you looked at them right now. they didn't even want to compare you to anyone else, you were that special. they felt irresistible in your eyes.

“keep looking at us like that baby and we won't last long enough for everything we want to do to you.” hoseok grumbles.

you shifted forward onto your knees without needing much prompting, your knees sinking to the hard floor but jin quickly grabbed a cushion from the couch and gently placed it under your knees.

“don't want you bruising those pretty knees princess.” he says, stroking your hair once before stepping back as your heart flutters.

the seven of them formed a circle around you, their cocks at your eye level until you could get their clean male scent so well. your pussy dripping anew with eagerness. yoongi stepped forward first. he gathered your hair into a loose ponytail with one hand, pulling you close with a firm tug.

“open those sweet lips for me baby.” he rasps.

you parted your lips with a whimper and he slowly fed his cock into your mouth inch by inch. the taste of salty precum and clean skin made you moan as you took him deeper, your tongue swirling and he groaned, his eyes half closed in pleasure.

“good girl just like that. your mouth feels incredible.”

you relaxed your throat even more at the praise, wanting to do the best for him, taking him further until your nose brushed his pelvis, your eyes watering at the stretch. he held you there for long moments by your hair, savoring the tight heat then his hips started rolling lazily. his free hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“look at me while you take it… yeah just like that.” he growls.

the others watched intently, hands stroking their own cocks.

“she's handling yoongi so well.” hoseok commented huskily.

“look at her throat bulging a little, goddamn it.”

yoongi fucked your throat with such deepness that it left you gasping and moaning around him. he took your mouth for several long minutes, knowing others are still waiting so he reluctantly pulled out with a pop.

“perfect start sweetheart.” he praised.

jin moved in next, he tapped the head of his cock against your tongue almost immediately without letting you catch your breath. doing it a few times enough to make you whine.

“tongue out.” he ordered.

you obeyed dragging your tongue along his cock, letting out an “mmm” at the way he throbbed under your attention. then he guided you lower.

“now my balls suck them.”

jin was a balls kind of man, he had such sensitive balls and he loved it when they were sucked nice and gentle so you did exactly that. you leaned in, taking one into your mouth sucking while your tongue massaged it. your hand came up to cradle the other heavy one. jin let out a long satisfied moan, his head falling back.

“just like that... fuck… you're a natural. swirl your tongue more.”

you tried your best to follow his words, alternating between sucking and kicking while your other hand stroked his shaft as well, not leaving any part of him unattended. he grinned at how eager you were taking care of him so well even after everything they did to you earlier. you were worshipping his balls like they were your favorite treat.

“don't forget the rest of us baby.”

namjoon chuckles, the others making amused impatient noises, dying to get the feel of your mouth. your lips were already swollen and glistened when you pulled off jin's balls to breathe and he was about to slide his cock inside your mouth but hoseok was already taking his place next, his cock throbbing as he guided your head with one hand tangled in your hair.

“come here baby.” he murmurs, making your stomach flip.

your lips remained parted on their own so he slid it inside efficiently. your hand was placed on his thighs to hold on as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked.

“shitt.” hoseok groans, his hips beginning to fuck your mouth, each thrust pushing him deeper until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. you gagged as you heard wet slaps of his skin meeting your face as he picked up the pace, your moans drawing vibrations around him.

“yes… yes keep sucking like you mean it.” he rasps.

“so fucking pretty with your mouth full.” hoseok rocks into your mouth with a few more rolls.

his fingers tightened just enough in your hair to guide you, snapping his hips and burying himself deeper inside your mouth. from his ragged breaths and groans you felt that he was close and he wasn't letting go so easily. saliva dripped down your chin and onto your bouncing breasts.

“ahh.” hoseok pants as you licked along the underside of his shaft on a particularly hard thrust.

“you're gonna make me lose it if you keep that up.”

you only quickened your movements as the men around you were feeding off the sight.

“easy there hobi, don't wear her out too soon.” taehyung teased.

“yeah save some of that energy for the rest of us, give us a chance,” namjoon added, pumping his fist slowly over his cock. jungkook beside him, doing the same.

hoseok even though he was so close, pulled back, breathing hard as he petted your head as if you'd done a good job. they'd all planned to cum together and hoseok didn't wanna break the rule first. namjoon cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing over your precum soaked lips.

“you okay baby? want more?” he asked, checking in before taking his own moment.

“hah y-yes.” you nodded eagerly.

he filled your mouth completely with his cock from how slippery it was from all the fluids of others and your drooling mouth. his hand moved to rest on your throat, just cough to feel the bulge of his cock with every roll forward and you gagged, tears streaming down your face as you tried your hardest to breathe through your nose. his fingers flexed slightly as he controlled the pace so you took him to the hilt, he groans at the way your throat constricts around him.

“this throat feels so tight and good.” he murmurs. eyes half lidded as he watches the outline move under his hand.

“ugnngh!” you make a throaty sound that makes his grip tighten more. he loves the sight of you choking on his cock.

“she's taking it all... so hot.” yoongi observed, his cock still glistening from when you'd sucked his earlier and he used that to stroke himself.

namjoon's thrust grows faster as he fucks your mouth and the eyes and praises of others made your head spin and your thighs squeezing together from the frustration and need to finish once again. jimin stepped up, not wanting to wait any longer and as namjoon's eyes fell on him, he slipped out with a growl.

“perfect... you're absolutely perfect.” jimin hums with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he rubbed the head of his cock along your bottom lip first, tapping it lightly against your tongue without fully entering inside your mouth, pulling back whenever you leaned forward eagerly.

“ah ah, not yet angel.” he cooed.

“chase it… show me how bad you want my cock.”

you let out a whine, eyeing his cock with glistening eyes, tongue out sluttily but he was having his fun making you work for it. you part your lips, your tongue darting out to taste him, only for him to shift his hips to pull his cock away from you at the last second, leaving you whimpering and shifting on your knees. you watched helplessly as a bead of precum left him that you couldn't catch with your tongue, your mouth watering for more.

when he finally let you have him, it was just the tip sliding past your lips before he withdrew again and he let out a smirk. he sure had incredible patience to do this because the others were eager for your mouth while jimin was taking his sweet time. he makes you chase after it, your lips trying to suck him in desperately, each time he allows you just the head of his cock licking off his precum.

“p-please.” you sobbed.

“don't be such a tease jimin.. give our girl what she wants.”

jungkook chuckles hotly and the others nodded with a grin enjoying jimin's little game

“she's loving it though, she'll work even better on me once he's done.” taehyung adds with a grunt, already having made up his mind that he will go next.

“yeah? you want it bad baby?” jimin snarls and before you could reply, he abruptly filled your mouth with his cock, making your eyes widen.

“then suck it good will you?”

you suckled instantly, like you've been given water itself after being thirsty for so long, bobbing your head while making sputtering noises.

taehyung's turn came too slowly as if he knew exactly what he was doing. he sat on the edge of the couch unlike others who decided to take your mouth, standing on his long legs, man spreading so you're able to kneel comfortably between them. his dark eyes locked onto yours without blinking. taehyung's focus was solely on you. he reached down to gently stroke your tear streaked cheeks, it was such a tender touch compared to how hard and throbbing he was against your lips.

“you ready baby?” he murmurs.

you flushed, parting your lips slowly as you enveloped him with your mouth lapping onto the very tip of him as his taste fills your senses. his hand continued to stroke your cheek like you were his darling even as you sucked deeper.

“ugh!” he hissed, hips twitching as he lets you set the pace at first, loving the way you lap at his tip.

“your mouth feels like heaven... keep those pretty eyes on me, don't look away.”

the eye contact made it even more intoxicating as you tried to look up at him through blurry vision due to your tears and it made it even more intimate while he hit the back of your throat.

“just like that.” his head falls back onto the couch with a gasp.

jungkook follows soon, walking up to you with his belt, pulling your mouth off taehyung's cock with a slight tug in your hair that makes you moan. he was so impatient and rough after waiting so long for everyone to have their turns, his hand gripping your hair hard enough for pain to mix with pleasure. taehyung watches with a smirk, a little annoyed that his fun was cut short but he lets the youngest have his fun.

jungkook clasped the belt around your throat like a collar making you gasp, he used it as a handle as he pushed his cock inside your mouth in one go. he growled at the feeling, rolling his hips, throaty noises coming out of you from how immediately he reached the depths of your throat.

“take it deeper… ugh just like that.”

his hips delivered more sharp pumps while pulling your head forward with the help of the belt and you struggled to breathe properly, choking on his cock and your tears, he slowed just a little after a while.

“breathe through your nose baby. you're doing amazing.” he grumbles.

you breathe shakily as he pulls his cock out for a bit to let you breathe.

“mmph-”

your noise gets interrupted because he lets you take one inhale before driving back inside your mouth with full force. what started as you giving jungkook head led to more when the desperation in the group increased and they couldn't keep themselves away especially from how near they were from jerking off and also from the attention you've given to every single one of them differently and you knew what the men wanted without even proper words as you slowly started switching between all seven of them.

there were seven cocks surrounding you in a loose circle and you struggled to even focus properly. one moment your mouth was full with jimin's length sliding in and out of your mouth while yoongi's hand guided your hand to his cock from the side so you'd be able to jerk him off simultaneously.

“ah ah... mmmphmm.”

a mix of their husky moans and your muffled noises was all that could be heard. next you were turning to take namjoon's girth while both your hands jerked hoseok's and jin's cocks in rhythm. your palms were fully slick with spit and precum as you stroked them from the base to the tip.

“she's literally made for this.” namjoon rumbles as he holds your jaw, thrusting into your mouth.

“she can handle all of us together uh-huh?” jungkook lets out an amused groaned noise.

the different tastes and sizes were sensory overload for you, jin's cock filling your mouth and you also switched to sucking his balls like he liked while jungkook rubbed his dick against your face, leaving wet trails of precum on your pink cheeks. their hands didn't leave your body either, fingers tweaking your nipples, stroking your thighs or even guiding your head to the next cock. all this made you drip all over the floor, your pussy producing so much essence. you pulled off taehyun's cock with a gasp, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, only for hoseok to messily kiss you right after, his tongue tangling with yours and he growls at the saltiness from everyone before pushing your mouth back to yoongi's cock.

“oh...” you squealed.

when taehyung rubbed his cock against your cleavage, sliding down to flick your abused nipple with the tip of his cock

“tae pass her to me.” jungkook breathes out.

you whimpered as taehyung pushed your head on jungkook's cock so you'd be able to suck onto him while you twisted and pumped other cocks, occasionally leaning to lick or suck on balls or kiss the heads messily. no one came yet, they were holding back and edging themselves while you rotated between two or three cocks demanding your attention.

they noticed the way your thighs trembled and the sticky mess that was falling on the cushion between your legs and they didn't like neglecting you like that while you were working so hard on them. a shared look of understanding passed between taehyung and jungkook before they kneeled in front of you, making your eyes widen as they positioned you so your legs are spread while your mouth and hands are still able to work on others.

“ah-hahh, shit…”

jungkook and taehyung bury their heads between your spread thighs, their hot mouths devouring your pussy with hunger as your mouth couldn’t stop producing mindless noises. jungkook's tongue dragged slowly from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit in long strokes, his lip piercing hitting your clit every time, sending shivers up your spine with every pass. taehyung focused on tracing every fold with the tip of his tongue, sucking on your clit whenever jungkook moved his focus on your opening.

“hmm...”

he hummed, the vibration along with the dual sensations was overwhelming. both their mouths worked insistently as if they had all the time in the world, their tongues occasionally brushing against each other sloppily while your hips bucked. around you, the other five men stroked their thick cocks with pumps of their fists, their dark eyes locked on your writhing body.

“fuckk.” namjoon breathes.

his large hand gripped his length firmly, thumb swiping over the leaking tip as he watched jungkook's tongue disappear inside you continuously. you looked so goddamn pretty taking both their tongues like that.

“she's making a mess joon. watch how much she’s leaking.”

seokjin's lips curved up in a smirk as he let out a raspy chuckle with namjoon, both of them stroking their cocks side by side.

“she sure is.” he groans.

jin couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to grope one of your heaving tits to roll and pinch the nipple until you whimpered. hoseok's hips suddenly snapped forward, slapping against your parted lips. he panted smearing his precum on your bottom lip.

“mmph!” you let out a muffled sob when in one go, hoseok stuffs your mouth full of cock, almost cutting off your airflow, his eyes growing half lidded with lust and pleasure. yoongi and jimin were almost hypnotized with the sight of your pussy being so thoroughly eaten as hoseok grabs the belt around your throat that was being used as a collar and uses it as leverage to fuck your throat. pulling you closer with sharp tugs of the belt, fucking your mouth like his personal sex toy while choking you with the collar.

gluck. gluck. gluck.

the wet sounds of your throat getting fucked were all that was ringing in your ears along with the obscene slurps and sucks from between your legs. the men around you let out shared masculine moans and groans. you let out broken whines that you couldn’t hold back no matter how hard you tried, struggling to breathe.

“oh god...”

jungkook growled against your cunt as the two mouths between your thighs pushed you higher and higher. they held you apart when your thighs trembled so the others could get the perfect view.

“you're clenching so damn much baby.”

taehyung grumbles as two of his fingers slide inside you effortlessly from how slippery and wet you were while jungkook's tongue focused on your clit with renewed vigor.

“she's probably gonna cum again… she’s squirming so much.” jimin says and the other men made noises of affirmations.

hoseok pulled his cock out not giving you a chance to catch your breath as yoongi takes position and is already grabbing a fistful of your hair. he feeds you his cock and you couldn't help but clench on jungkook's tongue, making him let out a muffled groan, diving in again while taehyung latched onto your clit.

“taste so fucking sweet, are you gonna cum again for us princess?” taehyung pulls back enough to speak.

“ummmhg.” you let out a whine on yoongi's cock and he smirked

“yeah you will?”

one of his fingers joining to curl inside your pussy, making you sob, your eyes closing on their own. the others around you stroked their cocks right in front of your faces, stroking faster and faster, their breaths growing ragged muscles tensing. they also made you switch between sucking cocks of whomever you could and squeezing until you almost forgot whose cock you were touching or whose one was getting inside your mouth, you just blindly followed whatever they guided on you while jungkook and taehyung kept fingering and licking you beneath, stroking their own cocks. your boobs sometimes groped or squeezed against their cocks and also slid against each other. their eyes devouring your tear streaked flushed face, your body twitching hard.

you knew that they were so close. one by one they began to cum in sequence. all you could hear were groans and curses and the noises of liquid hitting the floor. jungkook pulled back from your pussy when he reached his peak with a harsh breath, stroking himself furiously over your mound before letting thick ropes of cum land across your pussy lips and clit, painting them white.

“fuuuuck yes marking this cunt right up.”

he hissed through gritted teeth while taehyung continued licking around the mess tasting your juices and jungkooks release mixed together with a moan his hand working faster as well. you pant against jimin's thigh, your forehead rested against it, all your attention diverted to the men coming around you instead of your own pleasure. namjoon aimed for your open mouth as you panted, his cum shooting across your tongue.

“shallow for me, take every drop.”

he commanded and you obeyed, gulping down everything. there was a slight bitter edge to his cum and you loved it. seokjin followed next, groaning deeply as he came across your tits and stomach, squeezing the last beads onto your skin while you squirmed.

“shitt yes yes...”

hoseok lets out groans as he cums against your cheek and lips, some landing on your tongue as you lick it up instinctively. jimin and yoongi targeted your breasts and belly, adding to the mess that now coated your upper body and within a few minutes, taehyung cums all over your ass cheeks too. the sticky warm fluid was everywhere and there was so much of it sliding over your curves, dripping down your sides and mixing with your sweat. fingers from some of them joined in pushing their combined release into your mouth, feeding you more as you moaned around the digits.

“such a good little cumslut.”

yoongi murmurs, roughly pushing two fingers coated in cum past your lips for you to suck clean. the taste of their release mixed together was so erotic that you couldn't stop gasping and whimpering. their cum slid down your forehead and eyelashes and they loved it, it made them even more possessive at the sight of you glazed by them.

you were their personal canvas.

taehyung scooped some of his cum from your ass and brought it to your lips too.

“shallow it all down baby, show us how much you love being ours.” he exhales.

jungkook and hoseok rubbed their softening cocks against your cum covered tits, smearing the white fluid further while namjoon and jin worked with their fingers to gather more and feed it to you, making you drink copious amounts of seed.

jin made you clean his cock properly while he groaned in approval before yoongi joined in, letting you clean every trace of his release, sucking at the tip while he stroked your hair. hoseok went next, guiding your head as you took him deeper while residual cum dripped from your chin and onto his shaft. he murmurs out soft praises while you move to clean namjoon as well with slow licks, smiles on all their faces in the afterglow.

you cleaned taehyung and jungkook together while they caressed your cheeks sweetly, ending with jimin, finishing cleaning all of them thoroughly.

your breasts heaved with every inhale as there was silence for a bit while you leaned there on the floor, your thighs quivering from the multiple edges they'd brought you with their tongues and fingers. your mind was hazy after giving all of them head even though they'd made you swallow a lot of it. cum still dropped slowly from your chin and onto your collarbone, you could still taste some on your lips. jungkook panted and moved closer first as he looked at you with lingering hunger as he brushed a strand of hair from your sticky forehead.

“so beautiful covered in us... you took everything we gave you.” he murmurs in genuine awe.

taehyung nodded in response.

“are you feeling okay y/n?”

the others gathered closer too. hoseok wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, jimin biting his lip as he admired the view and yoongi watched you, all of them waiting for your response. you nodded weakly at first, your throat hurting from sucking them and the constant moaning.

“i... am good more than good, that was...”

you couldn't find the proper words to finish your sentence but you were honest, it was everything and you shifted slightly, still feeling the ache of your unfinished release. the men exchanged glances, silent communication passing through them.

“she's still with us guys.”

jungkook said with a grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your forehead. jin reaches down to take off the belt from around your throat, letting you breathe properly. the belt left a pink mark that made them let out appreciative noises.

“drink some water first, you've worked hard and if we're gonna keep this going, you need to stay hydrated.”

hoseok coos as he walks over to grab a cool water bottle from the fridge, having no shame in walking around naked, his cock bouncing and it makes you flush harder. he uncapped it, holding it to your lips himself, tilting it carefully so you could sip slowly. it soothed your raw throat as you drank greedily, some of it spilled down your throat mixing with their cum.

even drinking water looked sinful on you.

they let you rest for a few longer minutes, their presence comforting you, hands roaming soothingly on your body while murmuring praises about how responsive you've been and how well you took them.

“think she's ready for more?” taehyung asked the group.

“she's nodding already, she's eager... aren't you angel?”

you smiled as you let out a sigh.

“yeah... i wanna continue.”

you admitted, your voice gaining new strength, no longer hoarse after the water and the break from them. the men lit up with renewed need, their cocks already twitching back to life at your words.

after a few more minutes of the rest period, they also helped wipe you clean with some tissues, not wanting you to be uncomfortable because of the stickiness and for what was coming next and they did that slowly, taking their time even if some of their cocks were already standing hard.

seokjin scooped you up as if you weighed nothing and into a bridal style, your body pressing against his chest. you gasped at the sudden lift, your arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his heart thud beneath your palm which told you that his heartbeat matched with yours. the others followed as jin carried you upstairs, your head resting against his chest, inhaling his scent.

“we've got you beautiful.” jin whispered.

they led you into the massive master bedroom which had a soft light giving a sensual glow. jin laid you gently in the very center of the bed, your body sinking into the mattress while they stood taking you in and how your thighs pressed together instinctively. there was so much desperation and anticipation. you were gonna lose a lot of fluids before the nights over so they were glad that you drank water.

“tell us baby... do you wanna keep going?”

you nodded, feeling impatient but still a little over the moon from their constant checks but you felt so good and naughty that you couldn't stop anymore.

“i want you all raw please... i-i'm on birth control, i want you inside..” you whine sultrily.

you didn't give them a moment to react before you shifted onto your hands and knees in the center of the bed, arching your back, invitingly presenting yourself to him. your ass swayed slightly as you looked over your shoulder and at them with half lidded eyes, your hair falling on one shoulder.

“make me yours tonight, use me like your little toy.”

the words came out confidently with no hint of nervousness, all your shyness and shame gone as you wiggled your hips in an attempt to seduce as if they weren't already. your spread thighs gave them the best view of your cum soaked puffy pussy. you have no idea what you've just unleashed and you're gonna face the consequences of that.

“did you hear that guys? she's already begging to be bred.” namjoon said with a wicked smile.

“that's exactly what we're gonna do.” jimin adds.

they couldn't wait to watch you take every load of cum inside your pussy. they've been pretty lenient with your mouth but they don't think that they'll go any easier on all your holes when you've just given them free rein. hours of pleasure were still to arrive.

yoongi of course was the first one to claim you based on the knowing look from the others who knew that he was going to be first as a primal look took place in his expression. without a word at first, he pulled you onto his lap in reverse cowgirl position making you yelp. your back pressed flush against his chest so that every other man in the room had a perfect view of your body. he gripped your hips firmly before one wrapped up to wrap around your throat making your breath hitch.

“y-yoongi..” you stammered as he bites your earlobe.

“sir. call us sir.” he corrects you, making you swallow, already lifting your hips enough to keep you suspended over his cock.

“sir... ahhh, oh my gosh.”

he rolls his hips, letting the head of his cock drag between your folds teasingly before notching himself right at your entrance and sliding inside you inch by inch while you can't stop writhing.

“nghh.” you let out a mewl when he was fully seated and he didn't waste much time before starting to thrust, the head of his cock dragging inside you with every grind making your walls flutter around him.

“so fucking tight.”

he grunts, his eyes half closing. the feeling was better than any drugs or money could provide, the feeling of your warm tight hole around him. the other men were already feeling jealous and extremely impatient, wanting to get a feel of your pussy too. they started pumping their cock with their hands, all their eyes locked on where yoongi's cock disappeared inside your dripping cunt.

in and out. in and out.

“ahh fuck... you're squeezing me so good like you never want me to leave this pussy.” he growls.

his thrusts remained torturous, sometimes circling his hips in a way to make him go deep and it made you let out the most delicious noises, his lips brushing against your ear as his grip on your throat tightened just a fraction. his free hand slid down to spread your folds wider with two fingers to expose you for the viewing pleasure of others and they could see every intricate detail of how he fucked you. the way his cock filled you and pressed against your inner walls, your body trembled as did your thighs on either side of his legs from their gazes.

you were also shocked at how they were all rock hard again so soon, their cocks hard and heavy as they jerked themselves lazily, enjoying the show yoongi was putting on. your pussy clenched around yoongi's length as he fucked you with measured thrusts that seemed to reach deeper than physically possible. the hand around your throat made your head spin, heightening every sensation until you felt like you might shatter. you were also having a cock inside you after years and he was so big that you couldn't remain still, it felt like you might shatter any moment.

“yoongi… oh god, it's so deep.” you gasped out, hands gripping his thighs for leverage as you tried to meet his thrusts.

he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back as he picks up the pace just a notch, snapping his hips up.

“too much for you huh?”

“let them know how much you love it shitt.”

he sent you spiraling, your walls fluttering as you felt the orgasm build for the second time tonight, your entire body tensing. the others couldn't take their eyes off you, their chests tightening along with their hands on their cocks. with a final deep thrust and a loud groan, he buried himself fully inside you, his cock twitching as he spilled thick ropes of cum inside you.

“yess yes...”

you babbled as his cock kept moving, some of his cum pushing out with his pumps. it triggered your own climax crashing over you hard making you convulse hard around him, your juices coming out as your back arched against him.

“that's it.”

he encouraged, his hand loosening on your throat to grip both your thighs as he kept going slowly through both your orgasms, ensuring you felt every throb. the others let out groans as well, their strokes pausing momentarily at how you both orgasmed.

“you tired her out already man.” hoseok laughed breathlessly, his cock twitching.

yoongi stayed inside you for a long moment, grinding to push his cum deeper as you rested against him while breathing hard. he didn't wanna leave the feel of you around him so soonbbut he reluctantly eased out with a wet pop, a trail of fluid leaking down your thighs. you made a frustrated little sound at the empty feeling. hoseok gave yoongi a smirk, the energy was practically wafting off him even before he reached you as he patted yoongi on the shoulder.

“you set the bar high didn't you huh?”

yoongi's lips curled, feeling satisfied but already looking forward to his next turn with you.

“take your time with her then.” he whispers to hoseok.

you were already limp, pussy clenching around nothing, eyes glassy as you looked up at hoseok. he flipped you onto all fours, positioning you to face the large mirror on the opposite wall so you could watch yourself while the others got a view too and it already has you panting. he lined up behind you and right on your slit, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. he didn't give you any moment to suck in a breath, it was so abrupt it knocked the air out of your lungs. he slammed home all the way inside with one thrust, stretching you open again amidst yoongi's cum.

“ahhh!” you screamed.

the hard fucking began immediately, his hips snapping forward relentlessly, his balls hitting your clit with every deep plunge. each thrust drove you forward slightly on the bed, your breasts swinging while you watched your face contorted in pleasure in the mirror along with the way his cock drove inside you and it made you even hornier and turned on.

“look at yourself and how good this cunt is taking my cock.” he snarled.

his one hand fisted your hair to keep your head up, forcing you to watch yourself. the others made manly noises enthusiastically, full of dirtiness.

“go harder hobi, she loves it rough.” jungkook urged

“she's absolutely gone.” jimin chuckles darkly, watching you in the mirror, leaning closer for a better view.

“uh… uh… uh…”

you let out with each thrust of his. the position and the angle make hoseok hit that spot inside you over and over and especially that combined with the cum inside you makes everything wetter, sloppier, more obscene. your walls fluttered wildly as you felt another of your orgasms building so fast from the brutal pace.

“s-s-sir, it's so good gahh!” you moaned loudly, pushing back against him desperately.

hoseok had started pounding into you with an intensity, his hands gripping your hips to keep you anchored in one place, your walls fluttering around him as the pressure built higher and higher towards another peak. hoseok's breath came in growls as he chased his own release he was so close to.

“gonna fill this pretty pussy up.” he groans but just as your orgasm hovered right on the brink, it all suddenly stopped.

jungkook moved closer all of a sudden, his hand shooting forward with determination.

“it's my turn now.”

jungkook gruffs out. it was like he was possessed by lust at the sight of your pussy being taken by others and he couldn't control himself, all he wanted was to feel you around him and couldn't even wait for a single moment. he was already pulling hoseok back by the shoulder and he let out a frustrated groan, his cock slipping out of your dripping heat.

“jungkook what the fuck? i was so close, she was right there clenching like she was going to cum any second too.”

hoseok complained, his cock throbbing angrily in the air, glistening as he shot jungkook a half annoyed and half amused glare, wiping sweat from his brow as he stepped aside reluctantly.

“you can have her right after man.” jungkook promised with a smirk at his lips. he scooped you up in a second from the bed as if you were nothing more than a delicate doll made for his pleasure.

“right now i wanna have her like this and fuck her.” he declared smugly, his eyes locked on yours in a way that makes your stomach flip.

it makes you let out a long moan because you loved it and this is what you wanted, wanted them to reduce you to their sexual plaything to pass around and claim as they pleased and it sent a shameful heat to your core. it turned you on more than you care to admit. another gush of wetness trickled down your thighs as jungkook maneuvered you into position. everyone was silent for a beat, a little shocked at the raw power jungkook exerted himself when he lifted you completely off the ground and into a full suspended hold, his strong arms hooked under your knees, folding your legs up and apart and blanching you like that, completely immobilizing you and exposing you. somehow the position made your puffy pussy get even more exposed to everyone. your back pressed against his chest while he stood as if he wasn't just balancing your whole body with just his arms alone.

you yelped sharply at the vulnerability of it all, your body suspended mid air, utterly at his mercy, your heels dangling.

“j-jungkook—”

he cut off your words with a click of his tongue, making a disapproving noise.

“yoongi specified to call us all 'sir' didn't he? you're seeking to get punished hmm?”

your lips part from his words, the position working against you in the nastiest way.

“i'm sorry sir.” you signed.

“now that's more like it.”

“she looks so helpless like that.” namjoon murmurs from the side, watching the way your pussy lips parted invitingly.

“jungkook's showing off his strength again.”

taehyung nods, grabbing a cigarette from the drawer beside him and lighting it with a flick of his lighter, taking a puff of smoke and blowing it out while his other hand strokes his cock.

“stretch that cunt wide for us.” seokjin grins.

“she's probably just soaking even more just from being held like that.”

hoseok adds, watching patiently, waiting to strike as soon as jungkook finishes but enjoying the show as well. jungkook adjusted his grip, his cock nudging insistently against your entrance. he teases you for a bit, rubbing the broad head up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your essence while you whimpered and squirmed in his hold.

“you want this don't you baby? want me to fuck you mid air like the needy slut you are for us?” he growled hotly against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“ohh yes please sirr... fuck me..”

and as quick as those words left your lips, jungkook slowly buried himself inside you, the sheer force lifting you slightly higher before gravity pulled you back down on his length. you saw stars behind your eyes from his size and the position made you tighter than anything. you cried out when he started moving using his immense strength to bounce you up and down his cock. each upward drive of his hips sent his cock slamming into you, producing loud wet noises as your juices coated him and dropped down onto the floor below.

“aaahh… yes…”

your body jolted, tits jiggling wildly, your head thrown back against his shoulder as moans poured uncontrollably from your lips. he kept his hands tight below your thighs, it kept unable to do anything more than take everything he gave you. his muscles strained from the efforts, veins popping along his arms and neck but he showed no signs of tiring, only pure focus.

“shittt she's creaming all over your cock already.” jimin observed.

“pound that pussy kook.” taehyung whistles, taking in another puff of his cigarette.

“don't forget to save some for me later, you greedy brat.”

hoseok added with a laugh. jungkook was clearly wearing you out quickly and the words from them only seemed to fuel him further. his thrusts are growing faster and harder, your cries escalating. he adjusted the angle slightly, grinding deep on every downstroke so his cock head kissed your cervix repeatedly while your pussy tightly held him, he felt so much bigger than he already was. the pressure built rapidly inside you, the unfinished orgasm from hoseok has left it coming back in full force so that it was almost painful, your clit twitching hard and untouched.

“sirrr gahh fuck i'm gonna—” your voice breaks in a wail.

“cum for me, let everyone watch.”

he commanded through gritted teeth, his own release approaching fast as he felt your pussy spasming. a loud scream that ended in a sob left you as you came harder than you ever had, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. you'd never squirted ever in your life and it was the very first time that your body couldn't keep up with it. clear fluid gushed out around his pistoning cock in squirts, soaking his thighs fully and landing so much of it down to the floor in a puddle. your vision whitened, every inch of your body locking up in ecstasy. jungkook groaned deeply, the feeling of your squirting pussy pushing him over the edge.

“fuckk yes take it all.”

he roared, burying himself as deep as he could, his cock pulsing hard inside you, thick cum flooding your womb in seconds, filling you to the brim. he held you there suspended, both of you panting and trembling, his cum mixing with your squirt.

“damnn she squirted so much...” hoseok grins, already moving closer.

“good job kook. now hand her over, i still need to finish what i started.”

jungkook slowly lowered you down onto the bed and you fell on your stomach from how exhausted you were even though you anticipated the other five of them. hoseok took his second turn hard and rough, he was already so close due to being inside your pussy the first time and the frustration had left him rougher than usual.

“fuckkk.” he snarls as he slides inside you with a loud noise from behind. you let out a wanton noise, murmuring his name.

“oh shit—oh shit—!”

you let out a string of curses when he reached around to rub your neglected clit in circles, feeling how engorged it is since nobody touched it for a while.

“goshhh yes.” you whined at it. your mouth fell open in an 'o' when it took him just a few more hard thrusts to fill you to the brim. there was so much cum from jungkook before as well that it soaked the sheets and made your thighs sticky with the creamy white mess. he pulled away from you with a shaky breath.

they let you have a few minutes of breath, your head buried on the pillow as your lower body quivered.

jin slowly walks forward, his hands settled on your back, caressing your sweaty skin. your hand fisted the sheets as you turned your head, your eyes longingly looking at his pouty lips and he didn't think twice and pressed his lips against yours, giving you a slow kiss. you whimpered when he pulled back, his arms pulling you close to him. his hands settled on your hips as he lay back against the pillows, one arm casually folding behind his head, his half lidded eyes sparkling with playfulness settled on you he guided you to straddle him, his thick cock standing proud and flushed against his abdomen.

“come on baby.” he whispers, stroking your ass.

“ride me. move those hips for me yeah?” he rasps. you felt a heat pool in your belly at his words as you sat on his hard stomach, breasts heaving as he cupped your cheek. your hips pressed against his abs, he helped you right above his cock, your breaths coming out fast.

“slowly…” he encouraged and you nodded jerkily as the head of him pressed against your puffy entrance.

you felt overstimulated in the best way and from cumming twice, it left you feeling floaty. he slowly stretched you open, giving you that burn that made your thighs tremble around his waist as you bore down more with a few gasps and sank down fully, his girth filling you completely until your ass met his hips and you were fully seated around him.

“hahhh!” you mewled as jin's face twisted in pleasure and at the feeling of your creamy cunt from all the loads you'd taken, it had left you warmer and even better inside. his free hand slid up your side before cupping one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple in tiny flicks that sent jolts through you.

“fuckk that's it.”

he groaned, his head tilting back slightly to expose the column of his throat, his adam's apple bobbing as he savored the tight heat enveloping him.

“move sweetheart. ride my cock like you mean it.”

he didn't push you at all, his hand caressed one of your butt cheeks, holding it spread so the others from behind could stare at the way his cock was inside you while he let you set the pace. your hands braced on his chest for balance as you began to roll your hips, lifting and sinking down in a slow grinding rhythm that dragged his cock along your inner walls with every motion.

“nnn… nnn… ahhh…”

pleasure started to build and he didn't push you so you were able to please yourself on him and he understood that you were a bit overstimulated so this was really helping you as you enjoyed yourself.

he hit the best spots on every downward stroke and your toes curled at the tingling feeling, your breath came out in needy squeals. sweat trickled down your back as the pace gradually quickened, your breasts bouncing with the movement and jin was hypnotized with the motion. his hand tightened on you, his jaw clenching with restraint as he helped you bounce on him, just bucking his hips up a little bit to meet you driving himself deeper. quiet whimpers left you. from the side of the bed, yoongi had been watching his lips parted slightly, lost in his control even though he'd had this turn at the very beginning but he couldn't help it.

“can't just sit here and watch anymore.”

he mutters huskily as he moves closer on the bed, positioning himself right beside seokjin. his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as you continued riding seokjin and then his mouth was on you so suddenly you choked out and gripped his hair in shock.

“w-what—” you gasped when his mouth grabbed onto your clit, sucking onto it making your entire body jerk.

“mmm so sweet..”

he hummed as he circled your clit, flicking at it with his tongue, teasing it before sucking it fully inside his mouth. his tongue technology was everything, he was an expert and so skilled it was so good, he was the best at eating pussy, sometimes lapping along your folds where they stretched around jin's cock.

“nnn… y-yes.”

your eyes closes, your motions faltering on jin's cock from taking both of them. it felt too much with the drag of jin's cock combined with yoongi's expert mouth devouring you. you almost lost yourself in the sensation of yoongi's tongue when a burst of pain from the spank of jin's hand made your eyes pop open with a cry, his hand immediately soothing the spot.

“don't stop moving.” jin commanded, a glare on his face, delivering another slight spank that made your pussy clench hard around him.

“keep riding me while yoongi eats your clit. you can take it yeah?”

the pain pleasure mix made you moan loudly, your movements resuming on their own with urgency, grinding down harder and faster as yoongi's tongue lapped at the mess where you and seokjin were joined, tasting both of you and also the mix of others that leaked out of you without hesitation, letting out groans at the taste. the others eyes gleamed at the pornographic sight.

“look at her go.”

jungkook breathed, biting his lower lip, watching the way yoongi's tongue worked on you while you quivered constantly and drooled from how intense it was for you.

“ride him harder, make him feel it.” jimin calls out. the others laughed lazily at his words.

“don't go easy on her man!”

he didn't go easy on you at all as jin tensed beneath you, his hips snapping up more insistently now to meet your frantic rides, his cock swelling inside you.

“shit i'm gonna cum.” he gasped.

his hand that was behind his head now gripping your waist with both hands to pull you down hard repeatedly as he thrusts up at you.

“milk me baby cum with me.” he encourages roughly.

all this while, yoongi's tongue never stopped sucking on your clit with the perfect pressure.

“don't stop—don't—ahhh!”

“never gonna stop baby.”

jin promises and after a particularly harsh suck from yoongi that even jin could feel on his cock, he finishes with hot spurts of his cum flooding you that pushed you right over the edge. you came even faster and harder than you expected while his cock draws out every drop. you let out a series of gasps as juices mixed with his cum coated yoongi's chin as he continued licking through it to prolong the contractions. the full wet heat and the sting on your ass from the spanks made you feel like you broke as seokjin held you close, still impaled on his cock. yoongi pulled back with a satisfied noise, lips shiny and swollen.

before you could catch a breath, taehyung and jimin came over to you, not one but two and the thrill of what the two of them were going to do made your eyes go round comically. taehyung was the first to grab your waist and pull you firmly against his chest, the smell of tobacco and sex clinging to him, while jimin slid in from the other side, pressing against your back until the both of them sandwiched you, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

“we've been waiting to feel this tight body up close.” jimin whispers, and taehyung nibbled at your collarbone.

“i can already tell she's gonna feel so tight around me.”

he adds, earning a smirk from jimin and you shuddered violently at their words. with slowness, taehyung and jimin both together worked to take off your thigh high stockings and your heels, taking off the only set of clothes on your body and now you were fully naked from head to toe. after that taehyung grabbed a silk tie from the drawer.

“put those hands up..” he coos and you gulp but obey shakily.

he bound your wrists above your head to the headboard. he tied it securely but not too tight, just enough to make sure you couldn't get out of it no matter how hard you tried. he leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your arms, lingering on the pulse point at your wrist, smiling at the way it raced.

“is this okay love? not too tight is it?” he asked and you nodded breathlessly, the vulnerability of being tied down made everything heightened for you. jimin watched, his hands already sliding down to pry your thighs wide apart.

“good.” jimin nods as he holds you open.

“damn they've really did a number on her…” jimin husks, watching the copious amount of cum your pussy seemed to leak.

taehyung settled between your thighs, not being able to hold himself back from the lewd sight of your stuffed cunt. his cock nudges against your folds, coating himself in your juices and he grunts at the feeling of hitting the tip of his cock on your clit, making your hips twitch with a whimper but jimin kept you pinned and open, not letting your thighs close. namjoon slowly joins the duo too, his hand cupping your jaw to turn your face toward him for a kiss.

“mnnn…” you let out a muffled noise, kissing him back, both your tongues tangling messily while his hand roamed to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples. taehyung's cock finally on the other hand, pushed inside you inch by thick inch and you moaned and cried loudly into namjoon's mouth, who was busy sucking on your tongue, his fingers tugging your nipples until they ached.

“she feels incredible fuckk.”

taehyung groaned deeply as he bottomed out inside you, his hips flush against yours, pelvis grinding against you which stimulated your clit too.

“so tight so hot, this pussy was made for us wasn't it princess mhm?” he grumbles as he feels you pull him in deeper with every little twitch.

“unngh..”

you let out another moan against namjoon's mouth while taehyung pulled back almost completely before sliding in again with that torturous slowness, making his cock drag against your inner walls and it made a loud squelch sound from how wet you are. namjoon kissed you more insistently, his teeth grazing your lower lip before he pulled back to let you breathe as he watched your face contort from ecstasy, his fingers not stopping playing with your nipples, kneading the flesh until they were more swollen than before, it made a slight pain mix with it.

“hnngh… ngh… mmh…” you let out all your desired noises after namjoon pulled away. he sometimes focused on sucking on your nipple too.

“that's it tae fuck her, watch the way her pussy clenches around you hm.. she's loving every second,”

jimin was mesmerized with the way taehyungs cock slides in and out especially from getting a proper close up view now instead of standing away, his hands faltering on holding your thighs open. taehyung lets out an approved grunt at his words while you struggle to keep up with all three of them playing with your body like this, you can't even move or shift due to being tied down, your hands clenching into tight fists, knuckles turning white. tears welled in your eyes as taehyung hits your g-spot, his breathing growing ragged as he grows increasingly close to his release.

“i'm so close..” he groans, pounding into you, making your body shift forward so hard that you had to grip the headboard.

“ahh.”

you and taehyung let out shared groans as he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. ropes of cum painted your inner walls as he stayed inside next for long moments, grinding to push his release deeper and leaning down into you, kissing your neck. taehyung shoots jimin a look before pulling out with a wet dirty sound, his cum already starting to leak from your used hole as jimin took his place seamlessly in the same missionary position. taehyung was the one now holding your thighs apart, spreading you wider so everyone could see the mess as jimin's cock slid between your cum slick pussy with ease from so much fluid making him so slippery that he lets out a breathless chuckle. namjoon shifted impatiently, watching taehyung and jimin take turns with you and he was the only one left so he rubbed his cock against the side of your face, smearing precum across your cheek before tapping it against your lips.

“open up angel, suck me while jimin fucks you.” he pants.

your lips part wetly to take him in as he slides inside and at the same time, jimin slides inside you.

“ugnngh!” you sobbed around namjoon's cock, tears streaming down your face.

“oh goddd she's even sloppier, it feels like heaven.”

you let out muffled groans around namjoon's shaft as he slowly started pumping. taehyung leaned down to kiss wherever he could reach, your neck, your breasts, your stomach while he kept your legs pinned. the others watched everything, the satisfied group did so after they had their chance, stroking themselves and throwing their dirty crude comments and murmuring among themselves about you and it makes you feel wilder. a bit more animalistic. you were completely a crying mess by now, your body trembling from the overstimulation from your cunt being taken again and again while you couldn't moan or breathe properly due to namjoon's cock. jimin's thrusts grew faster while you sucked namjoon. taehyung hadn't let you cum earlier so even before jimin had cum, you started cumming on him while thrashing, your hair falling messily on your face, your pussy clenching and gushing. your body tried to buck but couldn't from your hands being tied and your legs held.

“yesss!”

jimin moans out, letting out some sweet whimpers too at how hard you were clenching on him like you were trying to milk him for all he was worth. namjoon held your head steadily, giving a few thrusts before pulling back slightly from your mouth and you gasped for air loudly.

“she's our girl for sure… keep going jimin.” namjoon snarls.

the feeling of you cumming around his cock so quick made him cum almost soon after as well, some landing on your stomach as namjoon watched, stroking his saliva coated cock. namjoon carefully turned you onto your stomach and then guided your hips up, positioning you on your knees while your upper body remained pressed against the sheets. he spread your ass to press his throbbing cock against your pussy, groaning low in his throat. behind you, jungkook moved in closer, his lip piercing pressing against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, your stomach flutters at having him close once again.

“we're gonna take you together now baby, me in this tight ass while namjoon takes this pussy, do you understand?”

“i wanna hear you say it...” he rasps.

your mind was hazy with lust, tears of pleasure drying on your cheeks, it's like you existed for it only and you were willing to take whatever they gave you.

“y-yes p-please... i want it please.” you gasped out, needily pushing back against namjoon's cock.

“i want both of you.”

jungkook chuckles against your skin as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the bedside table that taehyung has brought with him while coming upstairs as if he just knew it'd be needed again soon. he poured a generous amount over his cock, stroking himself slowly, mixing his precum with him and making himself so slick while he breathed heavily. he added more lube directly to the right ring of muscle of your ass that was exposed from being held open by namjoon. he did it patiently, coating your outside completely and some of the cum and fluids had also dripped down to your ass so you were already so wet but he didn't wanna hurt you in any way and wanted to make sure that you were comfortable.

“ohh...”

you moaned when one of his fingers penetrated you, lubing your insides too while namjoon continued rubbing his cock head against your pussy, dipping just the tip in and out to keep you on edge making you tense.

“relax i'm gonna make it feel so good for you sweet girl.”

jungkook promised, his free hand keeps your ass cheeks spread more as he worked a second finger in scissoring to prepare you just like yoongi had done downstairs. he crooked his fingers just right, brushing against the special spot making you sputter as your head thrashed side to side, not being able to make much movement from being tied down. namjoon leaned down, his chest pressing against your back.

“you're taking kook's fingers like a champ.” he praised.

when jungkook finally deemed you ready, your ass stopped clenching too tight and had started fluttering instead in anticipation. he pulled his fingers free and lined up his lubed cock at your ass.

“ohhhhh fuck…”

you sobbed when your ass stretched immensely around his cock, your entire body shaking as he sank deeper, his groans mixing with yours at the feel of the tight channel.

“so fucking tight, let me in... yes.” he gritted out, one hand reaching around to rub your clit to distract you from the pain and it definitely did help as you breathed in and out.

when jungkook was halfway in, namjoon thrusted forward, burying his massive cock into your pussy in one stroke from how slick and gaping you were from taking multiple dicks there and jungkook was on the way to doing to the same training for your asshole too. it felt so overwhelmingly good yet so much, both their cock's met each other through the wall separating your holes, creating a pressure that made your eyes roll back so hard that there was only white visible, your legs kicking on the edge of the bed. namjoon's cock hit that perfect spot inside you while jungkook created a deeper fullness. it felt weird to have something inside your ass but it was forbiddenly good and you wanted more of it, your eyes went unseeing when he went all the way inside, pushing and gushing so much. the lube made everything slick and slippery so jungkook slided in and out with ease. they alternated, one pulling out while the other pushed in, thrusts that rocked your entire body upwards as you held onto the headboard desperately.

“hah… hahgh o-oh.”

namjoon growls, his hand fisting in your hair so your head shifts slightly and the others can see your blissed out face. jungkook's hips snapped harder, his balls slapping against your ass as he buried himself to the hilt. you couldn't stop making wanton noises, your stomach coiling from the dual penetration and it seemed to edge you so fast.

“i'm… i'm gonna oh—”

you wailed as you heard the slapping noises of skin meeting skin and the way namjoon and jungkook fucked you. the others around you were jerking their cocks faster so fascinated yet feeling so animal at the scene before the and they were so close to losing all self control.

you came hard around namjoon's cock, your pussy clenching violently around his shaft while your ass fluttered on jungkook's cock. your limbs shook uncontrollably against the ties as your forehead rested on the headboard as you tried to breathe wildly. namjoon followed right after, his thrusts growing erratic as he buried himself deep and came flooding your pussy with cum.

“fucking shitt.”

he lets out a string of curses, grinding deeper against you to push his release deeper while jungkook continues fucking your ass through the orgasm, drawing it out until you are oversensitive, his cock inside your ass makes you forget about the overstimulation of your pussy momentarily. the feeling of namjoon's cum leaking around his cock as he stayed inside you combined with jungkook's pace left your mind fully blank, you couldn't even produce proper words other than helpless moans. the aftershocks making your holes flutter around their cocks as they held you there, not pulling out yet

namjoon and jungkook slowly pulled out of you after a while, there seemed to be a certain shift in the air, like the wait had finally snapped. after seeing your flexibility and impressive energy, capable of being able to take two cocks at a time. they surrounded you on the bed, closing in like you had nowhere to escape.

namjoon and jungkook and taehyung were still beside you, their eyes all holding obsession and need as their eyes traced your flushed trembling form and the way that there was a large wet spot on the sheets. your wrists were freed from the tie by yoongi so you won't be restricted and they could put you in any position they want.

“color?” hoseok asks you with genuine concern.

“if it's too much, tell us.” taehyung adds.

his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lip. their hands hovering, cocks leaking against your thigh but waiting for your consent before proceeding, knowing you already took a lot. jimin leaned in to press a kiss against your temple.

“you're shaking so much but we won't push you unless you're okay.” hoseok croons while you gasp for breath, your heart pounding and slowing down as minutes pass by.

“green...”

that's the only word you managed to get out as you looked at them with glassy eyes and they all groaned together.

“that's our girl for sure.”

jungkook grumbles and the others made noises of agreement at how perfect you are and how your body opened up and gave itself to them so easily even after everything, you wanted to take more. they knew that you were the one for them.

they closed in fully and before you knew it, hands and mouths were on you all at once and everywhere. kisses went down your neck, shoulders, breasts and stomach, open mouthed kisses. teeth grazed your collarbones while tongues soothed the sting, fingers tangling in your hair and stroking your sides and ass. they teased every sensitive spot on your body. it was sensory overload as the heat of their bodies pressed close.

“haa…”

jimin was the first to claim your pussy, sliding his cock through your slit with a groan. he pushed in slowly at first, feeling your walls trying to pull him in like a magnet from earlier orgasms. namjoon positioned himself behind you, his cock pressing against your asshole. he didn't need to use more lube because there were already residuals of it from earlier and you were so full of fluids.

“gahh!”

you made a throaty noise, hands fisting the bedsheets as he worked his way inside your ass as well. jimin's thrusts rubbed against that spot inside you perfectly while namjoon's cock filled your ass. their hips snapping in sync, both their heavy cocks slapping against you, making pating noises while you sobbed out almost pornographic noises, not even recognizing the noises you made yourself. at the same time jungkook moved closer to your head, his hand wrapped around your cock, guiding your mouth open with the tip of it.

“let me feel that throat baby.” he growls, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he pushes deeper.

you moaned loudly as he immediately hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes anew while jimin and namjoon continued fucking. taehyung on the other hand, slides his heavy cock between your breasts, squeezing them together around his length with a groan which were bouncing automatically from thrusts causing friction on his length.

“these are so soft.” he grunts. he loved the way they felt around his cock, his precum causing his dick to glide easily, his thumbs flicking your nipples with every moment. jin and hoseok claim your hands next, wrapping your fingers around their throbbing cocks. your palms were guided up and down their lengths with their larger hands covering yours, setting a firm pace.

“stroke me good baby.” hoseok says, their hips bucking into your grip, abs flexing.

“gahhsh hahh mmphh.”

you make mindless muffled sobbing noises on jungkook's cock while being stimulated in every way possible. they continued without pause, jimin fucking your pussy with deep strokes while namjoon pounded your ass. jungkook used your mouth like a toy, like it was just a warm wet sleeve for him to use as he alternated between deep throats and quicker thrusts. taehyung's cock slid messily between your breasts, leaving them glistening and he let out grunts. jin's and hoseok's cocks were twitching in your grip.

yoongi was the only one left to join and he was standing close to the bed, watching everything and the chaos with feral eyes, tracking every noise of yours and the slap of skin as the other men claimed you. his hand paused on his cock, his chest rising and falling as he saw you being used so thoroughly. jimin was buried deep inside your pussy already but yoongi could see the way your walls clenched and fluttered, begging for more. the stretch was not yet complete and that alone made his cock twitch. you were his adorable little slut and stretched so wide and still hungry for more. the other men also noticed that yoongi didn't join as they egged him on, turning to look at him.

“yoongi's been holding back.”

hoseok chuckled, guiding your hand along his cock. his other hand kept you steady on jungkook so your mouth kept working on him.

“come on yoongi, join us.”

jimin groaned in agreement, his hips never slowing as he looked at yoongi with a flushed smile, knowing exactly what he wants. they've known each other well enough to understand what the other wants without words and right now yoongi holding back means he wants something different, the way his eyes were fixated on your gaping pussy told him exactly that.

“she's so fucking tight even now… but we can make her take us both. get over here and stretch our girl.”

yoongi finally pushed off the bed, his cock bobbing heavily as he approached, making the men chuckle between groans while you struggled to keep up with their words or even understand what they're saying. he added more lube over his length, adding even more to where jimin was already connected to you. the head of his cock pressed against your already stuffed entrance, teasing over the stretched rim where jimin was inside.

“go for it.” jimin smirks at him and yoongi hums.

“you want this baby? want both our cocks splitting this pussy wide open?” yoongi murmurs, his free hand stroking your bulging tummy gently, feeling the outline of jimin inside you. all you could respond with was a muffled sob around jungkook's cock as tears and snot left you, your mind melting.

“that's a yes.” jungkook replies to yoongi with a grin, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

your vision blurs when yoongi finally pushed in alongside jimin causing such a burning stretch like you were going to tear open, forcing two massive cocks all the way in together. inch by inch, yoongi's length slid home, the lube easing the way but not diminishing the intense fullness as your tummy visibly bulges outward even more prominently at the dual intrusion.

“hnnngh... mm...” you sputtered with wide eyes around jungkook's cock.

the men groaned, their hands roaming your body, all focused on watching the way you took three cocks, two cocks inside your pussy and namjoon still pounding your ass. your belly bulged with each thrust until you could feel every bit of the detail and veins of their cock. you've never felt so full and complete in your life. the masochist in you barely registered the pain and only focused on the way you were being claimed so thoroughly. yoongi and jimin found a rhythm together, their cocks rubbing against each other, it sent white hot sparks exploring through their nerves. your pussy was overfilled and cum frothing at your entrance with every plunge, dripping down to where namjoon was hammering your ass in perfect counterpoint. jungkook pulls out from your mouth to let you breathe understanding your need for it.

“ah-ah-ah-ah—fuck!”

they treated you like you were a breeding toy, namjoon's hand pressing down on your lower back to arch you further, deepening the triple penetration.

“we're gonna ruin this cunt for anyone else. gonna pump you so full of cum you'll be leaking for days.” jungkook snarls, spitting inside your mouth as you wail, his hand stroking your tear streaked face as he jerks off right on your cheek.

“our cumdump..”

yoongi groans, giving you a few more pounds. you were spiraling higher and higher, murmuring and screaming nonsense, your brain's functions lost, while they were hitting spots inside you you didn't even know existed, rearranging and jostling your insides. just then namjoon leaned down to pinch your clit hard between his thumbs. you fully lost your mind.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

you let out such a loud scream that you were sure others outside the penthouse could hear despite it being soundproof as you gagged repeatedly on jungkook's cock, your breasts beingsqueezed hard by taehyung. you orgasmed hard, pussy cleaning down like a vice, milking yoongi's and jimin's cocks as so much liquid squirted out of you, soaking everyone. your entire lower body was soaked and their thighs were mixing with saliva and precum, your throat constricting around jungkook's. your vision blackened and you fell forward, almost like you lost your senses. yoongi snarled through gritted teeth, his hips rocking faster.

thrust. thrust. thrust.

that was what all of them were doing, jungkook inside your mouth, hoseok and jin fucking your fists, taehyung using your breasts while namjoon fucked your ass and jimin and yoongi fucking your pussy, all their faces contorted, not being able to stop moaning, pushing you to hypersensitivity and every inch of your body felt like it was burning and on fire. they didn't stop continuing to fuck you until they all started cumming, one by one they came all over your body and face and inside all your holes.

all you could smell was sex, sweat, raw masculinity and cigarettes, it all mixed together into something extremely lewd. so much liquid sloshing in your belly, becoming inflated as namjoon, yoongi and jimin dumped it inside you. you all felt less human and more animal like, sex beasts where nothing was enough and the night still wasn't over.

the night went on like that and the hours felt like an endless haze of pleasure as the seven of them continued to use you like their personal fucktoy, rotating through every single one of your holes until no part of you was untouched. groans, moans, cries and the slap of skin against skin were all that could be heard.

creampies after creampies.

“who do you think made her cum the hardest huh? i bet it was me hitting her spot just right.” jungkook chuckled deeply, gripping your ass.

“nahh kook, it was me definitely.” yoongi interrupts.

“y/n baby, tell them, whose dick wrecked you the most?”

but you could barely form words, your mind foggy and from overstimulation so they gave you another round just to prove among themselves actually who was capable of making you cum the hardest as if they all didn't successfully do so several times already. they passed you around with ease, each man claiming a turn while others watched or strokes themselves and joined in to heighten the torment. they also competed about who could make you scream or cry the loudest as they shifted you into several different positions. you were shocked at your body for being so flexible. you didn't even remember your own name at this point as the rotation continued relentlessly.

hours went on with edging and making you cum, sometimes with mating press position or putting both your legs over their shoulders and sometimes they gave it to you in the spoon position so they could take their time with you passionately while they talked among themselves, always discussing who gets to have you next or in which position to put you in.

“y/n are you still with us or did we fuck you dumb already?”

you were far from responding to them, only letting out garbled noises, your body taking them all even now, you felt like you were in heaven and hell together from the pleasure and from the sensitivity. the gangbang went on until you felt like your pussy and ass overflowed with their cum that was constantly pushed back in by insistent fingers and cocks. the sheets were fully ruined, drenched in sweat, saliva and semen, your body was soaked from head to toe too as they made sure not a drop of their cum went to taste. even if they argued among themselves about who made you cum the hardest but at this point your body reacted to even the little brush of fingers because of how hyper used you felt as you babbled incoherently still pushing back against several cocks.

you were also shocked at how much raw energy they had that even after so many orgasms and such exerted force they could still go on, their cocks seeming to get hard within minutes of release but soon you felt them slowly growing exhausted as well after hours of claiming you.

you saw the first hints of morning light through the curtains from half closed eyes, you all didn't even realize that the night had turned to nearly dawn. you felt half conscious yourself, not a single bit of energy left in you, not being able to lift your head as your lower body still convulsed. the bed was a wreck, the sheets half twisted and all wet, some pillows on the floor, pools of cum drying on your body and theirs as well. one pillow was half torn, you'd probably grabbed too hard between your hands but didn't even remember properly. the headboard also had nail scratches and marks from grips.

you lay in the center of it all, voice almost gone from screams and moans, feeling blissfully blank and dreamy, where thoughts dissolved before they could form. your body ached deliciously, bite marks everywhere, handprints reddened your hips and ass, your pussy and ass swollen, still trickling bits of their white seed. they all panted around you, all their cocks softened now, no longer having the power to get hard again as you felt a few sets of arms wrap around your waist, holding you close without crushing you with their weight.

“fuck… baby, are you okay?” jungkook murmurs.

he pressed soothing kisses against your shoulder and you just whimpered, burying your face in taehyung's chest, your body shifting a littl and that made you let out a quiet little cry because it put pressure on your lower body.

“shhh, don't move too much.” taehyung whispers as he places a hand behind your head.

“we've got you.”

“water first, someone get the bottle.”

namjoon says urgently, knowing how thirsty you'd be after everything. jin stands up on shaky legs and goes to grab another bottle of cold water for you, while hands of theirs that gripped and spanked now rubbed slowly over your sore muscles, slightly massaging.

“you did so well baby.”

taehyung nuzzled into your side while yoongi pressed slow apologetic kisses on your stomach and you mewled, melting in the sheets. they made you drink water, making sure you finished the entire bottle to quench your thirst and also for whatever energy you lost. they constantly asked questions about if you were okay, if any specific body part of yours hurt and that they were sorry even if they had no reason to. they constantly made sure that you were comfortable and safe but you had no energy to reply to them to tell them that you enjoyed everything and to not apologize. so you expressed your gratitude through actions, leaning onto them and clutching them as they all enveloped you into cuddles, solid bodies radiating safety until you were cocooned.

your head pillowed on jin's chest, legs tangled with jungkook's and hoseok's, taehyung's arm draped over your waist, jimin's fingers laced with yours, namjoon's hand stroking your hair while yoongi traced up and down your back. they didn’t talk for several minutes, letting you recover, knowing you weren't in the state to reply to them until they felt your breathing regulate more.

“are there any cramps? do you feel dizzy?” jin asks softly and you shake your head weakly.

“good… safe.” you managed to croak out and they all smiled, letting out relieved noises and kissing against each mark and bruise they left on you.

“you worked so hard angel… we're so proud of you.”

they also had scratches and bite marks on their bodies from where you'd grabbed onto them. some nail marks also caused blood to bead a little but all their focus was on you, not caring about themselves. after the blissful recovery they decided it was time for a shower. you also felt a little uncomfortable and sticky everywhere from so many fluids so they carried you to the large bathroom.

during that, the staff had already been notified to clean the sheets and bring fresh food in without a single question or raised eyebrow from them. they knew better than to do that and minded their own place but even shock was evident in their faces because it was the very first time the men had ever brought a woman into their place.

in the shower they treated you like you were something precious and fragile, giving you utmost care as if you were a delicate flower meant to be handled like that. they washed you together, massaging your scalp with shampoo while your head rested on the edge of the tub, warm water making you moan in relief as they cleaned all the fluids from your hair and body.

“lift your leg for me princess.” yoongi instructed affectionately.

then he used a soft towel to clean between your folds and between your thighs slowly as you winced from the pain and soreness but he did that oh so gently, a huge contrast to how he fucked you moments ago as they helped support your legs, massaging between your toes too and it makes you giggle with a tired smile. they didn’t touch any of your sensitive spots or your nipples, noting how swollen and reddened they were, being extremely mindful and checking in with you.

“there we go… nice and clean.” namjoon held you against his chest.

they talked among themselves about what to feed you next or which ointments to apply to your marks in hushed voices so as to not jerk you while they wiped down your body with a dry towel. they wrapped a towel around you and carried you back to the freshly made bed with new sheets and laid you down carefully, making you sigh at the feeling of freshness and no more wetness even though your body ached sweetly. they insisted on feeding you a light snack too despite that you felt so sleepy, not wanting you to fall asleep on an empty stomach and in pain.

“just a few bites… such a good girl yeah?” namjoon coaxed, they were all patient as you managed a few bites. your throat a little sore too from taking so many cocks but the cold fruits helped. after that, they made you have a pain relief tablet before placing extra fluffed pillows behind you.

“we're right here.”

jimin whispered.

“sleep now, we’ve got you.”

you never felt so cared for. it made your heart flutter, your lips curving in a dreamy smile as you buried your nose in the pillow, a kitten like purr leaving you from deep within your chest and it made all the men around you melt into puddles. their bodies forming a protective circle, hands rubbing and massaging your thighs, almost rocking you to a peaceful sleep, their devotion something you'll carry with yourself even in your dreams. they watched you all quietly, you slept so deeply on your stomach, one of your hand squished beneath your cheek making your lips pucker.

“she's out cold... poor thing took everything we gave.”

yoongi said with a rare smile as jungkook pushed a strand of wet hair away from your face. it seemed as if all their heart was being carried in your little palm all alone, like they found what they'd been missing all along.

“she fits doesn’t she?” hoseok murmurs, lost in the haze of watching you too as the others nodded softly.

“she does…”

they knew that they wouldn’t let you go and that they'd keep you, it wasn’t just a contract of one night, it was more that, they didn’t wanna spoil you just for one night but forever.

nothing in the world mattered except you right here in their arms, owned by them, marked by them in every way humanly possible and there was no going back, they knew that even their souls knew that.

“we'll talk to her when she wakes up but she's not leaving, we’ll show her how serious we are.”

you meanwhile, slept unaware that your life had changed for the better and that new beginnings were yet to come with much adoration and sex, yet most importantly, eight hearts connected and meant to beat together.

➥ taglist : @kskskskskskskskss @gukdemonic @jeonette @chelseaad @koosette @mn1jungkook @mrskimjoon @dilflover008 @singularity4joon @yevataeia @kookstempo @ggukiebar @yoongix7 @gld3en @cupidsbling @bethanyyuy @jeonlarity @pinklemonsstuff @furioustrashlover @hainwhatever @wtfanu @elmarimochi9513 @httpjk7 @wintrbears @kawaikisses @polaroidrebel @littleblue-pickle @perfectlyoongi @imjustcrabby @mnimxrva @lohikook @crimsonbangtan @phehehep @goldenjjksworld @sunkissedcheekss @jmscaffeine @mintedagustd @multimxa @tina-20

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon lived on a quiet street with white painted fences and neatly trimmed gardens — at least that is what you would imagine them to be in summer. The bushes on either side of the graveled pathway are nothing but bare bones, dusted in a thick layer of snow from last night's heavy fall. The house itself is a simple, two story home with pale wooden boards and a clean-cut stone porch — somewhere one would expect a happily married couple to live

Up ahead, Cassian skips forward eagerly, excitement bouncing off of him in tandem with each step he takes. He's been talking non-stop throughout the entire car ride here and now he was practically singing his way to the front door, leaving the rest of you to follow in his wake. 

Jungkook walks beside you, the gravel crunching beneath your shoes. He carries two bags worth of wrapped Christmas gifts, another with the essentials he'd brought for the two-day stay you were to have at his parents house. Your own duffel bag sits heavy on your shoulder, slamming against your side every now and again like a ticking clock. 

You're thankful for the box of freshly baked cookies you hold, otherwise you would've probably reached for Jungkook's hand to calm your nerves. Instead you let your fingers curl a little tighter around the plastic corners, tongue pushing against your teeth anxiously. 

To say that you were nervous would be an understatement. You were actually terrified. Not only were you being introduced to the children's grandparents but Jungkook's own mother and father as you impose on a holiday meant for family. Sure you had been invited to come and it wasn't like you were showing up unannounced, but your blood still rushed at the thought of doing this.

You glance to the cookies you had woken up early this morning to bake, placed neatly inside the container you cling to so desperately. It wasn't much but it was better than arriving empty handed, you think. 

Cassian has already made it up the two small steps leading to the front door, finally turning to urge the rest of you along. "Come on!" he says as he rocks back and forth on tiny feet, ignoring Rayne's unamused huff where she walks on the other side of her father. 

When you join him on the porch your heart is close to beating out of your chest. Sweat beads on your forehead when you glance between Jungkook and to what could only wait on the other side of the door. You're just about to tell him that this was a horrible idea that should have never been brought up in the first place when Cassian jams a finger to the doorbell. 

The sharp tune can be heard through the walls, alerting those inside of your arrival and it takes but a second for a lock to be twisted on the other side. Too late. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you do your best to straighten up and plaster a somewhat less dreadful expression onto your face. 

"Nana!" 

Cassian's shout comes as soon as the door opens and he's already flinging himself into the arms of the woman waiting on the other side. She looks to be in her sixties, her dark hair, thrown together in a bun, graying slightly. Her arms envelop the small boy, a wrinkled hand coming to rest atop his head that reached all the way to her chest. "Hi sweetheart," she coos, beaming from ear to ear as she hugs her grandson. 

Rayne, too, steps forward as she gives the man beside her grandma a hug. Mr. Jeon was a tall man and he probably reached Jungkook's height in his prime. The glasses slide down on his nose when he tilts his chin to see his granddaughter better, smiling widely under his short mustache, patting the top of her head affectionately. "Why, don't you look dashing today young lady?" he muses. 

They're both dressed for the occasion, Mr. Jeon in a thicker, green sweater and Mrs. Jeon in a fluffy cardigan of the same colour. The wedding rings on their fingers glint under the afternoon sun and you find yourself staring at them a little longer than intended. 

Only once they pull back from their respective hugs do their gazes lift, landing on their son with equal enthusiasm. Mrs. Jeon pulls him in for a hug which Jungkook just about manages to reciprocate given the bags he carries. "Ah, my boy!" She says as she rises to her tip-toes to better greet him. 

"It's good to see you too mother," Jungkook hums, leaning down to accept the kiss she presses to his cheek. It was oddly endearing to see him with his mother, you thought. And for a moment you forget about how anxious you had been to get here as you silently watch the interaction between him and his parents. 

When he's finally released from Mrs. Jeon's tight embrace, he turns to his father who places a firm hand on his shoulder before relieving him of one of the bags. "Safe travels I hope?" Mr. Jeon asks to which Jungkook nods. 

"Quite a bit of snow on the roads, but it was alright," Jungkook says before getting interrupted by his mother who had now turned to you. 

"Hello dear," she smiles, "My grandchildren has told me all about their lovely nanny." Mrs. Jeon extends a hand, the red tint to her nails catching your attention. 

Juggling the container of cookies over to your left arm, you reach out to accept the warm handshake she gives you. "Thank you, it's so nice to finally meet you…" 

"Ye-seo," she finishes for you as her lips stretch wider across her face. You nod, letting go of her hand just in time for Mr. Jeon to step forward as well. 

His grip is a lot firmer than his wife's, fingers closing around your own as he takes your palm in both of his. "Jaejoon," he introduces himself, eyes crinkling slightly behind his glasses. When you pull back again a brief silence settles over your party before Mrs. Jeon steps aside. 

"Well come on in, we have much to do!" 

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were kind people. That is what you managed to gather from stepping foot inside their home. Mr. Jeon retrieved your coat as he hung it up next to Cassian's before bringing the children and their father along to the living room while Mrs. Jeon took it upon herself to give you a tour of the house. 

"Oh dearest, you really did not have to!" she exclaimed when you shyly offered her the box of cookies. Though she accepted the gift gratefully when placing it down on the yellow-tiled counter top. 

Their kitchen was a lot smaller than the one at the Jeon estate, adorned with colorful appliances that reflected little of the beige theme back at Jungkook's place. And while it wasn't messy, the house still looked lived in. Signs of life sprouted from each corner, be it the potted plants on the windowsill or the half-finished cup of tea left next to the stove. 

Mrs. Jeon is still fawning over the container of cookies you had brought, having taken off the lid to smell the delicious treats for herself. "It's not much…" You hastily begin, fingers fiddling absently with one another as you regard her, "But I hope they taste alright." 

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Jeon exclaims, "They will fit perfectly on the table." She puts the container aside and you notice the several prepped trays of home-made pastries, all ready for tomorrow. "Very well then, let me show you the rest of the house," the words have barely left her lips before she's headed out of the kitchen, quick on her feet as she moves through the living room. 

For such a small woman, Mrs. Jeon sure kept a steady pace and you almost struggled to keep up as you avoided bumping into the different trinkets and paintings that cover the walls. She takes you through the living room, where your eyes briefly meet Jungkook's as he speaks with his father. His lips are moving but whatever he was saying to the man beside him is drowned out by Mrs. Jeon's cheerful voice, "There is a bathroom just around the corner, though the shower is on the second floor." 

She makes easy work of the stairs, climbing the steps that take you into a long hallway. Four doors are evenly situated on either side of said hall, the first one to your right is cracked open an inch, and when passing by you slow down to peer inside. 

You find a bunk bed pushed against the far left corner, bright and blue curtains frame the window that looks out to the street outside. On a shelf sits a sparse selection of both books and toys, a kid friendly area that takes you by surprise. 

Mrs. Jeon stops in her tracks when she notices your lingering gaze. "Ah, we have a room set up for the children," she explains when coming to stand beside you, "It's good for them to have their own space here. Especially after everything that happened with their mother." 

The casual mention of the woman whose name was avoided like the plague back at the Jeon estate makes you freeze. Your shoulders form a rigid line and you turn to Mrs. Jeon with a frown that is impossible to miss. 

Your puzzled, if not hesitant expression makes the old lady instantly sigh. "Oh dear, he hasn't told you about that, has he?" She does not sound surprised by her own revelation, nor does she your following response:

"No," you shake your head, "Why? What happened?" 

Curiosity gnaws at you, the way it had ever since you stumbled across the locked door on the second floor during your first day. Part of you hopes that she will quench your thirst, the other thinks you selfish for even daring to pry on such a private matter. 

Mrs. Jeon waves a dismissive hand at nothing in particular, "It's an ugly story." Her eyes drag across the bedroom slowly as she draws in a silent breath. The look on her face is solemn, as though she was lost in thought, some place far away. Then she snaps out of the momentary trance, blinking twice and turning to you with a smile. "Nothing worth lingering on today," she says, "It's Christmas after all." 

She continues down the hall like nothing had happened, leaving you to follow with your tongue held. 

After moving past what you presume to be her and Mr. Jeon's bedroom, she comes to a halt in front of the room furthest down the hall to the left. "Here is our guest bedroom," pushing the door open, she allows you to step inside.

The room itself is quaint, with yellow, pastel walls and a few paintings of landscapes hung on them. A single bed sits in the middle, the headboard leaning against the window, where the naked trees in the backyard can be seen through the glass. 

"It's nothing extravagant," comes Mrs. Jeon's voice from the doorway, "But I hope its comforts will be to your standards."

Your duffel bag slides off your shoulder, landing on the duvet with a soft thud as you take in your surroundings. "I assure you it is most perfect," fingers brushing against the covers, you turn to her with a smile, "Your home is beautiful." 

Mrs. Jeon thanks you with a dramatic tilt of her head as she goes on to explain how her and her husband had acquired the property back in the early fifties. But your attention is no longer with her, rather the white dresser to your left. Its golden handles glint under the sunlight, spilling through the window and you find yourself approaching without second thought. 

On top of it sits porcelain figurines, a duck, a horse, a little girl. You scan them briefly before landing on the picture frame in the middle. The rim is the same golden hue as that of the dresser's knobs but it is the young man in the photo that pulls you in. 

His dark hair looks almost spiky as it stands in all directions, some of it falling down his neck. The clothes he wears are bold, a sleeveless t-shirt with a pale woman's face printed in its center, a checkered flannel tied to his jeans which appear to be a couple of sizes too big on him. Your finger lingers on the choker around his neck. Had it not been for the familiar designs that cover his right arm, or the intense look in those dark eyes, Jungkook would've been almost unrecognizable. 

"He was just a kid in that one." 

You hadn't heard Mrs. Jeon approach, and her voice startles you from the photo as you turn to her. She stands close enough for her shoulder to brush your arm, humming softly to herself as she, too, regards the frame. "I tried to talk him out of those rings on his face," she shakes her head, "But he wouldn't listen of course."

Your gaze follows hers back to the picture of Jungkook and it is then you notice the silver hoop that hugs his bottom lip, another sitting on his brow. You remember tracing the scars they had left behind, the way he had dismissed them as nothing but a distant memory. "He must've been quite the handful I imagine." 

The statement actually makes her chuckle and Mrs. Jeon reaches out to pluck the picture frame from the dresser as she cradles it in her hands. "You have no idea," she muses, "His father and I have grounded him more times than I can remember, not that it ever worked." Despite that, there's fondness in the way she shakes her head as a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, "He always found a way to sneak out." 

The idea of a much younger Jungkook climbing through his window or tip-toeing down the stairs is amusing and you try to imagine just how he might've looked. Hearing Mrs. Jeon talk about her son the way she was right now only feeds to growing curiosity inside of you. That Jungkook did not at all seem like the man you knew today, the one who combed his hair back and wore pristine button-ups. 

"He looks like a completely different person," your thoughts escape your parted lips in a silent whisper. For a second you worry that it might offend her, but his mother simply nods. 

"He is," her tone takes on a quieter edge, "All grown up now." Mrs. Jeon sighs as she places the frame back in its designated spot. "He's done good for himself, all things considered," after a moment's of silence she then adds, "Though sometimes I do miss that side of him." She lets out a humorless laugh, giving your arm a gentle pat, "Even if he drove me up the walls." 

Then, without as much as a glance toward the old photograph, she turns on her heel and heads back toward the door which you had came through. "We best join the others downstairs, otherwise there won't be a tree left for us to decorate," she calls over her shoulder. 

Your gaze returns to the picture of Jungkook, giving it a final once-over before you go to follow Mrs Jeon out of the room. It is when you step over the threshold that the sudden thought strikes you, "Where will Jungkook be sleeping?" You hadn't even stopped to consider that you were inhabiting the only guest bedroom left. 

"Oh," Mrs. Jeon gestures toward the study when you walk past it, "When we found out we would be hosting one more this year, Jaejoon brought one of the spare beds from the attic and placed it in his office." She hums as you begin descending the stairs, "Jungkook has already volunteered to sleep in there." 

A bitter feeling of guilt roots itself in your chest and your fingers curl tight around the banister as you keep up with Mrs. Jeon. You'd like to argue that there was no need for him to do that — that if anything, you should be sleeping in the study. But as you make it to the bottom step, where the sound of Cassian's laughter and Mr. Jeon's teasing conversation can be heard, you found yourself unable to speak. 

"More to the left." 

"No— Right!" 

"Left looks better." 

Cassian sticks out his tongue in retaliation to his sister who simply rolls her eyes back at him. They had been bickering with one other over the placement of the last candy cane ornament for the past couple of minutes and your arm was beginning to grow tired as you held the decoration out, swaying it left and right as you tried to please them both. 

Jungkook and his parents had taken to the kitchen in order to get started on tonight's dinner, leaving you alone to do what you always did — babysit the children. 

"Guys, how about we just place it in the middle?" you suggest, only to be met by instant protests from both kids as they shake their heads unanimously. 

"To the left," Rayne points a finger in said direction. 

Her brother quickly shoves her arm aside as he firmly states his thoughts on the matter. "No, it needs to be on the right!" He says, his voice bordering on a whine. 

The muscles in your bicep strain with each passing second, in fact you're inclined to just give up and leave one of them disappointed when Mr. Jeon suddenly appears in the doorway. "Children," he says, immediately grabbing both Rayne's and Cassian's attention as he walks over to place a hand on their shoulders, "What is all this fussing? On Christmas Eve no less." 

Their expressions morph into something chastised, eyes dropping to the floor as the younger pouts. "Sorry, papa," Rayne says as she flattens out the sleeve of her sweater. Her brother mumbles an apology of his own, though not without giving his rival a quick glare. 

Mr. Jeon inhales a deep breath, nodding thoughtfully to himself before turning to Cassian, "How about you let your sister pick where this one goes?" The tiny boy looks ready to argue but is quickly shut down as his grandfather continues, "And you put the star up." 

That seems to please him enough to drop the petty argument again as he goes to retrieve the item in question. Rayne hums, turning back to you with a triumphant look, "To the right," she jerks her chin dramatically and you obey as you hang the candy cane up at last. Breathing out a sigh of relief when your arm is finally allowed to drop back against your side, you step back to admire the work you had done so far. 

The tree was clad in soft, yellow lights, red and white globes, a handful of candy canes and even a few gingerbread men. All that was missing would be the star to go on top, which Cassian comes carrying a moment later — careful not to drop the precious artifact. 

"Papa, help me," he pleads as he peers up at the man with hopeful eyes. Mr. Jeon huffs under his breath, grabbing the boy by his hips as he hoists him up with a grunt. 

Arms extended as far as they go, his brows furrow in concentration as he works on getting the ornament in place. "Careful now," Mr. Jeon hums, clearly not wanting an accident the day before Christmas. 

After some finessing Cassian manages to place it just right and he's allowed back to solid ground with an excited squeal. "Look!" He gestures toward the shining star and you follow his gaze with a smile. With all the decorations put up, the tree looks just about ready for tomorrow. You can't help the almost childlike flicker of joy in your chest. While spending the holidays with your parents was nice, it had been years since you found yourself sharing the Christmas spirit. 

"Can we go get the presents now?" Cassian quips, making both you and his grandfather turn to him. 

"Yes of course—" you begin, stopping yourself to send Mr. Jeon a hesitant glance, "If it's okay with your papa." 

Mr. Jeon simply nods, giving the small boy a pat on his back. "But no trying to open them, alright?" he says, putting on a stern tone that makes both children instantly straighten up. Cassian grabs Rayne by the hand, leading her toward the hallway where the bags of wrapped gifts were. 

That leaves you and Mr. Jeon, standing side by side next to the lit Christmas tree. You busy yourself with tucking your shirt into your jeans, adjusting the thin belt within its loops, anything to fill the temporary silence as the kids rummage through the bags somewhere in the distance. 

"Rayne tells me you've been looking after them for quite some time now." The sudden conversation that Mr. Jeon initiates catches you off guard. Head whipping in his direction, you give a subtle tilt of your chin as you meet his warm gaze. 

"Uh yes, two months now I think," you say, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. 

Mr. Jeon hums, "That's good." His gaze drifts toward the hallway where Cassian and Rayne had disappeared just moments ago. "Jungkook has struggled to find someone that could help him with them," he says when running a hand through what little hair he had left, "They're not easy children." 

He was right about that, you thought with a quiet exhale. You could still remember your first day at the Jeon house, their stiff postures and rehearsed lines that dripped with politeness you knew they did not actually mean. "They aren't," you agree. 

In the other room you hear Cassian giggle, the joyful sound followed by rustling of plastic. Rayne mutters something unintelligible to her brother, but there's amusement in her voice. The corner of your lip curls upward, "Though they're lovely. I'm grateful to know them." 

You can feel Mr. Jeon's gaze on you, a flash of a smile appearing somewhere in your peripheral vision. "I'm sure your feelings are reciprocated," he sighs wistfully, "My grandson speaks very fondly of you."

His words make you glance over, brows raising a little higher on your forehead. While Cassian was very openly affectionate with you, it had never crossed your mind that he might be bringing you up even when you weren't around. The idea forces you to bite back a grin as you peer down at the floor, "I'm glad." 

"Indeed," without skipping a beat, he then adds, "I'm sure my son must feel the same." 

Your breath catches halfway on your next exhale, eyes flitting back up to meet his through the glasses we wears. Mr. Jeon does not elaborate much further, instead he places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "It is not often Jungkook brings company around," he says. 

The implication of his statement sits between you for a second longer, until the rapid footsteps of Cassian and Rayne return as they come barreling back inside the living room, this time with presents stacked in their arms. "Papa! Look how many!" the younger exclaims as he proudly holds up the gifts. 

Mr. Jeon lets his hand fall to his side once more, "Ah, bring them here and let me have a look," he says. He turns to his grandchildren without another thought — as though your conversation had never happened to begin with. 

Dinner at Mr. and Mrs. Jeon's house was quite different from the meals you shared back at Jungkook's place. For one, the table was smaller, barely accommodating the six of you when taking your seats around it. Rayne slinks down in the chair to your right, catching you by surprise as you tilt your head toward her. But she pays you no mind, her attention fixed to the flickering candles in the middle of the feast her grandparents had prepared. 

Mrs. Jeon sits on the high end to your left, her husband mirroring her on the other side. "Honey, are you sure you brought the napkins?" she frowns when peering out across the neatly decorated dining table. 

"As sure as I am my own right foot," Mr. Jeon retorts as he pours Rayne a glass of water. 

His response however, only makes his wife's brows crease even further. "Then perhaps you should make sure your foot really is sewn on because I cannot find them." Her tone grows snappier with each passing second and for a brief moment you worry that they might even argue.

"Nana," Rayne suddenly says, "They're by the chicken." She points toward the folded napkins, placed neatly in their holder next to the food her grandmother had spent the last hour preparing. 

Mrs. Jeon blinks twice, her mouth opening before clicking shut again. "Oh," she clears her throat and gives Rayne a warm smile, "Thank you dear. I guess your papa gets to keep his foot after all." To that, her husband huffs under his breath, but makes no further comment on it as he fills his own glass with water. 

The two seats opposite you remain unoccupied. Jungkook had taken Cassian to the bathroom a few minutes prior, making sure that he did not run off to the presents, which he had already wasted twenty minutes on weighing and measuring. Soon enough a high-pitched whine voice comes from down the hall, "But I just want to look at them one more time!"

"No," Jungkook replies in a stern tone, "We're having dinner." The two of them enter the dining room just then, Cassian digging his heels into the floor as he resists his father's attempts at tugging him toward the table where the rest of you were already seated. 

"One more time!" He wrestles with the hold Jungkook has around his tiny wrist, eyes locked on the entryway leading to the living room like a magnet. 

His arguments are futile and met only by a strained exhale as Jungkook bends down to pick up the squirming boy. Cassian resists by kicking his legs in all directions, "No, no, no!" His knee jams into his dad's ribs as he trashes against his unrelenting grip, "I want to see the presents one more time!" 

Mrs. Jeon looks like she wants to interfere, her hand half raised and a concerned pinch to her brows. Before she gets the chance to, Jungkook pulls out the chair in front of yours, placing a visibly upset child on the seat. "Enough," he says whilst holding his son down by the shoulders, "We are having dinner." 

The quivering bottom lip and rapid flutter of his lashes make you believe that Cassian was actually about to cry and a swell of panic surges in your chest. Luckily, Mrs. Jeon has already placed a perfectly cooked drumstick on his plate. "There," she hums, "I assure you the presents won't go anywhere until you've had your food." 

Jungkook's chair makes a scraping noise against the floor when he pulls it out and takes his own seat, diagonal from yours. He doesn't look at anyone when running his fingers through his dark hair, his jaw clenched and lips sealed shut. It feels almost like dinner usually would at the Jeon estate, quiet and proper, at least until Mrs. Jeon speaks up: 

"Would you pass me the salt, dear?"

Nodding, you reach forwadd to grab it for her, handing it over with a small smile that she easily reciprocates. The table falls into easy conversation after that. Mostly it's Rayne and her grandfather discussing the books she had read as of late. 

Mr. Jeon had a lot to say about Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and spoke with great enthusiasm, only to be silenced by his wife who deemed the topic of conversation to be most inappropriate during dinner. "I do not want to hear about stitching human bodies together as I eat my chicken, it's morbid," she says when slicing her knife through the breast on her plate. 

"Nana," Rayne half-argues, "It's not morbid. It's science." She tips a couple of cooked carrots onto her fork, "You always let papa talk about his science stuff at the table." 

"Science or not, it doesn't make the matter any less morbid," Jungkook mutters as he reaches over to wipe the corner of Cassian's mouth with a napkin "And it is not something to be discussed during dinner," he adds as he sends his daughter a long glance. 

Rayne slumps back in her seat, the carrots dropping onto her plate of unfinished food as she picks at them leisurely. To her right, Mr. Jeon shakes his head, "Nonsense," he says around a mouthful of potatoes, "If the kid wants to talk about sewing an arm to a torso then let her." 

Mrs. Jeon lets out an exasperated huff, "Will you stop talking with your dinner half chewed up?" 

To that, her husband simply shrugs, swallowing the bite as he reaches for his glass of water. "All I'm saying is," he continues after a sip, "There is nothing wrong with her having interests." He sets his drink down with an unapologetic gleam in his eye before turning to give Rayne a quick wink, earning himself a smile from the young girl. 

"Time and place, father," Jungkook says without looking up from his own plate. His brows are furrowed across his forehead, his focus split between the conversation taking place and Cassian who ate quietly beside him. 

Mr. Jeon scoffs, looking mildly amused with the entire situation as he leans forward, much to both his wife and Jungkook's dismay. "What about you little man? Do you like Frankenstein?" 

Cassian pauses, his next forkful hovering an inch from his parted lips which then crack into a grin. "Yeah! I love zombies." 

The glare Mrs. Jeon sends her husband could've probably cut through stone and you find yourself turning back to your own plate as you busy yourself with another bite. Mr. Jeon however, seems very pleased with his grandson's response as he redirects his attention over to you, "And what about you, dear? Does the topic bother you as much as it does my wife?"

You pause, slowly lowering your fork as you swallow — painfully aware of the fact that everyone was now looking at your way. "Not at all," you say, "I actually find the prospect to be quite interesting. You see I study medicine and post-mortem happens to be a small part of my work. It doesn't easily gross me out if that is what your concern regards." 

The entire table had gone quiet as you spoke and you press your lips together in an awkward smile as you shyly meet Mr. Jeon's gaze. Unlike his son, who wore an impassive and detached expression most of the time, it was easy to tell what he was thinking. The corner of his lip was curled in approval, as were his raised brows. 

"Very well," he declares when raising his glass of water, "That makes us four against two." Taking another swig, he then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, causing both children to wrinkle their noses slightly. 

On the other end of the table, Mrs. Jeon sighs. "Heavens," she grumbles under her breath as she redirects the topic over to what games should be played after dinner. 

Cassian and Rayne finishes their meal quickly, the former practically swallowing his chicken and shoving boiled carrots into his mouth greedily. He does make sure to wipe his lips when Jungkook wordlessly nudges the napkin closer, making himself presentable before turning back to his father. 

"Daddy, can we go look at the presents again?" 

His voice betrays how eager he is to return to what he had been preoccupied with before dinner had stolen him away. Next to you, Rayne nods, clearly exhausted after having to sit through the long monologue her grandfather had been holding about the recent inflation and the costs of getting new landlines installed. 

Jungkook lets his gaze shift between his children, nodding once as he picks up his glass. "Put your plates in the kitchen," he murmurs when Cassian and his sister turn on their heels. 

It doesn't take long for them to clear out of the dining room, the sounds of dishes clinking in the sink followed by quick footsteps echoing throughout the house. That leaves you, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon at the table with Jungkook. Having already finished your food, you distract yourself by lacing your fingers together in your lap. 

After coming to an end about his long-lived rant on today's pricing, Mr. Jeon now seemed content to finish off his meal, leaving the rest of you to wallow in silence. You do your best to avoid glancing in Jungkook's direction, scared of what you might find if you let yourself lock eyes with him for longer than a second. 

A full minute must've passed by the time Mrs. Jeon finally shifts in her seat. She sits just to your left, her hand resting on the table, red nails sparkling under the candle light. "You mentioned studying medicine, dear," she says upon turning to you, "How is that?" 

The question makes you freeze, your gaze darting over to Jungkook out of habit. Your studies had been a rather sensitive topic between the two of you up until just recently and you weren't quite sure how to approach the subject in front of his parents. 

"Well it's—" pursing your lips, you shrug half-heatedly, "It's okay." 

Across from you and to the right, Jungkook scoffs, "It's more than okay isn't it?" He glances toward his mother whose attention was darting between you and her son. "She's really good," Jungkook reaffirms, "You should tell them about the heart and all those things you taught me." 

Even Mr. Jeon had woken up from his momentary daze and was now watching you intently from his end of the table. "Oh, that does sound intriguing," his wife hums, "You're in line to become a nurse then?" 

Neither of his parents seemed to catch on to the subtle look Jungkook had sent you before turning back toward his plate, but the heat that blossoms under your skin is enough to have you squirming in your seat. You hadn't allowed yourself to think back to that afternoon on your couch — the revision that somehow turned into you on his lap. Sure, you had nailed the test the day after, but you weren't so sure that was because of Jungkook. 

"Yes," you finally manage a response, "I'm only in my first year but it's been a lifelong dream of mine, helping people I mean." 

Mr. Jeon nods, "You seem to be doing a fantastic job with my grandchildren already, I have no doubts." He flashes you a smile that has your own lips twisting upward. 

"I just—" It's his wife who grabs your attention a second time. She's tucking a loose strand of hair back into place, hands messing with the cardigan she wears as she clears her throat. "Forgive me for being invasive but it's just— You look so young," she hesitates before continuing, "How old are you, dear?" 

The chuckle that tumbles off your tongue feels slightly unfitting for the occasion but Mrs. Jeon appears relieved that you hadn't taken any offense to the inquiry. "I'm twenty," you tell her, watching as the brows on her forehead rise before falling again, like she'd remembered herself. "Though I turn twenty-one not long into the new year."

"Oh, wow," Mr. Jeon hums, "That is certainly impressive for someone your age." 

His wife quickly nods, "Indeed." She sends Jungkook a brief glance before adding, "It must be a lot of work considering you take care of our grandchildren. Are you balancing it well?"

You give her a quiet smile, "Yes," you say, hoping to sound at least somewhat convincing. "I manage it just fine. Cassian and Rayne are no trouble to look after." Without pausing to look at Jungkook, you then go on to add, "Their father raised them well." 

Mrs. Jeon's face lights up at that, her lips stretching widely over her face. Across the table a choked-off sound can be heard, and through the corner of your eye you see Jungkook quickly reaching for his glass as he takes a sip of his water. "He has," Mr. Jeon agrees, "Always looking out for them." 

Jungkook himself makes no comment on the matter, even when his mother sends him a pointed eye. But you're no stranger to the subtle flush that creeps along his neck, never reaching his cheeks yet still enough to let you know that the casual praise had gotten to him. 

The four of you clean up together after that. You join Mrs. Jeon in the kitchen to help with the dishes and you easily get to discussing the contents of tomorrow's menu. Jungkook and his father leave to keep an eye on the children, likely helping the youngest pick out a game that was comprehensible enough for a five-year-old. 

As the evening progresses, you find yourself feeling less and less like a stranger in their home and more like a part of the small family. You and Cassian team up for the card games, with him in your lap as he tries to peek at his grandfather's cards very subtly — ultimately ending in him getting his game-privileges revoked all together. 

Mrs. Jeon and Rayne had formed their own duo while Jungkook and his father competed neck to neck with little to no sportsmanship. 

"It's just a few paper cards," Mrs. Jeon had tried to reason when her husband slammed his entire hand on the coffee table. 

Jungkook had simply rolled his shoulders with a triumphant grin, "Father just needs to learn when to cut his losses." 

Mr. Jeon's head had snapped up at that, brows furrowed deeply as he sent his son a look that could kill. "Don't forget who taught you these games, boy," he scowled. 

"Sounds like you're the one who could use another lesson," the former replied casually. 

You're pretty sure a petty argument would've broken out, had Mrs. Jeon not reminded the two that it was probably time for the children to be put to bed — thus diffusing the heated tension caused by a simple deck of cards again. 

When getting changed into the one set of pajamas you had brought for the night, a sense of peace washed over you. Your previous anxiety about going here to begin with ebbed away as you brushed your teeth, though you made sure not to bump into Jungkook on your way back to the guest bedroom. And as the house fell silent half an hour later, you found that you had settled in quite nicely. 

You never had been very good at sleeping away from home. It had taken you three weeks to get used to your own flat when moving out. And though you had spent one night under the same roof as Jungkook before — that fateful day where you sprained your ankle felt like a lifetime ago. Before things had turned intimate between you, back when you were still only the children's nanny and nothing else. 

The brief sanctuary you had found when playing card games downstairs had vanished again — leaving a hollow feeling in its wake as the evening progresses into night. 

Somewhere in the distance a clock ticks, and as you lay in bed, you attempt to lull yourself into a light slumber by simply counting each second as it passes. It is to no avail, of course. Your eyes snap open, greeted by the ceiling which looked as plain as a grain of rice. Fingers drumming against the duvet, you try to work out how many hours could be left until dawn. 

The ominous creak of a door cuts through the otherwise silent house and it has you jolting upright as you strain to catch the accompanying footsteps. Perhaps it was Mr. or Mrs. Jeon who left for the bathroom, perhaps it was Jungkook. 

You wait it out, going back to counting seconds as you listen to the persistent clock. When you've counted five minutes without any signs of a return, curiosity wins out. Your feet are light on the floor as you peer out into the hallway, all three doors are closed, no sign of life — and yet, you move toward the stairs. 

Creeping down the steps, you hold your breath in fear of stepping on a board that might betray your whereabouts. Luckily you make it all the way to the bottom floor without much trouble, exhaling a sigh of relief as you let go of the banister. 

The house is basked in shadows, save for the moonlight that spills through the windows and you let it guide you down the hall. You had no real motive for being down here, save for the fact that you were unable to sleep and now following a noise that could have easily been the wind or just the old roof settling. 

But as you round a corner, the sudden flicker of yellow makes you halt in your tracks. It's coming from the living room, a soft and warm hue that seeps into the hallway, one you follow on tip-toes, careful not to make a sound. 

When you peer through the archway all tension immediately drains from your face. The light had been coming from the Christmas tree, of course. Standing in front of the couch and armchair, the pine tree nearly reaches the ceiling, its star casting a golden halo around the room. 

Your gaze drops to the floor, to the silhouette belonging to Rayne. 

She sits with her legs tucked to her chest, chin hooked over her knees as she peers up at the tree in front of her — not the presents. The purple pajamas sits loose on her tiny frame, the dotted flowers blurring together with the shadows cast on her back. She has yet to notice you, too entranced by the lights in front of her to pick up on your tentative approach. 

Perhaps it was your sleeplesss brain, or the sheer curiosity you found yourself filled with after spotting her down here — nonetheless, you decide to sit down beside her on the floor, mimicking her posture as you pull your own knees to your chest in a tight embrace. 

Rayne finally turns her head to look at you, confusion written across her features. "What are you doing here?" Her voice isn't accusing, not exactly anyway, but you could tell that she was trying to figure out your intentions — except you hardly knew them yourself. 

Shrugging, you rest your cheek on your knees as you watch her through half-lidded eyes. "Can't sleep," you truthfully tell her, "The clock in my room is too loud." 

She doesn't respond to that beyond a slow tilt of her head but her dark eyes never stray from yours. You could gaze into them for hours without ever coming close to knowing what she was thinking, and she would stare back at you for just as long without ever telling you. 

"What are you doing here?" Echoing her question, you shift your feet on the carpet as you cushion yourself better against your kneecap. 

Rayne shrugs, "Can't sleep." 

"Does your dad know you're down here?" You hum, watching as she shakes her head in a 'no' that she never utters out loud. Without questioning her further you turn your attention back toward the Christmas tree. It looks much bigger when viewed from below and you have to crane your neck in order to make out the star on top. 

Rayne sits quietly beside you for a minute. She makes no attempt to speak, for a while you think she might even get up and leave again now that you had disturbed her peace. But she remains seated on the floor, close enough for your elbows to touch if either of you shifted an inch or so. 

Finally, you let go of the breath you had been holding. "I'm sorry for intruding on your Christmas," you tell her, hoping that she can hear the sincerity in your voice, "I know you probably didn't want me to." 

She inhales deeply beside you, chin lifting from her knees as she studies the lights hanging from the tree — their yellow hues reflect on her soft cheeks, bathing her in warmth as she blinks slowly. "It's not that I don't want you here," she begins, pausing mid-sentence as she swallows, "It's just…" 

Rayne trails off, her gaze dropping to the floor. You hold your tongue, waiting for her to continue whenever she felt ready to — even if the unknowing plagued you terribly. 

"It's scary." 

The admission feels vulnerable coming from her, like something you had never been intended to hear in the first place. She doesn't try to elaborate on it, and she doesn't look at you either, simply regarding the shiny ornaments as they hang from the tree. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, it goes down like a razor blade. Was there anything you could say to make it better? Anything you could do to take the feeling away again? When you regard her in the dim, yellow glow of what was supposed to be holiday spirit — you can't help but notice just how young she looks. Your stomach ties itself into knots when you think about all the things she might keep inside. 

Turning her head back to you, Rayne lets her intense gaze drag itself along your curled up frame on the floor next to her. Her brows meet over the bridge of her nose in a thoughtful frown. "I don't know what you want," she then murmurs, head cocking to the side as she studies you with calculating eyes. 

Her confession renders you speechless. Mostly because it was the same way in which you had felt about her all this time. Rayne was never where you expected her to be. Sometimes you were fooled into hoping that you were getting through to her, only for the distance to return a day later. Sometimes you felt stupid after talking to her, other times you felt smart. But the thing about Rayne that seemed to keep you awake at night was the: why. 

Why accept your help before the dance? Why ask questions that made no sense? Why even bother with this conversation right now? You came to understand that she was searching for the same answers you were. So you sit up a little straighter, arms loosening their hold on your legs as you turn to face her fully. "I want you to be happy," you tell her certainly, "You and your brother." 

Rayne nods, slowly but not unsurely. Her gaze flickers back to the tree for a moment, eyes tracking the red globes, maybe even counting them. A minute passes — two perhaps. Your confidence wavers with each second until nothing but a nervous flick of your nails against your pajama pants remain. 

She heaves a deep breath, taking all the air inside the room with her, including your own. Then she holds that same breath for a long while. Only when you glance over in fear that she might suffocate, does she exhale it again. "How do I know you won't hurt him?" 

You frown, lips parting without as much as a word, the rustle of clothes loud in your ears when you shift in place. The implication that you would ever harm someone, even if unintentionally, fills you with unease. "Hurt Cassian?" you shake your head promptly, "I would never—"

"Father." 

Rayne's expression resembles that of Jungkook's when she turns to you, masked with indifference — had it not been for the vulnerability behind her dark eyes as she awaits your response. "How can I be sure you won't hurt him?" 

Hurt — Jungkook? 

She was worried about… Jungkook? Rayne must have noticed the perplexed expression on your face by now, even so, she made no comment on it as she watches you expectantly.

You want to tell her that it is none of her responsibilities to worry about her dad, that he was a grown up who took care of himself. But something in the way she looks at you, the determination that fills out her shoulders and the protective fire within her gaze — it makes you think better of it. 

"I…" Stumbling over your words, you think of a way to respond to that. In the end, you can only shake your head, finishing off with a quiet whisper, "That's the last thing I want." 

Rayne looks at you, really looks at you, as though she was picking you apart for lies. Her throat bobs when she swallows, hesitation striking her shield of feigned nonchalance. Before she can formulate a reply however, the stairs creak. 

Your heads whip in the direction of the sound, the two of you scrambling to your feet just in time to see Jungkook himself emerge from the shadows as he steps into the light. He's dressed in checkered sweatpants, a loose, white t-shirt and nothing else. Still, he the glance he sends you both is enough to make your spine straighten. 

"What are you doing up?" He turns to address his daughter whose face was now devoid of any trace leading to your previous conversation. She doesn't answer him right away, fingers curling around the sleeves of her pajama shirt. 

"We came down for water," you say, nodding toward the tree behind you, "Got distracted by the Christmas decorations." Next to you, Rayne lets out a soft breath. 

Jungkook's attention flits over to the ornaments, snapping back to you both a beat later. Judging by the crease between his brows and the subtle clench to his jaw, he did not believe you. Yet he said nothing, instead he extends one hand toward his daughter, more of a demand than a request. "Bed time," he says and Rayne quickly obliges as she walks over to to lace her fingers with his. 

He does not turn to glance at you when he leads her out of the living room, and you listen to their barely audible retreat. Only when you're sure that they have made it upstairs do you finally uproot yourself from your spot, heading out into the dark hallway and toward the kitchen in search of the water you had yet to drink. 

Moonlight spills across the yellow tiles, perfectly illuminating the sink when you enter. It takes you some adjusting but after a minute or so you're able to find your way over to the cupboard holding the glasses. It's cool in your palm, heavier than you could remember a simple drinking glass being. You don't question it as you run it under the faucet. 

The cold water slips down your throat easily and you indulge in three greedy sips. The small kitchen window gives a perfect view of the backyard. Naked trees crowd the outskirts of the lawn, covered in a pale, glittering layer of snow. Cassian would probably want to head out there and play tomorrow — after tearing through his presents that is. 

Finger tapping against the rim of your glass, you ponder on how long your shoes would last out in the wet snow, and if you had remembered to pack an extra pair of socks. 

It's not until the lights above suddenly turned on that you startle from your thoughts, fist closing tight around your glass so to not drop it entirely. Tilting your head to peer over your shoulder, you spot Jungkook in the doorway. His hand hovers above the light switch before it returns to join the other in the pockets of his pants. 

"Sorry," the apology is blurted out the second your eyes fall on him, "We didn't mean to wake you." 

Jungkook shakes his head as he approaches, moving quietly across the kitchen floor as he comes to stand before you. "I couldn't sleep," he says as he lets his gaze drop to the half finished glass of water you hold. The chase for rest seemed to be a running theme tonight. 

The stillness and shadows around you linger for a while, and you long to join them, even if only for a little bit. "Is she okay?" Your thoughts have already found their way back to Rayne, her confession seared into the depths of your mind where it would stay until you were able to shake it. 

"She's asleep," he says. 

It wasn't an answer to your question, but you know better than to ask again. Opting for another sip, you let the cool liquid sit on your tongue before swallowing it. Standing in front of Jungkook now does not feel the same as it had only a week ago. It was a funny feeling, this lingering sense of dread, it crept up on you when you least expected it. You wonder if he can tell. 

Jungkook breaks away from your gaze and you follow the shuffle of his arm as he pulls his hand from his pocket, eyes widening when they land on the small box in his palm. The red wrapping shines under the kitchen lights, it's tied together with a white bow and your heart clenches at the sight. 

"What's this?" A stupid inquiry when the evidence was right in front of you. 

Jungkook humors you anyway, "Merry Christmas," he says when bringing it forward for your taking. 

He's met with a frown you cannot conceal. "It's Christmas Eve," you remind him, ready to decline the gift based on principle alone. But he simply nods toward the clock hung up on the wall behind you, showing 12:05. 

The corner of your lip pulls into a faint smile despite yourself and you set the glass down beside the sink as you reach out to take the present from him with careful hands. It's light, almost weightless in your grasp. Gaze shifting back up to him, you find Jungkook regarding you with his breath held, "Open it," he murmurs. 

There was no card attached, not that it mattered, you think when undoing the white ribbon. It comes apart easily under your fingers and you hesitate over the red wrapper. The prolonged silence pushes you to go through with it in the end, nail hooking into a crevice as you tear it gently — the ripping of paper is loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. 

Jungkook takes the ribbon and wrapping off your hands, discarding it on the tiled counter top as he goes back to watching you intently. His attention makes your stomach flutter the way it always would whenever he looked at you like that, like nothing else existed. 

You turn the small, black box in your hands — reading the brand name, which you did not dare attempt to pronounce, engraved in gold at the top. Deciding to just bite the bullet, you finally pick the lid, your eyes practically gauging out of their sockets when met with the jewelry inside. 

A small, golden pendant with soft edges that were shaped into a heart. It shimmers softly when you tilt the box a little closer. The necklace is attached to a thin chain of the same material and the pad of your finger strokes it reverently. 

Jungkook has yet to speak as he hovers close, his gaze heavy with something you want to believe is affection. 

"I—" inhaling a shaky breath, you manage to pull yourself away from the shiny jewelry and over to him, "You really didn't have to. I mean— this is way too much, I couldn't possibly—" 

His palm his flaming hot against your face, the pad of his thumb soft where it caresses your cheek. "I wanted to," he says, his other hand finding yours where you clutch at the small box. His fingers brush over your wrist, eyes flitting between your own and the necklace, "Can I put it on you?" 

Your throat feels dry despite the water you had been inhaling just a minute ago. Nodding mutely, you allow him to retrieve the jewelry. Jungkook moves carefully when he picks it up, like he was handling a porcelain vase. "Turn around," he whispers. 

There was little you could do except comply, turning to face the fridge door across from you as you fiddle with the now-empty box in your hand. The scent of his cologne feels out of place in Mr. and Mrs. Jeon's kitchen, but when he takes a step forward, it is all you can smell. 

His chest is just shy of brushing against your back, and when Jungkook inhales, it actually does. You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something you shouldn't as Jungkook brings his hands over your shoulders, gently placing the necklace onto your collarbone. The gold pendant is cold against your feverish skin and it sears itself onto you — like it, too, knew you would never take it off again. 

He fiddles with the clasp for a moment, knuckles accidentally brushing the nape of your neck and you suppress a shudder. You can feel the lock mechanism click into place long before Jungkook actually pulls back. He stands there for a while, warm breath fanning across your shoulder blade as the pads of his fingers trace the fine chain around your neck. 

"Alright," he clears his throat and the heat of his body disappears again, "Turn back around." 

Doing as he says, you come to face him once more. Glancing down to where the necklace rests, you reach up to feel it, making sure that it was real. Jungkook says nothing but his hands settle on your hips, locking your bodies together in a seal you won't be able to break, even if you want to. 

"It's pretty" you murmur, still studying the shimmering gold. 

His next exhale meets the tip of your nose, "On it's own maybe." His thumb draws idle circles onto your waist through the cotton of your shirt, "You wear it beautifully." 

Had you not been so taken aback by the admission you would've probably given his chest a teasing shove. But when you shift your gaze back up to meet his, you can't bring yourself to even breathe. Jungkook was standing close, too close, and if not for the way his chest pressed against your own, both of your hearts beating as one, then the fact that his lips hovered an inch from your own would've been more than enough to make your head spin. 

"I want to kiss you." 

He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world, like your conversation with Rayne had meant nothing — like this wasn't bigger than the two of you. 

You nod, finally letting go of the pendant and placing the jewelry box aside, your hands find the back of his neck. Just for tonight, you tell yourself. Just for tonight you repeat as his lips brush over yours. Just for— 

The creak of a floorboard has your eyes snapping open at the exact same moment Jungkook's does. His head, previously tilted forward to meet yours, jerks in the direction of the kitchen entrance and his grip on your hips tighten impeccably. 

The soft, barely audible groan of old wood had not been a trait of the house and soon the sound of footsteps fill the previously hot air. It's but a second later that Cassian rounds the corner and comes to an abrupt halt in the archway. 

His hair is tousled from sleep, the blue pajamas sitting awkwardly on his tiny frame after tossing and turning in bed. One small, knuckled fist comes up to rub at his eye as he squints against the sudden lightning. Without actually registering the scene in front of him, he croaks out a groggy: 

"Santa?" 

── [ ✉️ ] I like this chapter, mainly because of the dialogue. Hm, I hope it's not too boring since there was significantly less Jungkook x OC action, then again, HW is so much more than that, which you ladies know by this point. Anyway anyway, I feel like we have a lot to discuss in terms of theories and lore after this one, hit me, I am ready <3

You had not imagined finding yourself back at the large mall a mere week after picking out Rayne's birthday present. No less could you have ever thought that your return here would be in search of Christmas gifts for the two children. Had it been busy last week, then it was undoubtedly worse today. With only five days to spare before the day itself, people were resorting to violently elbowing each other toward the shelves to snag the last items for themselves.

Without the firm grip Jungkook keeps on your hand as he weaves through the crowd you're pretty sure you would've been trampled to the ground by now. He'd come to pick you up around noon after dropping Rayne and Cassian off at their grandparents' as he suggested that you do the shopping together — and you had not been one to decline. 

When you thought about it, you don't think you had ever been outside with Jungkook — unless you chose to count the multiple car rides, which you didn't. Though the crowded mall wasn't exactly a romantic scene. Sweat and pungent women's perfume make the hot air uncomfortably sticky, you've bumped shoulders with at least a handful strangers already, apologizing with a quick bow of your head before Jungkook pulls you forward. 

"Didn't think it was going to be this packed," he mutters when steering clear of a group of teenage girls, at least half of them letting their eyes linger on his bypassing frame. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he stood out in his dress pants and the tight fitted, navy fleece — which seemed to be the only garment he possessed that wasn't a button up. 

You snort, fingers lacing a little tighter between his. "Christmas is next Thursday, we're not the only ones on a last minute run." 

He doesn't say anything in response to that but judging by his tense posture — this was not his ideal setting. His eyes dart around the crammed room you stand in, its high walls make each conversation echo loudly and in the distance the piercing scream of a discontent child rings out. A fountain sits in the middle of the bottom floor, water rippling from the top, the sound would have probably been soothing, had you been able to hear it. 

Jungkook spots the escalators ahead and starts tugging you in their direction, cutting through the mass of people like a man on a mission. When you reach them he steps aside, allowing you on first before taking his spot behind you. 

Turning around to face him, you lean against the railing as the moving stairs take you to the second floor. "May I remind you that this was your idea?" The teasing lilt to your voice has him frowning and Jungkook makes a clicking noise with his tongue as he averts his gaze, studying his surroundings like he expects them to suddenly charge at him with knifes. 

"I'm starting to regret it," he sighs whilst running an inked hand through his dark hair. A loose strand falls across his forehead and you reach out to push it back. The action feels natural, domestic almost. He doesn't stop you, gaze trailing the path your finger takes closely. 

Standing one step higher makes you tower over him and Jungkook tilts his head back to peer at you through his lashes. The sigh he lets out fans across the lower half of your face warmly and you resist a small smile. "We'll be in and out, thirty minutes tops." You tell him the lie in full confidence, knowing very well that the long lines would probably amount to that time alone. 

But he doesn't question it, simply nodding as you step off the escalator and take in the array of stores on the new floor. To the left you spot a pop of color that screams 'Toy's' and you immediately move toward it — only to be stopped by Jungkook's tug to your hand. 

Confused, you send him a glance over your shoulder. "Let's split up," he says, "I have somewhere to go." When the puzzled look you wear doesn't ease up he lets his thumb brush across your knuckles, "I won't be long." 

Dumbfounded, you finally bring yourself to nod. "Yeah— Uh, sure." 

Jungkook hums, jerking his chin in the direction of the toy store you had been headed toward. "I'll meet you there when I'm done." Then he lets go of your hand and takes a step back, clearly waiting for you to move first. 

You hesitate for a second before mutely agreeing and spinning on your heel. Part of you wants to check if he was still standing where you had left him but you decide against it, focusing on making it to your desired destination without getting overrun by the hoard of people. 

The air inside the toy store itself is even hotter than that of the mall outside, and as expected, the space is filled to the brim with parents, all in search of presents for their children. Somewhere in the distance a Christmas carol plays through a crappy speaker, barely heard over the ambience around you. Slowly you begin making your way down the many aisles, scanning the options available as you chew on your bottom lip. 

An older man shoves past you suddenly, causing you to stumble on your feet. By the time you've regained your balance he's disappeared around a corner, not to be seen again. "Bastard," you grumble as you pull yourself together. 

You go over the mental list you had made of Cassian's wishes. When passing by a shelf of stuffed animals your eyes instinctively scan for a dinosaur one, he hadn't specified which he would like, so you figured that the green stegosaurus would work. Turning it over in your hands, you inspect it closely before nodding to yourself. 

As you wander through the store, your mind loops back to Jungkook with a frown. Where had he gone — and why couldn't you tag along? The answer was written before you in bold and yet you dared not entertain the idea that he might be getting something for you. 

Teeth sinking further into the skin of your lip, you ponder on what to get him. You could hardly afford anything on the pricier side, what would he even want? Jungkook revealed so little about himself, making your decision nearly impossible. 

Up ahead, there's a section dedicated to shiny toy cars and you slow down when walking past it. Cassian had mentioned wanting something like that as well. Your fingers hesitate over a blue one, just about to reach for it when a patch of color catches your attention. Turning toward another shelf further down the aisle, you find what you hadn't thought existed until now. 

Rainbow crayons. 

The toy car is abandoned entirely as you head for it, gaze locked on the small jar as you swerve through the crowd. In fact you're so focused on getting to the damned crayons that your surroundings completely fade into background noise. It's not until you have it clutched between both hands that you finally exhale a breath. 

Tilting the box in your palms, you study it with a pleased smile, Cassian would be overjoyed. And the price tag wasn't half as outrageous as you had feared — though it pushed your budget enough to exclude the shiny, plastic car from the equation. 

"Lovely lady, is that you?" 

A familiar voice pulls your attention from the colorful crayons and you glance up in time to see Namjoon gently stepping around another woman as he approaches. He's dressed in denim on denim, which, was an interesting fashion choice that you chose not to comment on. The pale blue fabric contrasts the bleached ends of his hair well though and he offers you a warm smile when coming to a halt before you. 

"It would appear so," you hum as you find yourself reciprocating the greeting. Had it not been for his memorable face, you think you might've had trouble recalling who he was. Your thoughts had admittedly been quite preoccupied with the Jeon family — the brief encounter with Namjoon was quickly shoveled to the back of your mind. 

You're surprised he even approached you to begin with, though grateful nonetheless. "Think I picked the worst day to come out here," he says when throwing a pointed glance around the crowded store. 

"I reckon it'll only worsen the closer to Christmas we get," you shrug, knowing very well that both prices and customers would skyrocket by the 24th. 

Namjoon nods, then his gaze drops to the rainbow colored crayons you still clutch, not to mention the stegosaurus shoved under your arm. His brows arch a little higher on his forehead and his eyes quickly snap up to yours, the questions stirring behind them. "You got kids?" he suddenly asks and you could've sworn your heart plummeted to your stomach. 

"O-Oh, no, no—" shaking your head, you busy yourself by fiddling with the plastic jar between your fingers, hoping he won't catch on to your flustered expression. "No. No, I don't," you exhale a quiet breath, "I um, I babysit two, well, I'm their nanny I suppose." A strained cough later, you add, "They're not mine." 

Your words come out a jumbled mess but they seem to make perfect sense to Namjoon, whose shoulders relax a fraction. "Ah, I see," he says with a lopsided grin, "It's really kind of you. I don't think I've heard of a nanny who buys presents for the kids."

You want to object by saying that they weren't just kids to you. Rayne and Cassian were special, really special. Regardless of you spending the holidays with them or not — it would feel wrong not to get them something. It's during said thought process that you realize Namjoon was scouring for gifts inside a toy store as well. 

Lifting your gaze, you meet his quietly, "And you?" You tilt your chin in the direction of the doll he was holding, having just noticed its long, brown hair and purple dress. 

Namjoon shakes his head, "No. This one's for my niece." He holds up the doll with a tilt of his lips. "Though I can't say that my family isn't hot on my heels about the matter," heaving a sigh, he continues in a somewhat sarcastic tone, "Thirty-three years old and I'm beyond my prime it seems." 

His blunt admission makes you pause, eyes widening a fraction as you blink. Thirty-three? That would make him three years older than Jungkook and— Actually, you didn't want to think about the rest. 

Your awkward chuckle is what fills the short silence as you think of something else to say. It wasn't that you disliked talking to him, quite the contrary. But Namjoon had this natural charm around him that made you want to impress him — for whatever reason. 

"You don't seem like a last minute type of guy," you finally muse, nail flicking idly against the plastic lid of the jar in your hands. 

Namjoon hums, "I'm not," he says when running his fingers through his short hair. "I was out with my mother the other week— Oh yeah, we bumped into you back then too, how silly is that?" His lips stretch into a wide grin that has dimples dent into the soft skin of his cheeks and you swallow. "Anyway, me and my brother, Jin, ended up buying duplicates for his daughter," he sighs, "It was a whole mess. Long story short, the coin toss ended with me having to go out and find something else for her. " 

He adjusts his grip on the doll, regarding it with a thoughtful look. "She likes to play with her stuffed toys, I'm hoping this will do the trick as well." 

"I'm sure it will," you say, "How old is she?" 

Namjoon's lips part, the answer waiting on his tongue when he suddenly goes silent. Frowning, you're just about to ask the matter when a cologne you recognize all too well invades the space between you. 

Jungkook's presence is felt before it's seen, the quiet loom of his shadow as it creeps up beside you, blocking off half the aisle with little care. He's holding not one but two bags, both from brands you recognize to be high end. Though that's not what catches your attention — not really. No, it was the brooding expression glued to his face, dark eyes lingering on Namjoon's friendly ones. 

"Oh— That was quick," you hum, suddenly feeling awkward as you stand between the two men. 

Next to you, Jungkook simply nods. Gaze briefly straying from where they had been fixed to Namjoon as he sends you a glance. "It was," he agrees lowly. 

Shifting on your feet, you clutch the jar of crayons a little tighter. "Uh, right. Jungkook this is Namjoon," gesturing vaguely to the man in front of you, "Namjoon, this is Jungkook." 

Unfazed by the fact that the hot store seemed to have turned a good couple of degrees colder, Namjoon extends a warm hand. "Hey," he says in a light voice, "Nice to meet you." 

Jungkook regards his outstretched palm with a scrutinizing look that he quickly masks again. After moment's deliberate hesitation he reaches out to take the offered hand as the former gives it a firm shake. He does not greet him back, but his features have schooled themselves into a weak attempt at something more relaxed. 

"The boyfriend I presume?" Namjoon asks, his smile doesn't waver but his gaze is calculating when the darts between you and Jungkook. 

Boyfriend. The label slices through you like a knife, twisting your stomach in all directions and you nearly chuckle at the absurdness of the question. But Jungkook hasn't moved an inch beside you, apart from withdrawing his hand the second he got the chance. His jaw is clenched hard enough for the muscle in his cheek to strain and you rush to clear your throat. 

"No he's uh— I'm the nanny to his children," you hurriedly explain, hoping he wouldn't catch on to how tightly the stegosaurs was squeezed against your side. 

Your answer has confusion striking his features as Namjoon lets his attention shift between the two of you. Perhaps he found it strange that you would be out Christmas shopping with your supposed boss — you wouldn't blame him. 

But if he had any opinions, he kept them to himself as he flashed you another smile. "Ah, my apologies" he says, though doesn't actually sound regretful as he his eyes settle on you. Or perhaps you were imagining things…

Namjoon is quick to effortlessly move the conversation forward, smoothing over the small bump like it was nothing. "My mother won't stop raving about you," he says, his now-free hand finding its way to his jean pocket as he takes on a more casual stance. 

The giggle that slips past your lips is lighthearted, all ready feeling more at ease. "She's still going on about dinner?" You wonder, grateful for the subject change. 

He hums, "That's putting it lightly." Namjoon shakes his head, "I told her you must be busy during the holidays and to not fret so much." 

You're about to suggest setting up a date around New Years when the sudden weight on your waist steals your voice. Jungkook's hand is firm where it rests on your hip, and if you had somehow managed to forget about his presence — this was certainly a stark reminder. 

"She is," He says, tone flat and devoid of any emotion. Your elbow nearly jabs him in the side when he tugs you closer, the plushie squished between you until it was unrecognizable. Jungkook doesn't seem to notice — he's too busy sizing Namjoon up with his eyes alone as they peer at him with quiet intensity. 

You send the other a small smile, fingers curling hard around the box of crayons as you pray this entire conversation be over as quickly as possible. "Yeah uh, Christmas is quite busy for me," you say, offering him an apologetic look. 

"Of course," Namjoon shrugs, like it was no matter, "I'm sure we'll find time." The corner of his lip twitches into a lazy grin, just enough to show off his white teeth. "Well then," He gives a dramatic bow and you resist another giggle, "I hope to run into you soon again, lovely lady." 

With that he takes his leave, quickly disappearing through the crowd of people as he heads for the register. You're left standing by the art supplies with Jungkook attached to your hip — literally. He has yet to say anything and when you turn your head, you find him staring after Namjoon's retreating figure silently. 

His hand is firm on your hip and it seems he's got no intentions of letting go in any near future. "Are you done here?" He asks when finally tearing his gaze back to yours, his voice has softened back into the one you've become so accustomed to and you exhale a relieved breath. 

"Yeah," you say, allowing him to lead you through the store, never once letting go of you. 

For the next hour you wait in more lines than you do any actual shopping. After securing the two presents you were to give Cassian, you had spotted a makeup store not far off, quickly pulling Jungkook in it's direction. He had made no verbal complaints, only looking very puzzled as you went through the different sections of the store. 

"Do you think she would like the blue- or pink-themed one?" You had asked him when holding up two eyeshadow palettes in front of him. He had studied them both closely, the frown on his face deepening tenfold as he grumbled the options to himself. 

Finally he had croaked out a quiet 'Pink?' to which you had playfully shoved his arm and called him stereotypical. From that point on he'd let you lead the way through the rest of the store, linked together by the lock of your hands, Jungkook followed you like a shadow. 

Since your brief encounter with Namjoon, he had been even quieter than usual, you had tried to brush it off as something that had to do with the hot and over-crowded mall but even the car ride home was void of conversation. 

He made no comments about the gifts you had bought, no further inquiries about Namjoon, which you were quite grateful for. And when the engine cuts as you roll up to the tall building you call home, Jungkook wordlessly gets out as he rounds the car to hold your door open before you can even attempt to do so yourself. 

He retrieves the presents from the trunk, slamming it shut with a little more force then necessary as he turns and heads for your apartment complex, leaving you to scramble after him. 

Despite you insisting that you would be fine, Jungkook still carries your bags up the stairs and to the third floor. He assures you that it's no mind and a small part of you can't help but wonder if he was merely trying to prolong his departure — in either case, you were not complaining. 

Soon you find yourself on your doorstep, the sound of a rusty key jamming inside its lock as you twist it open. Jungkook hasn't said a word since holding the entrance door open for you and when you turn to face him, he regards you quietly. It feels wrong to just tell him goodbye and send him on his way even when that was probably what was expected of you. 

Your fingers hesitate over the door handle, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth as you swallow thickly. "Do you…" Tapping quietly on the cool metal, you blurt out the rest of your sentence, "Would you like to come inside?" 

For a second you think he might reject the offer, say that he was late to picking the kids up from their grandparents' and leave. But actually Jungkook nods, his expression betraying nothing of what he thought. So without pondering the idea further, you push the door open with your shoulder. 

This was not the first time Jungkook had been to your apartment yet it feels like a whole new experience when you make your way down the hall that leads to the living room. You weren't a messy person by any standards but your flat certainly doesn't compare to that of his large and spotless house. "Just uh, make yourself at home," you say, gesturing vaguely toward the couch. 

Doing as he's told, Jungkook takes a seat on the cushion, looking very much out of place on the mundane piece of furniture as he takes in his surroundings. You realize that his previous visits here had been very short lived and it wasn't until now that he'd actually gotten to stop and properly look around. 

The mess of old mugs on the coffee table make you cringe and you scurry over to collect them clumsily. "Can I get you anything to drink?" you ask when straightening back up. 

Jungkook's gaze flickers up to meet yours, "Water will be fine," he says. 

Nodding, you turn on your heel as you dart for the kitchen, eager to escape his line of sight for a moment. You don't know why you were so nervous about having him here. Placing the dirty mugs in the sink, you mull over the feelings stirring inside your chest. You had been alone with Jungkook multiple times before, hell, your entire day had been spent in his presence at the mall. 

What made this any different? 

The still air maybe, or the fact that you no longer had the distraction of crowded stores or the children hovering around you. Or maybe it was because whenever you and him found yourselves completely alone — you always seemed to cross dangerous boundaries. 

You think of last night. The drinks you had shared in the shadows of his study, tucked away from the rest of the world. You think of the way his lips had felt on your neck, his hands on your thighs when he placed you on his desk and the caress to your back as he held you close. You think of the reluctant shower you'd taken when arriving back home, grieving the scent of him on your body as it washed away under the hot steam.

"Enough," you mutter when pulling a cabinet open. The memories of yesterday are pushed to the back of your mind as you turn on the faucet and fill two glasses. 

Jungkook is still lounging on the couch when you return to the living room. One hand is stroking the armrest beside him idly but his eyes lift upon your arrival. Your feet move soundlessly across the floor as you approach, handing him one of the glasses which he takes with a murmured thank you. 

For a little while the two of you simply exist together in the small space of your apartment, with you having yet to take a seat as you sip on your water. Jungkook does the same, his gaze fixed on you over the rim of his glass. It's not until he leans over to set the drink down that his attention shifts to the textbook thrown across the coffee table. 

He studies it for a moment, inked fingers brushing across its cover as he picks it up. "Oh, yeah…" rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly, you nod toward the book, "I have this big exam tomorrow, was doing some last minute studying this morning." 

Jungkook hums as he reclines back against the cushion, flicking the pages open with his thumb as he skims them aimlessly. When he turns back to you, it's with a cocked brow, "Are you prepared?" 

The question has the water slipping down your throat as you blink dumbfoundedly in his direction. "I mean, I think so…?" You knew that you hadn't given your studies enough attention during the course of the last two weeks, the man before you was partly to blame for that. "It's a lot of material but I've revised it all at least once," you then say whilst adjusting your grip on the glass. 

He doesn't respond right away, still skimming the page he'd landed on before finally closing the book and tucking it between himself and the armrest to his left. "Alright," he muses, "Then show me." 

Had it not been for the deathly hold you kept on your glass of water, it would've kissed the floor the same way your jaw currently was. "What—?" you splutter, thinking you might've misheard him somehow. But Jungkook simply folds his arms across his chests as he flings both legs up on the foot of the L-shaped couch. It was then you realized that he was being completely serious. 

"I wouldn't even know where to start—" shaking you head, you try to brush the idea off again, "And there's so much, I'll bore you." Not only was the prospect of potentially boring him on your mind, but so was the thought of wasting the little alone time with him on something as mundane as studying. 

Unfortunately, Jungkook isn't letting up. His stare could've probably coerced just about anyone into compliance and you were no different. 

The sound of your glass hitting the coffee table echoes off the four walls that surround you. "Can I at least go grab my notes?" 

That was how you found yourself next to Jungkook on your couch, in your living room, in your apartment — alone. You sit curled up beside him, eyes fixed to the notes in your hands, supported by your thighs as you read them over again and again — your brain never actually picking up the words so messily scribbled down. 

As you quickly revised, Jungkook took his time flipping through your textbook. After prying a chapter number out of you he was now reading the material closely, eyes squinting slightly in the absence of his glasses. 

You gnaw on your bottom lip when sneaking a glance at him, gaze fleeing back to your notes when he suddenly looks your way. Another two minutes pass in tense silence where you repeat the scribbled key words like a mantra. 

Then the notebook is suddenly snatched from your grasp as Jungkook's tattooed hand closes around its edge. He's put the class material aside and is now scanning the pages you've written for himself. When you attempt to retrieve the essential guide, he simply pulls it out of reach. "Time's up," he says. 

You almost fling yourself over him to get your notes back, only to realize how stupid that would look — and how close you were already sat. His cologne, always lingering in the back of your mind, infiltrates your nostrils with your next inhale. His arm is warm where it rests against your own, his head tilted just enough for you to meet one of his dark eyes as he studies you. 

"Well?" He prompts when folding his arms back over his chest and sinking back against the cushion. His expression is expectant, even more so than your stern no-nonsense professors and you feel yourself beginning to sweat under the sudden attention. "Start simple," he then says and you nod. 

Clearing your throat, you mentally go over the notes once more. The exam was your biggest one yet, focusing on both the human lungs and heart. "I— Um, the heart…" you begin, hands fiddling awkwardly with one another, "It's the body's most vital organ as it provides oxygen to our cells and maintains our blood pressure." 

Jungkook hums, never once taking his eyes off of you. "Where's it located?" 

You roll your eyes at that, "Oh come on. You know here." 

But he only shrugs, "What if I don't?" You were no fool to what he was trying to do here. Acting completely clueless to pull as much information from you as possible. It would be a lie to say that it didn't amuse you, if only a little — because Jungkook was far from stupid, though getting to experience him like this, even if it was only pretend, fueled something in you. 

"It's located in your chest, just behind your sternum, in front of your spine — though it's positioned slightly to your left." Reaching out, you point to where his heart would be beating just under the tight fleece he wears. 

Jungkook's gaze tracks the path of your hand, humming softly to show that he was following along. "How?" He then asks, tilting his head a fraction to the side, "How does it give me oxygen." 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, "Well, to explain that you first need to know how the heart is built." There's brief hesitation where you search his face for clues, but he's just watching you, wordlessly urging you to keep going. 

The next breath you take comes easier, some of the tension draining from your shoulders as you hone in on one of the things you were most passionate about — the human body. "The heart is made up of four chambers and they all serve different purposes," you explain, "The atria are the two chambers at the top of your heart, and the ventricles sit at the bottom." 

Your finger points to where you think each one would be, approximately at least. Jungkook lets you without complaint, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath he takes. "You're quite a hands-on teacher," he then muses, causing you to forget your next sentence as you huff exasperatedly. 

"I'm just trying to show what I mean…" You mutter, quickly withdrawing your hand from his torso when you realize how long you'd let your touch linger. 

Jungkook eyes you for a moment without speaking until he abruptly leans forward. You barely have time to ask the matter as he reaches behind him, grabbing the back of his shirt as he tugs it over his head in one swift motion. 

"What are you—?" 

The spluttered question falls flat as he tosses his shirt over the armrest on the other side of him. He raises a brow at your perplexed and slightly flabbergast expression, the corner of his lip twitching before he forces it back into something more neutral. "Giving you access," he says when leaning back against the couch to get comfortable again. 

Your brain short circuits as your attention falls on his naked chest — the one you'd only had the privilege of seeing on one previous occasion. And now he was suddenly offering himself up as revision material? 

Finally pulling yourself together, you shift in your seat as you turn to get a better view. "Right," you clear your throat, "Like I was saying…" 

"The atria and the ventricles?" he finishes for you. 

"Yes, that." Fumbling to gather your bearings, you will your mind to focus on where his heart would be and not the distracting sight of bare skin. "The uh, the chambers can be divided into left and right." You're hesitant to reach out again, more so for your own sake than his, but in the end you do — finger pointing to his chest where you had felt the steady drumming of his heart. 

"The right atrium receives oxygen poor blood through the vena cava. There are two of them, one superior and one inferior and they both work slightly different…" You trail off, eyes flickering up to meet his, only to find Jungkook already watching you intently through dark lashes. 

"How so?" He asks. 

"Well, the superior one delivers blood from your upper body, such as your head, throat, chest and even your arms." Gesturing vaguely in the direction of his painted arm, you then continue in the same breath, "The vena cava inferior transports blood from your lower body, that blood travels through your veins but to defy gravity and actually make it back to your heart they rely on different mechanisms to help them." 

Your hand slides down to his forearm, gently pushing it back against the upper one as you try not to linger on the way his bicep contracts at the motion. "When your muscles are in movement they squeeze your veins, forcing the blood upward and with the help of one-way valves that open and close, the oxygen poor blood is ensured to not run back down again." 

Jungkook lets you manhandle his arm back and forth a couple of times, more than what was actually necessary for the explanation but he makes no move to stop you either. "And if I'm not moving?" He wonders, brows furrowing slightly on his forehead, "Then what happens?" 

"You also have your respiratory pump," you hum, recalling the revised material a lot easier now. "When you breathe your diaphragm moves," abandoning his arm, your palm comes to rest on the center on his torso, just below his chest at the base of his ribcage, "It creates a suction effect in your chest cavity which draws blood upward." 

Under your hand, Jungkook's chest expands as he takes a deep breath, like he was testing the theory out for himself. "Makes sense," he muses on his exhale. 

You nod, debating on pulling back entirely but instead deciding to just let your touch return to his heart instead. "Right so, the right atrium then delivers the oxygen poor blood to the right ventricle which in turn sends that blood to your lungs in order to enrich it with oxygen again. That part is a little confusing to explain as the functions of the veins and arteries trade places." 

The corner of Jungkook's lip twitches, "I'm sure I can keep up." 

Heat crawls up your neck at the confidence in his voice and it makes you waver for a split second before you clear your throat. "The uh, transportation of oxygen poor blood to the lungs is not done with veins rather the pulmonary artery. When you inhale your lungs become full of oxygen which is given to your blood through diffusion. This is possible thanks to the capillaries which are walls thin enough to let the exchange happen. It is the same way oxygen is exchanged everywhere throughout your body." 

You pause to make sure that he was following along, shyly lifting your gaze from where it had been glued to his chest. Jungkook is regarding you quietly, he's made no attempt to interrupt you and the look in his eyes made your stomach flutter in a way it certainly shouldn't when you were revising anatomy. 

"The er— exchange itself then fills our lungs with carbon dioxide which is what we then go on to exhale. Moving on, the oxygen rich blood is transported back to your left atrium through the pulmonary vein. That chamber in turn pumps the blood to your left ventricle which sends it out to the rest of your body." 

By the time you're done explaining the basics of the heart itself you're left with your own hammering in your chest — and that was without going into any detail on the different conditions such as heart attacks. 

Jungkook hums in understanding, nodding once like you had made perfect sense. The silence between you stretches long and awkward for nearly ten seconds after that and you fumble for something to fill it with, ultimately landing on rambling more information stored at the top of your head. 

"Further more, an adult heart, when relaxed should beat anywhere between sixty to a hundred beats per minute, anything above that can indicate high blood pressure." A quick glance at his toned arms and the whisper of muscle on his stomach has you continuing, "Though fit individuals may sometimes have a lower resting heart rate, somewhere around forty to fifty beats per minute." 

Jungkook cocks a brow at that, his gaze landing on the hand you still kept over his chest. You barely have time to register what he was doing before the warmth of his palm presses down across your fingers, bringing you closer to his beating heart. 

"What's your diagnosis, doc?" He asks when tilting his head to the side. 

Completely thrown off balance, it takes you a moment to understand what he meant and you quickly distract yourself by trying to count the slow and steady beats his heart gives. Your apartment is silent, save for your joint breaths and the soft creak of the couch when you shift on the cushion. The rhythmic thumping under your hand never falters, its calm and steady beating almost pisses you off — how was it so easy for him to remain unaffected as he sat shirtless in your living room? 

When you think a minute might've passed you gingerly pry yourself free of his grip. "Well, it's impossible to say since I can't time it properly right now — but I'd say it's normal." 

Jungkook seems satisfied with your answer. He doesn't say anything for a while, leaving you to rethink the entire interaction as you gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Then he suddenly turns, twisting himself just enough to face you better and a second later his fingers dip beneath the neckline of your shirt, hot palm finding your heart as he presses it against your skin. 

You want to ask what he was doing, like it wasn't obvious enough. But you can't seem to get a single word out, forced to sit there as Jungkook feels the embarrassingly rapid beating of the traitorous organ in your chest. You toy with the idea of holding your breath forcing your heart into submission but ultimately decide against it as Jungkook's dark eyes meet yours. 

"Yours is beating fast," he notes, hand still present against your chest. 

The huff that escapes you falls somewhere between a laugh and a strained plea. "Yeah uh— There's explanations for that as well," you tell him, immediately regretting it when his expression lights up with interest. 

"Such as?" 

"Well there's many… Norepinephrine, sudden adrenaline surges and involuntarily fight-or-flight responses. They all cause your heart to beat faster." You ramble on as you avoid his gaze, finding the armrest behind him most intriguing. 

Jungkook hums, "Why now?" 

You have half a mind to tell him off. He was not stupid but neither were you, and you knew when someone was pushing your buttons. Still, the only response you can manage is a weak scoff and a pathetic excuse, "You took your shirt off…" 

The fleece lays discarded to his left, but Jungkook pays it no mind. His fingers move absently across your skin, tracing small, messy patterns there. Eyes darting back and forth between his hand under your shirt and your face, like he was considering something. "And if you took yours off? My heart would beat faster, yes?" 

You're certain he can feel the beat your heart skips in your ribcage, the hitch in your breath as his proposal registers. You tell yourself that you were past the terms of modesty since long — Jungkook had seen you in less, and still, this conversation makes you want to hide just as much as it makes you want to kiss him. 

"Well—" you begin with a slight stutter, "Not necessarily, you'd need to be attracted to the person you're seeing." 

At that he leans closer, his attention dropping to the faint outline of his knuckles through your shirt as he presses his index and middle finger over your heart. Then he lifts gaze, "I am," he calmly states. His free hand finds the line of your jaw, fingers closing around it on a soft embrace when he leans in to press his lips against yours. 

You sit there like a stature for a good three seconds, trying to piece together what he'd just initiated before leaning in as you invite his tongue inside your mouth with a breathless gasp. The kiss is soft, it feels like him, scarily familiar in a way you should've never let it become. 

His fingers slip out of your shirt, curling into your hip as Jungkook tugs you onto his lap like he was moving air. Both hands settle on your waist and your own palms brace themselves on his shoulders without having to be told as you kiss him harder, all thoughts of studying flying out the window in favor of the man on your couch. 

He toys with the hem of your sweater, tugging on the fabric just enough to pull your attention away from the lock of your lips. Despite the heat that smooths itself over your cheeks you still manage to maintain eye contact as you lean back enough to pull the garment over your head, tossing it to the floor just like you usually would when getting undressed after a long day. 

Jungkook's gaze roams your chest unapologetically, lashes fluttering softly as he runs the pad of his thumb up your side. His hands slide to your back, tracing your naked spine as he pulls you closer and you let him steal your breath with another kiss. 

Your hips move on their own, grinding down against him through the layers of clothes you wear — to which he responds by digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you down on him harder. The air inside your living room grows hot, outside your window the sun begins its slow descent down the horizon, basking you in all shades orange. 

Last night had yet to leave your mind and judging by the way Jungkook hardens under you within the minute, it hadn't left his either. The sound of his groan vibrates on your lips, low and filled with desire he does nothing to hide.

Only when his fingers wrap around your wrists as he guides it across his collarbone do you pull back an inch. He says nothing when he moves your palm to rest flat over his chest, right above the now frantic beating of his heart. You feel it clearly, the quick thump-thump-thump as it slams against his ribcage from within. 

When you meet his eyes you find them entirely swallowed by the black pools of his pupils, dazed with all the things he never said out loud. "Do you feel that?" he whispers, breath warm against your face. His fingers lock around yours as he presses your hand impossibly close, letting you experience the undeniable evidence of his pure want. 

You nod, just a slow tilt of your chin which Jungkook mimics with one of his own. "Good," he says, but he doesn't let you go when he leans in to pick up the kiss he'd broken with renewed hunger. 

Your other hand loosens its hold on his shoulders, sliding to the nape of his neck as he tips his head back to let your tongue slip inside his mouth. The ends of his hair slip between your fingers, fitting perfectly in your grasp when you curl the digits around them. Having previously lost their rhythm, your hips return to their slow grind against him. 

Jungkook leans back from the kiss, lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the side of your neck as he showers you in affection. "Who was that?" he asks against you, the hand not currently keeping your own caged to his chest, grips your hip. When all he receives is a slightly confused hum from you, he adds in a lower voice, "Your friend," making sure to accentuate the latter.

Your body grows tense on top of his, brows pinching together across your forehead as you attempt to pull back enough to look at him — but Jungkook is not letting you go. His arm slides around your waist, keeping you perched on his lap as his lips stay latched on to your neck. 

"Namjoon?" You finally splutter, fingers twiddling a strand of his dark hair between them. 

Jungkook sighs out a small 'mm' between kisses, "That's his name?" He phrases it like a question even though you both know it isn't. 

"Yes," you murmur, glancing down to where your hands lay locked over his heart. "Why are you asking?" 

His fingers flex on top of yours, "Curious," he says after another open-mouthed kiss to the column of your throat. Teeth closing around your skin, he pulls the tender flesh past his lips and bites down. "He seems like a decent guy," letting go, he soothes the sting with his tongue, "How do you know him?" 

Your brain short circuits as you try to make sense of what he was saying all the while he continues to lick and nip at your throat. "Uh, I've met his mom twice — by chance. Him once before," you say as you try to recall your past encounters with Namjoon, even when that was the last thing on your mind right now. 

The answer has Jungkook humming noncommittally, the arm looped around you flexing slightly as he tugs you closer. His hips lift up to meet yours that had gone still, wordlessly urging you to move again. 

You comply as you grind down on him, slower this time. "What matter is it anyway?" you huff, tilting your head to the side when his kisses trail back up your jaw, then your cheek. 

Jungkook exhales through his nose, he nudges your palm flat against his chest, reminding you of the way his heart was currently beating like a dumbbell. "None," he says as his lips cover yours. 

Your next kiss is laced with the emotions that had been left brewing since last night. Each roll of your hips sends a shudder through you, soft gasps spilling right into his waiting mouth. His hands return to your waist, guiding you back and forth over the bulge in his dress pants. 

The subject of Namjoon is dropped just as quickly as it had surfaced and for that you're glad. All you can focus on his how Jungkook feels under you, against you, so close yet nowhere near enough. He hadn't asked about the boyfriend thing, hadn't brought up your dismissal of such a label being used on the two of you. Then again, you weren't an item to begin with. 

Your fingers return to his dark hair, running through the strands like property signed in your name. His jaw goes slack when you tug on a few locks, a strained noise ripping from his throat as his hips jerk up to meet yours in a messy attempt at creating more friction. The sofa creaks under your joint weight, the slick sounds of lips and saliva smearing together mixed with your heavy breaths filling your living room. 

The two of you would've probably kept going for a lot longer, had it not been for the sudden, ear-piercing ring that cuts through the hot air. Jungkook's grip on your hips loosen, his mouth slowing down against yours as he exhales. 

"Ignore it," you moan against him, not wanting the moment to end because someone — God knows who — though probably Daehyun, decided to be a cock-blocker. But the shrill of your landline won't stop and you're forced to make the hard decision of tearing yourself off Jungkook's lap as you storm over to the device on your desk. 

Fingers curling around the phone, you rip it from its designated spot as you press to accept the call. "Daehyun, I swear to God if this is—" 

"Oh, there's a familiar voice." 

Namjoon's chuckle makes you pause mid scolding, brows shooting high on your forehead. "Uh, sorry. I thought you were someone else," you quickly apologize, pulling your swollen bottom lip between your teeth as embarrassment floods you from head to toe. 

"It's no mind," he says, "I've been calling around, going through everyone with your name in the phone book. Though since I never caught your last name I was going on the first. Turns out there's quite a few of you in the area." Namjoon's tone is lighthearted, a stark contrast to the conversation you had just been having about him. 

"Well, you found me at last," you muse, finger tapping softly against the back of the phone. Somewhere in the distance a floorboard creaks and a second later Jungkook's arms slide around you from behind. He's put his shirt back on, the soft fleece biting into your back when his chest molds against you. 

"I'm glad I did," Namjoon says and you were certain that Jungkook could hear his voice on the other end of the line. His head was lowered enough for it to, the tip of his nose skimming along the side of your neck as he inhales deeply, a sound you hope won't pick up on the receiver. 

But Namjoon doesn't seem to be catching on as he continues, "I was calling about that dinner. I made the mistake of mentioning our run-in to my mother earlier and her nagging has only gotten worse." He clears his throat, "So uh, you don't happen to be free sometime after Christmas?" 

It was the first time you had ever heard Namjoon appear even remotely hesitant. He was all charming smiles and confident conversation. The question was almost endearing, though Jungkook's arms, locked around your stomach makes your thoughts stray from the man on the phone as your heart races. 

"After Christmas?" you echo, biting down on your tongue when a pair of wet lips meet the spot just below your ear. "I'll have to check my calendar but uh…" Another kiss to the juncture where your neck and shoulder meets has you suppressing a shiver. "Could I maybe get back to you on that?"

"Of course," Namjoon says, "Should be a lot easier now that my number is in your register." His laughter is something you're unable to reciprocate as Jungkook continues his assault to your bare skin, placing hot, messy kisses all over you with no intent of slowing down. 

When the short call comes to a close you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. For a few long seconds you stand there, staring at the wall as Jungkook drags his lips across the slope of your shoulder. 

Placing the phone back onto the machine, you twist in his arms as you turn to face him, causing him to finally pull his mouth back. He did not have to ask who had been on the other end and you did not have to tell him. The previous desire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by something softer as he studies you in the warm afternoon sun. 

"Sorry about that," you murmur, fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt before flattening the fabric out again. 

Jungkook only shakes his head, hands clasped over the small of your back. "Don't apologize to me," he says, brows furrowing across his forehead for a second, then relaxing again. Your close proximity did not fluster you as much as it had only minutes ago — though it still made fire burn hot in your veins. Should you kiss him again? Would he want you to? Maybe you— 

"I should be heading out." Oh. You can't hide the flash of disappointment when it strikes your features, he must notice it too for he lifts one hand to cradle your cheek. "Told my parents I'd be picking the children up at five." 

"Right, no of course." Shaking your head, you take a small step back in an attempt to put some much needed distance between the two of you, and allowing him to take his leave — only for him to stop you. 

Jungkook's hand is firm on the low of your back when he reels you in, foreheads meeting as his lips hover a breath from your own — just shy of a kiss which he dares claim a second later. There's no tongue this time, no heat, just the gentle press of his mouth to yours. When he pulls back he does so carefully. 

His thumb brushes the high of your cheek, "You'll do good on your exam," he says, the corner of his lip lifting at the flustered purse of your own. 

"I'm not so sure about that" you huff, feigning indifference as you try to play it down again. 

Jungkook hums, "I am." He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, then he lets his hands drop back to his sides as he steps back. Your gaze trails after his retreating figure when he heads down the hall, slipping on his coat and shoes methodically, the flutter in your stomach having yet to die down. 

With one hand wrapped around the door handle he turns to glance at you over his shoulder, dark eyes meet yours just like they had so many times this afternoon before he steps out. 

Your apartment is awfully silent after his leave, goosebumps rising on your naked arms in his absence. With a begrudging sigh you turn to snatch you discarded shirt off the floor, pulling it over your head as you stumble toward the bathroom with the means of washing up. 

The bright, white lights blind you when you flick them on and it takes you a moment to adjust. Twisting the faucet, you lean down to soak your face in cold water, scrubbing away the remnants of the heated kisses you and Jungkook had shared. 

Part of you wonders what would've happened if you hadn't been interrupted. Would it be like last night? Maybe. You dared not think about it for too long. 

You pat your face dry with the nearest hand towel, blinking at your tousled reflection in the small mirror. Admittedly, you had looked better. But as you lean closer to inspect the swollen state of your lips, your attention catches on something entirely different. Craning your neck to the side, your eyes widen as they drink in the hint of bruising to your skin. 

Your fingers reach for the faint mark, knowing it would darken overnight. The bathroom light flickers above you but you ignore it as you trace the outline where Jungkook's mouth had once been — remembering what his teeth had felt like when they sunk into your skin. 

── [ ✉️ ] Okay yeah, he was hot in this one I think. Doing way too much with the heart stuff, I did not plan for him to do that it was his own decision I need everyone to be onboard with this okay? Anyway anyway, hope this was okay, it was very all over the place yet nowhere at all? Not sure how to feel but I hope when we get to the next two chapters things will actually make sense.

Rays of orange and pink caress the naked tree branches just outside — the setting sun spilling through the curtains that had been left pulled back to let the last light in. A glowing halo wraps around her head as Rayne shifts on the edge of the bed, her back turned to the window and the beautiful sky. 

It was no later than four-thirty pm but as winter break would commence the following Monday there was little for the children to do in terms of school work. Thus you had managed to pull the elder aside for some much needed alone time — for today was the big day — the one you had spent the last few preparing for. 

After her birthday party last weekend, Rayne had reluctantly agreed to attend the dance with her father. Though you had only caught a glimpse of their conversation upstairs last Saturday, you knew that it was all Jungkook's doing. The pair had actually spent some time practicing together, with you and Cassian watching subtly from the kitchen as they did. 

Friday afternoon was now coming to a close and the seven pm mark crept closer for each passing minute. Rayne's shadow engulfs you where you sit perched on the floor, making it easier to peer up at her through the blinding rays. She wears a solemn expression, her eyes set on the purple dress hanging on the handle of her closet. 

"Is this really necessary?" 

Her voice is a begrudging drawl of lazy tongue that fills the silence along with the faint shuffle as you stifle through your duffel bag. Choosing to respond with only a brief, "Mhm", you go on to pull out all of the necessities you had brought along: hot rollers, an assortment of brushes and a palette of bold eyeshadows. 

And perhaps you were being a little selfish. But growing up an only child you had always begged your parents for a younger sister. Someone to share clothes and bracelets with, to gossip about boys and to laugh late into the night with — to care for her in all the ways you thought a big sister should. 

Suppose a small part of you was taking advantage of the brief opportunity that had presented itself within Rayne. 

You go about placing all the items in order on the floor, nudging a brush to line up straight with the others before glancing up at the skeptical girl. "This is merely standard procedure, you know." Gesturing toward the lineup of beauty products, you send her a lopsided smile. 

There's a moment of quietness where Rayne simply frowns. Her fingers pick idly at the seams of her jeans as her eyes flicker between the eyeshadow and the hot rollers. "I don't know…" she murmurs, her tone uncharacteristically soft, "I don't—", shrugging dismissively, she avoids your gaze, "I don't do all that stuff." She nods pointedly toward the shimmer you had just fished out of your bag, her nose scrunching. 

You pause, the round plastic box clutched tightly in your hand as you pull the flesh of your cheek between your teeth. Chewing on the raw and tender skin, you let your attention fall to the items you had just hauled out onto the floor. There was nothing extravagant about them, no high-end brands — in fact most of it had been purchased at the drug store and the hot rollers were second hand. 

Brows pinching together, you study the array of brushes. They all got the job done and the longer the silence stretched between you the more obvious it became that the question of quality wasn't the issue here. 

"You mean to tell me you don't dress up or anything?" Tilting your head to the side, you regard her closely. 

Rayne clears her throat as she shifts her weight on the bed, shoving her hands under her thighs. "No," she mutters under her breath, sending you a small glance through the corner of her eye before scoffing, "What? Am I supposed to?" The inquiry comes out defensive as her gaze narrows into something guarded. 

Gnawing softly at your cheek, hesitating at the tone she'd used. It wasn't a requirement per se. Rayne was only eight after all but you still vividly remember sneaking into your mom's vanity at that age — rummaging through her makeup, smearing bold lipstick onto your lips and slapping all kinds of powder onto your face. 

"Well…" you start, forehead creasing slightly as you stare out at nothing in particular, "No." Shaking your head softly, you then tilt it back to peer up at her, squinting slightly against the afternoon sun, "I thought it would be a fun thing for us to do together, you know, girl to girl." 

Her eyes widen at that, only for a moment before sharpening with suspicion again as her fingers curl around the fabric of her jeans. 

"I know that your dad does your hair from time to time," you add after a short pause, "Though your brother tells me that he doesn't do a very good job for the most part." 

Rayne actually makes a small sound that could have almost been mistaken for a laugh — the corner of her lip twitching into something just shy of an actual smile. "No," she agrees quietly. "He makes the braids uneven," a small roll of her eye follows, "And it always falls apart by lunch." 

The giggle that bubbles from your chest is carefree, as warm as the setting sun outside and you wished she would find it in herself to share it with you. "See?" you muse, tapping the hot rollers in front of you with a grin, "Boys have no idea what they're doing." Cocking her a brow, you add, "Us girls need to stick together you see." 

She nods thoughtfully, hands still curled tight around her pants but her gaze has drifted to the eyeshadow palette next to your knee. Beneath the reluctance there was something akin to longing, barely there but still visible if you looked hard enough. 

The longer you thought about it the more you came to realize that you and Rayne were not so different after all. Growing up in the absence of her mother with only a father and brother who knew as much about being a woman as a fish did walking on land. 

Perhaps you weren't the only one wishing for a sister. 

"What do you say we give this a go?" Gesturing toward the array of items scattered across the floor, you glance up at her with a hopeful smile. 

A long moment of silence passes until Rayne finally nods, a slow tilt of her head that hints at no enthusiasm but fills you with excitement nonetheless. 

Rayne's usually quiet bedroom had never been so lively before. The tidy space had become a mess by this point, brushes and empty plastic packaging leaving a trail to where the two of you sat on the floor. A record player — one you had found within the depths of her closet moments ago — was playing a CD of ABBA, the melody singing through the air. 

"Feel the beat from the tambourine," you hum softly, fingers carding through a dark strand of her hair as you reach for another roller. 

Having taken out the ponytail that she always wore, you realized just how long Rayne's hair actually was. The dark black was a stark contrast to her warm, honey tinted skin and it reached all the way to her elbows when allowed to flow freely. She had insisted that this wasn't needed and that she should be just fine leaving her hair untouched but you forced her down in front of the mirror. 

Placing a bobby pin between your lips, you continue to hum along quietly to the song. "You can dance, you can jive," Twisting the lock of hair up around the warm plastic roller, you pluck the pin to fasten it in place. The rollers were thankfully not hot to the touch but you were still carefully to not hurt her. 

Rayne, for her part, sat perfectly still. Her legs were crossed and she rests one hand on each knee as she gazes at her reflection in the mirror. Whenever you looked up your eyes met — you would send her a smile which she did not reciprocate, but she did not look uncomfortable either so you counted the win anyway. 

"How much longer?" She asks when you fasten another roller. Her shoulders flexed as she adjusted herself — her straightened back serving as a ridicule to your hunched over one. 

Pausing, you lean back to asses your work thus far. "Not long," you note, counting the rollers you had left under your breath, "Five more." 

She heaved a sigh at that, but nodded slowly as she allowed you to continue. This was likely the most tedious part of it all but you trusted that the results would be worth it in the end. 

As you stuck the bobby pin into the final roll you took a second to scan the product of your hard work. "Alright, you'll need to keep them in for a while," you tell her when stuffing the remaining pins back into their small box. 

"They're uncomfortable," Rayne complains, her voice bordering on a whine that was most unlikely of her. Though she doesn't actually look displeased when you catch her face in the mirror. She reaches a small hand up to touch carefully at the roller holding her fringe, lips pursed in contemplation. "Are you sure this will work?" she asks. 

You nod, perhaps a little too quickly, "Positive."

The record player jammed slightly between song shifts but a moment later a new tune filled the bedroom, one you did not recognize but still tried to hum along to. "Okay, let's move to the next step while we wait," you declare when reaching for the makeup palette beside you. 

Rayne cocks a brow as she follows the movement with her eyes, their earlier reluctance now replaced with curiosity. "What's it for?" She points to the variety of colors, all divided into square sections. 

"It's for your eyelids," you explain when scooting over to sit in front of her, crossing your legs as you get comfortable. Opening the clear lid, you show her the different options, ranging from bright blues to deep greens, bold yellows, oranges and much more. "Take your pick!" 

She hesitates when the decision is so suddenly pushed into her lap, swallowing audibly when leaning forward for a closer look. Teeth closing around her bottom lip, Rayne studies the different colors closely, some had clearly been used more than others, you were a woman of habit after all. 

After a minute's of intense thinking she lifts one finger and points it toward the soft lilac one. "That one," she says with a dismissive shrug, feigning nonchalance as she turns her attention to the floor. 

The corner of your mouth threatens you with a smile and you quickly hide it by turning to grab a fluffy brush from your bag. "That one is perfect," you say when dipping the bristles into the color, swirling them around to gather the powder onto them. 

Rayne follows the action closely through hooded eyes, pretending not to pay as close attention as she was, though the fact that she had stopped picking at her jeans were a tell tale sign. "Not too much," she murmurs, a last attempt at remarking the entire situation. 

"Not too much," you echo, dusting the brush by tapping it against the edge of the palette. Once that was done you straightened up as you held the brush between pinched fingers, "Okay, close your eyes." 

After throwing you another skeptical look she does as she's told, her lashes fluttering slightly when she lets her eyes fall shut. In the distance, the music playing fades out as the track jumps to play another song — leaving the two of you in silence as you brush the brush to one of her eyes. 

Your touch is careful so to not accidentally poke the corner of her eye with the bristles when you drag them over her closed lid. The warmth of her steady exhales fans across your chin when you lean forward to see better as you dab the lilac powder onto her.

The CD comes to life again but the new melody becomes background noise for all that exists in this moment is you and Rayne. She sits perfectly still and had it not been for the twitch of her brow when you move from one eye to the other one could have easily mistaken her for a statue. The muted purple goes on easily, covering the faint outlines of veins that lay across her lids. 

"Keep them closed," you hum when pulling back to dip the brush back into the palette to retrieve more color. Swiveling the fine strands in the lilac once, you bring a steady hand back to apply the second layer — going over it twice made it stick better — something you had picked up during your late teens. 

Rayne doesn't flinch when the soft bristles return to her lids and though the corner of her lip twitches, she says nothing as she allows you to continue. 

Your heart clenches in your chest the setting sun no longer keeping you warm but rather the girl in front of you. "It's turning out beautiful" the acknowledgement is no louder than the song playing from her desk but given your proximity she definitely heard it. 

"It better be," Rayne huffs, even then there was amusement in her voice, the kind that makes you smile without meaning to. And perhaps it was a little selfish for you to linger even the brush no longer held any color and the layer had been spread evenly by your skilled hands — but you wished to linger in the moment. 

You wondered if she'd ever had this done to her before. The simple gesture of applying soft purple to her eyelids and having someone run their fingers through her long hair. Judging by her initial reluctance you decide that she hasn't. It makes you sad, a lot sadder than you thought it would. 

"Okay," finally sitting back, you tap the brush against the edge of the palette before closing it completely, "You can open them now." 

Rayne does just that, lashes fluttering against her cheeks when she blinks, letting her eyes adjust to the sudden invasion of light. Scooting to the side, you allow her room to behold herself in the full body mirror in front of her which she does after some hesitation. 

Her palms are braced on her knees when she tilts forward, just enough to catch sight of the purple that now coats her lids. She studies the result intently, tracking her own reflection the same way you remember doing by your mother's vanity all those years ago. Then she slowly lifts one hand, the tip of her index finger lightly touching the corner of her eye. 

For a second you're worried that she's going to react negatively. Perhaps she would reject the entire idea again, demand you wash it off and refuse to attend the dance all together. But Rayne simply nods once, a careful tilt of her head that betrays nothing but her quiet approval. 

"I like it," she says as she her hand drop back to rest against her leg. When you don't immediately respond enthusiastically she turns to you with a frown. "What?" she murmurs, "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

You shrug, "Like what?" Despite your attempt at indifference you could not fight off the grin that curved into your cheeks. It was impossible not to be enamored with her in this moment for she looked so unlike the Rayne you thought you knew. 

The crease between her brow deepens and her gaze narrows on you, "Like… I don't know—" she scoffs, "All weird." 

Your lips stretched wider at that as you hum, "I just think you look pretty." 

She turns her head away when the words register but you still caught the flush that crept its way to her face as she clears her throat. "You're ridiculous," she says, nudging one of the rollers in her hair absently to distract herself from the conversation taking place. 

Part of you wants to argue that you were being perfectly serious, the other however, is simply content watching her with the same cheesy grin as she tried to play the compliment off. 

The rest of the late afternoon is spent in similar fashion. The disc you had stuffed into the CD player came to an end and the tracks looped back to the beginning as it started over. Neither of you commented on it, and Rayne actually started humming along to a few of the familiar songs — though you pretended not to notice as you smiled to yourself. 

You were now in the midst of painting her nails in shimmering purple, one tiny hand resting in your own bigger one as you swipe the brush over her nail bed. The sharp smell of acetone prickled at your nose as it clung to the air between you, but it did nothing to deter your precision as you worked. 

Outside the sun had completely set and your only source of light was the lamp, usually placed on her desk, that now stood beside you both on the floor. Its warm yellow hues makes the purple appear almost brownish though you knew you had read the bottle correctly. 

Rayne sits quietly, her posture never once faltering as she keeps herself ramrod straight. You had given up the pretense of that since long, favoring comfort as you hunched over her hand. She didn't speak, you didn't either — it wasn't awkward nor tense as it so often would be whenever the two of you were alone, and you even dared hope that things might actually take a turn for the better from this point forward.

You had just finished applying an even layer of purple to her ring finger when a sudden voice cut through Dancing Queen's second run on the CD player. "Are you almost finished? We need to leave soon—" The door is cracked open enough for Jungkook's frame to squeeze through, his gaze falling on the scene in front of him as his brows raise on his forehead. 

Though he barely gets to finish his sentence before you're on your feet. "Out!" you shrill, already rushing over, nail polish forgotten about as your hands shove at his chest. 

The force you use is enough to make him stumble backward a step and Jungkook frowns as he redirects his attention to you rather than his daughter — who had turned her head to glance at you both over her shoulder. 

"You're not allowed in here right now," you say as you usher him back over the threshold he'd dare to cross. His confusion visibly mounts with each passing moment but you ignore it as you shield Rayne from his line of sight dramatically. 

Jungkook exhales a sharp breath, "I— What?" His dark eyes find yours, immediately trapping you in place and you feel your heart stutter in your chest when you take in his attire. His hair was neatly combed and styled, as it usually was, but the black tuxedo he wears catches you off guard. Sure you were quite accustomed to Jungkook dressing adequately, the button ups and the dress pants… But this was different. 

Your palms are still braced on his chest, the slightly erratic thumping of what could only be his own heart, beating against your right one. He's yet to utter a single word since you so blatantly pushed him out of his daughter's room and you realize that he was waiting patiently for an explanation. 

"You can't be here," pulling back a fraction, you peer at him with determination, "This is a girl thing — besides, it'll ruin the effect if you see her before I'm done." 

Jungkook cocks a sharp brow, hands twitching by his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach out. "A girl thing?" he repeats in a low drawl, gaze flickering over your shoulder to which you quickly follow up by stepping to the side and blocking him again. 

"Yes," you tilt your chin, fingers flattening out the crease your previous roughing up had caused to his tux, "Boys won't understand." 

The disbelief on his face grows at that but you allow him no room to speak as you usher him out into the hallway. "Go!" Your command seems to break through the haze and Jungkook blinks once as his attention snaps back to you. His lips part, perhaps to inquire further on the matter though he ultimately seems to decide against it. 

He nods, throwing a glance toward the watch around his wrist before exhaling through his nose. "Thirty minutes," he grunts, then he turns on his heel as he heads down the hall, presumably to wait downstairs now that he'd been banished from his daughter's bedroom. 

Once he's out of sight you turn back to Rayne with a sigh, letting the door fall shut behind you. "What did I tell you?" Walking over and plopping back on the floor in front of her, you pick up the nail polish as you silently ask for her hand. "Boys don't know the first thing about stuff like this," you muse when dipping the brush into the polish. 

Rayne, who'd been watching the interaction silently, said nothing. But you thought you could see the edges of her mouth twitching slightly. 

An hour and a half had passed since the two of you first sat down to get started — but you could now finally say that you were finished. Rayne stands in front of the full body mirror, the purple dress falling around her small frame rather elegantly. The sparkly midsection glimmers under the warm glow of the lamp — which had been moved back to its home on her desk. 

Her hair, free from the hot rollers at last, now flows in gorgeous waves down her back as you run your fingers through the dark locks carefully. "What do you think?" you ask when parting her hair and moving it over both of her shoulders, letting it spill down her chest where it curled in place neatly. 

Rayne remains quiet for a moment. The purple shadow you had placed on her lids did its job in highlighting her dark brown eyes and she blinks slowly as she regards her reflection in the glass. Her cheeks are dusted in warm pink — an addition you had added which made it hard to tell if she was actually blushing or not. 

Her fingers find a wavy strand which she curls around the digit slowly. "Pretty," she murmurs in a voice so quiet it barely sounded like her at all. Though the CD player had been cut off when she went to change and you heard the soft admission clearly in the silence of her bedroom. 

If you had been able to pry your gaze away from her, you're sure you would've caught the beaming smile on your lips in the mirror. Pretty wasn't enough to even begin to cover it. Rayne was always beautiful — there had never been any doubt about that — but tonight she looks out of this world. You can't help but feel a small swell of pride in your chest at the accomplishment. 

"You are." Hands coming to rest on her shoulders, you both continue to regard the finish product of your lengthy session together a moment longer. Both her brother and father were probably waiting rather impatiently at this point, Cassian had been particularly downcast when he'd learned that he wasn't allowed to enter his sister's room. But you were in no rush. 

"Oh," you suddenly perk up, "I almost forgot." Letting go of her, you quickly head over to crouch by your discarded bag on the floor. It takes some rummaging, you weren't exactly organized, but your fingers eventually closed around a familiar tube. 

Holding it up for her to see, you grin triumphantly. "The finishing touch," you hum when walking back to Rayne who was watching you with a frown. The cheap brand name had since long been smudged, intelligible by this point but the lipstick itself still did its job. 

You twist it open, spinning the bottom a few times to get the product out before showing her the soft pink. "Alright." Leaning down slightly, you reach out with your unoccupied hand to gently cup her jaw. "This will only take a second," you assure her, even though the young girl made no attempts at protesting. 

Her lips part slightly as you carefully apply the cosmetic on top of them, spreading the color in an even layer — smudging away any excess with the help of your thumb. "Go like this," you say, smacking your own lips together when returning the cap onto the tube and sealing it once more. 

Rayne follows your lead, blending the pink slightly in the process. Her gaze flickers between herself in the mirror before returning to you. She doesn't comment on the shade but she also doesn't wipe it off again, which was a success you think. 

"Lipstick fades pretty quickly," you say, "So I think it's best that you bring this one with you." Nodding toward the small purse you had allowed her to borrow for tonight, you then place the tube in her hand, closing her fist around with softly. 

She tenses at that, brows pinching together as she sends you a conflicted look. "Really?" Rayne asks, the tender disbelief in her voice makes your chest clench and you quickly nod. 

"Sure!" you smile, giving her shoulder a tiny squeeze, "If you like it you can keep it, I have plenty more at home." That was a lie. You only had this and a bold red which you reserved for special occasions that rarely came. But the flicker of hope within her dark eyes as they turned to the lipstick in her hand was more than enough for you to willingly make the sacrifice. 

Rayne hums, thumb tracing the bottom of the tube reverently. "Thank you," she says, and your breath nearly caught in your throat. It was the first time you'd heard her utter those words in a way that actually sounded sincere. The expression of gratitude takes you by surprise, though she doesn't seem to notice as she continues to study her freshly painted lips in the mirror. 

"Of course," you exhale when managing to get a half-hearted grip on yourself again. One glance at the clock on her desk though, makes you realize that time was quickly running out and you spring into action once more. "I'll go downstairs and get your dad and brother, don't come down until I tell you to, okay?" 

She gives you a questioning look but obeys with a soft nod, slowly heading over to grab the purse waiting for her on the bed. 

You find both Jungkook and Cassian waiting in the living room. The younger was restlessly skipping around while his father leaned against the fireplace with his hands buried in his pockets. They both glanced up at your arrival, heads snapping in your direction like they had been counting down the seconds themselves. 

"Nanny!" Cassian exclaims as he scurries over, fingers wrapping around the sleeve of your shirt tightly, "Is she done? Is she done?" When you nod he makes a squealing noise, waving his father over as he tries to contain his excitement. 

Jungkook pushes himself off the mantle, joining you a moment later. If he was nervous about the evening then he did not show it — his face resembling a detached mask of indifference, even as you guide them back into the hallway. "Let's wait for her by the stairs," you say, fighting to keep the smirk from your lips. 

It takes a while to get Cassian to settle down, the boy looked ready to leap upstairs and you held onto both of his shoulders firmly so to not ruin the surprise. When he finally calms enough to at least stay rooted to the spot you turn your attention to the upper floor. 

"Okay, you can come down!" Your voice bounces off the pale walls and is shortly followed by faint shuffling above before silence returns. Jungkook stands beside you, his posture just as rigid as that of his daughter, his nonchalance betrayed only by the way he moved to absently fiddle the black silk around his neck. 

Another moment passes — the seconds stretching for what felt like an eternity — until Rayne finally appears at the top of the stairs. 

The air inside the Jeon estate shifted in an instant, the anticipation that had been building finally reaching its climax as both her brother and father turn their heads in her direction.

But you're not looking at her. No, your gaze is fixed on Jungkook — who's fingers had gone slack around the tie he'd been adjusting, the action seemingly forgotten as he takes in the sight of his daughter on top of the staircase. 

Mesmerized. That was the best way to describe the look in his eyes as they tracked Rayne's careful descent down the steps. The ever present crease between his brows let up, giving way to something much softer — younger. His Adam's apple bobs with his next swallow, lips parted in a silent exhale that looks like its been punched from his lungs. 

Rayne avoids making eye contact with all of you, keeping her head bowed as her fingers clutch the banister — the purple shimmer on her nails sparkling under the light of the chandelier. 

"Wow," Cassian sounds awestruck, "She looks like a real princess, daddy!" He tugs on the sleeve of his father's tux but Jungkook pays the small boy no mind — he has yet to look away from his daughter. 

Finally he gives a barely noticeable tilt of his chin. "Yes," he whispers hoarsely, "She does." He regards her almost longingly, as though he was seeing something for the first time. And when Rayne reaches the bottom step, he's there, one large hand outstretched, his palm open for her taking. 

She hesitates, glancing at Jungkook's hand like it was a foreign object before she finally lets go of the banister as her much tinier one is placed in his hold. His fingers close around her own and he guides her off the last step, much like a gentleman. 

Her younger brother can no longer hold himself back as he frees himself from your grasp. His arms wrap around Rayne with surprising force, catching both his sister and father of guard, though he is none the wiser as he lets his cheek press against hers. 

"My sister is a princess!" He says proudly, the words muffled against her hair. 

Rayne finally unfreezes from the sudden embrace and she lifts the hand currently clutching your purse to give her brother an awkward pat on the back. 

Jungkook has yet to let go of her, or tear his gaze from her for that matter. You didn't think he would anytime soon and your heart warmed at the thought. "Okay, okay," gently prying Cassian away from his sister, you haul him back against you, "They're going to be late of you don't let her go soon." 

He pouts slightly but gives a solemn tilt of his head. "I wish we could go too," he then whines, craning his neck to peer up at you with hopeful eyes. 

You simply shake your head, stroking his hair back, "We'll just have our own dance at home, how about that?" The proposal does seem to put his mind at ease and Cassian gives up on harassing his sister for the moment. 

"Alright," Jungkook has cleared his throat, still looking slightly dazed as he jerks his chin in the direction of the front door. "Shoes and coat on," he instructs as he lets go of Rayne's hand. She complies without question, the frills of her dress swaying slightly as she heads over to the shoe rack. 

Lingering by the stairs, you wrap your arms around Cassian as you watch them both pull on their shoes, freezing when you suddenly remember yourself. "Wait!" The blurted exclamation slices through the air, making three heads turn your way as the entire family sends you a confused look. But before any of them can ask you've released Cassian, already halfway up the steps to the second floor. 

You move on autopilot, barreling through the door to Rayne's bedroom as you fall to your knees beside the duffel bag you had brought. God, you really had to start organizing your things, it took way longer than it should for you to find the cool surface of your camera. An older model that you had gotten for your eighteenth birthday after much pleading with your father — a treasured possession of yours. 

With the heavy weight of it placed on your hands, you rush back downstairs, finding everyone exactly where you'd left them, all with puzzled expressions. Jungkook is the first to notice the camera you're clutching, brows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak — only to be dismissed by the wave of your hand. 

"Stand a little closer," you say when stepping forward, closing one eye as you bring the camera to the other. 

The pair hesitates, the young girl sending her father a quick glance before turning her gaze toward the floor. It's not until Jungkook places a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her to his side that a smile finds its way to your lips, "Perfect." 

"Big smiles," you chirp, peering at them through the camera as you angle it to capture them clearly. They both frown at the same time, their expressions perfectly mirroring the other and you resist the giggle that bubbles in your chest. "Come on!" Your encouragement seems to have some effect as they both force two awkward smiles onto their lips. 

You snap the photo quickly, not wanting to let the precious moment slip between your fingers. The camera flashes brightly and when it's over you tilt it to peer at the results. They look nothing short of perfect — textbook gorgeous yet there was something truly ethereal about them. 

Next to you, Cassian as already jumping on his feet as he tries to catch a glimpse himself. "Let me see, let me see," he says impatiently. 

Meanwhile Jungkook and Rayne have separated, the former clearing his throat as he reaches for their respective coats. They slip them on silently, avoiding each other's gazes as the sound of clothes rustling fills the hallway. 

Once they're both fully dressed Cassian runs up to hug them both goodbye. "Have fun," you tell them when placing the camera down on the dresser. They nod in unison, in sync with seemingly every action. "Make sure he sleeps by eight," Jungkook says as he sends his son a pointed glance. 

"I've got it," you hum, arms wrapping around the tiny boy a second time when he returns to stand with you. 

His father appears satisfied with that as he unlocks the front door, letting Rayne step out first before joining her. It shuts behind them with a soft click, leaving the behind a silent house and excitement that slowly fades into something more serene. 

"Nanny," Cassian says, twisting in your embrace as he peers at you through dark lashes, "Can we take a photo too?" 

Jungkook came to the swift conclusion that he disliked the children's school just as much during the evening as he did in the day time — in fact as he and Rayne steps out of the car, he thinks this might be worse. 

The ride here, though short, had been spent in silence for the most part. Jungkook had mulled over the dimming headlights that he would need to get fixed sooner rather than later. He'd been pushing the matter back on his agenda as he dreaded the awful and inevitable meeting with Mr. Williams, a man in his late fifties who had a thing for both Jungkook and his car it seemed. 

If he had his way, Jungkook would probably ignore the problem for another couple of weeks as he drowned himself in work and holiday preparations. But with the cold and dark winter season the malfunctioning lights were becoming an apparent issue that he could no longer bring himself to dismiss. 

Tomorrow, he tells himself as he shoves the keys into the pocket of his tux — the garment far too restricting for his liking, though he did not let it show. There were other matters on his mind right now, like the sound of conversation that floats around him, impossible to block out. 

This dance was something he would avoid if he could help it. Only you had been insistent, Jungkook almost groans at the recollection of that night. He should've shot it down again, argued that Rayne would not want to go and spare himself the awkward two hours of interacting with parents whom he knew nothing about. But he found it impossible to deny you, for whatever infuriating reason. 

Up ahead the entrance had been lit up. The doors were held open on hatches, a red carpet that felt more like a dare than an invitation rolled out on the ground. He scanned the area briefly, noting the array of fathers, all leading their daughters' by the hand as they headed inside. His throat goes dry at the thought of having to plower through mundane small talk with them. 

A chilly breeze draws past, reminding him of the harsh December month and the coats they had left behind in the car. His attention is instinctively drawn to Rayne. She stands beside him, arms folded tightly across her chest as she, too, eyes the entrance with reluctance. 

Her hair is picked up by the wind, a few strands gluing to her face, though she makes no attempt at pushing them away. Jungkook studies her silently, he could not remember the last time he saw her dressed in anything other than the plain sweaters and pants she had him purchase for her — if ever. 

He did not care much for how his children chose to dress themselves, long as it was appropriate. Yet there was no denying that his daughter looked absolutely breathtaking tonight. He doesn't know what it is you've done, doesn't linger on the matter either. All he knows is that she was the prettiest girl he had ever laid his eyes on. 

Rayne startles slightly when Jungkook loops his arm around hers, gaze flickering up to meet his in a way that makes his heart ache terribly in his chest. She glances toward the entrance and back at him, "We can still turn back…", she murmurs. 

He finds himself frowning at that. Her hesitation dims the flicker of warmth just as quickly as it had come. It would be easy to nod, to take her home and leave it at that — but his tongue disagrees before his mind can catch up. "No," he says, tightening his grip on her arm, "I want to dance with my beautiful daughter." 

She blinks up at him slowly, lips parting before pressing shut again. Though she doesn't respond, she still clings to him in a way she usually wouldn't as she lets him lead her inside. Jungkook decides then that this night would be worth the painful social interaction that waits beyond those doors and that he would endure it as long as it meant making her happy. 

It's hot inside the school, suffocatingly so. Bodies crowd the hallway, purple lights leading them all the way until to a much more open area. Judging by the tables and chairs pushed against its four walls this had to be the cafeteria. Balloons in all shades lilac are stuck to the ceiling and the pillars that held it up. Lanterns in the same color occupy the tables, next to a few of them large bowls filled with what he presumes to be punch sits. 

In the center of the room is a makeshift dance floor, already filled with fathers and their daughters. It was barely past seven yet music was already playing and a good dozen pairs had already taken to dancing. Above, a large chandelier hangs, its soft yellow glow contrasting the purple theme of the entire ordeal. 

Next to him Rayne shifts awkwardly, her eyes swiping across the room quietly as she chews on her bottom lip. Jungkook tries to think of something to say that would soothe her nerves, perhaps his own as well, but before he gets the chance to, the bruising noise of microphone sparking echoes through the room — a slightly hoarse yet cheerful voice follows a second later. 

"Hello everyone! We welcome you to Oakridge Preparatory's thirty-fifth annual Daddy Daughter dance!" 

Jungkook glances over to the improvised stage across the room. A wooden structure that makes him question how they had even gotten it inside in the first place — perhaps it had been built on the spot. His gaze drifts to the old woman standing on top of it, immediately recognizing her as the principal — Mrs. Fig. 

He'd met her briefly when enrolling Cassian, the encounter had been stale and unpleasant — she talked too much for his liking but right now he wishes she would go on a while longer so to prolong the inevitable. 

Mrs. Fig adjusts the round glasses that sit on the bridge of her nose before continuing: "We've prepared music seeing as the band couldn't make it this year…" she trails off before clearing her throat, "There's punch as well, please help yourselves and remember to have fun!" 

With that she disconnects the mic sending another jarring jolt of electricity through the room, cutting the speech far too short for Jungkook's liking. The music is turned up a moment later, a song he recognizes, Every Breath You Take he thinks it might be called. 

Pairs of fathers and their daughters start filling out the dance floor, easily falling into step so naturally in the way Jungkook knows he will never be able to replicate. His hesitation lasts only a second, then he's moving forward, legs carrying him with determination he didn't even realize he had. 

Rayne stumbles beside him before catching up, brows furrowed deeply as she glances up at him. "What are you doing?" she asks as she lets him lead her through the crowd of people. 

Jungkook shrugs, "Dancing." He comes to a halt when he finds a spot he deems suitable, forcing his shoulders to relax as he guides her hands to his forearms. She allows it, albeit reluctantly, skeptical eyes swiveling around the room once more before finding their way back to him. "Just like we practiced," he says as he begins to move. 

They had spent long nights in the living room, awkwardly stumbling over each other's feet and Jungkook mentally cursing himself for actually preparing for this evening. Their latest attempt yesterday had been pathetic, he hadn't said that of course, but he'd thought it. Right now? Everything seemed to click into place. 

He didn't consider himself a good dancer — never had. Ten years ago he wouldn't even have entertained the idea of doing something like this. And yet, as he watches his daughter under the warm lights, yellows and purples mixing onto her face, the small furrow of concentration etched to her features, he cannot imagine himself to be anywhere else. 

The tip of her shoe accidentally nudges his and Rayne glances up at him sheepishly. Jungkook simply shrugs, pulling her along as he twirls her in his arms. The purple dress you had gotten her sways around her legs, Cassian had been right in saying that she looks like a princess, he thinks. 

The room around them fades until all he can see is her. His daughter. Dark brown hair falls unevenly down her shoulders, the soft pink that dusts her round cheeks and the way she bites her lip as she focuses on getting her steps right. 

Rayne had always reminded him of her mother — the woman he'd spent years loving. And though Jungkook doesn't blame himself for what happened, he hates himself for the mistakes he's made with his daughter, he probably will for the rest of his life. 

She had her mother's face but she was undoubtedly him in every other sense. Sometimes he found himself frightened by the stark similarities they shared. He did not know how to handle them, how to handle her. But he vows there and then to try his best, for Rayne. 

The evening passes relatively calmly. Dancing was not as bad as he'd initially thought and after a few songs they found themselves by one of the tables serving fruit punch. Rayne stayed close to his side, and though she did not know it, her presence comforted him just as much as his probably did her. 

There were a few others before them, two fathers chatting happily with one another, though Jungkook would rather sink through the ground than have to engage in their conversation. He's content to stand quietly beside his daughter, keeping their arms looped together despite the risk of them getting separated was slim. 

Just as the others clear out and Jungkook reaches for the ladle in the punch, a voice he recognizes with dread pierces the comfortable silence he and Rayne shared. 

"Mr Jeon!" 

He doesn't have to turn to know who it is, he does anyway, just to be polite. Ms Song approaches their table with a smile too wide, too friendly, it doesn't feel genuine. You would never smile like that. Jungkook shakes the thought as quickly as it had come, fingers curling a little tighter around the cold metal handle. 

"It's so nice to see you here," She says when tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The dress she wears feels far from appropriate for a setting like this, low cut and figure framing in a way none of the other teachers' were. 

Jungkook gives a small tilt of his head and has half a mind to ask what she was doing here. Last he recalled she did not have Rayne in any subject. But Ms Song is already turning to his daughter, leaning down to come eye level with her, in turn making her chest spill out of her tight dress and Jungkook averts his gaze with a quiet scoff. 

"You must be Cassian's big sister," she says as she extends a hand, "I'm his homeroom teacher." 

Rayne eyes her outstretched hand warily but ends up taking it. Ms Song shakes it gently before letting go and straightening back up, seemingly unfazed by their lack of response. She turns back to Jungkook, and he feels awfully distracted by the vibrant color on her lips. 

"I honestly didn't expect to see you tonight, but it's such a nice surprise." Her tone is light, a pitch too high, betraying her obvious interest in conversing with him. 

Jungkook tries to think of an excuse to have them both leave before she gets the chance to bombard him with prying questions about his life, though the cup he holds in one hand and the ladle filled with punch keeps him rooted to the spot. 

Ms Song is not oblivious to this, unfortunately, and she nods in the bowl's direction. "I heard the punch is supposed to be good," she says as she flashes him an expectant smile. 

Pressing his lips into a firm line and biting down on his tongue, Jungkook fills the cup before handing it to Rayne who takes it with a small 'thanks'. Then he reaches for another, repeating the process, all the while Ms Song's invasive eyes continue to linger. He extends it toward her without a word, ignoring the way she leaves her fingers on top of his a moment longer than necessary when she takes it. 

"Thank you," she hums as she brings the cup to her lips, letting them wrap around its rim and taking a sip. Her lashes flutter when she bats them at him and Jungkook wonders if it's given her a headache yet — one could hope. 

She lowers the cup and it looks as though she's about to say something else when the sound of another man's voice suddenly interrupts her. "Ms Song!" He's weaving through the crowd, the hair on his head a mess. Jungkook doesn't recognize him but judging by his lack of a child, he thinks he must be another teacher. 

"The music is doing that thing again, it keeps breaking up and Mr. Brown doesn't know how to fix it…" He trails off when he notices both Jungkook and Rayne, giving a polite nod before turning his attention back to the woman between them. 

Ms Song heaves a sigh, the subtle roll of her eyes not going him unnoticed as she sends Jungkook an apologetic glance. "I'll be right there," she calls out, painted nails digging into the cup. "I hope to see you around tonight," her voice has an uncomfortable lilt to it and Jungkook responds only with a small hum. 

The second she takes her leave he feels his shoulders slump, exhaustion washing over him as a result of the brief yet painful encounter. He silently decides to thank whatever mighty power above had caused the interruption and steered her away from him. 

"She likes you."

Rayne's blunt remark pulls him from his thought and he turns to her with a frown. "She does?" He questions back, caught off guard by how observant she was being. 

His daughter simply nods, still sipping on her fruit punch as her gaze travels across the room. "Girls do that when they like someone," she explains after another gulp, "They make excuses to talk about stuff with you, even when they don't actually have anything important to say." 

He feels his forehead crease even further as he considers her response. Making excuses to talk to him? His mind immediately wanders to you and he tries to think of any instance in which you had done the same. 

He remembers the awkward conversations you had steered him onto whenever you were alone, usually in the kitchen after the children had gone to bed. Jungkook never found them to be insignificant, he quite liked hearing you talk. 

"You don't like her do you?" Rayne asks, she's watching him over the rim of her cup, distracting herself with small sips. It was unusual of her to ask questions like that — especially regarding a topic such as this. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "No," he muses. He did not like Ms Song, perhaps ten years ago he would've, she seemed like the type he went for back then. But he is not the same man he was a decade ago, and for that he was thankful. 

"Is it because you like nanny?" 

His heart might as well have sank to the bottom of the ocean when her words registered. For the first time since the two of them left home, the silence that lingered felt anything but comfortable. He briefly consider just outright ignoring her, to pretend like he hadn't heard the uttered words in the first place — but he knows he cannot. 

He turns to her, avoiding looking her in the eye as he takes the half finished cup of fruit punch from her hands. Rayne doesn't protest, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she watches him. 

Bringing the cup to his face, he peers down at the liquid that swirls inside — taunting him into delivering the answer waiting on his tongue. Jungkook inhales through his nose, the sweet scent of fruit filling his senses, it's almost too sweet. 

"Yes." 

It's all he says before bringing the cup to his lips as he takes a long sip. He prays that his daughter won't catch the tremble to his fingers, the white knuckled grip he holds on the innocent plastic cup — hard enough for it to crack. 

But Rayne says nothing, letting her gaze return to the crowded room as she watches her peers dance with their fathers. Despite the music — now playing smoothly again thanks to Ms Song — it's quiet where the two of them stand. 

Jungkook busies himself with the fruit punch for as long as he can, which isn't long at all seeing as he was downing the sickeningly sweet drink in big gulps. Once the cup is empty he's left staring at it like it held all the answers to the mysteries of the universe. 

Beside him, Rayne shifts her weight from one foot to the other and when he dares to drag his attention over to her, he finds his daughter opening the purse that rests by her side, held together by a thin strap. She reaches a hand inside, pulling it back a moment later, this time cradling a small, black tube. 

He studies her as Rayne twists the cap off, spinning its bottom a few times. It's only when the soft pink appears that Jungkook realizes it was a lipstick she held. Her lips part and she applies it carefully onto them — once she's done she smacks them together before repeating her earlier ministrations and sealing the tube again. 

"Where did you get that?" He asks, his voice coming out hoarser than he had intended for it to. Jungkook bought everything she asked for — which wasn't a lot. He would've known of a lipstick in her possession. 

Rayne hums, placing the cosmetic back into the purse before sealing it tight. "Nanny gave it to me," she pauses before adding, "She said I could keep it." 

Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes lingering on the purse a second longer as he recalls the way you had shoved him out of his daughter's bedroom earlier that afternoon — the frantic look on your face as you kept him from stealing as much as a glance at his own child. 

He turns back to the fruit punch, filling the cup once more despite the drink tasting horrendous. Though he had spent a good half an hour trying to figure out why he wasn't allowed in her bedroom during the process of her getting ready, he'd later come to the conclusion that he would forever remain clueless. 

Must be some of that girl stuff you were talking about, he thinks to himself as he takes a small sip. 

By nine pm the dance came to a close as tired children clung to their dads who carried them out of the building. Despite the event being a brief two hours — Jungkook already knows he would rather take a twelve hour day at the office. He does not think he's ever felt as drained as he did when he got into the drivers seat to pull out of the parking lot. 

After their conversation by the fruit punch, Rayne had not mentioned you again, nor had she brought up the confession he had made without thinking his answer through even once. In fact she had asked to dance again — taking him by surprise but Jungkook had not denied her as he offered his hand. 

Their second try out on the floor had gone even smoother. No more stiff shoulders or stepping on toes. Rayne had even smiled as he twirled her around, a shy, barely-there curl of her lips but Jungkook had caught it under the dim lights and he treasured it close to his heart. 

The late Friday night left the streets nearly vacant and as he drove the car to a stop by a red light, he glanced at Rayne in the rear view mirror. 

Her lipstick was smudged from an additional two cups of fruit punch, the waves in her hair diffused as a result of her hands running through the strands. She hadn't spoken a word since he'd turned on the engine and Jungkook understood why when he caught sight of her shut eyes. Head propped up against the window at an awkward angle, Rayne slept soundly in the backseat. 

She would rarely — if ever — doze off during car rides. He thinks the night must've left her twice as exhausted as him. 

The light ahead turns green pulling Jungkook's attention to the road. His fingers drum softly against the wheel and the hand he keeps on the clutch reaches up to shut the radio off. 

Rayne had yet to wake by the time he pulled up in their driveway and he sits silently with her for a minute or two before forcing himself out into the cold. The December air is harsh and unforgiving as he quickly rounds the car to carefully pull her door open. Thankfully secured by her seat belt, Rayne's head simply lolls to her shoulder when she's robbed of her makeshift pillow. 

Jungkook moves efficiently, leaning over her to unbuckle the leather that held her in place before draping both his and her coat over her bare shoulders. Then he lifts her from the seat slowly, trying his best not to jostle his sleeping daughter as he knocked the car door shut with his foot. 

He can't remember the last time he'd carried Rayne in his arms. It had to have been years for she was not nearly as affectionate as her younger brother. The weight of her in his arms and the warmth of her body still makes his heart beat a little faster — the same way it had when he'd first gotten to hold her that day at the hospital eight years ago. He leans down to bury his nose in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her — his daughter. 

When he rounds the front of the car he pauses, the headlights give a weak flicker before going dark again and Jungkook sighs. Tomorrow, he tells himself before heading for the front door. 

── [ ✉️ ] So like, surprise Jungkook POV ahah... I feel like a lot of people were expecting OC and Cassian to tag along for the dance but I felt like that moment specifically needed to remain between Jungkook and Rayne alone, especially given what she asked later, cough... Anyway, please let me know what you thought, I would love love to hear it <3

In the beginning of your relationship, the sex had been good enough to leave you content. It wasn’t mind-blowing or adventurous, but it was warm and loving and enough to make you curl into him afterward with a sleepy smile. Over the last couple of years though, things had slowly changed. The spark had dimmed into something mechanical, almost routine. You found yourself lying there more often than not, faking soft little moans so he wouldn’t feel bad, while the ache between your legs only grew more frustrated. Sometimes you wondered if he noticed how often you slipped away afterward. Tonight, you knew he did. You could feel it in the way his body had tensed just slightly when he pulled out, the unspoken awareness hanging heavy between you.

Soobin shifted beside you, the mattress dipping as he rolled over. His arm draped loosely across your waist for a moment before he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there like an apology he didn’t quite know how to voice. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispered, voice already thick and sleepy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to sound normal.

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, turning your head just enough to brush your nose against his shoulder.

You waited in the dark, listening carefully as his breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Minutes stretched out, each one feeling longer than the last. When you were finally sure he was fully asleep, you slipped out from under his arm with practiced care, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. The cool air of the room hit your bare legs as you stood, and you padded quietly to the bedside drawer. Your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape of your vibrator, the one you’d come to rely on more than you wanted to admit. The weight of it in your palm felt almost comforting now.

You tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door behind you with a soft click, locking it out of habit even though Soobin was dead to the world. The small nightlight cast a gentle golden glow across the tiles as you leaned back against the sink counter. Heart still racing from the unresolved tension in your body, you hiked up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on and parted your thighs. The moment the buzzing toy pressed against your swollen, neglected clit, a shaky exhale escaped your lips. This was never fine. This was intense, almost desperate— the sharp pleasure you craved but could no longer get from the man sleeping in the next room.

Your free hand gripped the edge of the counter as you worked the vibrator in slow, teasing circles, then faster, chasing the release that had been denied to you earlier. Your mind wandered while your hips jerked against your hand, thoughts drifting dangerously toward the crumpled business card you’d tucked away in your purse weeks ago. Jeon Jungkook. Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in couples’ intimacy issues. You’d stared at that card so many times, equal parts ashamed and curious. The glowing reviews online had mentioned how thorough he was… how hands-on.

Your thighs trembled as the pressure finally built to its peak. You bit down hard on your lip to stay quiet, eyes squeezing shut while the orgasm crashed over you in strong, pulsing waves. For a few blissful seconds, everything else disappeared— the frustration, the guilt, the growing distance between you and Soobin. Only the sharp pleasure remained. But as the high faded and you caught your breath under the dim nightlight, the reality settled back in. This couldn’t keep going on like this. Something had to change.

The next day dawned gray and quiet, the kind of overcast morning that made the apartment feel smaller than it was. You woke up before Soobin, his arm still loosely draped over your waist from the night before. For a long moment you just lay there, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling that had become an unwilling witness to so many disappointing nights. Your body still carried the faint ache of unresolved need, even after last night’s secret session in the bathroom. The memory of the vibrator’s buzz and the sharp, guilty pleasure it brought made your thighs press together under the sheets.

All day the business card burned a hole in your pocket.

You went through the motions— making coffee, answering emails, attending meetings, but your mind kept circling back to it. Should I say something? What if he gets defensive? What if he thinks I’m unhappy with him as a person and not just… this? The card felt heavy, its edges sharp against your fingertips every time you brushed your hand over your pocket. At lunch you pulled it out in the bathroom stall just to stare at the elegant black text again: Jeon Jungkook, Licensed Sex Therapist. Specialist in Couples’ Intimacy & Desire. Your stomach twisted with nerves and something else, something hotter and more dangerous.

By the time evening came, the anxiety had twisted into a constant, low hum beneath your skin. You cooked dinner in silence while Soobin set the table, the two of you moving around each other with the familiar, gentle choreography of a couple who had been together for years. Pasta with creamy tomato sauce, garlic bread, a simple salad, comfort food on a night that felt anything but comfortable. The apartment smelled warm and safe, yet your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Your fork paused above your half-eaten plate, twirling a strand of pasta that you no longer had any appetite for. Soobin was talking softly about his day, something about a deadline at work, but the words barely registered. Your fingers trembled as they slipped into your pocket and pulled out the slightly creased business card. Without a word, you slid it across the wooden table until it rested beside his glass of water.

Soobin’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the card, fork hovering in mid-air for a second before he slowly set it down. The quiet clink of metal against the plate sounded impossibly loud. You held your breath, chest tight, watching his face as he picked up the card with long, elegant fingers. His eyes scanned the text once, then again, more carefully. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

You waited for confusion. For hurt. For anger, maybe. Instead, Soobin let out a long, slow sigh.

It wasn’t the frustrated kind you’d feared. It was… relief. Deep, exhausted relief. His shoulders sagged as he placed the card back on the table, turning it over once between his fingers before looking up at you. His eyes were soft, a little sad, but strangely calm.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard, nodding. Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Yes. I… I know things haven’t been great. Between us. In bed. I know you’ve felt it too.”

Soobin leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He stared at the card for another long moment, then looked at you again— really looked at you. There was no defensiveness in his gaze, only a quiet acknowledgment that made your throat tighten.

“I have,” he admitted, voice low. “I’ve felt it for months. Every time I touch you and you don’t… every time you make those little sounds like you’re trying to spare my feelings.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile that broke your heart a little. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I don’t want you anymore, because I do. So fucking much. I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”

The honesty in his words made your eyes sting. You reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. For the first time in a long time, it felt like you were really seeing each other again. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not,” you whispered. “I think… maybe we need help. Real help. From someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Soobin glanced back down at Jungkook’s name on the card. His thumb brushed over the printed letters almost absentmindedly. After a long pause, he nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure you want to do this… then I’m in. We’ll do it together.”

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, a strange mix of nerves and excitement fluttering in your stomach. The decision was made. The appointment would be made.

The waiting room of Jeon Jungkook’s private practice was quieter than you expected. Soft ambient music played low in the background, something instrumental and soothing that did little to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You sat on a sleek gray couch beside Soobin, your hand resting loosely in his lap while his thumb brushed slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in natural light, but the tension in your chest made everything feel slightly unreal.

You had been nervous all morning. The drive here had been mostly silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but now that you were actually here, sitting in this elegant, minimalist office, the nerves had twisted into something sharper. A low, thrilling hum of excitement sat right beneath the anxiety. Your thighs pressed together under your sundress as you replayed the glowing reviews in your head. Thorough. Transformative. Life-changing.

Ten minutes felt like an eternity.

Every time you heard footsteps in the hallway, your breath would catch, only for the sound to fade again. Soobin squeezed your hand gently, offering a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the same mixture of uncertainty and hope in his eyes. He looked handsome today in his button-up shirt, but even that familiar sight couldn’t stop the restless energy buzzing under your skin.

Finally, the door opened.

Jeon Jungkook stepped inside, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt.

He was stunning. Easily one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a quiet, confident grace that immediately filled the room. His black hair was slightly tousled, falling over his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly perfect. Sharp jawline, full lips, and dark, piercing eyes framed by long lashes. He wore a fitted black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric, and tailored slacks that accentuated his powerful thighs. The subtle scent of his cologne, something woody and expensive, reached you as he closed the door behind him.

You couldn’t stop staring.

Jungkook didn’t speak right away. He crossed the room and settled into the large leather chair across from you, clipboard in hand. For several long minutes he simply read over his notes, his expression calm and focused. The silence was heavy. You found yourself tracing the line of his neck, the way his fingers held the pen with quiet strength, the faint flex of muscle in his forearm as he turned a page. Heat crept up your neck. Soobin shifted beside you, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man in front of you.

After what felt like forever, Jungkook finally looked up.

His eyes met yours first, then shifted to Soobin. A small, professional smile curved his lips, warm, but with something unreadable flickering behind it. “Hello,” he said, voice smooth and low, like velvet dragged over stone. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Thank you for waiting. I’ve reviewed the intake forms you filled out online.” He set the clipboard on his lap and leaned back slightly, giving you both his full attention. “So… why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. Soobin gave your hand another squeeze, silently encouraging you to start. Your voice came out softer than intended as you began to speak.

You told him everything. How the sex had been good in the beginning, warm, loving, safe. How over the past couple of years it had slowly become routine and unsatisfying. You described lying beneath Soobin, faking soft moans while your body remained tense and frustrated. The mechanical rhythm, the lack of real spark, the growing ache that no amount of “fine” could satisfy. You mentioned slipping away to the bathroom at night with your vibrator, chasing the intense pleasure your boyfriend could no longer give you. Your cheeks burned as you spoke, but Jungkook’s gaze never wavered. He listened with complete focus, occasionally nodding or jotting something down on his clipboard.

Soobin chimed in quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. He admitted feeling the distance growing between you two. How he could sense you weren’t fully there with him anymore, how guilty it made him feel, how much he still wanted you but didn’t know how to reach you the way he used to. He spoke about the pressure of wanting to please you and constantly falling short.

Jungkook listened intently the entire time.

His dark eyes flicked between the two of you, absorbing every word. Every so often he would write something down in neat, precise strokes, his pen moving across the paper with a soft scratch that somehow felt intimate in the quiet room. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer empty reassurances. He simply absorbed it all, head slightly tilted, expression thoughtful and impossibly focused. You found yourself wondering what exactly he was writing. What he was thinking. Whether he could already picture exactly how to fix what was broken between you.

When you both finally fell silent, the room felt heavier than before. Your heart was racing, thighs warm, a traitorous pulse beating between your legs as you watched Jungkook tap his pen against the clipboard once, twice, before setting it down.

“I appreciate how open you’ve both been so far,” he began, eyes flicking between you and Soobin. “But to truly help, I need to understand the specifics. The details matter. How often do you have sex currently? How long do your sessions usually last, from start to finish? And most importantly… what does it actually look like when you’re together?”

You felt heat bloom across your chest and climb up your neck. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his palm growing warmer. Jungkook waited patiently, giving you both space, but his dark eyes were sharp, missing nothing. When neither of you spoke immediately, he continued gently, guiding the conversation. “Let’s start with positions,” he said, tone professional yet undeniably intimate. “What positions do you usually use? Do you switch often? How does foreplay factor in— duration, techniques? And how long does penetration usually last before one or both of you finishes?”

The questions landed heavily in the quiet room. You swallowed, mouth dry, your sundress suddenly feeling too thin against your skin. Jungkook’s gaze settled on you expectantly, patient but commanding. There was something about the way he looked at you— focused, knowing, like he could already see the frustration coiled tight in your body, that made your pulse throb between your legs.

You took a shaky breath and forced the words out, voice barely above a whisper at first. “We… we mostly just do missionary,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “It’s what feels most natural for us, I guess. Comfortable. Soobin on top, me on my back. Sometimes I’ll ride him, cowgirl, but not very often. And when I do… there’s not much vigor to it. I get tired quickly, or it just doesn’t feel… right.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, writing something down in those neat strokes. The scratch of his pen seemed louder than it should have been. He didn’t look surprised or judgmental. Instead, his expression remained thoughtfully neutral, though you swore you caught the faintest flicker of something darker, interest, perhaps, behind his eyes.

“And how long does it usually last?” he asked, voice smooth. “From the moment clothes come off to when it’s over. Be honest.”

Soobin cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably beside you. His ears had turned pink. “Maybe… ten to fifteen minutes?” he offered quietly. “Sometimes less. I try to hold out, but…”

You squeezed his hand, both ashamed and relieved to finally say it aloud. “It’s not that it’s bad,” you added quickly, though the words felt hollow even to you. “It’s just… short. And always the same. Missionary with him above me, moving steadily until he finishes. I rarely do on my own during it. When I ride him, I try to move, but it feels awkward. Like I don’t know how to make it feel good for either of us anymore. There’s no real… intensity. No roughness. No experimentation.”

Jungkook listened with complete focus. His full lips pressed together in thought as he processed your words. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, closing some of the distance between you. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm, masculine, expensive. “No oral?” he asked calmly. “No doggy style? No standing positions, no restraints, no toys during sex together? You mentioned using a vibrator alone at night, does Soobin ever use it on you? Or watch you use it?”

Each question felt like a layer being peeled back. You squirmed in your seat, painfully aware of the growing wetness between your thighs. The way Jungkook spoke, so direct, so clinical, yet dripping with unspoken promise, made your mind race with images you knew you shouldn’t be having in this moment. Him. Those tattooed arms. That confident grip. Showing you exactly what you’d been missing.

Soobin shook his head slowly. “We’ve tried oral a few times, but… it doesn’t last long. And no, we’ve never really done any of the other stuff. It just never felt necessary before. Or maybe we didn’t know how.”

You nodded in agreement, biting your lip. “It’s always been vanilla. Safe. But now it feels too safe. Too… predictable. I love him. I do. But I lie there wondering if this is just how it’s going to be forever.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he wrote a few more lines. The silence that followed was thick with tension. He finally set the pen down and looked at you both, his expression composed but carrying an undeniable edge of authority. “I understand,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “You’re stuck in a very narrow script. Missionary and occasional cowgirl with minimal energy or variation, that explains a lot about the frustration you’re both feeling. Your bodies have adapted to routine. Comfort has replaced desire.”

Jungkook set his clipboard aside completely now, the soft thud of it hitting the side table sounding final. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed both of you with a steady, intense gaze. The professional mask was still there, but something sharper and more commanding lingered just beneath it.

“I’ve heard enough to see the pattern clearly,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Words and explanations can only go so far. At this point, the most effective way for me to help is through demonstration. I’d like to show Soobin exactly how to touch you, how to build real desire, and how to awaken the parts of your body that have been neglected.”

He let the words settle in the heavy silence of the room before turning his full attention to you. “I won’t do anything without your explicit consent,” Jungkook continued, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “This would involve me touching you directly while Soobin watches. I’ll start slow. I’ll show him how to kiss you, how to touch you, how to read your body’s responses. If at any point you want to stop, you say the word and everything ends immediately.”

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. Heat flooded your face, your neck, and lower. You could feel Soobin’s hand tense in yours, his breathing shallow beside you. For a long moment, the only sound was the soft ambient music and the rush of blood in your ears.

Jungkook waited patiently, giving you time. His gaze never wavered— calm, confident, and impossibly magnetic. You swallowed hard, throat dry. Nervous energy twisted in your stomach, but underneath it, something hotter and more dangerous stirred. A deep, aching curiosity. Excitement. “Yes,” you whispered, voice barely audible at first. Then stronger, “Yes… I want that.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. He glanced at Soobin. “And you? Are you comfortable with me demonstrating on your girlfriend while you observe?”

Soobin hesitated for only a second, then gave a slow nod, his cheeks flushed. “If she wants it… then yes.” Jungkook stood up smoothly, moving with that quiet, predatory grace. He crossed the short distance between his chair and the wide, plush chaise lounge where you and Soobin were seated. He extended his hand to you.

“Come here,” he said softly. “Lie back and get comfortable.”

Your legs felt unsteady as you stood. Soobin released your hand, and you moved to the chaise, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could both hear it. You lay back against the soft cushions, your sundress riding up slightly against your thighs. Jungkook sat on the edge beside you, the heat of his body immediately noticeable. He was so close now. The scent of his cologne, the faint warmth radiating from his broad frame, the way his button-up shirt stretched across his chest, it was overwhelming.

He looked down at you, eyes dark and focused. “Relax for me,” he murmured. “We’re going to start very slow.” Jungkook leaned in, one hand gently brushing your hair away from your neck. His breath ghosted over your skin first, sending shivers racing down your spine. Then his lips pressed softly just below your ear. The kiss was feather-light at first, warm, deliberate. He took his time, kissing down the sensitive column of your neck with slow, lingering presses of his mouth. Each one felt intentional, like he was learning the map of your reactions.

A shaky exhale left your lips. Your eyes fluttered half-closed as he kissed lower, finding the spot where your neck met your shoulder and sucking gently. The wet heat of his tongue traced a small circle there, and your back arched instinctively. One of his hands slid up your side, slow and confident, until his large palm cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes until it hardened under his touch.

“See how she responds when you take your time?” Jungkook said quietly, speaking to Soobin without pulling his mouth away from your neck. His voice had dropped even lower. “Don’t rush straight to the obvious places. Build it. Make her feel wanted.”

He kneaded your breast with just the right amount of pressure, rolling your nipple between his fingers over your dress, while his mouth continued its slow exploration of your neck and collarbones. Soft, open-mouthed kisses. The occasional gentle scrape of teeth that made your thighs press together. Your breathing had already grown uneven, small sounds escaping you that you didn’t even try to hold back.

Jungkook’s free hand rested on your waist, holding you in place as he shifted slightly closer. The weight and warmth of him beside you made your head spin. Every touch was precise, controlled, and devastatingly effective. You could already feel yourself getting wet, arousal pooling between your legs far faster than it ever did with Soobin.

Soobin sat quietly in the chair nearby, eyes wide and fixed on every movement. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, breathing audible. Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still lazily circling your nipple. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “How does that feel?” he asked you, voice husky. “Be honest.”

You could barely form words. Your neck tingled where his mouth had been, your breast warm and heavy under his hand. “It feels… really good,” you breathed, cheeks burning.

A satisfied smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured, leaning back down. “Then let’s continue.” Jungkook’s hands moved with deliberate confidence as he sat up slightly on the edge of the chaise. His dark eyes never left your face, reading every flicker of nervousness and arousal that crossed it. “Let’s remove this,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring. “I want you to feel everything without barriers.”

His fingers found the hem of your sundress, slowly sliding it upward. The fabric whispered against your skin as he lifted it inch by inch, exposing your thighs, then your hips, then the soft curve of your stomach. You raised your arms obediently, heart hammering against your ribs. With one smooth, practiced motion, Jungkook pulled the dress up and over your head, leaving your hair slightly tousled. He set the garment aside neatly on a nearby chair, his gaze roaming over your body now clad only in your bra and matching underwear.

The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed skin, making you shiver. You felt incredibly vulnerable under their combined stares— Soobin’s wide-eyed and tense from his seat, and Jungkook’s dark, hungry, yet still controlled. Jungkook hummed softly in approval, his large hands returning to your body immediately.

He leaned down again, lips finding your neck once more. This time his kisses were deeper, more possessive, sucking gently at your pulse point while one hand cupped your breast through the thin lace of your bra. His thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, teasing circles, coaxing it to a stiff peak. He kneaded the soft flesh with just the right pressure, firm enough to make you arch into his touch, but never rushed.

“Watch how I’m touching her,” Jungkook said quietly to Soobin, his mouth still hovering against your heated skin. “Don’t just grab. Mold her breast in your palm like this… feel its weight. Use your thumb to tease her nipple until it’s sensitive. Her body is already responding, see how her breathing changed? That’s what you want.”

You let out a shaky whimper as he emphasized his words by pinching your nipple lightly through the fabric, rolling it between his fingers. Pleasure shot straight down between your legs. Jungkook continued kissing down your collarbone, occasionally glancing toward Soobin to explain, his voice smooth and instructional even as his hands worked magic on your body.

After several long, indulgent minutes of kissing and caressing your breasts, Jungkook’s hand began to travel lower. His palm smoothed down your stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of your underwear. He looked up at you, eyes intense. “Still okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip. “Yes…”

With your permission, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties. The first touch of his fingers against your bare, heated skin made you gasp. You were already slick with arousal, embarrassingly wet from everything he’d done so far. Jungkook’s middle and ring fingers found your swollen clit and began rubbing slow, lazy circles over it.

“Fuck… she’s soaked,” he murmured, almost to himself, though loud enough for Soobin to hear. His fingers moved with expert precision, not too fast, not too light, applying perfect pressure as he circled your clit again and again. “This is key, Soobin. Don’t rush to penetrate her. Spend time here. Learn exactly how she likes to be touched. Feel how her hips are already trying to follow my hand?”

Your thighs trembled. Soft, needy sounds spilled from your lips as Jungkook continued the torturously slow rubbing. Heat coiled tighter and tighter in your lower belly. Every circle of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kept his mouth on your neck and chest the entire time, kissing and gently biting while his hand worked between your legs.

After several drawn-out minutes of this, Jungkook shifted slightly. He used two fingers to pull your soaked panties to the side, fully exposing you. Without warning, he slowly pushed one thick finger inside you, then a second, stretching you open with delicious care. A broken moan escaped your throat. Your back arched off the chaise as his fingers sank deeper, curling slightly to find that sensitive spot inside you. Jungkook groaned softly in approval at how tightly you clenched around him.

“See that?” he said to Soobin, voice huskier now. “She’s gripping my fingers so tightly. This is what happens when you take the time to arouse her properly. Slide in slowly… curl them like this… and listen to the sounds she makes.” He began thrusting his fingers in and out in long, deep strokes, his thumb returning to rub circles over your clit at the same time. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the building pleasure while Soobin watched every single movement with flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked back to your face, watching you intently as he fingered you with steady, devastating skill. “You’re doing so well,” he praised softly, pumping his fingers deeper. “Let me hear you.”

Jungkook’s fingers moved with growing intensity, thrusting deeper and faster into your soaked pussy. The wet, obscene sounds of his thick fingers pumping in and out filled the room, mixing with your increasingly loud moans. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your head fell back against the chaise as shameless whimpers and cries spilled from your lips. “Ah— fuck… Jungkook—” you moaned loudly, your voice breaking on his name. Your fingers dug desperately into his muscular arm, gripping the hard bicep through his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your hips bucked up to meet every thrust, chasing the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you so effortlessly. “Oh my god… it feels so good—”

“That’s it,” Jungkook praised, his voice low and rough. “Let it out. Don’t hold back for me.” His fingers curled perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, faster now, more relentless. The wet squelching sounds grew louder as your arousal coated his hand and dripped down between your thighs.

Your moans turned into desperate, breathy cries. Your thighs trembled violently around his wrist as the pleasure built higher and higher, far beyond anything you’d felt in months.

Jungkook suddenly slowed his fingers, keeping them buried deep inside you, and shifted his position. He moved onto his knees on the chaise, spreading your legs wider with his free hand. He looked over at Soobin, eyes dark with lust but still carrying that instructional tone. “I’m going to eat her out while I keep fingering her,” he told Soobin calmly. “This combination is extremely effective. Watch how I use my tongue.”

You whimpered at his words alone, already anticipating what was coming. Jungkook hooked his fingers under the waistband of your soaked panties and pulled them down your legs, tossing them aside. Completely exposed now, you shivered under his gaze.

He leaned down between your spread thighs, face inches from your dripping pussy. Without warning, he spat directly onto your swollen hole, the warm saliva landing right at your entrance. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation. Jungkook used two fingers to spread the spit around, mixing it with your own wetness, before pushing his fingers back inside you.

Then his tongue was on you. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as his warm, wet tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your pussy before focusing on your clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth while his fingers continued thrusting in and out of you, faster than before. Then he did exactly what he’d described, he fucked the spit into your hole with his tongue, pushing it inside you alongside his fingers in messy, obscene strokes.

You were on cloud nine.

“Fuck—! Jungkook— oh my fucking god—” you cried out, voice loud and unrestrained. Your back arched sharply off the chaise as intense pleasure crashed through your body. Your hands flew to his head, fingers threading through his soft dark hair, gripping tightly as his tongue fucked into you deeper. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy mixed with the filthy squelch of his fingers pumping relentlessly inside you.

Jungkook groaned against your cunt, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through you. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue and sucking hard on your clit, all while his fingers curled and stroked that perfect spot without mercy. “Soobin,” Jungkook said, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips shiny with your juices. “Come closer. Sit right next to her. She needs you here.”

Soobin moved quickly, his face flushed dark red. He sat on the edge of the chaise beside you, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook devour you. You reached out blindly, grabbing Soobin’s hand and squeezing it hard as another loud moan ripped from your throat.

“Baby— ahh— it feels so good,” you whimpered to Soobin, voice shaking. Your body thrashed under Jungkook’s skilled mouth and fingers, hips grinding desperately against his face. You gripped Soobin’s hand like a lifeline while your other hand stayed tangled in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him harder against your pussy.

Jungkook doubled down, tongue fucking into you even deeper, spitting on your cunt again before diving back in with messy, hungry strokes. His fingers never stopped their brutal pace, curling and thrusting until your moans turned into near-screams of pleasure.

You were lost in it, whimpering, moaning, and shaking uncontrollably as the man between your legs showed you exactly what your body had been missing, while you held your boyfriend’s hand through every devastating wave of pleasure.

The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as Jungkook’s tongue fucked relentlessly into your dripping hole and his fingers curled against that perfect spot inside you. Your moans turned into desperate, broken cries, growing louder and more frantic with every filthy stroke of his skilled mouth. You gripped Soobin’s hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, your other hand fisting Jungkook’s dark hair as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Suddenly, the coil inside you snapped.

You came hard on his tongue with a loud, shuddering scream. “Jungkook—! Fuck, I’m cumming—!” Your entire body convulsed violently, thighs clamping around his head as powerful waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers and tongue, gushing wetly against his mouth while he continued licking and sucking through every pulse of your orgasm. You thrashed on the chaise, moaning shamelessly, eyes squeezed shut as the intense release left you trembling and breathless. Soobin’s hand stayed firmly in yours the entire time, grounding you even as you fell apart under another man’s mouth.

Jungkook worked you through every last aftershock, licking you slowly and gently until your body finally sagged against the cushions, panting and dazed. Only then did he pull back, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. He looked devastatingly handsome like that, flushed, eyes dark with lust, and breathing heavily.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked between you and Soobin, voice low and husky but still controlled. “Are you both willing to continue?” he asked. “I’d like to move into demonstrating positions. The difference between what you’ve been doing and what she actually needs.”

You didn’t even hesitate. Still floating on the high of your orgasm, arousal already stirring again, you nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you breathed, almost desperately. “Please… I want more.”

Soobin swallowed hard, visibly affected by what he’d just witnessed, but he nodded as well. “If she wants it… yes.”

A satisfied, almost predatory smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck her raw. Skin to skin. No condom. She needs to feel the full effect, the heat, the friction, everything. Then I’ll show you, Soobin, exactly how to make missionary feel incredible for her instead of just… adequate.”

Jungkook reached behind your back with skilled fingers and unclasped your bra. He slid the straps down your shoulders slowly, savoring the moment as he pulled the lace away and dropped it aside. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already hard and aching. He groaned softly at the sight before leaning down and capturing one nipple in his mouth.

He sucked on it hungrily, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his large hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast. He switched sides, giving the same devoted attention to the other nipple, sucking harder, grazing his teeth gently, then soothing with his tongue. The wet sounds of his mouth on your breasts filled the room as you moaned and arched into him, your body responding instantly.

After several long, indulgent minutes of worshipping your chest, Jungkook finally positioned himself between your spread thighs, after kicking his pants and boxers off. He gripped his thick, hard cock in one hand, stroking it slowly as he looked down at your flushed, dripping pussy. “Watch carefully,” he told Soobin, voice rough. “This is how you claim her.”

He rubbed the swollen head of his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, before pressing against your entrance. With a low groan, Jungkook pushed forward and slid into you in one long, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, fluttering heat.

You cried out loudly at the stretch, your back arching sharply. He was big, thicker and longer than Soobin, and the raw, bare feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. “Fuck… so tight,” Jungkook growled, holding still for a moment to let you adjust. Then he pulled back almost all the way before slamming back in, setting a rough, brutal pace immediately.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room as he fucked you hard and deep. Each powerful thrust rocked your entire body, your breasts bouncing with the force of it. Jungkook’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again, the wet, filthy sounds of your pussy taking his cock filling the air. “That’s it,” he groaned, eyes locked on your face. “Take my cock. Feel how deep I am?”

Your moans were loud and unrestrained, turning into near-screams every time he bottomed out inside you. The brutal pace left you shaking, gripping the cushions beneath you as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolled through your body.

Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with possessive strength. He used your body like a personal toy, pulling you down onto his thick cock with every brutal thrust. Instead of just fucking into you, he yanked your hips forward to meet him, slamming you onto his length over and over again in a relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy being filled echoed loudly in the room with every powerful motion. Each time he dragged you back down, his cock buried itself impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix and sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure shooting through your entire body.

“Fuck—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and broken. Your head tossed back against the chaise, mouth falling open in a constant stream of moans and whimpers.

Jungkook glanced over at Soobin, breathing heavily but still in control. “Soobin,” he growled, never slowing the way he was manhandling you onto his cock. “Play with her clit. Rub it while I fuck her. She needs the extra stimulation.”

Soobin hesitated only for a second before leaning closer. His hand trembled slightly as he reached between your bodies and found your swollen, sensitive clit. He began rubbing slow circles over it, just like he’d watched Jungkook do earlier. The added sensation was immediate and devastating.

Your moans instantly grew louder, turning into desperate, shameless cries. “Oh my god—! It’s so good… so fucking good— Jungkook, your cock is so big— I can’t— ahh!” The words spilled out of you in a messy, nonsensical stream.

Jungkook groaned in satisfaction at your words, his pace growing even more punishing. He kept yanking your hips down onto him with raw strength, using your body exactly how he wanted. The wet slap of skin against skin was constant now, your arousal dripping down his balls and soaking the chaise beneath you. Every brutal thrust made your breasts bounce heavily, your entire body jolting with the force of him claiming you.

Soobin’s fingers kept rubbing your clit, faster now, his eyes wide and dark as he watched you fall apart. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “All fucked out… you’re glowing. So fucking pretty when you’re moaning like that.”

His words only pushed you higher. You squeezed Soobin’s hand tighter with your free one while your other hand clutched desperately at Jungkook’s forearm, nails digging into his tattooed skin. “Your dick is so big, it feels too good, I can’t think— please don’t stop—!” you babbled loudly, words slurring together between broken moans and gasps. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as he continued to wreck you.

Jungkook smirked, dark eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. He adjusted his angle slightly and started pounding into you even harder, pulling you onto his cock with every snap of his hips. The new position made him hit that perfect spot inside you with devastating accuracy on every thrust. Sweat glistened on his forehead and neck, his shirt now clinging to his muscular chest from exertion.

“That’s right,” he growled, voice rough and low. “Feel how deep I am? This is what your pussy needed. Not soft, polite sex. It needed to be ruined like this.”

He kept using your body ruthlessly, yanking you down onto him, grinding deep, then pulling back only to slam you onto his length again. Soobin never stopped rubbing tight, slick circles on your clit, his eyes flicking between your face and the sight of Jungkook’s thick cock disappearing inside you repeatedly.

The pleasure was blinding. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the room as another orgasm began rapidly building, even stronger than the first. Jungkook was fucking you better than you had ever been fucked in your life. The brutal pace of Jungkook’s cock slamming into you, combined with Soobin’s fingers rubbing relentless circles on your swollen clit, pushed you straight over the edge again.

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train.

“Jungkook—! I’m cumming— fuck. ” you screamed, your voice cracking as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around his thick cock, fluttering and gushing as powerful waves of pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched sharply off the chaise, thighs shaking uncontrollably while Jungkook kept fucking you through it, dragging out every last pulse of your release. Soobin’s hand never stopped, prolonging the overwhelming sensation until you were sobbing with pleasure, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You were still twitching and gasping, trying to catch your breath, when Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you with a wet sound. Before you could even whimper at the loss, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.

He turned and sat down on the chaise, pulling you with him so you straddled his lap facing him. He guided you down onto his cock again in one smooth motion, burying himself back inside your sensitive, fluttering pussy. This new position pressed your bodies flush together, chest to chest, your knees bent on either side of his hips.

“This is called the lotus position,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice deep and slightly breathless as he held you firmly on his cock. “It’s intimate. She’s completely wrapped around me, which lets me hit every sensitive spot inside her. The closeness increases stimulation on her clit and lets her control the depth and rhythm while I guide her. It feels incredible for her because she’s full and every movement grinds right against her g-spot.”

You barely had time to process his words before your body took over. Still trembling from your last orgasm, you started moving on him, slow at first, then faster, rolling and bouncing on his thick length with desperate need. The new angle made him feel even deeper, pressing against places you didn’t even know existed.

“Ahh! Jungkook!” you sobbed, pleasure bordering on too much. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders tightly, nails digging into his shirt as you rode him. Your head tipped back, mouth open in a constant stream of broken moans and cries. “It’s so deep… so fucking deep, oh my god.”

Tears continued slipping down your flushed cheeks as you moved faster, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. Your breasts bounced heavily with every roll of your hips, pussy swallowing his cock again and again with wet, obscene sounds.

Jungkook groaned deeply, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. He kneaded the soft, plump flesh roughly, spreading your cheeks as he helped guide you up and down on his cock. Then— smack, his palm came down hard on your right cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. You cried out at the sting, clenching tighter around him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, slapping your ass again, harder this time. “Ride me just like that. Use my cock.”

He buried his face between your bouncing tits, sucking one nipple into his hot mouth while his hands continued kneading and spanking your ass in rhythm with your movements. He groaned against your skin, tongue swirling and teeth grazing as he devoured you.

You were lost in it— sobbing, moaning, and babbling nonsense while you rode him with everything you had.Your head stayed tipped back, eyes half-lidded and glassy with overwhelming pleasure as you held onto his shoulders for dear life. Soobin watched everything in stunned silence from just inches away, eyes dark and fixed on the way your body moved on Jungkook’s cock and how his hands owned your ass.

Jungkook pulled his mouth from your nipple just long enough to look up at your pleasure-drunk face, voice rough with lust. “That’s my good girl… Keep fucking yourself on me. Let him see how pretty you look when you’re falling apart.”

You were completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, rolling your hips desperately on Jungkook’s thick cock in this position. Your voice had grown hoarse from moaning, but his name still fell from your lips like a prayer. “Jungkook… Jungkook— fuck, Jungkook—” you whimpered repeatedly, your head tipped back and eyes glazed over.

Jungkook pulled his face from your breasts, lips shiny, and looked up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. His hands squeezed your ass firmly as he held you down on his cock, grinding up into you slowly. “What is it, pretty girl?” he asked, voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you need? Tell me. Use your words.”

You sobbed softly, still moving on him, drunk on the feeling of being so full. “I want it from behind,” you begged, voice shaky and desperate. “Please… I want you to fuck me from behind.”

Jungkook let out a deep, amused chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “Greedy girl,” he murmured affectionately. Without warning, he lifted you off his cock, making you whine at the sudden emptiness. He easily maneuvered your body, turning you around on the chaise.

He guided you into position with strong, confident hands. “Soobin, sit down right here,” he instructed. Soobin obeyed, sitting on the chaise with his back against the cushions. Jungkook then pushed you forward until your face hovered just above Soobin’s lap, your elbows resting on either side of his knees. Your back was arched deeply, ass up and presented perfectly for Jungkook behind you.

You looked up at Soobin through your lashes, flushed and breathing hard, your cheek nearly brushing against the bulge in his pants.

Instead of immediately sliding his cock into you, Jungkook knelt behind you. He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing you completely. He leaned in and sank his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your right ass cheek, biting and sucking hard enough to make you gasp sharply.

“I’m going to eat her ass now,” Jungkook explained to Soobin, voice calm but dripping with lust. “Most men skip this, but it feels incredible for her. It relaxes her and makes her even wetter. Watch.” Before you could fully prepare yourself, Jungkook buried his face between your cheeks.

A loud, broken cry tore from your throat the moment his warm, wet tongue licked a slow, filthy stripe over your tight hole. “Oh my god!” you screamed, your whole body jerking forward. He licked you again, slower this time, swirling the tip of his tongue around your rim before pressing it inside you.

You were crying out uncontrollably now, the pleasure intense and strangely intimate. Your hands scrambled desperately for purchase, grabbing onto Soobin’s thighs and squeezing hard as Jungkook devoured your ass with filthy enthusiasm. He groaned against your skin, the vibrations making your eyes roll back.

His tongue pushed deeper, fucking into your tight hole with wet, obscene sounds while one of his hands reached underneath to rub firm circles on your clit. He alternated between long, broad licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, eating you like a man starved. Every stroke sent jolts of sharp, dirty pleasure racing up your spine. “Fuck— Jungkook, it feels so fucking good!” you sobbed, pushing back against his face instinctively. Tears of overwhelming sensation rolled down your cheeks as you panted against Soobin’s thigh, looking up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your wet skin. “Hear how loud she gets when I eat her ass? This is what she’s been missing.” Then he dove right back in, licking and sucking even more eagerly, his face pressed fully between your cheeks as he worked you open with his skilled tongue.

Your moans and cries filled the entire room, shameless and loud, while your hands gripped Soobin’s thighs like a lifeline, trembling as Jungkook continued. Jungkook didn’t rush. He kept his face buried between your spread cheeks, devouring you with slow, filthy dedication. His tongue swirled and probed at your tight rim, licking long stripes from your dripping pussy up to your asshole before pushing inside again. Every time his tongue fucked into your ass, a fresh wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed through you, making your back arch deeper and your fingers dig harder into Soobin’s thighs.

Your hips pushed back against his face instinctively, chasing more of that dirty, intense sensation. He groaned deeply against your skin, the vibration traveling straight through you as he continued with even more enthusiasm. He spread your cheeks wider with both hands, fully exposing you, and spat directly onto your hole before diving back in, licking and sucking like he couldn’t get enough.

Minutes stretched out in a haze of pleasure. Jungkook took his time, alternating between broad, sloppy licks and sharp, pointed thrusts of his tongue deep inside you. One of his hands stayed between your legs, rubbing slow, firm circles on your swollen clit while the other kneaded and slapped your ass cheek occasionally, the sharp smacks making you jolt and moan louder. You were a mess, sobbing, whimpering, and shaking as he continued rimming you relentlessly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again without ever letting you tip over.

Only when your legs were trembling uncontrollably and your cries had turned into constant, desperate begging did Jungkook finally pull back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose onto his knees behind you, his voice rough with lust as he spoke to Soobin. “Now I’m going to fuck her from behind. Hard. This position lets me go deeper and gives me full control.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the thick, blunt head of Jungkook’s cock pressing against your soaked entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, stretching you open around his thick length.

A loud, broken scream tore from your throat. "Fuck yes!" He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He immediately set a brutal, punishing pace, slamming into you hard and deep. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoed loudly through the room with every thrust. He gripped your hips tightly, yanking you back onto his cock over and over again, using your body exactly how he wanted.

“Fuck— so tight,” he growled, voice low and strained.

Every brutal snap of his hips drove his cock impossibly deep, the head kissing your cervix with every stroke. Your elbows trembled as you tried to hold yourself up, face buried against Soobin’s thigh while your moans and cries grew louder and more broken. Jungkook reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back slightly so your back arched even more for him.

“You like that?” he groaned, pounding into you mercilessly. “You like being fucked like a little toy from behind?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck— Jungkook!” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. The angle was devastating. Every thrust ground against that perfect spot inside you, making your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, soaking him with every rough stroke as he continued to rail you without mercy.

Jungkook’s pace was relentless, hard, fast, and animalistic. The wet, filthy sound of your arousal squelching around his cock mixed with the sharp slap of skin on skin. He kept one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, pulling you back onto him with every thrust like he was trying to bury himself even deeper.

Jungkook continued pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping against your ass with a loud, rhythmic slap. Your moans were constant and broken, your body jolting forward with every brutal thrust while your face stayed pressed against Soobin’s thigh. Jungkook’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he used you relentlessly.

He slowed his thrusts just enough to speak, his voice rough and commanding, yet still instructional. “Soobin,” he said, breathing heavily. “Grab her hips. Both hands. I want you to help move her back and forth on my cock. Feel how she takes me. Learn the rhythm she needs.”

Soobin hesitated for a moment, eyes wide as he watched Jungkook’s thick cock disappear inside you again and again. His cheeks were flushed dark red, but after a few seconds, he leaned forward and placed his hands on your hips, right beside Jungkook’s.

“That’s it,” Jungkook encouraged, still buried deep inside you. “Pull her back onto me when I thrust forward. Help her fuck herself on my cock. She loves it deep like this.”

Soobin’s hands tightened on your hips. At first his grip was gentle, almost uncertain, but as Jungkook started moving again, Soobin began pulling you back onto Jungkook’s cock in time with his thrusts. The added force made Jungkook’s cock slam even deeper inside you.

A loud, broken cry ripped from your throat. “Oh my god!” you sobbed, eyes squeezing shut as the new sensation overwhelmed you. Soobin’s familiar hands pulling you back combined with Jungkook’s massive cock stretching and ruining you created an intensity you’d never felt before. Every time Soobin yanked your hips back, Jungkook’s thick length drove into you harder, filling you completely.

Jungkook groaned in approval. “Good. Harder, Soobin. She can take it. Look how her pussy is gripping me every time you pull her back.”

Soobin’s grip grew firmer, more confident. He started pulling your hips back with more strength, helping impale you on Jungkook’s cock over and over again. The wet, filthy sounds grew even louder — the obscene squelching of your soaked pussy mixed with the sharp slap of skin whenever your ass met Jungkook’s hips.

You were falling apart between them.

“Fuck— fuck— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice muffled against Soobin’s thigh. Your hands clutched desperately at Soobin’s legs, nails digging into his pants as your body was rocked between the two men. “Jungkook’s cock is so big… Soobin, baby, he’s so deep inside me— I can’t”

Jungkook kept a steady, brutal pace while Soobin pulled you back onto him with every thrust. The dual control over your body made you feel completely used, a toy being shared between them. Jungkook’s cock kissed your cervix with every forceful pull, stretching your walls perfectly around his thickness. “That’s it,” Jungkook growled, one hand moving up to grip the back of your neck while Soobin continued manipulating your hips. “Feel how she’s dripping down my cock? She’s fucking loving this. Pull her harder, Soobin. Make her take every inch.”

Soobin obeyed, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft hips as he yanked you back more forcefully. The new intensity made your eyes roll back, loud, shameless moans spilling from your lips as Jungkook fucked you raw and Soobin helped drive you onto him again and again. You were trembling violently, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face, caught in the devastating rhythm the two of them created together.

The combined rhythm was absolutely devastating. Jungkook’s thick cock slamming into you while Soobin pulled your hips back with increasing confidence created a merciless, perfect storm of pleasure. Your moans had turned into constant, broken sobs as your body was rocked between them.

Jungkook’s breathing grew harsher, his thrusts becoming more erratic and deeper. “Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, gripping your hip tighter while Soobin continued helping pull you back onto his cock. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”

You could only whimper in response, your mind hazy with overwhelming pleasure. Jungkook’s pace turned punishing, slamming into you with short, brutal strokes as he chased his release. With a deep, guttural groan, Jungkook buried himself to the hilt inside you and came hard. You felt every powerful pulse as he emptied himself deep inside your pussy, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your walls. He kept grinding into you, pushing his load even deeper while growling your name under his breath.

The feeling of Jungkook cumming so deep inside you triggered your own orgasm instantly. Jungkook’s grip on your neck tightened as he pounded into you even harder. “That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock. Let go.”

The pressure built impossibly high, tighter and hotter, until it finally snapped. You came harder than you ever had in your life. A loud, guttural scream tore from your throat as your entire body seized up. Your pussy clenched violently around Jungkook’s cock, and then you were squirting, hard. Clear, hot liquid gushed out around his thick cock with every thrust, soaking his hips, dripping down your thighs. You shook uncontrollably, sobbing and moaning as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through you. Jungkook didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm and prolonging it until your vision went white and your legs gave out completely.

“Fuck, look at her,” Jungkook groaned, voice rough with satisfaction. “She’s squirting everywhere. Good girl… such a messy, beautiful girl.”

Your body finally went limp, trembling with aftershocks as Jungkook slowed his thrusts and eventually stilled deep inside you. He stayed buried in your pulsing heat for a long moment, letting you feel every inch of him while you tried to catch your breath. Soobin’s hands gently rubbed your hips, soothing the marks he’d left behind.

Jungkook eventually pulled out slowly, a rush of your combined juices dripping from your ruined pussy. He helped you collapse gently onto the chaise, turning you onto your back so you could breathe easier. Your chest heaved, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes glassy with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Jungkook sat back on his heels, breathing heavily but looking pleased. He glanced at Soobin, then down at your spent body. “That,” he said calmly, “is what she needs. Not just gentle, loving sex. She needs to be fucked properly, deeply, roughly, and without hesitation. She needs variety. She needs to be used and worshipped at the same time.” He looked at you softly. “How do you feel?”

You could barely speak, still floating. “Incredible…” you whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never… felt anything like that.”

Jungkook smiled, then turned back to Soobin. “You did well today. Helping move her like that was a great start. We’ll work on building your confidence and skill. This was only the first session.”

He helped you sit up eventually, handing you a soft towel and a bottle of water from a nearby table. While you recovered, he spoke to both of you about aftercare, communication, and homework, things for Soobin to practice at home before the next appointment.

As you slowly got dressed, your legs still shaky, you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jungkook. The memory of how he had completely ruined you while Soobin watched was burned into your mind. Soobin was quiet, but he stayed close to you, gently rubbing your back and pressing a kiss to your temple. There was a new tension in the air, something shifted between all three of you.

Before you left, Jungkook leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking unfairly composed and handsome. “Book your next session soon,” he said with a small, knowing smirk. “We still have a lot to work on… and I think you both know now how much she needs it.”

You left the office leaning on Soobin’s arm, body sore in the most delicious way, your mind already replaying everything that had happened… and wondering how much further Jungkook would take you next time.

He didn't come to Dex with pity, which was wise. He didn't sit across from him in some cold room and talk about redemption or recovery or all the other fluffy words people used when they wanted a dangerous man to feel grateful for being tolerated. Dex had heard those words before, and they always meant the same thing: behave, be useful, don’t make us regret leaving you alive. 

Charles, at least, had the decency not to pretend otherwise. He wore a plaid shirt under a vest (questionable fashion, but who was Dex to judge?), carried a leather folder, and looked at him like he wasn't a tragedy, nor a project, nor a rabid dog somebody had been foolish enough to feed. Instead, he looked at him as an asset with very specific applications.

Dex respected that, because the humiliating truth was that he needed a job.

Not a freelance gun-for-hire thing he got going on to fund his crusade against Fisk’s task force. He needed an actual, stable job. He needed money that came in regularly enough to pay rent. He needed a place with working locks, decent heating, and a refrigerator that contained more than condiments, protein bars, and eggs. He needed prescriptions filled before the bottles were empty. He needed ammunition that didn't come from old caches, stolen evidence rooms, or men who sold illegal ordnance out of storage units and thought calling him “buddy” was a good idea.

He needed structure.

Dex had spent so much of his life being pointed at things that he didn't entirely know what to do when no one was pointing. Freedom sounded good in theory, but freedom also meant waking up in a silent apartment with too many hours in the day and nowhere to put the violent itch crawling under his skin. It meant no orders, no parameters, no approved targets, no neat little box where the worst parts of him could be made useful. It meant his own mind, unattended, circling the same dark rooms until he started looking for a window to break.

Charles offered him work instead.

He said it was black ops, but clean enough. Government-adjacent, but deniable. There were forms, salaries, coded assignments, medical access, housing arrangements, travel papers, and weapons clearances. It was ugly in all the ways Dex understood, but it had a shape. It had a beginning, a middle, and, theoretically, an end.

Dex missed that.

Maybe.

He sat across from Charles in a windowless conference room. The table between them reflected the overhead lights in long white strips. There was coffee untouched near Dex’s elbow and a pen placed exactly parallel to the folder.

“So what?” Dex asked eventually, his voice flat. “I’m one of the good guys now?”

Charles chuckled. “You’re useful,” he shrugged. “Let’s start there.”

Dex stared at him for a second. Then, against his better judgment, he smiled.

It wasn't a friendly smile, but it was the closest thing to approval Charles was likely to get. There was something almost refreshing about not being lied to. At least one was asking him to hold hands with his past or apologize to a circle of strangers under fluorescent lights. Charles wanted him because Dex could do damage with precision, and after all this time, there was comfort in that kind of honesty.

After all, in Dex’s book, Charles might not be a good person, but he wasn’t a horrible one either. Unlike Wilson Fisk. Unlike Vanessa Fisk. 

He knew that because he saw who was funding the mission: Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.

Charles tapped the edge of the file once with two fingers. “She also bankrolls the Avengers.”

Dex’s expression didn't change.

“The new team,” Charles clarified.

“Yeah,” Dex said flatly. “I know who the New Avengers are.”

“Then you understand the nature of this operation.”

Dex looked back down at the file.

Sure, he understood enough. If Val was paying for Avengers, that meant she was funding heroism. If Charles worked for her, then Charles cannot possibly be that bad, can he?

The logic was stupidly simple, so simple a child could have made it. Dex knew that. He knew goodness didn't transfer through payroll. 

He liked it anyway. He liked clean lines. He liked being told where to stand.

He looked down again before Charles could read too much on his face. The next few pages were maps, photographs, shipment records, old Hydra symbols carved into walls and stamped onto yellowing documents. Europe had been marked in red: Germany, Romania, Austria, Italy, Poland, Norway.

When he flipped through, he found photos of safehouses, labs and weapons caches. The next page had details of facilities hidden under abandoned factories and bank accounts buried beneath shell companies and dead men’s signatures. There were names in multiple languages, some with photographs attached, some already crossed out.

Hydra, apparently, was like black mold. You could burn the house down and still find it growing behind the walls.

“They’re just remnants,” Charles said. “Y’know, splinter groups who aren’t really Hydra anymore, they’re just borrowing the name and the branding. Opportunists, mostly. Scientists who kept copies of files they were meant to destroy. Brokers moving old weapons systems through private channels. Buyers interested in serum research, cryogenic technology, asset conditioning protocols, enhanced human restraints, anything that survived the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the years afterward.”

Dex turned a page.

“This would be a seven-month assignment,” Charles continued. “Possibly longer, depending on what you recover. You’ll move through Europe, locate the caches, secure the weapons, and retrieve as much intel as possible before it disappears into the black market. You’ll have safehouses, false identities, medical support, and extraction options when necessary.”

“When necessary,” Dex repeated.

Charles’s mouth twitched. “You understand the kind of work this is.”

Dex did. He understood it so well that a now-ancient part of him had already begun arranging itself around the mission, routes, and sight lines. He wasn't a spy, but he would try his hand at a language he didn't speak but could fake long enough to get through a checkpoint. He would map the distance between cover and exit in every photograph. He would process the likely angle of fire through the windows of a Croatian warehouse shown on page six.

His mind liked having something to do.

“And the priority?” Dex asked.

“Weapons first. Intel second. People third.”

“Dead or alive?” 

“Alive if possible,” Charles said, adjusting his glasses. 

Dex glanced up, raising an eyebrow. Charles sighed, almost imperceptibly. “If practical,” he amended.

That was better.

Dex leaned back, the chair creaking softly beneath him. He turned another page, then froze.

The photograph clipped to the next sheet wasn't of a weapons cache, a scientist, or some grey-faced man in a tactical vest.

It was you.

Dex stared for a moment longer than he meant to.

The picture looked like it had been taken without your permission from a street corner. You were wearing a winter coat, one hand tucked into your pocket, the other holding a paper coffee cup like you were just another pretty socialite in another expensive European city, not something pulled out of Hydra’s worst nightmares.

Pretty was the wrong word, Dex realised. Pretty was too soft.

You were… intense in a way Dex didn't immediately trust. Your posture was careful, your stride was disciplined. Dex knew a little of what that’s like; he had seen it in mirrors.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Charles’s eyes flicked down to the file. “Your partner.”

Dex’s smile disappeared. “No.”

“You haven’t heard the rest.”

“I don’t do partners anymore.”

“You do now.”

Disappointment moved through Dex’s eyes, but Charles didn't retreat from it. That made Dex dislike him again. Or respect him. Sometimes the two were close enough to be irritating.

“I work better alone,” Dex said.

“Uh uh. You survive alone,” Charles replied. “There’s a difference.”

For a second, he considered standing up and walking out, just to prove no one in that room could decide anything for him. He could go back to whatever came before this. Cheap rent, unclear income. Too much time. Too many thoughts. His talents were left without purpose, especially after Task Force agents were being rounded up and locked up one by one. 

Dex tapped one finger against the edge of the photograph. “What is she?”

The question was rude. Charles seemed unsurprised by that, too.

But Dex knew that a man like him would not be put to a mission with some other average agent. She must be equipped to handle him in some way, and he needed to know how. 

“She is a super soldier,” he said. “From the Siberian program. She might be smaller than you, but she is faster than you. Stronger than you. More durable than you.”

Dex’s knuckles flexed. Charles, annoyingly, looked amused by that. “Don’t take it personally. You're here because she’s strictly close quarters only. Her aim is dogshit. She can’t pin the tail to the donkey if it was the size of an elephant.”

Dex looked back down. The photograph changed with the information, though nothing in it moved. The pretty coat became a costume. The coffee became a cover. He knew enough of the infamous Siberian Program to know what it meant: cryo, programming, asset conditioning, and brutal compliance. You were a war crime with a pulse.

“Zemo killed them,” Dex said. Or so he’s heard.

“He missed one,” Charles said dismissively.

Dex’s eyes narrowed, but Charles just continued, “She was recovered at the end of the conflict. Barnes and Rogers found her before anyone else did. As far as our records show, Zemo believed the termination was complete.”

“And it wasn’t.”

“No.”

Dex looked at your face again. There you were, alive by accident. A cute little clerical error in the middle of a massacre.

“Is she deprogrammed?” he asked.

“Enough.”

Dex gave Charles a dry look. “She’s stable, then?” 

Charles tilted his head. “Are you?”

Dex huffed a laugh, short and humorless. Fair.

Dex knew this made sense: you probably knew Hydra architecture, internal coding systems, and old asset routes. For this assignment, there was probably no one more useful, save for the Winter Soldier himself. But then again, he was too busy pretending to be a public facing hero, which meant this probably read too much like grunt work to him.  

“When do I meet her?” he asked.

Charles’s eyes shifted by the smallest amount, just enough for Dex to understand that he had given the answer Charles had been waiting for.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Dex shut the folder, though he kept the photograph on top. Then, he agreed to the mission. 

—

As promised, Dex met you the next day on a rain-slick air base that didn't officially exist.

You were already waiting by the plane when Charles led him across the tarmac, hands in your jacket pockets, hair tugged loose by the wind, looking entirely too calm for someone being sent across Europe to clean up an evil organisation’s leftovers.

Charles stopped between you like a middle school teacher introducing two students he already knew would become a disciplinary issue.

“Benjamin Poindexter,” Charles said. “This is your partner.”

“Dex,” he corrected.

You tilted your head. “Do you correct everyone that fast?”

“Usually faster.”

Your mouth twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. You gave him your name, and he recognized it from the file. You took a sip from your cup, still watching Dex over the rim. “So. You’re the knife throwing miracle worker.”

“That what he called me?”

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “That’s me being generous.”

Dex felt the corner of his mouth lift before he could stop it.

He folded his arms. “And you’re the super soldier.”

Your face stayed mild. “Allegedly.”

“Allegedly?”

“I don’t like confirming things for strange men on runways.”

“Smart.”

“I try.”

Charles glanced between you like he had already decided this was as good as civility was going to get. “You’ve both read the operational brief.”

“Yes,” you said.

Dex said nothing when Charles looked at him.

Dex eventually said, “Enough.” He said it with a smile a little too charming for your peace of mind.

You scoffed and Dex’s gaze dipped over you once, interested. You noticed, because you were trained to notice changes in breathing, pupil dilation, heart rate, weight distribution. Instead of calling him on it, you gave him your sweetest, most harmless smile.

Dex stared at it like he wanted to peel it off you with a knife just to see what was underneath.

Charles cleared his throat and handed you both slim black folders. The paper inside was minimal, most of the real information tucked away behind encrypted devices and dead drops. You flipped yours open anyway, mostly to give your hands something to do.

“The two of you will have limited external support,” Charles continued. “You’ll have a plethora of assumed identities. You’ll share safehouses when necessary.”

Dex said, “When necessary?”

“Frequently,” Charles said.

You looked up. Dex looked at you.“I don’t snore,” you said. 

Dex’s eyes narrowed. “Congratulations.”

“I do steal blankets.”

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Any objections before departure?”

Dex opened his mouth. You interrupted before he could say something predictably unpleasant. “Nope. Bucky talked me into it, so technically if this goes badly, we can blame him.”

Charles looked amused; Dex’s flicked to you.

You kept looking at the file, not because you missed the reaction, but because you didn't entirely want to deal with it yet.

“Barnes?” Dex asked. His voice had not changed much. The word came out casual, almost indifferent, but his eyes widened, if only a little 

You lifted your head. “Yes.”

“As in James Barnes.”

“Do you know another famous Buckys?”

“No.”

“Then yes.”

Dex studied you.

You had expected curiosity. Most people got curious about Bucky. Some got reverent, others got afraid. Some got that awful pitying look, that suggested they thought they knew Hydra to imagine they understood anything at all. Dex did none of that.

“What did he talk you into?” he asked.

You shrugged, tucking the folder beneath your arm. “Working. Y’know. Doing something useful.”

Charles didn't interrupt. Coward.

You glanced toward the aircraft, watching two ground crew members load another case into the hold. “He said I couldn’t just sit around waiting for someone to piss me off.”

Dex’s mouth twitched.

“What did Barnes say?” Charles asked, tilting his head.

You sighed, and without meaning to, your voice shifted into an imitation of Bucky’s low, exasperated drawl. “‘You can’t keep breaking people’s bones and making me explain to the cops why they shouldn’t press charges.’”

Dex stared at you.

You smiled faintly, fond despite yourself. “He had a point. Apparently regular civilians get upset when you dislocate someone’s shoulder in a grocery store parking lot.”

“What did they do?” Dex asked. 

“They touched me.”

Dex only shrugged, as if it was a reasonable thing to do.

“Well,” Charles said, producing a small bag of peanuts from his coat pocket, “try not to kill each other before Germany.”

You looked at Dex. He looked back at you. Then your mouth curved up, entirely too pleased. “Don’t worry,” you said. “I have a feeling we’re going to be just fine.”

—

The first few missions were okay.

Dex had expected friction. He had expected you to get in his way, or slow him down, or make some sentimental speech about doing things cleanly because he’d expected a partner with principles. Instead, you were efficient. You were talkative, but quiet when you needed to be. You were quick in a way that made him understand, very quickly, that Charles had not been exaggerating about the super soldier thing.

Germany was a weapons ledger hidden behind a false wall in a private gallery. You smiled at the owner’s security like you were there to admire post-war sculpture, then put one guard through a locked door with your shoulder when the alarms tripped. Dex handled the cameras and anyone who would eventually get to you. By the time the police arrived, both of you were already three streets away, walking under one umbrella you had stolen from the cloakroom and laughing at how untrained these guys were.

Austria was colder. You had gotten intel of a Hydra courier in a ski town, three dead drops, one safe full of expired serum that didn't do anything except maybe get you high. Dex put a knife through a man’s hand before he could reach the panic button, and you raised a brow at him like you were impressed. Later, in the car, you told him his aim was annoyingly theatrical.

Taking it as a compliment, he told you that your melee skills were not too bad yourself. You smiled at the window and tried your hardest not to deflect it.

By the time you reached Romania, the process had become familiar. You took the left side of a room without being told. Dex took the high angle. You never walked directly in front of his line of fire. He never asked you to move. In safehouses, you cleaned weapons at the kitchen table while he checked exits and pretended he wasn't watching the way your hands worked. You drank terrible coffee. He made comments about it. You ignored him and made him a cup anyway.

You didn't talk much during jobs, but afterward, little pieces of you slipped out.

Unfortunately, a lot of them had Bucky fucking Barnes attached.

“Bucky hated safehouses like this,” you said once, standing in the doorway of a flat in Bucharest with peeling wallpaper and a radiator that knocked all night. “Said they all smelled like wet concrete and black mold.”

Dex looked around. “He sounds poetic.”

“He was mostly complaining.”

Another time outside Salzburg, you watched Dex hotwire a silver sedan and said, “Bucky used to do that one-handed.”

Dex didn't look up. “Congratulations to Bucky.”

You laughed like he had meant to be funny. He had not.

It was annoying, how he kept happening.

It wasn't a constant and definitely not enough for him to call it a problem without sounding insane. It was just often enough that Barnes became a third person in the room even though he had never met the man before, he found him irritating because he was apparently very good at everything.

Bucky had warned you about old Hydra storage locks. Bucky had taught you how to sleep sitting up without waking with a crick in your neck. Bucky had said Romanian winters were worse than Russian ones because at least Russia was honest about trying to kill you. Bucky had this dry little laugh when Steve and Sam got sentimental. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.

Dex told himself he didn't care. It was obviously a lie, but it was a convenient one.

He didn't care that your voice changed around the name. He didn't care that you said it easily, like muscle memory. He didn't care that Barnes had known you before this, before Charles, before rain-slick bases and seven-month assignments and Dex learning that you hummed under your breath when you were stitching wounds.

He definitely didn't care that Barnes was the reason that you were here, with Bullseye, instead of the picture perfect ex-congressman, now leader of the most high profile superhero team in the world. Emphasis on hero.

The fourth mission was in Hungary, in an old textile factory outside Budapest that had been turned into a weapons relay point by boys too young to remember Hydra properly and too stupid to fear it enough. It went clean until it didn't. Someone burned the files before you could get to them. Dex shot out the sprinklers. You ripped the office door off its hinges. Together, you dragged what you could from the smoke and left six men zip-tied in the loading bay for Charles’s people to collect, not before killing twice as much along the way.

By midnight, you were in a safehouse above a closed bakery, both of you smelling like smoke and wool.

You sat on the floor with your back against the couch, cleaning soot from under your nails with the tip of a knife. Dex stood near the window, watching the street below through a gap in the curtains. For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then you said, “Bucky once set an entire warehouse on fire by accident.”

Dex closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, his reflection looked annoyed in the dark glass. “What is he,” Dex added, “your boyfriend?”

He meant it lightly, mostly. It came out almost like a joke.

The room’s air seemed to change at that; but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t look wounded. You only looked back down at your hands, at the knife balanced between your fingers, and for the first time since he had met you, Dex saw the answer arrive before you decided whether to give it.

“He used to be,” you said.

Ah.

He waited for more but gave him nothing.

The knife moved again, scraping soot gray wasn’t there anymore. Your face had closed in that gentle, polite way he was starting to recognize as armor. And it wasn’t the super soldier armor. Not even the Hydra armor. It was more… personal.

Dex should have asked. He wanted to ask: How long? Why did it end? Did you love him? Do you still? Did he touch you? Did he know what to do with you? 

He asked none of it, mostly because that would have meant admitting he cared. So he only said, “Huh.”

You looked up. “Huh?” you repeated.

Dex shrugged, turning back toward the window. “Didn’t peg Barnes as your type.”

“And what’s my type?”

Dex seemed to consider it for a second. “Bad decisions.”

That got a small smile from you. “You’re not wrong.”

Dex stared out at the empty street, fist curled tight, his heartbeat skipping stupidly beneath his skin.

He told himself it was just curiosity. Barnes was relevant because Barnes had been Hydra, because Barnes knew the program, because Barnes had known you before Dex did. That was all: information, context, and nothing else.

But behind him, you went quiet again, and Dex could only assume and spiral about what you had not said.

He didn't want to know.

Ha! That was a lie.

He wanted to know so badly it made him angry.

You shifted on the floor, stretching one leg out, your boot nudging his discarded jacket.

“He’s a good man,” you said after a while.

Dex’s fingers tightened against the curtain.

Ugh. 

He didn’t know what that shift of note was in your voice. Was it longing? Did you miss him?

“Lucky him,” Dex said through gritted teeth.

You didn’t answer. When he glanced back, you were looking at the knife in your hand like you had forgotten why you were holding it.

—

The next mission went wrong.

At first, it was just another Hydra remnant with more confidence than sense, tucked beneath an old municipal archive in Prague, guarded by men who thought stolen weapons made them important. Dex took the cameras. You took the stairs. It should have been clean.

Then one of them said a name: Vasily Karpov 

Dex didn't know who that was at the time, but he would later learn that he was your old handler.

Still, he witnessed hearing it did to you.

He saw the split-second absence in your eyes— the way your face dropped first, almost blank, before an old and brutal version of you came up underneath it. The man laughed like he knew exactly what nerve he had touched.

He didn't laugh for long.

You hit him once and shattered his jaw.

Dex heard the teeth crack inside the man’s mouth before the body even hit the floor. Blood sprayed across the concrete in a hot arc, one of the molars skittering away into the dark like a dropped coin. The man tried to scream through what remained of his face, choking on it instead.

Then you hit him again.

Your fist came down with enough force to cave his nose flat against his skull. Bone gave under your knuckles with an ugly crunch. The back of his head smacked the floor hard enough to leave blood blooming beneath it, but you didn't stop.

The third punch ruptured his eye.

Dex watched as your knuckles sank into ruined flesh already turning unrecognizable, he saw red slick burst across your sleeve. The man’s limbs jerked once beneath you, involuntary, nervous system still firing even as his face stopped looking human. This was when Dex had to remember that you Hydra didn't just make a super soldier out of you; you were once a Winter Soldier, too.

You kept going.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Each hit sounded worse than the last. Your breathing had gone frighteningly steady, not angry or frantic, just mechanically brutal, like your humanity had slipped somewhere far away from yourself and left only an asset behind.

Blood coated your hands to the wrist.

One of the punches split the skin over your knuckles open. You didn't notice.

“Hey!” Dex barked, because this was brutal, even for his standards, which was saying a lot.

The body beneath you had stopped moving entirely now. One arm twitched occasionally from the impact, dead weight bouncing under the force of your blows. There was barely a face left. 

You hit him again anyway.

Dex grabbed you then, hooking an arm around your waist and hauling you backward with a grunt. “Stop.”

You drove an elbow back hard enough to bruise ribs. Dex barely held on. Your boots scraped through blood as you tried to lunge forward again, eyes empty, locked on the corpse like it could still speak.

“He’s dead,” Dex sneered into your ear.

Your fist clenched again.

For one horrible second, Dex thought you were going to tear free and keep going until there was nothing left on the floor but pulp.

Then your whole body jerked still.

The room went quiet except for your heavy breathing.

Slowly, your eyes dropped to the body. Or what used to be one.

—

In the safehouse that night, you took the bed.

You had made a rule three countries ago that the two of you would alternate between bed and couch because you both had trust issues and didn't want to compromise. Dex didn't argue. 

So, tonight, he took the couch.

It was too short. The blanket smelled like dust. His ribs hurt where you had elbowed him. He lay there in the dark, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling and listening to the old building settle around him.

He didn't sleep much.

That was why he heard you scream when you did. It was a full, blood-curdling scream that tore through the apartment like a mortician had opened you up.

Dex was on his feet before it ended.

He had a knife in his hand by the time he reached your door. He kicked it open, expecting an enemy.

But there was no one there. Only you.

You were standing beside the bed in the dark, barefoot, shaking, eyes open, and yet, you looked wrong. Your hair was loose around your face. One hand was curled at your side like it expected a weapon. The other was pressed against your own throat, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

Dex lowered the knife a fraction.

“Hey,” he said, smaller than he meant to. “It’s me.”

You turned toward him.

Then… you attacked.

This was what Dex had imagined Siberian-programmed Winter Soldiers to move like: a nightmare. 

Dex barely got his arm up before you struck him, the impact driving him back into the wall. Pain flashed white through his back, but it was fine. His back could take a hit now. He twisted away from the next punch, caught your wrist, lost it when you wrenched free. 

“Wake up,” he snapped.

You didn't. Instead, your fist cracked into the plaster beside his head when he ducked. He swept your leg; you went down and came back up too quickly. He had fought trained killers before. He had fought men who wanted him dead. This was worse.

Because he could tell, even now, that you were not trying to win. You were merely trying to survive something that wasn't in the room.

Dex said your name again. That got nothing out of you.

You lunged.

He caught you badly. Your strength drove both of you sideways into the dresser. A lamp shattered. His knife hand came up on instinct, not to strike, just to guard, just to keep space between you.

You twisted, and the blade sank into you in the form of a clean, ugly slice along the outside of your upper arm.

That was enough to wake you up.

Your eyes dropped to the blood welling against your skin. For a heartbeat, you only stared at it. 

“Oh,” you whispered.

Dex didn't move.

You blinked once, then again, like the room was assembling itself around you piece by piece. The bed. The broken lamp. The wall. Dex in front of you, breathing hard, knife still in his hand.

“Oh,” you said again, and this time it broke. “Oh.”

He understood before you explained, that this was what Charles had meant when Charles said you were deprogrammed enough.

Enough to pass evaluation. Enough to work. Enough to know your own name in daylight. Enough to sit in cars and drink bad coffee and pretend you were only dangerous by choice.

Not enough to stop a dead man’s name from reaching into your sleep and turning you back into his weapon.

Dex lowered the knife slowly.

Your eyes followed it. “I’m sorry,” you said.

He hated that. “Don’t.”

“I…” you choked, “I didn’t know where I was.”

“I know.”

“I could’ve—”

“You didn’t.”

“I could’ve killed you.”

That almost made him laugh, except nothing about you looked funny. You were standing in the wreckage of the little bedroom, barefoot and bleeding, trying to make yourself smaller when both of you knew you were not small at all.

Dex stepped closer, and you flinched.

For a second, the two of you just stood there with blood between you. Then, he said, “Sit down.”

You looked at him, eyes still adjusting.

His repeated, firmer this. “Sit.”

Maybe it was the tone. Maybe it was the simplicity in the command. Maybe you just needed instruction.

You sat on the edge of the bed.

Dex went to the bathroom, found the medical kit beneath the sink, and came back without looking too long at the broken lamp or the dent in the wall where your fist had landed. He knelt in front of you because the bed was too short and the room was too small and because, apparently, he had decided this was his problem now.

You watched him clean the cut, with hands folded tightly in your lap.

The antiseptic made you hiss through your teeth.

“Hurts?” Dex asked.

“No.”

“Liar.”

That got the smallest breath out of you. Not a laugh, but Dex decided it was enough.

He stitched you up quickly. You watched his hands instead of his face. Dex was grateful for that. He didn't know what his face was doing, and he didn't want you to see it before he figured it out himself.

When he finished, he tied off the last stitch and taped gauze over the wound. Dex sat back on his heels. “Do you know whose name he said?”

Your face went still. “Yes.”

He waited.

You didn't elaborate. He didn't push.

He stood and turned to clean up the kit, but your hand caught his wrist.

It was light and careful and so different from the way you had fought him that it made his chest lock up.

“Stay,” you said.

Dex looked down at your hand, then at you.

Your face was controlled again, but not enough. Your eyes were too bright in the dark, your mouth pressed too tight, your body holding itself together through sheer refusal.

“Please,” you added, a bit more desperate.

He should have said no. Boundaries, professionalism, all of Charles’ stupid rules and all. He should have gone back to the couch and pretended the sound of your scream wasn't still crawling under his skin.

Instead, Dex nodded.

You shifted back on the small bed, making room that didn’t really exist. It was ridiculous: the mattress was narrow and dipped in the middle, the sheets smelled faintly like laundry powder and dust, and there was no way for him to lie beside you without touching.

He did it anyway.

You lay on your side facing him, one arm tucked against your chest, the bandage stark against your skin. Dex settled stiffly beside you.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then your forehead lowered, just barely, until it rested against his chest.

Dex stopped breathing.

You whispered, “I thought I was back there.”

His hand hovered above your shoulder. Then he let it settle there. “I know.”

“You don’t,” you insisted.

The words were not cruel, but it was true.

Dex looked at the cracked ceiling.

No. He didn't know Siberia. He didn't know your handler’s voice. He didn't know the cold storage or the chair or whatever else had been dragged into the room with you when you screamed. He didn't know what cryo felt like. He didn't know what being erased felt like.

But he knew what it was to wake up and not feel like a person.

So he said, “Maybe not.”

Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt, and he found himself wanting to hold you a little tighter.

In the dark, in that too-small bed with your blood drying beneath his fingernails and the mission waiting beyond the walls, Dex realized he was jealous of Barnes for something even worse than having been loved by you.

Barnes had known how to comfort you because what was done to you was done to him, too. Dex didn't.

But you had asked him to stay anyway. So, he stayed.

—

After Prague, something changed between you.

The shift wasn’t dramatic, because let’s be real, neither of you were built for dramatic emotional breakthroughs. There was no late-night confession, no sudden honesty, no moment where either of you sat down and admitted that maybe the partnership had stopped being strictly professional somewhere around Austria.

Things just idly softened around the edges.

You stopped pretending the nightmares were rare. Dex stopped pretending he didn’t notice when you paced after missions instead of sleeping. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night and find you sitting on the kitchen counter of whatever safehouse you were in, wrapped in one of his hoodies with a mug of coffee gone cold in your hands, staring at nothing.

It was a mutual understanding: he never asked what you were thinking about and you never asked why he always woke up exactly three minutes before dawn.

It worked. Mostly.

And somehow, you became easier around him. You rolled your eyes more openly when he was being difficult. You stole food off his plate. You started sitting too close to him on trains and planes and safehouse couches, like your body had decided he was safe before your brain had caught up.

Dex noticed every little bit of it.

Unfortunately, you still talked about Bucky.

Bucky liked this kind of weather. Bucky hated old countryside safehouses. Bucky once broke three ribs falling through a church roof. Bucky said Eastern European plumbing was cursed. Bucky this, Bucky that.

Dex was beginning to suspect the ancient world war two fossil had opinions on literally everything.

He hated how irrational the jealousy felt. Hated that it existed at all. It was ugly and stupid and embarrassing every time the name left your mouth so casually.

But he swallowed it. 

Until Croatia.

The mission itself had been a disaster from the start. Charles had dropped a bad intel in the form of a wrong entry point in a Hydra splinter cell that turned out to be twice the size the files suggested. Dex got separated from you for exactly ninety seconds, which was apparently long enough for someone to nearly put a knife through your throat.

He found you in a collapsed stairwell with blood on your collar and three bodies around your feet. He had managed to cradle your face and slap your cheek twice to get you awake.

When you opened your eyes, though, he looked furious.

—

Dex tried to shoulder the safehouse door open, but the warped wood only groaned stubbornly against the frame, swollen tight from the rain.

Before he could hit it again, you shoved past him, “Move,” grabbed the handle, and yanked hard enough that the lock gave with a dull metallic snap, the door shuddering inward and banging against the wall. Cold air chased both of you inside as rain streaked down the back of his neck. Mud dragged across the floorboards beneath your boots. The cottage smelled like damp stone, stale smoke, and old wood that had spent too many winters rotting.

You stumbled in, one hand pressed briefly to your ribs because the movement annoyed whatever bruise was blooming there.

Dex saw it, refusing to take his mask off because he didn’t want you to see how frightened he had become. 

Worse, he saw more that you seemed to understand. He saw the split at your lip. The blood at the side of your neck, dried now, but still there in a dark line where that knife had kissed too close. He saw the way you were favoring your left side even though you were trying not to. He saw the notch in your sleeve where a bullet had passed close enough to cut fabric.

The second the door shut, the whole night caught up with him at once.

For one horrible moment back in that compound, Dex had heard the comm go dead and had thought, with a certainty so violent it had hollowed him out, that he had lost you. Not misplaced or separated. Lost. 

Asset unrecoverable kind of lost. Operative deceased kind of lost. 

He had not felt that kind of panic in years, and he didn’t like what it had done to him.

So by the time you were both inside the cottage, wet and bleeding and breathing too hard, he had nowhere to put it except anger.

“You broke formation,” he said.

You tossed your ruined gloves onto the kitchen table, one after the other, like you had all the time in the world. “You changed the route.”

“The route was compromised.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“You were off comms.”

“I was busy.”

Dex turned from the door to see that you were standing in the yellow kitchen light, hair damp around your face, jacket hanging open, blood on your throat like some deadly necklace. And you had the audacity to sound bored.

Busy, you had said, like you had missed a call. Like he had not spent the longest thirty seconds of his life tearing through five men and half a corridor to get to you.

“You disappeared.”

You looked at him then. Your stare sharpened, the same way they did before a fight when some poor man realized too late that the pretty woman in front of him had never been harmless.

“Oh my god,” you said, though you looked annoyed, not cruel. In your head, the mission had gone badly but ended fine. You were alive. He was alive. The intel had been recovered and bodies had been left behind. That was success, by every metric either of you had been trained to respect.

So why was he acting like this? You didn’t understand.

“You disappeared,” he repeated, louder this time. “And then I walk into a room and there’s blood all over you—”

“Not mine,” you reminded me. 

“I didn’t know that!” The words came thundering out of him before he could stop them. “You’re just so fucking reckless, are you?”

You barked out a small laugh, turning toward him, looking into his dark hazel eyes, the only part of his face not covered by fabric. “Oh, and you’re the picture of stability right now, Benjamin.”

Dex turned so fast you almost walked into him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows genuinely furrowed. “Do you not like your name?”

Still, there was no malice in your voice. You were being awful, yes, but not with the intention to wound. You didn't realize where the line was because no one had ever given you normal lines to stand behind. You were teasing him the way you tested knives: carefully, curiously, delighted when they were sharp.

Then, because apparently you had no instinct for self-preservation when it came to him, you added, “Bucky liked it when I called him James.”

Dex went still, but you didn’t notice immediately.

Not because you were stupid; you were not. You noticed threat, movement, weakness, exits, lies. You noticed the things that kept you alive. But this was different. This wasn't a gun drawn under a table or a man shifting his weight before a strike.

This was jealousy.

Dex hated how fast it rose in him. He hated that it didn't feel grown-up or controlled or even useful. It felt young, embarrassing, like a hot green pulse where his heart should be.

And you had no idea you had just fed it.

To you, it was a passing comparison. Bucky had been part of your life. James was a name he had let you use. It was a small domestic fact and nothing more.

To Dex, it was a door opening onto all the things he didn't want to picture.

Barnes smiling at you. Barnes letting you call him James. Barnes in your bed—

You caught the change in his eyes a second too late. “Dex?”

“Don’t.” His voice came out rough enough that even he heard the damage in it.

You stopped smiling, but that didn't help. 

Because Dex knew you had not meant it. He knew. He could see it in your face now: the faint confusion, the way your mouth parted like you were about to ask what you had done wrong. You were not trying to make him jealous. You were not playing Barnes against him. You were not cruel in that particular way.

You were just carrying another man around inside your memories and forgetting Dex could see the outline.

And the worst part was that this wasn't even really about Barnes. It was about the fact that you were standing there, acting like nothing was wrong after almost dying, telling him you were fine while blood dried on your skin like he had not spent the last hour with terror clawing down his throat. You had almost died tonight, and for a second Dex had not thought of you as his partner, or Charles’s asset, or the super soldier who would probably outlive everyone in the room.

He had thought:

No.

Not you.

And now you were standing there saying another man’s name while Dex was still trying to scrape that terror out of his chest.

Dex stepped towards you before he even realized he was moving.

When he got to where you were standing near the kitchen table, he had you shoved backward to the wall behind you.

Dex planted one hand beside your head, boxing you in. The other grabbed your waist hard enough to pull you flush against him. The impact jolted through both of you. Your body heat hit him instantly through layers of damp clothing.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, not frightened.

You were stronger than him. If you wanted him off you, he would already be across the room. If you wanted space, you would take it. Instead, you stayed exactly where you were pinned against the wall, fingers curling into the front of his tactical suit as he desperately took his mask off. 

God.

His grip tightened reflexively against your waist.

“I thought you were dead,” he said again, and this time the words cracked. “Do you understand that? You almost died.” Dex hated himself immediately for letting that much show.

“But I didn’t,” you murmured softly.

Dex looked down at you breathing hard against the wall, rainwater still dripping from your hair, blood drying at your throat, and suddenly the anger stopped feeling red and started becoming want.

Four months of tension crashed through him all at once. Every accidental touch in cramped safehouses. Every late-night conversation over bad coffee. Every time you had smiled at him after violence like the two of you shared some private language no one else understood.

And now you were looking up at him like this.

Your thumb brushed once against the front of his shirt where you still held him.

“You really don’t understand why that isn’t good enough,” he said.

Your eyes flicked over his face, and for half a second, the teasing left you. Then you tried to cover it, because vulnerability made you uncomfortable, too.

“Y’know,” you said, breath still uneven, “Bucky would’ve—”

Oh, fuck that. 

“—known what to do with— Hmph!!!”

The kiss came so suddenly you barely had time to make a sound.

One second you were speaking, the next Dex’s mouth was on yours, hard and immediate and furious enough to steal the rest of the sentence clean out of you. His hand tightened at your waist; the other stayed braced against the wall beside your head like he needed to keep himself from doing something worse, or kind, or both.

You froze beneath him for one shocked heartbeat.

Dex felt the hitch in your breath, the way your hand tightened in his shirt without pulling him closer yet, fingers twisting in the wet fabric like your body had reacted before your mind could catch up. 

He had kissed you to shut you up. That was the only explanation his brain could hold onto.

Not because he had wanted to do it for months. Not because the sight of blood on your throat felt like he had been skinned alive. Not because every time you said another man’s name, the hunger in him wanted to put his own there instead.

No.

He had kissed you because you would not stop talking.

Sure. That's why. 

When you sighed into his lips, his whole body locked up.

The kiss changed in the space of a breath. Your lips began moving against his, tentative for less than a second before the shock burned off and heat rushed in to replace it. Your fingers dragged higher in his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

Dex made a sound low in his throat, and that seemed to snap both of you back to yourselves.

He pulled away, far enough that the kiss broke. For a second, neither of you moved.

You stared at him. He stared back.

Your eyes were wide, Your mouth was parted, damp from his, your breath coming fast. 

He should have stepped back. He should have done anything except look at your mouth again.

Your eyes dropped to his lips at the exact same time.

That was all it took.

Dex barely had time to inhale before your mouth was on his again, harder now, more certain now. Your hands fisted in his shirt and dragged him down into you like you were done waiting for him to decide anything on your behalf.

He kissed you back immediately.

His hand slid from your waist to your hip, gripping there, pulling you against him while your back stayed pressed to the wall. The kiss turned rougher, open-mouthed and breathless, all teeth and heat and months of tension finally catching fire. You made a small whine against him when his body curved into yours, and Dex swallowed it whole.

Your hand slid up into his hair, and he nearly lost his mind.

Four months of looking and not touching, and now you were kissing him like it had meant everything.

Dex pressed in closer, chasing your mouth when you tilted your head, the angle changing. You kissed like you fought, he realized distantly: direct, no wasted movement, no mercy once you decided you wanted something.

Then you pushed him away, palm flattening against his chest. 

Dex was suddenly stumbling backward like gravity had changed its mind. His back hit the edge of the kitchen table with a dull thud, wood scraping against the floor under the impact.

He stared at you for half a second.

You had not even tried.

You looked at him from against the wall, breathing hard, mouth swollen, eyes dark and bright all at once. You looked amazed now, wicked and dazed and pleased by the realization that you could move him so easily.

Dex knew that already.

He had known from the file, the missions, from watching you tear through men twice your size without breaking a sweat.

But knowing it and feeling it were different things.

Feeling your strength turned casually on him, not to hurt, not to threaten, just to move him where you wanted him, made his brain go haywire.

For one dangerous second, Dex wondered what you would do to him if you were given free rein. The next thing he realized was that he would let you do anything to him.

When you walked up to him, Dex’s hands found your waist again, but this time you were the one pushing into him, trapping him against the table, kissing him like you had decided he had started something and now you were going to finish it on your terms.

He let you.

Fuck, he let you.

Your mouth moved over his, hot and demanding, your fingers sliding into his hair again and tugging just enough to make his breath catch. Dex’s grip tightened on your hips, then loosened, then tightened again, like even his hands could not decide whether to pull you closer or surrender completely.

Dex leaned back against the table as you crowded him, and the old wood creaked under both of you. You had his knee pressed between yours, and even then he could feel the damp heat between your legs even through your trousers. He wanted to tease, but when hands roamed up his chest with a kind of greedy curiosity, he forgot language altogether.

He kissed you harder.

You answered immediately, biting at his lower lip until he groaned into your mouth.

Dex felt your smile against his lips for half a second.

Cruel little thing.

Dex pulled his mouth away for a second. You were about to complain, but whatever whiny words you were about to say was silence when his lips dragged down your neck instead. His lips found the place beneath your ear, then the line of your pulse, then the blood-dark smear where the knife had almost cut too deep, and you had mewled like a kitten in response. 

This was fine, he told himself.

Practical, even.

You had both been wound tight for months. Too much blood, too many missions, and not nearly enough release. Wanting you didn't have to mean anything. Wanting to have you didn't have to mean he was already too far gone. This was just mutually beneficial stress relief, right?

Dex almost laughed against your neck at his own reasoning.

It was stupid.

He didn't care.

Your hands slid under the hem of his tactical shirt and dragged upward, impatient and clumsy. Dex pulled back only long enough to tear the fabric over his head and drop it somewhere behind him. He barely had time to breathe before your eyes were on him.

Then, without a word, you followed, fingers catching at the hem of your own shirt, lifting it over your head, tossing it aside.

Dex stared.

Your mouth curved up. “What?”

He stepped back into you.

“Nothing.”

His mouth was on you again before the word had fully settled, kissing you hard, kissing the answer into your skin instead of saying it. His hands moved over your sides, your back, your waist, like he still could not quite believe he was allowed to touch and needed to make up for every second he had wasted pretending he didn't want to.

You made a sound when his lips found your throat again. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

Dex obeyed before he could resent how easily he did.

He kissed lower, then back up, restless, greedy, unable to stay in one place because there was too much of you and he wanted all of it at once. Your hand slid over his shoulder, blunt nails dragging lightly over skin right next to his spinal surgery scar.

Then you shifted your weight, pressing closer, and the table knocked against his back again.

Wrong angle, some still-functioning part of his mind decided.

To fix this problem, Dex’s hands dropped to your thighs.

You barely had time to inhale before he lifted you.

Even knowing you were stronger, even knowing you could have taken control from him without trying, there was something inherently satisfying about the small gasp you gave when he picked you up and turned. Your legs caught around him by instinct, and for one brief second his face was against your shoulder and your breath was in his hair.

Then he set you on the table harshly because he knew you could take it. 

The old wood groaned beneath you.

Dex stepped between your knees immediately, one hand braced beside your hip, the other cupping the back of your neck as he kissed you again from the better angle, like he had been right to move you and was very smug about it.

And because you were as desperate as him, you hastily unbuttoned your trousers as he hooked his fingers under your panties and helped you take them off with your spit still dripping from his lips. 

He looked at you again, mouth swollen from kissing him. You looked wrecked already, but not ruined. He thought you were beautiful, but he already knew that. Here, you looked less like a weapon with a heartbeat and more like a goddamn miracle pretending she wasn't one.

And then, immediately, his mind supplied Barnes.

Bucky Barnes had seen you like this.

Dex’s jaw tightened.

Barnes had known this version of you. He had known you warm and bare and breathless, too. He had looked at you in private. Had heard the sounds Dex was only beginning to earn.

Dex hated him for that. He hated him with that unreasonable jealousy that made his grip flex against your hips.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

Dex didn’t answer.

He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit that a man he had never met had crawled into his head again. He didn’t want to give that name space here, not now, not with you in front of him looking holy. So Dex leaned closer instead, eyes dark, mouth brushing your jaw as he laid you down on the wood. 

His hand slid along down your body, over your breast and your tummy, exploring and feeling and gripping until they settled on your thighs. 

He wasn't a super soldier.

Fine.

He could not match that kind of strength. He could not promise superhuman stamina or metal fingers or whatever mythic thing Barnes had been in your bed and your memory.

Dex had other talents.

Dex had perfect aim.

And he was determined to make his precision matter more than aimless brute strength. 

His hand slid closer between your legs, the other keeping it open, watching your face the whole time. Your breath caught before he even did anything. 

Your fingers curled into fists.

Dex’s mouth curved, before he peppered kisses on your collarbone, his finger having minds of their own. He touched you like he was mapping a weakness, like every gasp, every shift of your hips, like every sharp little inhale was information he meant to keep and use. You tried to stay composed. Tried to keep the upper hand. It didn’t work.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” he teased, voice rough.

You glared at him, or tried to.

You wanted to pull him down. You wanted to push him back. You wanted to have him every way the tiny kitchen would allow.

“Tell me what you want.” he said, grabbing your chin with his remaining still-dry hand to make you look at him. 

You hated him for asking. You loved him for making you say it.

Your mouth parted, but nothing came out at first except his name.

It didn’t take long after you felt his fingers in your core for Dex to find what ruined you.

“There,” he said under his breath, a newfound glee in his voice.

That was the unbearable thing about him, the infuriating thing, the thing that made you want to curse his name and drag him closer in the same breath. Dex noticed everything. Every hitch in your breathing. Every tremor you tried to hide. Every tiny shift of your body beneath his hands. He had the focus of a sniper and the patience of a man who knew exactly when he had found his mark.

And right now, all of that terrible precision was on you.

Your back was pressed against the old wood, head only slightly lifted, looking at the ceiling as rain battered the cottage windows.

“Dex,” you breathed, and it barely sounded like a warning anymore.

“Pretty,” he murmured more to himself than to you, rough and pleased.

He curled a finger, and your head fell back against the table with a soft thud.

Your mouth was parted, your breathing uneven, your whole body tense with frustration and the awful realization that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

Then he leaned over you, kissed the corner of your mouth, and whispered, “Again.” 

You didn't know whether he meant his name or the sound you had just made.

Either way, you gave it to him.

—

Morning came thin and grey through the curtains.

Dex woke up slowly, which almost never happened. 

He was aware of the sheets first, then the ache in his shoulders, then the faint smell of rain still trapped in the cottage walls.

Then he became aware of you.

You were beside him, half-buried in the blanket, hair spread messy over the pillow, one arm tucked under your cheek. Your breathing was calm and even, one knee had slipped out from under the sheet (which you had stolen), and there were bruises already blooming there, dark against your skin.

Dex stared at them for too long.

He knew exactly where they came from.

You had been on your knees for him the night before, looking up like a fucking fallen angel crawling up from hell. He barely lasted at all, because no amount of training or discipline could have prepared him for you. 

Still, he looked at the bruises, and his chest turned over.

You stirred beside him with a sleepy little sound, blinking into the dull morning light. Your eyes found him, then followed his eyes down to your knee. For a second, you seemed confused, and then your lips curled with amusement.

“Don’t look so worried," you murmured, voice rough from sleep. “It’ll probably heal by sunset.”

Dex looked away. “I was assessing damage.”

You hummed, and for one ridiculous moment he wanted to put his mouth on that smile and keep it there. He wanted to ask if you were sore. He wanted to ask if he had hurt you, even though there was a statistically higher chance of you hurting him in such close quarters. He wanted to ask if you were going to regret it now that the sun was up and the mission was waiting.

He asked none of it.

You stretched under the sheets, lazy and unbothered, then rolled onto your side to face him. There was no panic in you, no awkwardness. No visible regret. If anything, you looked pleased with yourself, far too comfortable with the wreckage you had made of him.

Then you sighed happily and said, “Well. That was a successful evolution of our professional relationship.”

Dex looked back at you.

You were grinning.

“What?”

You propped your head on your hand. “I’m just saying. Good to know my fuck buddy has useful hands.”

For a second, Dex’s entire brain went blank.

Fuck buddy.

Fuck buddy?

You said it lightly, teasingly, like it was a joke between the two of you. Like it was cute. 

Fuck buddy.

After that?

After the wall, the table, the bed. After your hands in his hair. After his name in your mouth. After he had woken up beside you and, idiot that he was, felt at peace in his own mind? 

Fuck buddy.

He wanted to claw eyes out.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to ask if that was what he was. He wanted to say the words back to you, cruelly, just to see whether they hurt you, too. He wanted to get out of the bed, get dressed, put a gun in his hand, and see what the barrel felt like in his mouth.

Instead, Dex did nothing.

He did nothing because he understood that if he talked too much, he could lose this before he even knew what this was. If he asked for more, you might run away and give him nothing at all.

You were not trying to hurt him. You were smiling at him, sleepy and satisfied and completely clueless. To you, the arrangement was practical. A category: friends, partners, operatives, fuck buddies. 

Ugh. 

He wanted to tell you that if you called him that again, he might actually lose whatever was left of his mind.

Instead, he still said nothing, because he wasn't stupid.

Unstable, yes. Jealous, increasingly. Probably emotionally constipated beyond medical repair. But not stupid.

If he pushed too hard, you might make it a thing. And if you made it a thing, you might decide the arrangement was too messy and too complicated to continue.

Dex could not risk that.

“Useful hands,” he repeated eventually. His voice sounded normal. He was proud of that, in a distant, miserable way.

You grinned. “Mmhm.”

He gave you a sanitised look.

You laughed, nudging his leg beneath the sheet with your foot like you had any right to be that casual with him after detonating his life before breakfast. “Don’t be offended. That was a very good review.”

“Great,” he said flatly. “Should I expect a written evaluation?”

“I could make a rubric.”

“Don’t.”

Dex almost smiled.

—

Whatever had happened in the cottage didn't end there. It became a part of the mission, as much as false passports and burner phones were a part of the mission. The first time could have been dismissed as an accident. A one-time detonation after four months of tension neither of you had been handling well. But then there was the safehouse in Slovenia, where you came back from a mission with blood on your cheek and smiled at him across the hallway, and Dex knew that it was going to happen again.

Then Munich, against a bathroom sink in an apartment above a closed pharmacy. Then Warsaw, where you didn't even make it out of your tactical gear before dragging him down onto a mattress. Then a warehouse outside Lyon, because the extraction was delayed and apparently the two of you had lost all sense of professionalism somewhere around the fourth body. Then a supply closet in Milan, where he fucked you after you put his mask over your own face. An alley in Budapest. The back room of an abandoned train depot in Belgium.

And because Dex had the self-preservation instincts of a man chasing a moving target off a roof, he let it continue.

He told himself it was better this way. Casual meant stable. Casual meant you stayed. Casual meant you didn't have to examine anything too closely, and neither did he. It meant he got your mouth, your hands, your body in whatever safehouse Charles had arranged for the week, and all he had to do was not ask for more.

He even convinced himself it was more than he had any right to.

You reached for him. You kissed him first sometimes. You slept beside him when the safehouse only had one bed and, sometimes, even when it had two. You learned the scars on his body with your hands. You stole his shirts. You drank from his coffee. You called him by his name and it made him feel like it belonged to you now.

And then, in the morning, or in the car, or while cleaning a weapon at some tiny desk table in another country, you would say something that reminded him exactly where he stood.

“Don’t look so smug,” you told him once, adjusting the strap of your holster in a cracked mirror. “You’re still just my mission stress relief.”

You meant it as a joke, and Dex knew you did.

You looked over your shoulder at him with that wicked little smile, waiting for him to snap back. You expected him to say something dry, something cruel enough to be funny but not cruel enough to count.

He did.

“Good to know I have a job title,” he said.

You laughed and went back to your holster.

Dex stood behind you and wanted to break the mirror with his bare hand.

He had to remind himself over and fucking over again that you were not cruel, at least not like that. You were ruthless, yes. You were capable of killing a room full of people and then asking what was for dinner. But with him, you were not trying to wound. You were simply clueless.

You didn't understand that he had started listening for the way you called for him. You didn't understand that he noticed which safehouses made you sleep easier, which nightmares made you reach for him, which jokes pulled a real laugh out. You didn't understand that he counted every time you chose to sit beside him instead of across from him like a starving man counting coins.

And you really didn't understand what happened to him when you brought up Bucky.

You did it less now, as if you were just starting to get human customs: do not bring up the guy you used to sleep with to the guy you were currently sleeping with unless you were asked.

But when you did bring him up, it was clear as day that part of you loved being given the chance to talk about him.

See, you were guarded about everything else. You deflected questions about Siberia. You made jokes about getting shot. You went blank whenever Charles asked about your programming over the phone. You could talk for twenty minutes about tactical routes and never reveal one honest thing about yourself.

But if Dex mentioned Barnes, even casually, your face would change.

“Barnes teach you that?” Dex asked once, watching you bypass an old Hydra lock with a bent piece of metal and no visible effort.

You smiled immediately. “He tried.”

Dex should have stopped there, but because he apparently liked suffering, he didn't. “Tried?”

You glanced at him, pleased to have the thread. “He was terrible at explaining things. He’d just do it and then look at me like I was supposed to absorb it through proximity.”

Dex hummed.

You kept going. “He got so annoyed when I got better at it than him. He’d pretend he wasn’t annoyed. He used to do this thing with his jaw when he was trying to be mature about losing.”

You mimicked it without thinking. It was… fond.

Oh. Right. 

He watched your hands move over the lock and wondered how many doors Barnes had watched you open. How many safehouses had held the two of you. How many times you had looked over your shoulder at him with that same spark of amusement.

“That sounds annoying,” Dex said.

“He is,” you said. “Very.”

And there was that warmth again.

Sometimes, Dex brought Bucky up on purpose. He hated himself for it, but there was a sickness to his curiosity. He needed to open that wound over and over again to feel something.

“Barnes cook?” he asked one night in Vienna, after you complained about the contents of a safehouse freezer.

You laughed immediately. “Badly.”

Dex regretted the question before you even continued.

“It was tragic. He could survive in the wilderness, dismantle a rifle blindfolded, and break a man’s neck before breakfast, but give him a pan and he can’t make anything that doesn't taste like bland meatloaf.”

Dex stared at the vegetables you were chopping.

You were smiling at the cutting board.

Dex made a noncommittal sound as you talked about it for ten more minutes. 

It was unbearable. 

It was also the most relaxed he had seen you all day, so he let you.

That was the misery of it all. Dex hated hearing about Barnes, but he loved what talking about him did to you. He loved watching that stiff part of you ease when you remembered being loved by someone who had not used you as a weapon. He loved the sound of your voice when it had history in it. He loved that, for once, you were not pretending to be harmless or terrifying. You were just a person with memories.

He just wished the memories didn't belong to another man. Another man who had been your boyfriend.

Not fuck buddy. Not mission stress relief. Not a bad habit in multiple countries. Boyfriend was a real word. A word that meant Barnes had occupied a place Dex had not even been allowed to ask for.

Bucky fucked you and was a boyfriend. Dex worshipped you and was a fuck buddy?

In what fucking world was that even fair?

He hated that he was jealous of a man who had saved your life. He despised that he could not make himself noble about it. He hated that every time you begged him to touch you, some childish, vicious part of him wanted to ask whether Bucky had touched you there, too. 

He never asked, but he imagined plenty.

That was worse, because imagination didn't need evidence. It filled in everything: Barnes’s metal hand on your hip. Barnes’s mouth at your throat. Barnes in all the places Dex had put himself and still somehow felt like the original while Dex became the imitation.

And then you would turn around, clueless and bright-eyed, and ask, “You okay?”

Dex would say, “Fine.”

You would believe him.

That almost made him hate you, in the way a starving man might hate someone for leaving food just out of reach and not understanding why he was shaking.

The arrangement continued because Dex let it. Because he was too greedy to stop. Because having you underneath him, even temporarily, even without the label he wanted, was better than the alternative. Because when you reached for him, he forgot how much it hurt until afterward.

And afterward, there was always a moment that was too tender for his own good. You would button your shirt before going to infiltrate a gala. You would toss him his utility belt with a smirk. You would lean over a map like nothing had changed while Dex stood there with every nerve in his body still aware of the places your hands had been.

He would think, say something. He never did, because what could he say?

Don’t call me that. Don’t call me casual. Don’t talk about him like he still gets the best parts of you. Don’t make me ask for more when we both know you might say no.

So he kept quiet and kept his position, as miserable and humiliating as it was. And every time you called him your fuck buddy, your mission stress relief, your bad decision, Dex smiled like it didn't make him want to drown himself face first in a pool of starving piranhas.

Because for now, you still chose him. Not the way he wanted. Not yet, Maybe not ever.

But Dex had survived on less than scraps before.

So he took what you gave him, swallowed the rest down until it burned, and told himself that temporary was better than nothing.

Even if, some mornings, nothing would have hurt less.

—

Everything imploded during a mission in a church should have been empty.

That was what the file said. An abandoned stone church in a half-empty Italian village had an abandoned Hydra weapons cache beneath the crypt. Supposedly, there was no active civilian presence within a two mile radius, no active guard detail, no complication beyond an old lock. 

It was supposed to be a simple recovery: Secure the intel, secure the weapons for extraction, and leave before anyone in the village noticed the old place had been disturbed.

Dex should have known better by then, that nothing involving Hydra stayed dead just because the walls looked old.

The church stood at the edge of the village with its bell tower cracked down the middle, weeds climbing the steps, and cypress trees stood around the graveyard like black-green sentries. The sky had gone a red late-afternoon color, clouds pressing down over the hills. Inside, the air was cold and wet and stale. Broken saints watched from their niches with missing fingers and chipped faces. Light fell through the stained glass in fractured strips, magenta across the pews, blue over the altar, gold bleeding weakly across the floor like the church still remembered how to be holy.

You found the crypt behind the altar.

The stone slab had been disguised well enough for anyone normal to miss it, but you were not normal. You crouched in front of the mechanism with one knee on the floor, pushing aside a false piece of carved stone until the panel beneath exposed.

It was made of steel, and had a keypad. A half-dead little light blinked red right beside it. Hydra, but older than the other caches. Not Soviet standard. Not the Austrian sequence from month two. Not the lock you had cracked in Romania with a hairpin while Dex stood behind you pretending not to be impressed.

This one made you look… confused.

Dex noticed.

You were very good at focusing and most people mistook it for calm. Dex knew better by now. Your stillness was a sign of assessment, memory, and calculation. You were trying to remember a thousand old lessons while your face gave nothing away. 

But this time, there was no recognition. You only stared at the lock, teeth clenching once.

“You know it?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

Dex shifted his gun in his holster and looked toward the nave. The church doors were still shut, but the place had too many broken windows, too many side entries, too many shadows. It was bad news, because Dex knew for a fact that you were being followed on your way here.

“No,” you said finally.

Dex turned back, irritated. “No?”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, annoyed and beautiful enough that he hated himself for noticing in the middle of a church with a possible kill team closing in. “Do you want to try?”

“I shoot things.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed.”

Dex might have smiled if he had not caught movement through the broken stained glass at the far left of the church. 

“How long?” you asked, noticing it too.

“Maybe five minutes,” he said, preparing a throwing knife. “Less if they’re competent.”

You went back to the lock, fingers moving over the panel, testing seams, and possible reset catches. Nothing opened. Nothing even flickered. Dex could feel your frustration building like heat in a closed room. 

You hated not knowing. You hated needing anything. That was one of the first things he had learned about you in the early weeks when he still thought learning you would help him keep distance instead of making him want to crawl inside your lungs and live there.

Then you sat back on your heels, reached into your jacket, and said, “I have to call someone.”

No. No, no, no.

He knew. Before you said it, before you even looked at the phone, before your thumb found the contact you should not have needed and Dex absolutely didn't want to hear. He knew the way he always knew when the bullet had already left the barrel.

“Who?” he asked, and his voice was too flat.

You didn't look at him. “Someone who might know.”

“Barnes,” he said through gritted teeth, because who else could you possibly know?

You hesitated, not long enough for anyone else to call it guilt. But Dex saw it, because Dex saw everything, because God or the universe or whatever rotten thing had assembled him had given him perfect aim and absolutely no mercy where details were concerned.

“Really?” he said.

“I’m calling someone with Hydra experience,” you insisted.

“Your ex-boyfriend with Hydra experience,” he shook his head.

You scolded him. “Dex.”

“It’s fine.” His smile was brief and horrible. You only caught a glimpse of it before he put his mask over his head. “Actually, it’s great. Let’s bring him into the room. Why not? He’s practically here most days anyway.”

You looked up then, irritation flashing across your face. “This is not the time.”

“It never is.”

“You want the cache?”

“I want you to know literally anyone else.”

“That is not my fault,” you frowned.

“No, I’m sure nothing is.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Barricade the door.”

Dex laughed once under his breath. It had no humor in it. “I don’t need to barricade the door.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No,” he said, voice flat with fury, “I really don’t.”

“Dex,” you said, voice strained, “Please.”

He stepped back from the altar, eyes set ahead, every muscle of his body pulled tight. “I don’t need to barricade the door while you call your ex about a lock.”

You stared at him, phone already dialing. Dex hated that he could hear the line ringing.

One ring. Two. Each little tone felt like a finger tapping the inside of his skull.

Then the call connected, and James Buchanan Barnes spoke through your phone for the first time. “Hey, doll.”

Dex had thought he was prepared for it. He wasn't.

It was just a voice, just a man’s voice through a tiny speaker, softened by distance and familiarity and whatever history lived between the two of you. It should not have done anything. Dex had heard men threaten him, beg him, scream under his hands. He had been praised by superior, insulted by criminals, given orders by bad men. A voice was air. It should be nothing.

But Barnes said doll like he had earned the right to.

And you changed, though not much at all. Your shoulders loosened by the smallest fraction. Your face relaxed before you could stop it. Dex didn’t know if it was still romantic, and Dex could not even decide if that would have been worse or better. It was familiar and lived-in, like a door in you opening because the voice on the other end had knocked in a pattern you still recognized.

Dex felt like he was on the brink of yet another mental collapse.

“Hey,” you said. “Sorry. I need help.”

Barnes answered with immediate concern, gentle as your hand had been on his skin last night. “You okay?”

Dex wanted to shove his head through the nearest stained-glass window.

He wanted to laugh until his throat split open. He wanted to walk outside, stand in the graveyard, and let the incoming kill squad do whatever they wanted just so he didn't have to stand there and listen to Barnes care about you in real time. It was one thing to know the man knew you. It was one thing to know he had loved you, touched you, saved you, left you for reasons Dex didn't know. Knowledge could be abstract. This wasn't abstract.

This was Barnes’s voice filling the church while you crouched over a lock in broken holy light, letting him help you.

This was a man Dex had never met reaching through the phone and occupying space that Dex had been clawing at for months with bloody fingernails.

“She’s fine,” Dex said, too loudly.

Dex knew he should have kept his mouth shut the second Barnes went silent.

It wasn't even a real silence, but Dex heard the shift in it anyway, because he was him, because he caught things no one else caught, because his whole body had become one raw nerve around the sound of that man’s voice. 

“Who’s that?” Barnes asked. It wasn't panic, and not even jealousy. It was just a calm assessment. 

Dex’s mouth moved before he could stop it. “The guy keeping her alive.”

Your head snapped toward him and Barnes went quiet again. Then, he said, “That right?”

Dex smiled harshly under his mask. “That’s right.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered.

Barnes’s voice stayed low through the speaker. “She usually does a decent job of that herself.”

“She had a gun to the back of the head last week,” Dex said.

“She mention why?”

“Boys,” you snapped, eyes flicking between Dex and the phone like you could physically strangle both ends of the conversation if given the chance. “Can we focus?”

Dex stared at the phone, rage crawling hot under his skin. It should not have hurt, but it did. It hurt because Barnes didn’t sound threatened. He sounded like he knew exactly what you were capable of, exactly how much danger you could survive, exactly where concern ended and respect began. He sounded like someone who didn't need to prove he belonged in the conversation because he had been there first.

You exhaled and looked back down at the lock. “Dex, meet Bucky. Bucky, meet Dex. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it.

You clearly didn’t mean anything by it. You were just irritated, distracted, trying to do your job. But the words hurt him. 

Don’t worry about it. Not he matters. Not he’s important. Not anything that could stand up against the familiar way that Barnes was calling you an old pet name through the speaker.

Barnes hummed once, unreadable. “Alright.”

Dex wanted to shoot the phone. He wanted to shoot the wall.

He wanted to walk outside and turn the incoming kill squad into a pile of meat just so he would have something to do with his hands besides stand there and feel pathetic in a church.

You pointed sharply at the side door without looking up. “Dex. Door.”

His teeth clenched.

Barnes said, almost mildly, “Might want to listen to her.”

Dex looked at the phone. Then at you.

“You alright?” Bucky asked when he was sure Dex was out of range. Unfortunately, he wasn't.

It was clear that he was going to say something again, but you shot him a glare to stop him. “We’re fine,” you said, “I have a lock.”

“A lock?” Barnes asked, and Dex hated the hint of humor there too, hated that he could hear the little frown in the man’s voice, hated most of all that you probably could picture his face when he made it.

“An older Hydra one,” you said. “It’s an Italian site with crypt entry. It’s not taking any of the sequences I know.”

Barnes went quiet, thinking.

Dex turned away. He could not stand another second of your face while you listened to him. He could not stand the concentration in your eyes, the trust. 

You trusted Barnes’s voice. You trusted him enough to call. Enough to ask. Dex didn't want to know what else you had trusted him with.

He stalked down the nave, past rotting pews and the saints’ blind plaster faces, knife, boots grinding dirt and broken glass into the floor. Your voice followed him. “No, I tried the lower sequence.”

Barnes, apparently, was patient and understanding. “Not that one. Check the left side. There should be a false panel under the carved edge.”

Your answer came after, almost pleased. “There is.”

Dex shoved the side door open and stepped into the graveyard.

The first man came over the wall in black tactical gear with his rifle raised. Dex threw his knife, and it sliced him through the throat.

He dropped backward over the stone wall with a wet, choking sound, his weapon clattering against the grave markers. Two more appeared at the corner of the church, moving in formation, disciplined enough to be annoying. Dex didn't give them time to become more than geometry. He put a round through the first man’s knee, watched him collapse mid-stride, then shot the second through the gap between helmet and mask as he turned toward the sound. The first man reached for his sidearm when Dex crossed the grass and drove his boot into the side of his head hard enough to silence him against the base of a weathered angel statue.

Inside, faintly, through the open door and stone walls, Barnes was still talking. “Don’t force it, doll. If it’s the one I think it is, it punishes pressure.”

Dex’s vision narrowed.

He reloaded while moving, hands steady despite the rage making a live wire of his spine. Another four came through the cypress line on the east side, sweeping toward the church doors. Dex moved between headstones, using them the way lesser men used cover and smarter men used angles. He threw an old stone before the man could fire, because he needed him to drop the weapon, then threw a knife into the second’s exposed thigh, deep enough to make him buckle. The third got close. Dex let him, and he caught the man’s rifle barrel, redirected the shot into the stone at his feet, and slammed the butt of his own weapon into the man’s face until the mask cracked and the body limped.

The fourth hesitated, so all Dex had to do was put him down with a shot to the chest, then another to the head before he hit the wet grass.

He could still hear you through the door. “Like this?”

Barnes said something too low for Dex to catch.

You gave a small laugh.

Dex stopped breathing for half a second.

Then a bullet cracked against the stone column beside his head, spraying old dust across his cheek.

He turned toward the shooter and became what he was good at being.

The kill squad came in waves, and Dex dismantled them one by one. Three from the road, two from the lower wall, another pair trying to circle around the sacristy entrance. He moved constantly, cutting through the graveyard, forcing them into bad angles, making the churchyard’s dead stone work for him. A man lunged from behind with a blade; Dex caught the wrist, twisted until the joint failed, and drove the man’s own knife under his jaw. Another tried to retreat toward the road; Dex shot him through the calf, stepped over him, and finished him only after taking his spare magazine. It was definitely meaner than necessary, maybe, but he had Barnes’s voice in his head and no interest in being merciful.

Blood darkened the grass. Rain began again, soft at first, then heavier, ticking over helmets and stone crosses and the bodies Dex left where they fell. He was breathing hard by the time the last five made a push for the front doors, their boots pounding over the church steps. Dex came at them from the side.

He shot the man with the fancy scope first. The second man reached for it. Dex put a round through his wrist, then threw his empty magazine at the third man’s face hard enough to make him flinch at the wrong second. That second was plenty. Dex closed in, drew his sidearm, fired twice, then slammed the barrel into the last man’s throat when he tried to tackle him. The man gagged, stumbled, and Dex drove him backward into the church door with enough force to make the wood boom from the impact.

The man slid down the door, and Dex stood over him, rain dripping from his hair, blood spattered across his face and collar, chest rising and falling.

Through the thick old wood, he heard Barnes again. “That’s it. Good. Now wait for the second light.”

Good.

Dex’s fingers tightened around the gun.

Good.

Barnes was praising you. Barnes was inside, with you without even being inside. Barnes was at your shoulder, in your ear, useful and alive in all the places Dex wanted him dead. Dex had just killed fifteen men in the graveyard and on the church steps, had turned a kill squad into cooling meat, and still he had not managed to get Barnes out of the room.

When he went back inside, the church swallowed him whole. His boots tracked blood and rainwater down the nave. He passed beneath the broken blue glass while your voice drifted from below the altar. “Got it.”

The crypt panel was open now. A cold blue-white light spilled across the stone, illuminating your face from beneath while you crouched by the mechanism, one hand still on the panel, the phone lying on the floor beside you on speaker. You looked relieved and a little flushed from the rush of solving it. Dex hated how beautiful you looked like that. Hated that Barnes got to hear it.

“Good job,” Barnes said.

You smiled, and Dex felt it like a gunshot.

“Thanks,” you said.

Barnes was silent for a moment, and in that silence Dex imagined him somewhere far away, metal hand maybe resting on a kitchen counter, brow furrowed, voice gentle because he knew exactly how to be gentle with you. Because he had practiced. Because he wasn't a fuck buddy in some safehouse bed waiting for permission to matter.

Then Barnes said, “I… good luck, doll. We’ll catch up when you get back, yeah?”

The rage in Dex went utterly still, like a calm before the storm.

You reached for the phone. “Yeah. I’ll—”

Dex walked towards you in three strides and you looked up too late.

“Dex—”

He snatched the phone off the stone before you could touch it.

Barnes’s voice crackled through the speaker, confused now. “What’s—”

Dex smashed it against the floor. It was loud, amplified by the echo of the hall. The plastic cracked and glass burst outward in glittering pieces. The speaker gave a shrill little whine, but not enough. It wasn't dead enough. 

Dex hit it again, harder, this time stomping it with his boots, the ruined device bouncing against the stone. A third stomp split the casing open. A fourth sent the battery skidding under the edge of the altar. He would have kept going until it was dust if your voice had not snapped him out of it.

“Dex!”

Dex froze over the pieces. For a second, the whole church held its breath.

Rain tapped against the shattered windows. Outside, one of the men he had left in the graveyard made a weak, wet sound and then stopped forever. The crypt light washed over you from below. Dex stood in front of you with blood on his hands, blood on his jacket, and the shattered remains of your phone between his boots.

You stared at it then at him as he took his mask off. 

You were not confused anymore. You were angry.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you demanded. “We got the cache. The lock is open. We can go!”

Dex laughed. It came out wrong, scraped raw in his throat. “You can go,” he said. “Maybe he can talk you through that too.”

Your eyes narrowed and your mind clicked into place to see just enough.

Not all of it, though. You could never see the full, ugly, pathetic cathedral of feeling he had built around every careless mention of Barnes’s name. Not the months of swallowing down jealousy. Not the way hearing Barnes’s voice had made Dex feel like he was standing outside his own body watching another man touch what he had never been allowed to keep.

Dex looked away because if he kept looking at you, he might say something dumb.

You stood slowly from the crypt steps. “You destroyed our only secure phone because Bucky helped me open a lock?”

“No.” The lie was so bad it was almost insulting.

You stared at him. “No?”

Dex’s teeth clenched once.

He had killed fifteen men outside without hesitation. Had moved through a kill squad like violence was language and he was finally fluent again. But this, standing in front of you while you looked at him like he was unreasonable, like he was the problem, like Barnes had not just reached through a phone and put his stupid vibranium arm around Dex’s throat.

“What, then?” you asked.

He said nothing.

Because if he opened his mouth, all of it would come out.

Because he called you doll and you smiled. Because you trusted his voice. Because he knew the lock and I didn’t. Because he had you first. Because he gets to be James and I’m your fuck buddy. Because I just killed fifteen men in the rain and came back to find you making plans with your ex-boyfriend to "catch up”.

Because I want to matter to you so badly I’m starting to hate you for not noticing.

He could not say any of that.

So he stood there, breathing hard, eyes fixed to a random point over your shoulder while the broken saints watched from the walls and the graveyard outside held the bodies of every man Dex had killed because rage was easier than asking you to choose him over that other man.

You stepped closer, anger burning bright in your face. “Dex.”

He looked back at you, and whatever you saw in his eyes made your own falter for half a second. 

Then the mission reasserted itself. 

You swallowed, “We need to move.”

Dex nodded once. “Then move.” 

—

Turns out, Hydra had hidden enough weapons under the crypt to arm a small war, packed in old military cases and reinforced steel crates stamped with symbols half-scraped away. Some of it was familiar: guns, charges, vials long since gone dark inside cold-storage cylinders, and files sealed in polymer sleeves. Then there were the stranger things, things that made even you go quiet while you put them into inventory: crystalline components, serum stabilizers, old prototype tech sealed inside glass casings with warning labels in Russian and German.

Half of it was water-sensitive, which became a problem when the storm thundered.

It came down hard over the village, wind screaming through the cracked bell tower, rain hammering against the broken stained glass until the whole church seemed to tremble. Water sheeted down the outer walls and leaked through the roof in thin, shining threads. 

Extraction was impossible because moving the cache would stupid. Trying to carry it out through that much rain would ruin half of what Charles needed and possibly kill both of you if one of the more unstable components reacted badly.

So you stayed. You and Dex packed what you could, sealed the crates, and wrapped the sensitive cases in altar cloths and plastic sheeting from your field bags. You worked in silence for nearly an hour, both of you moving around each other.

Neither of you mentioned the phone.

By the time everything was secured, Dex was sitting on the altar steps, forearms braced on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him. He had washed most of the blood from his fingers in a rain barrel near the side entrance, but some of it still clung beneath his skin. His jacket was damp. His hair was wet from outside. The scar on his cheekbone caught a bit of dirt and he hadn't bothered to clean properly.

You stood in the center of the altar above him, leaning back against the old stone podium with your arms crossed. The blue-white crypt light spilled up from behind you. The stained glass threw broken color over your face. The church was ruined, filthy, half-flooded by rain and full of weapons, and somehow you looked like you belonged at the center of it.

Dex tapped his knee twice, because he hated being silent with you.

Silence gave him time to feel things. Silence let the church fill with everything he was trying not to say. Barnes’s voice. He hated that he still expected to see you after the mission, as if he had the right to imagine your return, as if he had some claim on you after he dumped you.

Dex looked down at his hands and hated them for shaking. He lifted his eyes to look at you. You were staring out into the nave, not looking at him.

He should have apologized for the phone. He should have said something practical about the cache. He should have asked if you were cold.

Instead, because jealousy had been chewing through him for months and had finally eaten its way to bone, Dex asked, “Did you ever fuck Barnes in a church?”

The question should have been crude enough to make you angry. It was crude; Dex meant it to be. He wanted you to be angry at him. He wanted you to roll your eyes or call him a dickhead or throw something at him so the two of you could turn this into an easier emotion.

You didn't answer. You only looked away, and that was answer enough. 

His face changed before he could stop it.

“No,” he said.

You stayed quiet.

The rain struck the windows harder, wind dragging it sideways against the glass in long furious sheets. “No,” Dex repeated, as if he said it again the universe might take pity on him and rearrange itself. “No.”

Your arms tightened over your chest. “Once,” you said.

A stake through the heart would have been kinder.

He stared at you from the altar steps, and the whole church seemed to gather to watch a wound open. The broken saints, the pews, the stone columns.He could see it without wanting to. You, in another church, another place, another mission, Barnes with you. Barnes, touching you where Dex had touched you. Barnes, hearing you gasp in a place people were supposed to pray.

Dex’s fingers curled against each other. “Where?” he asked.

He didn't want to know. He needed to know.

You hesitated. That pause was its own kind of mercy and its own kind of murder. “On a pew.”

Dex looked toward the old pews in the nave.

They were rotting, dusty, half-broken, washed in fractured color from the stained glass. Innocent objects, really. Nothing but dead wood. But Dex looked at them and hated every church ever built. He hated every prayer ever said. He hated every saint carved out of stone and every man forgiven by grace he had not earned.

Of course Barnes got to make sin romantic.

Of course Barnes got to be the good man and still have that with you. None who came out of Hydra clean stayed clean all the way through, and yet somehow Barnes had managed to become holy in your memory anyway. Saint James with the metal arm. They should really make him a statue just to give Dex the satisfaction of smashing it into million pieces. 

You looked at him in a new light now. “Dex.”

Your voice had changed, like you had finally realized he had gone past ordinary jealousy and arrived somewhere even worse.

He stood, slowly, as if every movement had to be chosen. He climbed the altar steps toward you, hands loose at his sides, eyes fixed on yours, making the space between you feel dangerously thin.

You didn’t move away. You never did when you should have.

He stopped in front of you. You were still leaning against the podium, arms crossed, trying to look unbothered when the pulse at your throat had started to beat harder.

Dex looked down at you for one long second, then lowered himself to his knees.

Oh. 

Your breath caught before you could hide it. Your perspective seemed to realign around the sight of Benjamin Leonard Poindexter kneeling in front of you on cold altar stone, not mocking, not joking, not pretending. His hands came to your waist, firm but not rough, as if he were afraid that if he touched you too carefully he might fall apart, and if he touched you too hard you might scare. But no, you didn't scare easy.

“Did he worship you?” Dex asked.

Your eyes darkened. “Dex.”

He hated the warning in your voice. “Did he?”

You swallowed. “That’s not—”

“Don’t.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “You know what I’m asking.”

You looked down at him, anger and affection warring across your face. He had seen you covered in blood, shaking from nightmares, laughing over terrible coffee, bored while fighting men who should have known better. He had seen you naked under safehouse sheets and pretending it didn't mean more than bodies passing time. But he didn't think he had ever seen you like this: trapped by sincerity.

You didn't know what to do with someone kneeling. Especially not him.

Dex leaned forward before you could answer and pressed his mouth to your stomach through your shirt.

The kiss was placed at the center of you like he was making a promise beneath the fabric, beneath the skin, beneath the version of you that knew how to survive but not how to be adored.

You went completely still. Dex closed his eyes. “I would,” he confessed.

Your hand hovered for a second near his shoulder like you didn't know whether to push him away or touch him.

“I would,” he repeated, and his mouth moved lower, another kiss to your hip, then the side of your waist, then just above the place where his hand held you. “If you stopped dragging his ghost into every room we’re in, I would.”

The words should have made you angry again, but all you could feel was endearment.

Dex looked up at you from his knees, and whatever mask he had been wearing was gone. There was no dry comment, no mean smile. Jealousy, yes, but not only jealousy. There was want, devotion, and hurt, tangled together until it looked almost like worship already.

“I don’t think there’s a God,” he whispered, just enough for you to hear.

Thunder rolled over the church roof as if answering.

Dex laughed faintly, eyes still on you. “No, I don’t. I look at the world and I think there can’t be. Not a good one. Not a fair one. Not if your handlers can make places like Siberia. Not if they can put you in that chair. Not if they can take someone like Barnes and hollow him out and then hand him back to the world like the world is supposed to know what to do with him. Not if they can make me and still expect me to be grateful to be alive.”

His thumb dragged slowly over your waist, grounding himself. “Most days, I think if there is something up there, it’s either blind or cruel.”

You should have said something, but you could not.

Dex was looking at you like he had started confessing and didn't know how to stop, like the church had brought out the darkest parts of him, and now all the things he had swallowed for months were spilling out at your feet.

“And then I think of him,” he said, the word bitten off with bitterness. “James Buchanan Barnes. And I hate him. I hate him so much it’s stupid. It’s pathetic. I know that. I know exactly how pathetic it is, and it doesn’t help.”

Your lips parted, but Dex shook his head once, not letting you interrupt.

“He gets to be the good one. The Winter Soldier who became a hero. He gets to have done terrible things and still be looked at like the tragedy belongs to him instead of the people he killed.” His jaw flexed. “And maybe that’s fair. Maybe he suffered enough. Maybe he earned whatever peace he found. I don’t know. I don’t care. I can’t fucking care.”

Your hand lowered onto his shoulder. Dex’s eyes flicked to it, then back up at you.

Your touch was light, but he looked like it nearly undid him.

“But I care that he got you first,” Dex said, and that was the confession beneath all his sorrows. “He got to know you before me. He got the history, the forgiveness. He gets to be James. I get to be Benjamin when you’re mad at me and Dex when you want me and fuck buddy when you’re trying not to think.”

You sighed. He was wrong, and you wanted him to know. He was wrong, but he would not let you talk your way out of this.

“That’s not fair,” he whispered, and he sounded so furious with himself for saying it that it hurt. “That’s the part that makes me think there’s no God. Because what kind of divine hand puts you in the world and lets someone else find you first?”

The storm crashed outside, hard enough to make the stained glass tremble.

Dex leaned in again, pressing another kiss to your stomach, then another along your belt line, then to the top of your thigh through the fabric of your clothes, each one less controlled than the last but still reverent. Then he looked up at you again, eyes dark and fever-bright.

“But then I look at you,” he said, “and I think I’m wrong.”

You stared down at him. “About God?” you asked quietly.

“About there not being one.” Dex’s hands tightened at your waist, not enough to hurt, enough to say he was holding on to the thought with both hands.

“Because you don’t happen by accident,” he said. “You can’t. I don’t believe that. I don’t believe the universe is that careless. I don’t believe a bullet just missed and that’s why you’re here. I don’t believe you survived because Zemo’s aim was off by half an inch. I don’t believe you happened by chance.”

Your eyes darted, tears welling on the corners. He saw the exact moment the words went under your armor and found skin. Because that had been the story, hadn’t it? The only reason you were alive was because someone had failed to kill you correctly. You had built yourself around that fact, maybe without meaning to. You had seen yourself as the surviving mistake, the remaining weapon. Dex looked at you like he wanted to tear that version of the story apart with his teeth.

“No,” he said, as if you had argued with him. “No. Some divine hand must have made you. Something had to. Because you’re too—”

He stopped, jaw working, searching for words and hating that none of them were enough.

“You’re too… perfect,” he said finally, almost angry with how mild it sounded. 

A faint, wounded sound escaped you.

Dex rose slightly on his knees, still not standing, still keeping himself below you.

“Hydra tried to turn you into a weapon,” he said. “That’s all they know how to do. But they didn’t make you. They don’t get credit. They don’t get credit for who you are. They don’t get credit for the way you taste like rain after a fight or the way you stand in this ruined church like the whole place was built just to make light fall on you properly.”

Your fingers tightened on his shoulder, and they shifted slower to his neck.

When he looked back up, his voice had gone lower. “You are part of some grand design I don’t understand,” he said. “You must be, because if you’re an accident, then nothing means anything. If you’re just what was left after everyone else died, then the whole world is worse than I thought.”

He put his forehead against your diaphragm just so he could feel you breathe. For a moment, he just stayed there.

You looked down at him, and your hand moved into his hair. Carefully, like he was the dangerous thing and you were the one trying not to startle him.

Dex shuddered.

“You’re not an accident,” he said against you. “You’re not someone’s failed termination. You’re not his second chance story either. You’re not proof Barnes got better. You’re not proof of anything but yourself.”

Your throat tightened.“Dex.”

He lifted his head, and the look on face made your chest ache.

“I would worship you,” he said. “Do you understand that? I don’t mean I’d say pretty things and get on my knees because it looks good in a church. I mean I would build my days around it. I would make a liturgy out of it. I would become unbearable about it. I would be so devoted you’d hate me for it.”

You tried to breathe evenly, but failed.

“I’d worship the weapon too,” he said. “That’s the part you never understand. You think people only get to love one side of you? I want all of it. I’d kiss the knuckles you break skulls with. I’d kiss the bruises that heal before sunset. I’d kiss the scar tissue and the places they put needles and your pretty mouth that keeps saying his name because you don’t realize what it does to me.”

Your hand tightened in his hair, tugging, simply just because you knew he liked it.

He smiled faintly, almost ruined by it.

“There,” he murmured. “See? That. I’d worship that too.”

You looked down at him, eyes dark now, anger and heat and desire moving through them all at once. The storm had swallowed the world outside. The church smelled like rain, stone, old incense, blood, and the cold metal of Hydra crates waiting below. It should have been an ugly place. Maybe it was.

But Dex was on his knees in front of you, talking nonsense about God and design and worship like a man bleeding out through his mouth, and somehow the ruined church felt less like a tomb than a threshold.

“You’re insane,” you whispered.

“Yes,” he said immediately, like it was the easiest confession in the world.

That almost made you laugh, but the sound tangled in your throat and came out uneven.

Dex’s hands slid slowly from your waist to your hips, then back again, like he could not stop reassuring himself that you were close. His mouth brushed the side of your thigh through your clothes, then your hip, then your stomach again, each kiss more desperate than the last because the words had only made the wanting worse.

“I would,” he said again. “I fucking would.”

“Dex,” you called. When he looked up, you said, “Don’t make promises you can’t survive.”

For a second, the devotion turned visibly dangerous. “Oh,” he said certainly. “I’d survive you.”

You should have pushed him away.

Maybe that would have been kinder. Maybe that would have given both of you a chance to step back from the edge of whatever terrible, reverent sacrifice he had just placed at your feet. 

Instead, your hand slid from his hair to the side of his face, your thumb brushing over the scar along his cheekbone. 

For a second, you only looked at him.

Then you pulled him up.

You caught him by the front of his damp shirt and dragged him to his feet like you had run out of patience with being adored from a distance. Dex came willingly, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips as he rose into your space. He stopped close, eyes dropping to your mouth the second he was level with you.

“You want worship?” you asked, voice barely above the rain.

Dex’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

Your fingers fisted tighter in his shirt. “Then show me.”

Whatever restraint he had left vanished.

Dex kissed you hard, the force of it driving your back into the cold stone podium. Not like the cottage, not like that first furious interruption. This was worse: It had all the confession in it, all the jealousy. His mouth claimed yours like prayer and punishment at once, desperate enough to make you hiss into him.

Dex swallowed the sound like communion.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, needing proof that the woman he had just called divine was choosing him. The storm broke over the church in a roar, rain pouring through the cracks in the roof.

Before he could think better of it, he dragged you to the other side of the old stone podium, and your back hit the edge of it with a dull sound swallowed by thunder.

He turned you toward the pews. He knew exactly what you were. He knew that you could have thrown him halfway down the aisle if you wanted.

You didn't.

You let him guide you forward until your palms braced against the cold stone. You let him settle behind you. You grinded against him fully clothed, and he moaned anyway. His chest was your back, his breath hot in your ear. Let his hands move over you like he was both claiming and praying.

The empty seats stretched out before you in dark, rotting rows, facing the altar like an audience waiting for confession. Dex saw them over your shoulder, saw the ruined aisle, the broken glass, the blue glow from the crypt below. His imagination had the whole church watching. Every ghost, every ruined saint, every dead thing in the walls forced to witness the truth of what you had become to him.

His mouth found the side of your neck, then your shoulder, then the place just below your ear that made your fingers curl against the stone. 

Before you knew it, fabric shifted and zippers gave out. His touch grew greedier, less patient, dragging away layers of clothing like they offended him. 

“You’re perfect,” he said.

You swallowed hard. “Dex.”

“No.” His mouth pressed to your bare shoulder. You were naked now, your tactical trousers pooling at your ankles, while he was still annoyingly clothed. Surprisingly, it didn't feel humiliating. It felt thrilling. “You don’t get to argue with me about this.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You always do.” His voice was low, finally fumbling with his trousers. “You always act like it’s nothing, like you’re less than because you think you were made by them.”

His hands slid to your hips again. “But look at you.”

The storm roared overhead, and the church seemed to breathe around you. You could feel him behind you, all heat and muscle and restraint worn down to nothing. 

His hand came up to cover yours on the podium, fingers sliding between yours, pressing your palm harder to the stone. The gesture was grounding and possessive all at once. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you back against him, and his mouth found your ear.

“This is what worship feels like,” he whispered before bending you over to fuck you like you were delivering sermon.

—

An hour later, the storm had calmed down

Not stopped; not even close. Rain still sheeted against the broken church windows and slipped through the cracks in the roof in thin silver lines, dripping onto stone, into puddles. 

You sat together on the steps of the altar.

After wearing each other out, Dex had found the thermal blanket in your pack. He had pulled it free with hands that were still a little unsteady and wrapped it around both of you like the act of keeping you warm was something he could understand better than whatever had just happened between you.

You were tucked against his side now, shoulder pressed to his ribs, one of his arms around you beneath the blanket. Your clothes were still drying on the makeshift line you had made. Your hair was still a mess, your skin warm where his mouth had been. Dex had his chin tipped slightly downward, pressing his cheek to your temple.

He wasn't talking. This was how you knew he was still bleeding somewhere you could not see.

You shifted beneath the blanket, close enough that your knee brushed his. “Dex.”

His arm tightened slightly around you as a reply

You looked down at your hands, then out toward the ruined church. “You never had to worry about Bucky,” you said.

Dex went very still.

It was almost impressive, how completely he could vanish into his own body without moving at all. His breathing didn't change, but you felt something was off.

“I’m serious,” you added quietly.

He looked down at you then. There was no sarcasm in his face. There was only caution, like if he let himself want to believe you, it would become another way to get hurt.

You hated that a little. You hated that you had helped put it there.

“I don’t love him that way,” you said.

Dex’s brows furrowed.

“Not anymore, and I haven’t for a while. It got complicated towards the end, before either of us knew what to do with it.” You exhaled slowly, trying to make the words come out right. “But I don’t want him like that. I don’t think about him like that. I don’t want to touch him. I don’t want him touching me, not the way I want you.”

Dex blinked once.

I want you.

Did he hear that right?

His fingers tightened very slightly at your waist under the blanket.

You gave him a faint, humorless smile. “I know I talk about him too much.”

Dex looked away.

“I didn’t realize what it sounded like,” you admitted.

The rain filled the silence for a moment.

Then you said, “Bucky was... proof, I think.”

Dex’s eyes moved back to you.

You searched for the right way to say it. It was difficult. Not because you didn't know the truth, but because you had never had to explain it out loud.

“He was Hydra’s weapon,” you said. “And then he wasn’t. He was still damaged, but he was free. He chose things. He chose Steve and Sam, and the Wakandans and me. He chose to fight. He chose to stop being what they made him.” Your throat tightened around the next words. “I needed to know that was possible.”

You saw comprehension take form behind his eyes.

“When Steve was around, he was that to me, too,” you continued. “Not the Hydra part, obviously. But he was a super soldier who could’ve been used as a weapon by anyone with a flag and a speech, and instead he fought for what he believed in. He disobeyed when it mattered. He was made and still stayed his own.”

You looked out at the pews.

“And I never loved Steve like that. He was my friend. My irritating, Nazi-killing, righteous friend.” Your mouth curved softly. “And Bucky is my friend, too. Even now.”

Dex was quiet. You looked up at him again. “I think I talked about him because I didn’t know how else to explain what I wanted to become.”

Oh.

Dex stared at you like something had finally clicked into place.

Inside Dex, the jealousy loosened all at once.

It didn't disappear; he wasn't that kind of man. Jealousy didn't simply leave because it had been reasoned with. It would probably still bare its teeth the next time Barnes called you, because Dex was Dex and wanting made a monster out of him faster than anything else.

But he understood now.

Bucky Barnes had not been a rival in the way Dex had imagined. Barnes had been a direction, a fixed point. He was your fucked up version of a North Star.

Dex knew what that was.

Eileen Mercer, and then Julie Barnes had been that for him once. It was never really romantic, but rather a proof of concept. A person he had turned into a map because he didn't trust himself to know where goodness was unless someone else stood there holding it. 

Dex looked at you then, with the blanket tucked around your shoulders and your face softened by the blue gloom from the crypt. You had made Bucky into something similar. Not a lover you were still reaching for, but a symbol. A blueprint. 

It made Dex feel better. It also broke his heart a little, because of course you had done that. Of course you had taken a person and turned him into proof you could survive. Of course you had mistaken a man for a conscience because nobody had ever taught you how to trust your own direction.

You were more alike than he had realized.

Not in the neat ways. Not in the ways Charles’s files could measure. In pathetic ways. In starving ways. In the way both of you had looked at someone else and thought, if I stand close enough, maybe it’ll rub off on me. It was almost funny that you had found vastly different people that happened to have the same last name to call a moral compass, and somehow still ended up in each other’s arms. 

Maybe that was a confirmation of a higher power, and that they had a sense of humour.

You watched him carefully. “Say something.”

His mouth curved faintly. “You’re asking the wrong man.”

“No, I’m not.”

That got him a little.

His eyes dropped to your mouth, then back to your face. “You really didn’t know?” he asked.

“That it hurt you?”

He looked away, and you felt awful immediately.

“Dex.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. His hand shifted beneath the blanket, fingers finding yours, almost awkwardly. Dex stared at your joined hands.

“You called me your fuck buddy,” he said.

You winced. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought...” You swallowed. “I thought making it casual would make it safer.”

He tilted his head. “For who?”

You didn't answer fast enough.

Dex’s expression softened in the smallest, most devastating way. He understood that too. You had not called him casual because he meant nothing. You had called him casual because he had started meaning too much.

Your hand tightened around his.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Dex looked like he didn't know what to do with that. So you shifted closer, blanket rustling around both of you, and pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

For a moment, he stayed rigid. Then, his arm came around you properly.

“You’re not Bucky,” you said against him.

Dex made a faint, bitter sound. “Yeah, I got that.”

You lifted your head and looked at him. “I don’t want you to be.”

His face, when he looked back at you, was vulnerable the way you had never seen before

“I want you,” you said.

His eyes searched yours, suspicious of mercy, suspicious of happiness. Instead you gave him the truth plainly. “I love you, Dex.”

The words were not loud, but the church heard them anyway.

For a second, he looked almost frightened. Not of you, but of the fact that he now had something to lose. 

Your thumb brushed over his knuckles. “Dex.”

His eyes closed, just for a moment

When he opened them again, he leaned in slowly, giving you all the time in the world to pull away, and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you, too,” he said. It came out almost broken.

You smiled, and Dex looked at it like the storm could take the whole church down around you and he would still be exactly where he wanted to be.

Then he kissed you, not to shut you up or to prove a point.

He kissed you because he loved you, and for once, you had said it first.

"Nanny!" Cassian calls out from behind you, "Help me put this one up!" He scurries around one of the couches, nearly tripping over the garland he carries in his tiny hands. It was made out of colorful triangles, reds, blues, yellows and purples — each one printed with bold, white letters that spell out 'Happy Birthday'. You had gotten it at the store yesterday, among other props that were now scattered around the living room

Letting go of the balloon you had just finished tying, you turn to him with an arched brow. "Where do you want it?" You ask to which he points toward the fireplace. Following his line of sight, you note that the garland would indeed do good there. "Alright," You hum, already heading over to grab the roll of tape sitting on the coffee table, "Hand it over." 

You and Cassian had spent the past hour decorating the entire living room to the best of your abilities. Between using up all your lung capacity to blow balloons — most of which Cassian had let fly across the room again with giddy laughter — you had been placing all kinds of party-themed accessories around the beige furniture. 

It was important that the house looked as festive as possible, Cassian had said. And you were doing your best to live up to his expectations as you went about placing colorful streamers across the coffee table. 

The party hat perched on top of his head perfectly matched the rainbow cone on your own, held together by an elastic string that looped under your chin. They were part of the young boy's elaborate plan to a successful birthday party and he had two more prepared for the others when they arrived home. 

Jungkook had taken Rayne to see the children's grandparents around noon, giving you and her younger brother the early afternoon to make means of any necessary preparations. You had spent a good half an hour in front of the mirror in his bedroom, trying on different bow ties for him. 

Cassian insisted on wearing such, even though you told him that he'd look just fine with the light blue button up you had chosen. But he'd been adamant in his choice of wardrobe and there was no changing his mind. "I'm going to be handsome, just like Daddy," He'd said with a beaming smile. 

So there you stood, swapping navy blue for bright yellow, trying on a deep red and even black before finally coming to a unanimous decision on white. It contrasted his big brown eyes well, matching the set of teeth which he showed off with a shy grin. 

"Do you think they will like it?" Cassian quietly wonders as he fiddles with the tie around his neck. He was sat on the kitchen counter, watching with a small pout as you prepared the cake that had been cooling in the fridge since last night. 

"I reckon they will," You hum when reaching over to grab the purple candles on stand by. Sticking one of them into the cake, you add with a twitch of your lip, "I think you look dashing." 

The tips of his ears turn a bright shade of pink and Cassian averts his gaze as his cheeks puff out. Though he doesn't give a verbal response, the flush creeping up his neck before blooming across his face tells you that the compliment meant a great deal to him. 

Beyond that, a comfortable silence settles over the two of you. It wouldn't be long until Jungkook arrived back home with Rayne, ready for the celebration you and her brother had been setting up for the past two hours. In the meantime you occupy yourself with counting the candles you placed on the cake. 

Eight of them, all surrounding the letters you carefully iced. You and Jungkook had made it together last night — well, you had made it while he supervised. 

The Jeon house had been quiet, with both children asleep in their respective bedrooms, you had been whisking batter until late evening hours. After claiming that he knew little about baking, Jungkook took his spot by the kitchen island as he leaned against its counter — his gaze lingered on your frame a lot longer than it should. 

"Do you bake often?" He asked, keeping his voice low as he studied you a little too closely for comfort. 

You shrugged, teeth pulling on your bottom lip when you cracked an egg into the bowl, whisking it together with the sugar. "From time to time," You said when reaching for the soy milk that was substituting any dairy for Cassian, "It's more of a hobby I suppose." 

Jungkook hummed his agreement at that and through the corner of your eye you caught his gaze, dark yet undeniably soft around its edges. His arms were folded across his chest, head tilted a degree to the side like whatever held his attention did so wholeheartedly. 

It was impossible not to feel the weight of his eyes where they settled over you. "What?" You chuckled when the moment had grown so prolonged that you could no longer refrain from speaking on it. "Is there something on my face?" You asked, turning your head away as you reached a hand up to feel around for any abnormalities — though the course of action was more so used to shield the bashful expression you wore. 

"No," Jungkook said, and wether he picked up on your flustered state or not as he stepped closer was hard to tell. Even so, he made no comment on it. His arms unfolded from their resting place across his torso, they hung limp by his sides when he came to a halt beside you. His gaze dropped to the batter you mixed and the corner of his lip pulled into something unreadable. 

Then his attention had shifted to your face, to the awkward reality of his proximity that you tried in vain to hide. "Nothing at all." He mused, looking almost thoughtful where he stood. You watched as his fingers twitched against the outskirt of his thigh, curling into a loose fist before he brought his hand to your cheek. 

You had wondered if he felt the heat seeping through your skin — proof of how little control you seemed to harbor over your own blood pressure whenever he was around. 

"I just enjoy looking at you I suppose." He confessed quietly, brows furrowed as he regarded you. 

The words sounded so simple coming from his lips — but you knew it had taken him much to say. There was tension in his jaw, like he prepared himself for you to reject the advances he made. It wasn't like you ever had before yet he seemed to fear that you suddenly would. 

Though you'd been unable to conjure a proper response to his confession you had not dared slip away from the touch to your cheek, so you lingered in it as you exposed a shy smile to him. 

The moment seemed to last an eternity and yet when it came to a close as Jungkook stepped back — it had not seemed like nearly enough. His gaze returned to the forgotten cake mixture as his hands found their way to the pockets of his dress pants, wordlessly urging you to continue. 

From there you had been baking in silence, having followed the recipe as best as you could with Jungkook reading over your shoulder the entire time, warm breath fanning across your shoulder. 

As the sugary smell filled the kitchen and the cake rose in the oven — you'd realized that this was something you could easily become attached to — and that perhaps you already were. 

The sound of a key rattling its lock pulls you from the memory of last night and you glance up just in time to see Cassian jumping off the counter. "They're home!" He squeals, already headed for the hallway where the front door being pushed open could be heard. Quickly stuffing the cake back into the fridge, you head over to join the others. 

Having scurried off ahead of you, Cassian was already by his father and sister who had just stepped over the threshold. The chilly December air hits you first, the cold which they had brought inside with them now lingers and you inhale the frosty scent of winter. Snow still clings stubbornly their coats, though quickly melting into the fabric and leaving it damp. 

"Daddy! Daddy!" Cassian paws at his father's pants as he tries to grab his attention, "Me and nanny put up all the decorations, come look!" He eagerly attempts to tug his father along, uncaring for the fact that the man had yet to as much as get his shoes off. 

Jungkook remains unbothered by his son's enthusiasm as he sets the bag he'd been carrying down to instead haul the small child into his arms. "You're dressed up," He hums when fiddling with the bow tie around Cassian's neck, to which the latter nods quickly. 

"Nanny helped me pick it," He points proudly toward the accessory, "So I can be handsome just like you." 

The corner of Jungkook's lip twitches at that — not quite a smile, but close — his eyes find yours over Cassian's shoulder. "Handsome, hm?" He huffs, the comment his son had made lingering between you a moment longer. 

Clearing your throat, albeit loud in the quiet hallway, you pry your attention over to Rayne who stood beside him. She was dressed in a white blouse, its buttons done up to her chin. The plain jeans that had been paired with the top were held up by a small, black leather belt — its silver buckle glinting under the soft chandelier above. 

Her gaze is fixed to the floor, the frown on her face not matching that of a birthday girl. She does not turn to glance at neither her brother nor father. The bag Jungkook had been holding, which you presumed to contain gifts from her grandparents was left untouched even as she shed herself of both her coat and shoes. 

"Happy birthday!" You tell her excitedly, giving her a big smile in the hopes of it being reciprocated. It never is and Rayne only nods mutely in response. 

Having set her little sibling down again, Jungkook was now unbuttoning his own coat methodically. "Rayne, you don't ignore someone when they're speaking to you," He grunts, one hand landing firmly on her shoulder as he gives her a nudge in your direction. 

His daughter finally peels her eyes from the floor, turning them up toward you as she sends you a calculating look. "Thank you," She finally says, her voice low and unenthusiastic. 

Jungkook doesn't seem all too pleased with the response but wisely chooses not to push her further as he instead lets himself focus on the festive hats you and Cassian were wearing. He cocks a brow in its direction, silently demanding an explanation for the rainbow shaped cones on your heads. 

"Oh," Reaching up to instinctively adjust the hat, you chuckle lightly, "Cassian thought they would be a fun addition." 

Next to his father, the boy in questions nods, "Yes! There is one for you and Rayne, daddy." He's already back to tugging on his father's clothes, this time succeeding in his mission to steer Jungkook to the living room as he stumbles gingerly after his son. 

Rayne lingers by the shoe rack a moment longer, picking quietly at the sleeves of her shirt without making eye contact. The sound of Cassian's and Jungkook's retreating footsteps can be heard down the hall but she makes no move to follow them, and neither do you. 

"Did you have a good time with your grandparents?" You ask when peering into the bag her father had left by the door. It contained what looked like knitted sweaters — deep blues and greens — something she could easily wear during the colder season. 

Beside you, Rayne shrugs dismissively, not paying the presents much mind. "It was fine," She says as she lets her gaze wander across the hallway. When it finally lands on you there's no hostility in it, left is a quiet emptiness that you don't know how to fill. "We should probably go inside," She plainly states as she tucks her ponytail over one shoulder and heads down the same way her father and brother had disappeared. 

Cassian had self-proclaimed himself as both organizer and director of the entire birthday party — it was important that the event be named a party. That being said, you did not know if he actually wanted to celebrate his sister on her day, or if he was simply thrilled by the idea of spending his Saturday doing something other than studying in the library. 

Upon entering the living room he'd ordered that you take a seat next to his father while he hopped up beside Rayne on the couch opposite you. "You have to wear your hats!" He'd said as he nudged his sister with his elbow, pointing to the two rainbow shaped cones on the coffee table. 

Jungkook huffed, though didn't move to grab the hat his son had ordered for him to. But when the frown on Cassian's face doubled in its intensity, his features twisted into something akin to conflicted hesitation. 

With a resigned exhale that sounded an awful lot like defeat at a battle field, Jungkook leans forward to grab one of the hats that you and the young boy had prepared for them. He turns the plastic in his large hands, its rainbow colored pattern contrasting the ink on his fingers and the navy blue button up he wears. 

He said nothing when placing the cone on top of his head though the crease between his brows spoke for itself. Securing the thin band under his chin, Jungkook's lip tugs into a displeased grimace that he tries his best to hide — but you don't miss it. 

It was impossible not to laugh really — and a quiet giggle bubbled in your chest as you turned in your seat to get a better look at him. He appears strangely out of place with the childlike party hat on, and the bright colors do little to match the dark expression he sends you in return. Besides, the fact that the hat was sitting crooked on top of his head didn't exactly aid his case.

Jungkook raises a brow at you and it felt almost like a challenge, daring you to voice your opinion on his appearance. Perhaps you would have been inclined to, had it only been the two of you — but his son's eager smile on the other side of the coffee table makes you bite your tongue. 

"Wait," You say, reaching out to adjust the hat he wears with gentle hands. You try not to let yourself linger on the way his eyes followed the movement as you straightened the cone on top of his dark hair, fingers sliding under his chin to adjust the elastic rubber band that kept it in place, "There. All better." 

His gaze meets yours then — and you find him a lot closer than you had anticipated. Close enough to where if you leaned forward an inch or two, your noses would be sure to touch. You suddenly become acutely aware of the warmth his thigh provides where it presses against your own. 

But Jungkook makes no move to sit back, even when the spacious couch allows it. And he doesn't point out the fact that you had yet to let go of the elastic band that looped under his chin, your fingers idly brushing the sharp edge of his jaw as your attention lingered on his dark eyes. 

Cassian's giddy voice slices through the air and brutally startles you both from your trance. "Now we're all ready for the party!" He exclaims, thankfully oblivious to the way you had jumped from your seat as you scrambled to put more than an adequate amount of distance between yourself and his father. 

When glancing over to the sofa opposite you, you find that Rayne had already slipped on her hat as well, an expression of indifference masking her features as she regards her dad silently. 

Jungkook himself was clearing his throat lowly, gaze pointed to the table in front of him as he loosened the tie around his neck with rather jerky movements. And perhaps you were simply deluding yourself into seeing things that did not exist — but you could have sworn that the flush creeping up the back of his neck was real. 

"Presents!" Cassian turns to the small pile sitting on the coffee table, organized by none other than himself, "Which one do you want to open first?" He at least has the decency to ask his sister, though his hands were already reaching for a small, green package. 

Rayne merely shrugs, her eyes drifting over the selection before her with little interest. "I'll do that one," She says when pointing to the soft and awkward lump of brown that stands out among the clean-cut and rectangular presents with expensive looking wrapper. Her brother raises her a brow but doesn't question her choice as he hands it over.

You were admittedly not the best gift-wrapper, smoothing out edges and folding paper corners was not something you did for the fun of it. Most of the time you would have the store prepare it for you — but you felt that a personal touch was needed for this one, even if said touch was rather… unfortunate looking. 

Thankfully Rayne doesn't seem too bothered by the tape stuck in random places to keep the wrapper together. She tore it carefully but the sound of paper ripping was still deafening in the living room. 

Next to her, Cassian looked ready to crawl onto her lap to get a better look. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in anticipation as his brows rose and fell on his forehead with each breath he took. For a second it seems like he might urge her to hurry up, but one look from his father silences him with a pout. 

Jungkook, too, was watching his daughter unwrap the present you had gotten for her with interest that he didn't attempt to hide. His fingers were tapping his knee slowly, a rhythmical movement that appears involuntary as his gaze lingers on the wrapper that Rayne was piling onto the coffee table, careful not to let anything fall. 

She comes to a halt when the brown paper had been torn enough for her to uncover what was actually inside. You hold your breath as you gauge her reaction, teeth anxiously gnawing at your bottom lip when watching the surprise that strikes her features before they morph back into something unreadable. 

"What is it?" Cassian asks as he leans impossibly close, fingers curling around the edge of the cushion he sits on. 

Rayne remains silent, palm sliding across the purple fabric in front of her carefully. "A dress…" She finally murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. It was hard to tell if she actually liked it or not and her lack of enthusiasm made you waver as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

"I wasn't sure of your size.. So if it's an ill fit we can always go and get it exchanged," You say when rubbing one of your arms awkwardly. The quiet nod she gives you is far from comforting and you were almost certain she hated the gift. 

Next to you, Jungkook finally speaks up — his eyes have yet to leave his daughter, their attention hovering by the dress in her lap. "Hold it up," He says with a hum, leaning back against the couch as he studies the garment expectantly. 

Rayne does as she's told without objections, if not for the quiet sigh that slips past her lips. She stands from the sofa, fingers hooking around the shoulder straps of the purple dress as she holds it up for her father to see. 

The glitter that adorns the chest piece sparkles under the warm glow of the living room light, and the frills that flow seamlessly all the way to her feet sway gently as Rayne adjusts her grip on the garment. No one uttered as much as a word for ten long, painful seconds — even Cassian had gone quiet beside his big sister as the shimmer of the dress reflected in his big eyes. 

Jungkook exhales as he tilts his head to the side, letting his gaze drag up and down the lilac piece before it flickered to his daughter — almost like he was trying to picture her in it. 

"That looks like a princess dress," Cassian says, unable to keep his hands to himself as he reaches out to touch the frills carefully. "Will you wear it to the dance?" He then asks when peering up at her. 

Rayne's entire body goes rigid at the mention of the Daddy-Daughter dance, her lips pressing into a thin line as she avoids looking anyone in the eye. Suddenly the gift you had given her feels like more like a demand than the kind gesture you had been intending for it to be. 

Her brother doesn't seem to understand that the innocent question had struck a nerve, and he frowns as he awaits his answer. 

"It's pretty," Jungkook says as he leans forward, elbows bracing themselves on his knees. Rayne looks up at the sound of her father's voice, her wary gaze meeting his. "Don't you agree?" He then prompts as he nods toward the dress she still holds. 

It takes her a moment but in the end she gives a tiny tilt of her head. She seems intent to have the interaction end there but when Jungkook's eyes continue to linger expectantly she clears her throat softly. "Thank you, nanny," She says in a voice that sounds too small coming from her. 

The rest of the present opening went by rather smoothy with the other gifts all being from Jungkook. Pencils accompanied by a brand new notebook, a handful of novels, most of which you hadn't read up until your high school years. She smiled politely at each item, thanking her father before handing them over to Cassian who seemed all the more eager to explore the array of gifts. 

You wondered when Jungkook had found the time to purchase all of this — only two nights ago he claimed to have no idea what he was to get her. A small huff almost makes it past your lips, each gift seemed to align perfectly with what she would like and for a split second you wondered if the dress you picked had been too daring of a move. 

When the coffee table was covered in torn wrappers and each present piled neatly on the couch beside her, Cassian declared that it was time to move on with the celebration — more specifically the cake. 

"I'll show Rayne where she's going to sit," He says as he jumps from his seat, already extending a hand to his sister as he tugs her along toward the dining room. 

That left you and Jungkook seated on opposite ends of the same couch, staring blankly at the wrapping paper scattered across the table. You had barely spoken a word to the other since last night, and that was becoming painfully obvious right now. In an attempt to fill the awkward silence you reach forward to start cleaning up the mess that gift opening had left behind. 

"I'll do it," Jungkook grunts when grabbing some of the discarded paper, crushing it in his palm as he clears the table. He's not looking at you, too preoccupied with the task at hand to spare you a glance, which you're somewhat thankful for. 

The sofa announces your departure with a soft creak when you rise to your feet, hands clasped in front of you with little purpose. "I'm uh… I'll get you a trash bag," Pointing a thumb over your shoulder you then turn quickly on your heel as you head for the kitchen — already missing Cassian's loud and distracting giggles. 

"We need something to light the candles with," You said to no one in particular really as you rummaged through one of the many kitchen drawers. The cake had been pulled out from the fridge, now sat on the marble island behind you — awaiting only its lit candles before it was ready to be brought to the dining room. 

The hand on your hip startles you from your search and you just about manage to save yourself from slamming your head against the cabinet above. "You're looking in the wrong one," Jungkook murmurs, his voice coming in against your ear as nothing but a quiet whisper. 

He must have joined you in the kitchen once he finished cleaning up the aftermath of Rayne's gift unwrapping — but his arrival had slipped past you unnoticed — until now. 

Without waiting for you to respond, Jungkook leans over to open the drawer next to the one you had been picking through, the hand not on your hip curling around the silver handle, though not before brushing your elbow in a caress that could have easily been written off as accidental. 

"Here," He says when grabbing the box of matchsticks. There was nothing that betrayed any discomfort in him at your close proximity as Jungkook hands you the small box. He doesn't comment on the fact that your fingers brush his a moment longer, or that you had yet to close the previous drawer. 

Somewhere in the distance, Cassian's loud voice can be heard as he chats excitedly with his sister in the dining room. Despite the fact that Jungkook's frame covers your own where he stands — you still feel strangely exposed in the spacious kitchen, painfully aware of the consequences that would follow if one of the kids decided to appear at this very moment. 

"Thanks," You mumble, fist closing around the box as you push the drawer shut with a little more force than necessary. It's not until you turn around that Jungkook finally takes a step back, throwing a glance over his shoulder and toward the adjacent dining area, as though he shared your thoughts. 

When there was no sign of either children, he relaxes as he exhales through his nose. 

You, on the other hand, are already back to the cake — fingers moving with less coordination than normal as you strike a match. The flame takes to life on your third try, by that point your palms were already clammy and your heart beating erratically in your chest. 

Jungkook leans against the kitchen island, closer than he should, you think, as he folds his arms across his chest. The stick burns out by the time you reach the fifth candle and you fumble for another one when Cassian suddenly appears in the doorway. 

"Is it almost ready?" He asks in a hushed whisper, eagerly padding closer to peek over the kitchen island's edge, which he barely reaches over. 

Nodding, you hum an 'almost' as you strike the second match. Perhaps you had underestimated the tremble to your fingers, or maybe it was the awkward angle in which you tried to light the stick — but the flame ends up catching on your finger rather than the candle. 

The hiss slips past your unguarded lips and you nearly end up dropping the match all together as the sudden sting registers painfully. 

Jungkook's hand clasping around your wrist burns almost hotter than the fire and your first instinct is to pull away from his grasp. You hadn't seen him move from his spot by the marble counter top but now he was right beside you, chest brushing against your arm when he reaches out to take the match from your scalded fingers as he puts the flame out. 

Blinking in surprise, you crane your neck to meet his gaze. His brows are pinched together with barely concealed worry, dark eyes flitting between your hand and face. "Are you alright?" He rasps, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse as his thumb rubs the skin of your wrist gently. 

It takes a moment for his question to click and when it finally does you give a small jerk of your chin. "I'm fine, it's just a small burn," You murmur, gingerly trying to free yourself of his grip. 

Cassian had quickly made his way around the island and was now standing by your side. "Nanny!" He gasps a little too dramatically, "Are you hurt?" His wide eyes are fixed to the hand his father still cradles, bottom lip jutted out into a pout. 

Jungkook finally seems to realize that his son was present and he lets you go as he clears his throat, stepping back enough for your bodies to no longer touch. He picks up the discarded box of matches, muttering something about doing it himself as he avoids Cassian's gaze. 

"I'm fine, it was just—" You start only to be cut short by the young boy's frantic shake of his head as he grabs your sleeve and starts pulling you toward the sink. 

"Don't worry," He says when standing on his tip toes to reach the faucet, "I will help you. Daddy always says to put it in cold water." 

"Lukewarm water, Cassian." Jungkook mutters gruffly as he lights the remaining candles on the cake, "Not cold." 

The boy frowns at that but ultimately nods as he tries to adjust the temperature for you. His hand is tiny in comparison to your own when he grabs your wrist clumsily, guiding your injured finger under the running stream. "There, nanny," He says, "Do you feel better now?" 

You nod, giving him a small smile which he returns with one of his own. "I do, thank you, sweetie. I'm lucky to have you around, aren't I?" 

Cassian's chest puffs out proudly and he opens his mouth to say something else, only for his father to interject, "Why don't you go keep your sister company? We'll be done here in a minute." His voice had reverted back to the same authoritative one he would use whenever something was non-negotiable. 

His son seems to realize this as well and he lets your hand go reluctantly. "Okay…" He murmurs, sending you one last look of concern before heading back to the dining room, leaving you alone with Jungkook in the kitchen once more. 

You let the water run over your finger for another minute. The burn had already faded but it was a cheap excuse to not face Jungkook who had surely finished lighting the candles by now. 

"He's cute," You hum when reaching to turn the faucet off before drying your hands on the towel that hangs by the oven. Jungkook says nothing and when you turn you find him hovering over the cake silently. His shoulders carry that familiar tension that seemed to be apart of him and his palms are braced against the cool marble surface. 

Walking over to stand beside him, you let your gaze fall on the cake as well — admiring your creation for a moment with a satisfied nod. The eight candles around her name were now lit, the flames flickering slightly as they ate away at the purple wax. 

"I reckon we should hurry before they melt into the cake," You say, pausing as you await a response that never comes. 

Finally Jungkook heaves a breath, reaching for the baked goods as he gestures for you to walk ahead of him into the dining room. 

Rayne had very polite declined both your and Cassian's offer to sing for her, leaving the latter quite disappointed as he sank back in his chair. Though his spirits were quickly lifted once the cake was placed on the table — the same table you and him had spent so long decorating to fit the theme of the party. 

"Make a wish," You had said as she blew out the candles. Seconds later Cassian had started prying her for details on said wish to which you told him that revealing it would make it lose its effect. 

He'd frowned then, "But how will the people who makes the wishes come true know if she told me?" 

When you had explained that those people knew everything he stiffened, wide eyes searching yours with worry. Rayne muttered something about wishes not being real, only for Jungkook to quickly shoot her down so to not ruin the experience for her younger brother. You had then helped her cut the first slice and the four of you shared the meal in comfortable silence. 

The birthday party — though rather small — was still a success in your book. 

After eating you and Cassian had stayed in the kitchen to clean up. Having the young boy by your side as you did the dishes was starting to become a habit. His presence was distracting, much so that you hadn't noticed both Rayne and Jungkook's departure until you finished drying off the last plate. 

Leaving Cassian on the couch in the living room, you promised to return after a trip upstairs to fetch the deck of cards Rayne kept in her bedroom. 

The steps groan and creak loudly under your weight when you climb them. One hand resting on the banister and nothing but the upcoming game on your mind, you made your way down the hall leisurely before stopping dead in your tracks at the sound of quiet conversation — coming from the room you had been headed toward. 

Hesitating for only a second, you then carefully approach the source of your newfound curiosity. 

You hadn't meant to eavesdrop, not really anyway, but the door to Rayne's bedroom had been left ajar and the murmured voices coming from inside pulls you closer like a dog on a leash. Stopping just out of sight, you manage to peer through the slivered crack the door allows, both your ears and eyes straining to catch what was going on inside. 

Rayne sits on the edge of her bed, shoulders slumped inward and her hands resting limply in her lap. Her brows are pulled together with something heavy, lips pursed as she lingers in silence. 

Jungkook is perched on one knee on the floor before her. His back is turned to you, the expression he wears is impossible to make out, but it was undoubtedly his voice that you had heard. It's soft, a lot softer than you think you'd ever heard it before — he spoke slowly, almost like one would in the presence of a frightened animal. 

"Is there a reason why?" He asks, hands resting on top of his knee as he awaits his daughter's answer. 

It takes Rayne a moment to respond. At first she merely shrugs, turning her head in the direction of the window as she stares at the setting sun outside. The crease on her forehead deepens and she exhales a short breath. "I just don't want to," She murmurs, her tone indifferent, had it not been for the way she cracked on the last syllable. 

Her gaze shifts toward the door, like she was just noticing it not being fully closed. For a moment you think she might've caught sight of you and your heart jumps to your throat as you fall back silently. But then she simply turns her attention to her intertwined fingers where they rest on top of her legs. 

"It's next Friday," She then adds lowly, "Aren't you busy?" 

She was using the same excuse she had been using on you in the library two days ago, offering both of them a quick exit without ever actually addressing it. But Jungkook doesn't take her bait as he instead shakes his head slowly. "No," He says without missing a beat, and you watch as his hands uncurl from his knee to find hers. 

Her hands are tiny in his palms but Rayne doesn't pull back from the contact. When she lifts her dark eyes to meet his they're guarded and the frown on her face has yet to ease up — almost like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

"I can't dance," She blurts, the admission coming out almost defensively as she sends her father a calculating glance — in that moment she looked just like Jungkook. Even her jaw clenched in the same way his did, the way that always had you wondering whether he was in actual pain or not. 

Jungkook exhales, thumbs rubbing over the back of her hands slowly. "Neither can I," He admits in the same soft tone he'd been using all this time. You see him tilt his head back just enough to peer up at her where she sits — to which Rayne turns her nose the other way with a conflicted expression. 

"We have to practice," He muses, as his thumbs moves to her wrists, fingers encircling them gently. 

"Practice…" Rayne mutters, like the idea only ridiculed the situation further. Her gaze shifts to the purple dress laying beside her on the mattress. The lilac shimmers were highlighted in the setting sun, their sparkles reflecting the half of her face still visible to you. 

Jungkook loosens the hold on her wrist when Rayne lifts her hand toward the dress. Her fingers are careful, hovering just shy of the lace frills before caressing them reverently. 

"It's pretty isn't it?" Jungkook says as he follows the movement. 

You long to see his face, your feet inching you closer to the threshold before stopping yourself as you realize what kind of moment you would be intruding on if you made your presence known — so you keep quiet, trying to picture the serene expression he might bear. 

Rayne nods slowly, her fingers curling around the long skirt. "It is," She quietly agrees and the two single words are enough to make your heart swell in your chest. The frown that had sewn her brows together was finally easing, and she straightened up a fraction as she continued to regard the garment next to her. 

Jungkook waits patiently, never rushing her to speak as he instead turns his attention back to her hand that he still cradles between his own, allowing the back of his fingers to run along her open palm. 

A minute passes, maybe even longer — it was hard to tell when the moment sucked you in so completely. Not until Rayne turns her attention back to her father is the silence broken again. "Do you think I'll look as pretty as her?" She asks, almost solemnly. 

Whoever it was she was speaking of did not need to be addressed by name — for Jungkook's shoulders tensed as soon as the words were uttered. It was brief, almost nonexistent and had you not been watching his back so intently you would have probably missed the tense beat that lasted only a second. 

He relaxes again with a sigh, his thumb pressing against the inside of her wrist gently. "Mm," Jungkook hums, "Prettier." 

Rayne immediately shakes her head, the crease on her forehead returning as her lips tug into something displeased. "That can't be," She huffs, averting her gaze to the window, "I thought you said she was the prettiest girl in the world." She almost sounds ready to argue if it came down to it. 

Jungkook sits quietly on the floor for a while, his head lowers slightly like he was considering something. When he picks it back up again he does so slowly, large hands squeezing around hers gently. 

The ponytail no longer held all of her hair, with a strand coming undone as it framed her face. Jungkook reaches up, inked fingers catching the dark lock as he lets it run between them. "I must have been out of my mind back then," He says as he tucks the loose strand behind her ear, "Because I'm looking at her right now." 

Rayne's eyes flicker back toward Jungkook and she actually manages a small smile, just enough to reveal tiny dents in her cheeks that you had never seen before and you feel your heart stutter at the sight. 

Jungkook lets his hand drop back to cover hers as he gives it a squeeze and whatever he says next becomes muffled as you close the door once more — deciding to return them their privacy. 

The second it shuts behind you however, a squeaky voice startles you. "Nanny," Cassian is standing by your side with a hopeful grin, for a second you worried that he might've caught you intruding on his father and sister, though thankfully there seems to be other things on his mind. 

"Do you think I can have another slice of cake?" 

── [ ✉️ ] Yes, happy birthday Rayne, I love you so much my daughter who I created and treasure like my own. Please come talk to me about the chapter, unless you hated it, then please don't tell me that because I will get quite sad... Okay, love you ladies endlessly <3

November passed in dreary fashion, just like it did every year. The days grew shorter and colder to the point where you had to force yourself out of bed in the mornings. Waiting by the bus stop for a brief five minutes suddenly felt eternal and commuting back and forth to class became a dreaded part of your routine. 

This winter felt harsher than the last. It came quicker, catching both you and your wardrobe off guard. The layers of clothes you threw on each morning did little against the biting frost and you realized that you would need to replace the worn out sneakers you had been housing for the past twelve months. 

Suppose there was some comfort to be found in the warmth of Jungkook's car. It had started out as a one time thing, the call came no less than a week after he'd dropped you off at home — with him telling you that he happened to be in your area for a meeting and offered to pick you up before getting the children from school. 

Then it happened again a few days later. He used the same excuse, brought up the same proposal, and you accepted. After picking you up a forth time he stopped calling. But when you left your apartment you would always find the familiar sight of his black car, parked just outside your door.

The ride was brief, no more than fifteen minutes later were you outside the large building of the children's school. He didn't talk much, Jungkook never really did, though some days he would ask about your classes — eyes finding yours every now and again as you rambled on about upcoming exams. His responses were short but you could tell that he was paying attention. 

Neither of the kids questioned this new arrangement. Cassian, for his part, only seemed happy at the prospect of getting to see you earlier as he went on about his day, eagerly chatting all the way home from his spot in the backseat. 

Rayne sat quiet, her gaze trained to the windows — occasionally drifting between you and her father, but she said nothing. 

The first snow came in tandem with the month of December. You had barely made it through a week before the ground was coated in white. Cassian was ecstatic, eagerly tugging on your sleeve as he begged to go outside and play. You had tried to tell him that there was not enough snow yet to actually make anything of it, but the young boy was insistent. 

You spent a good hour outside that day. And even as the tip of his nose turned a bright red and his cheeks dusted pink — Cassian did all he could to stay out in the garden for as long as possible. It wasn't until you had threatened him with the possibility of a fever that he'd finally let himself be led inside once more. 

Today the sun was hiding behind the thick clouds imposing on the sky. Though it was no later than three pm, the world outside still seemed dark. The library was quiet, save for the soft scribble of Cassian's pen as he practiced his hand writing for class. 

Rayne was sitting beside you, occasionally flipping through a page in her textbook as she read. Her birthday was coming up in two days and you had been meaning to ask her if there was anything she wished for. So far you'd been met with shrugs and pursed lips as she told you that there was nothing in particular that she wanted. 

Fingers drumming against the table softly, you study her silently. Her wardrobe was very simple, consisting mostly of muted colors and long pants. Given the colder season you hadn't expected her to go all out in skirts and dresses, but a quick peek into her closet yesterday had proven that she did not own any to begin with. 

You thought about hair clips only to decide against it. Rayne did not do much with her hair aside from the simple ponytail it would be thrown into. She wore no bracelets, you wondered if she'd even appreciate you getting her one. 

Then there were the books… Your gaze lingers on the text book in front of her, wondering what kind she would like, if there was anything she hadn't read before. That's when the flicker of purple catches your attention. Shoved underneath the open book, you could make out the thin lilac paper, almost intentionally hidden from view. 

"What's that?" You ask before being able to stop yourself, one finger reaching out to tap against the paper's corner. 

Rayne pauses, dark eyes snapping from the paragraph she'd been fixated on and over to where you were pointing. Her shoulders stiffen, hands curling a little tighter around her homework. She hesitates, obviously aware of both your and now Cassian's stare as she fiddles with the page idly. Reluctance is written across her face but in the end she pulls the sheet out from underneath her text book. 

It's a poster. Dark purple hues with lighter swirls and what appears to be the silhouette of a young girl in a dress. You study the picture for a moment before briefing over the bold text written by the top. 

"A Daddy-Daughter dance?" You muse, brows lifting on your forehead as your attention returns to the shadow of the girl on the poster.

For a moment you're transported years back, to when your own school would host those annual balls. That night had been the best of the year. Getting to dress up and have your dad lead you to the dance floor — where you had felt like a real princess, someone straight out of a fairytale. 

Your father hadn't been the greatest dancer, the old moccasins which he refused to take off were certainly not of any help either. In fact the two of you would stumble over each other's feet more than actually dance, giggling awkwardly as he saved the ordeal by twirling you around on the spot — and yet the memories remains one of your fondest ones. 

Glancing over at Rayne, you try to picture her in a flowing dress, her hair let go from the confines of the ponytail and a shiny necklace around her neck. Perhaps she could even let you paint her nails a sheer pink? 

Cassian interrupts the momentary silence as he butts in with a question of his own. "What is that?" He sounds genuinely curious, wide eyes tracking the poster in his sister's hands. But Rayne only sends him a sharp glare, quickly shoving the paper back under her textbook like she wanted to forget the subject being brought up in the first place. 

"It's an event your school organizes," You say as you lean back in your seat, gaze flickering between both children — the elder looking quite miserable at the prospect whereas her younger brother seemed excited. "All the girls are meant to dance with their dads," You explain with a vague gesture in her direction. 

Cassian perks up at that, "Will Rayne and Daddy dance together?" 

You nod but before you can get as much as a word out, Rayne cuts you off with a short scoff. "I'm not going," She says, head bowed and her gaze back to the text book in front of her as she pretends to read. Her shoulders were stiff as a board, lips pressed into a firm line as she avoids looking at any of you. 

"Why not?" Turning in your seat, you lean your elbow against the chair's back rest as you give her a long once-over. "The Daddy-Daughter dance is one of the most fun parts of the school year." 

Rayne simply shakes her head mutely, fingers fiddling with the corner of the page, debating on turning it. "Because I don't want to," She spits out, brows pinching together across her forehead. Tension radiates off of her in hot, tightly coiled pulses. 

After a pause she adds, "Besides, father probably doesn't want to either." She gives a shrug, hiding behind the excuse, "He's busy anyway." 

Silence falls over the library as soon as the words leave her and Rayne does her best in ignoring both you and her brother as she returns to her homework. Cassian looks as though he wants to say something else but the look you send his way makes him back off again. 

The sound of scribbles on paper and a page being turned crowds the now thick air. Slumping back in your seat with a resigned exhale, you decide to drop the matter again, for now at least. 

Going back to your job as the children's nanny after what happened between you and Jungkook hadn't been difficult. Spending time with them felt just like normal, however, spending time with them in the presence of their father — was close to torture. 

Thankfully he'd worked late enough for you to have dinner with the kids alone today, which ended up being re-heated leftovers. Dishes were done with the help of Cassian who dried them meticulously before handing them to his sister who placed them aside. The atmosphere had remained warm despite your conversation with Rayne in the library.

But it was in the midst of your regular pre-bed time run — which involved making sure the younger actually brushed his teeth rather than shoving the toothbrush around in his mouth — that the knock to the bathroom doorframe had startled all three of you. 

None of you seemed to have picked up on the sound of the front door unlocking — though it might've been difficult given how loudly the children had been bickering which each other just moments ago. Though all conversation fell flat as you turned toward Jungkook who stood in the doorway. 

He's dressed in work attire, the tie around his neck still in place — signaling that he had arrived back home just now. Hands buried into the depths of his pocket, Jungkook lets his gaze shift between the three of you slowly. 

Aside from his newly developed habit of picking you up before the kids, little had changed between the four of you, if not for the way his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than they should before he forces them back to Cassian again. It was subtle, enough for only you to pick up on, enough for only you to feel strangely awkward all of a sudden. 

"Daddy!" His son gargles around the toothbrush in his mouth, looking like he wants to run up to his father, though restrained by the hand you keep on his arm as you attempt to clean his teeth. 

Jungkook lets out an amused exhale where he leans against the doorframe. "Have you had a good time?" He asks, his voice betraying nothing but interest in his child. 

To that Cassian nods again, nearly knocking the toothbrush from your grasp and you adjust your grip with a small huff, unable to keep the smile off your lips. "A rather long one I'd say," You pull your hand back to nudge him in the direction of the sink so that he could spit. 

Cassian rushes over to rinse his mouth, leaving you crouched on the floor next to Rayne who had just finished patting her face dry with a small towel. She hadn't said much since your last conversation, only communicating through nonverbal cues and short, curt responses. 

Part of you wants to bring up the Daddy-Daughter dance right now since Jungkook was here. Another part of you knows that she won't appreciate the gesture and you keep silent. 

After loudly spitting the remnants of toothpaste under the running faucet, Cassian is on his father in an instant, tiny arms curling around the fabric of his dress pants tightly. Jungkook's brows twitch at the sight of his perfectly ironed clothes being so carelessly pawed at, but makes no comment on it as he bends down to lift the young boy into his arms — much to Cassian's delight as he squeals. 

Pushing yourself to your feet, you turn toward the little boy's folded pajamas resting on top of the counter, to grab it for him, seeing as Jungkook had his hands full. 

Your fingers are just shy of touching the soft fabric when his voice suddenly fills the bathroom, only this time it's much closer. "It's alright, I've got it." Jungkook had moved from his spot by the door, his son still cradled in one arm as the other reached for the same clothes you were. 

He seems to realize his mistake halfway through, shoulders tensing beneath his button up when his pinky brushes yours. The touch is brief, barely there at all, but it shoots through you like fireworks. 

Without meaning for it to, your head snaps in his direction, eyes widening as they meet his dark ones. Jungkook is watching you with a guarded expression, and though you know you should turn away, neither of you seem able to. Cassian rests his forehead against his father's chest — oblivious to the unspoken emotions surrounding him. 

"I'm sorry," Jungkook finally grunts, withdrawing his hand where it had lingered next to yours. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he averts his gaze, arm falling limp by his side. 

You blink, tearing your attention away from him and back to the folded pajamas that now stare back at you tauntingly. "It's okay," You manage to murmur when grasping the light fabric tightly, avoiding looking directly at him as you hand over Cassian's sleep wear. 

He takes it from you just the same, and this time your fingers don't touch. 

With a subtle tilt of his head he adjusts his hold on his son. "Tell everyone goodnight," He says, keeping his eyes solely on the young boy in his embrace. 

Lifting his head just enough to peer at you through his lashes, Cassian hums tiredly. "Goodnight, nanny," He says, gaze flitting over to his sister, "Goodnight, Rayne." He receives only a tiny nod in response but doesn't seem too upset about it as he curls back against his father's chest. 

Jungkook turns on his heel, not sparing you another glance as he heads out of the bathroom and down the hall with a sleepy child in his arms. 

Only once his presence no longer takes up the space you stand in do you manage to look up at the mirror. In its the reflection you find Rayne already watching you. Her brows are tugged together and her lips pursed, though she makes no comment on what she had seen, if she had seen anything to begin with. 

"You ready for bed?" You ask, plastering on the most convincing smile you could manage, hoping and praying that she would not catch the slight tremble to your voice. 

Rayne simply shrugs, hanging the small towel on the edge of the sink before sighing, "I guess I am." 

Inside the living room the air is warm and outside the night grows darker and colder. Most of the heat radiates from the fire in front of you, the one Jungkook had already lit when you returned downstairs after closing the door to Rayne's bedroom. 

The flames dance across your face, casting half of it in shadows and you blink slowly. Watching the embers spark from the firewood was a welcome distraction as you tried to sort through the thoughts inside your head. Saturday was only a day away and you had yet to think of a suitable gift for Rayne. 

"What do you think she wants?" 

Your questions hangs between you for a moment and you listen to the crackle of the fire. Children were usually very easy to please. A stuffed animal, the newest shiny, plastic toy — anything other than the thick knitted socks that would cause instant frowns and awkwardly plastered on smiles. 

Rayne was difficult. Truth to be told, you had been mulling over her birthday present for a near week at this point. She was incredibly difficult to read, not one to share much about anything that interested her. You had carefully brought it up in passing as you closed her curtains before bed, but she had only huffed noncommittally and said that it did not matter. 

Jungkook wasn't of much help either. In fact the hands he keeps on your hips were working you in the opposite direction. His breath is hot against your shoulder when he hums, "She'll like whatever you get her." The response does little to aid you on your quest to find his daughter a suitable gift 

Arms folded in determination, you stare at the flames that engulfed one another, wishing they could just magically provide you with an answer. "But I don't know what to get her," Frustration seeps into voice, brows pulling together as you heave a breath.

The caress of his fingers where they slip under the hem of your shirt makes your thoughts instantly derail and you suppress a shudder. "Seriously, you're not exactly helping me out here," You mutter, trying not to think about just how close he was standing, the fact that you could feel the steady rise and fall of is chest against your back. "What are you getting her?" 

Behind you, Jungkook inhales, nose skimming along the lines of your shoulder. "Haven't thought about that yet," He admits, palms splaying across your waist. "My daughter isn't exactly on my mind right now." His lips brush against the collar of your shirt — dangerously close to the exposed skin of your neck. 

While you and Jungkook both danced around one another with the children present, tip toeing like you were walking on fragile eggshells — he was much different the second the door closed behind you and the prying, curious eyes of Rayne and Cassian were nowhere to be seen. 

It had flustered you the first time. You had been washing up after dinner after putting the kids to bed, lost in your own thoughts, you hadn't heard him descend the stairs — leaving his study behind in favor of seeking you out. 

Jungkook's hand had found your elbow, the touch feather light and yet it had still startled you into dropping the glass you were washing. He'd chuckled, like the reaction endeared him, perhaps even amused him. 

He never explained his actions and you never questioned them. Perhaps because there was no need to. You both knew that what you were doing was selfish. Yet you cannot will yourself to push him away, not as you stand in by the warm fireplace, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw tenderly. 

Jungkook doesn't kiss you, he hasn't since that day — not properly at least. The soft pecks to your lips made butterflies swarm your stomach, as did the ones to your cheeks, temple and neck — sometimes they would be enough. 

His words echo in your ears when his hands dare their way entirely under your shirt, palms hot against your naked waist. "Well she should be," Your voice cracks on the last syllable, slicing through the intimate moment like a knife and crushing it under its sharp blade. 

Finally, Jungkook pulls his face from where it had been buried in the crook of your neck. His touch disappears from your skin as he withdraws his hands, though he does not let go of you, fingers hooking around the belt loops of your jeans when you reach into them to pull out the folded paper. 

His chin is a solid weight against your shoulder and you can feel his gaze where it follows the movement of your fingers, unwrapping the poster for him to see. 

The same purple hues look much different in the warm glow of the fire, as do the silhouette of the girl in the center. You can feel his deep intake of breath as he undoubtedly reads the bold 'Daddy-Daughter Dance' for himself. 

At the very bottom the accompanying date you had previously missed sits: 17th December. Only eight days from now. 

"Rayne doesn't want to go." You say, thumb tracing the edge poster's edge slowly. Not needing to crane your neck and look at him, you could easily picture the furrow of his brows. 

Jungkook remains silent for a long moment, exhaling a hot puff of air against the side of your face. "So?" His fingers flex against the hem of your jeans, "She won't have to go if she does not want to." He sounds awfully casual about his response and for some reason it makes you frown. 

Turning around to face him causes Jungkook to straighten up, his hands returning to your hip. "That's not it—" You begin but cut yourself short to chew on your bottom lip before you let it go again, "I think she would like it. If she gave it a chance I mean." 

There's a tension to his features that makes you almost uneasy. He has yet to speak, thumbs rubbing absent circles into your hip through the cotton of your shirt as he considers his response. 

"Dancing?" He asks, cocking a single brow as he lets his gaze drop to the forgotten poster in your hands. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, the crease on his forehead deepening a fraction. "At their school I presume?" The implication he never voices is clear — teachers, parents, the committee hosting the entire thing. All the people he did his best to avoid. 

You can see the hesitation that dances across his eyes, the tight line of his jaw and the fact that his soothing touch to your waist had seized. 

For a brief moment you think he might actually kill the idea all together. Rayne had already made her disinterest clear and Jungkook did not seem too fond of it either. That left… You. 

Swallowing down another plea for him to reconsider, you keep quiet where you stand. The poster crinkles as your grip hardens, the sound ripping through the silence, accompanied only by the erratic beating of your heart as it thunders against your chest. 

Jungkook sighs, his shoulders slumping just enough to let you know that he was caving. He nods then, "I'll talk to her about it." 

It wasn't an explicit yes, nor did it sound like he was overly thrilled by the ordeal. But it was something, and that something made your chest warm in a way the fire behind had been unable to. 

Wordlessly tugging you closer, Jungkook leans in just enough to let his lips hover above yours. Your breath becomes caught in your throat, eyes fluttering in anticipation for a kiss you know will not come — not in the way you want for it to. 

The peck is quick, a brief touch that is gone all too soon. He directs another on to your cheek and there he lingers a little longer. But when he pulls back, which he inevitably would, you find yourself chasing a moment that was never there to begin with. 

Uncertainty drains from you the second your lips press against his, harder than he would ever let himself touch you. It catches him off guard, you can tell by the way he remains frozen against you for an agonizingly long three seconds. But when your fingers curl his tie and give the fabric a soft tug he breaks. 

Jungkook kisses you back the way you had longed for him to since that afternoon in his kitchen. His tongue is almost shy when it meets yours, the caress gentle and familiar in a way that is so him. 

His hands are heavy on your hips, fingers flexing like he was torn between pulling you closer or further away. In the end your chest ends up pressed against his and had you not been so lost on how he feels, you could have probably made out the thump of his heart. 

When you part to draw in more air, he lets his forehead connect to yours. His eyes are half lidded something neither of you will name, you're sure yours look the same. 

"Dangerous," He whispers when he lifts a hand to have the back of it stroke your cheek. You lean in to the touch, savoring it before it disappears. Despite his statement, Jungkook does not let you go — perhaps he wishes to live in this reality for just a little longer too. 

The mall was as crowded as you would expect for it to be on a Friday afternoon. Crying children who didn't get what they wanted and stressed out parents helplessly tugging them along as they sent by standers apologetic glances. You had to swerve your way through the masses of people, politely cutting past an elder couple as you made your way further inside. 

Christmas pop-ups were plastered in each display window, blinking lights and carols sparking through on the speakers. Radiant pops of red and green adorned the railings running around the upper floor — a large tree placed in the middle of the mall, nearly reaching the glass ceiling. 

You had already ventured inside two toy stores, weighing plushies of all sizes in your hands before putting them all back with a shake of your head. For all the shelves you'd scanned from top to bottom there hadn't been a single toy that screamed 'Rayne' and so your search continued as you wandered along the big shopping center. 

Perhaps you had been a little too lost in thought. It was easy to just be pulled along, not watching your step — or who was walking in front of you for that matter. But the tall man in a suit suddenly swerving past you sure made you come to an abrupt halt. 

He brushes in front of you with little mind as to where he was going, seemingly uncaring for whoever he took down in his way. You had been fortunate enough to just barely steer out of his way, only the next person wasn't. 

The sound of the tall stranger's muttered curse is surprisingly loud against the ambience of the mall. You watch as he knocks an elder lady over, the shopping bag in her hands falling to the floor and the items scattering between their joint bodies. The man pays the unfortunate interaction little mind, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve before continuing as though nothing had happened. 

You have half a mind to chase after him, demand he apologize for his ignorance and lend a helping hand. But your thoughts short circuit when your eyes meet a pair of familiar ones. You should've recognized the mess of grey hair, thrown into a bun, or perhaps the soft crinkle around the lips that stretched into a sheepish smile — but standing in front of her, it all becomes clear. 

"Mabel."

Exhaling her name, you take a step forward to close the distance between you. "Are you okay?" Glancing between her somewhat disheartened expression and what you presumed to be presents, scattered across the floor — you quickly gauged that she wasn't. 

"Oh hi, dear." Comes the old woman's voice. Despite the unpleasant collision with the most arrogant man, she still greets you warmly. 

You fall to your knees without hesitation, already reaching for the bag he'd knocked from her hands, ignoring her ushered objections as you help her gather the gifts she had been so close to losing. "It's okay, let me do it." You tell her with a small smile, not wanting her to exert herself over something that you could easily handle in her stead. Mabel lets you with obvious reluctance, wrinkled fingers curling around one another as she allows you to assist her. 

It doesn't take you long to have the various items stored back in their designated bag and when you rise to your feet, you hand it to her gently. 

Mabel sends you a grateful look when she takes it from you, clutching it tightly to prevent a possible repeat. "Thank you, dear." She says, and you can tell by the warmth in her voice that she means it. Her gaze meets yours, and it is then she seems to realize that it was you she was standing before. 

"My, what a coincidence it is to run into you here of all places." She says, studying you closely, almost like one would a loved one they hadn't seen in a while. "Are you out Christmas shopping as well?" 

You hesitate, tongue tracing the roof of your mouth before nodding, "Yeah, something like that." Chuckling awkwardly when her attention drops to your very much empty hands, evidence of your lack of success thus far, you lift one to rub at the back of your neck, "Didn't realize this place was going to be so crowded." 

Mabel opens her mouth as if to say something else, though never gets the chance to as a man suddenly steps up beside her. He's tall, surprisingly so, easily towering over the old lady next to him as his shadow engulfs her whole. 

"There you are," He says in a voice smooth as silk that still does little to hide his worry. "I thought I told you to wait for me by the escalators," The man gently chides when taking the bag you had just helped Mabel re-pack into his already crowded arms. 

He has yet to notice you, his attention fixed on arranging the various shopping bags and you seize the opportunity to study him a little closer. His hair is neatly combed, the ends bleached into something lighter that reaches just above his ears. The beige trench coat and black dress pants however, hint at something more refined, contradicting his relaxed expression. 

"No mind are the escalators," Mabel says as she waves a dismissing hand in their direction, "You should have seen the insolent young man that just ran past us — nearly knocked me over!" She lets out an exasperated huff and the man beside her listens with a growing look of concern. 

You could easily make out the clench of his jaw when he shakes his head. "Mother, this is why I don't want you going off alone — God knows what could've happened." Despite his scolding there was a strong undercurrent of love and affection in the way he spoke, and you suddenly felt as though you were intruding on what was supposedly a private moment. 

But then Mabel turns back to you, waving enthusiastically your way. "Oh— Please," She says with a beaming smile, "The sweet young lady from the laundromat was here to help me out a second time. Can you believe it? She does have a way of finding me whenever I am in need." 

The man finally lets his gaze be torn from the old lady and over to you, a flicker of surprise strikes his expression, like he was just realizing that you were standing there — though he's quick to school himself back into something more neutral. "Ah," He says, a smile tugging at his lips, drawing all the way up to his eyes — and it is then you notice how warm they are, almost reminding you of melted chocolate. it

Your name falls from his tongue like he had known it all his life, and suddenly it is you who is surprised. The man sets the bags down, extending a hand toward you, "My mother has told me all about the lovely lady helping her out in my absence." He takes your hand in his own, giving it a firm but almost grateful shake. 

"I'm Namjoon." 

He introduces himself in a carefree manner, head tilting slightly to the side as he regards you up and down. The name fits him, the perfect son who was away on a business trip not too long ago. Mabel had went on a tangent about him, even now, her eyes were sparkling like Christmas lights as she beholds the sight of you and her son. 

"It's nice to finally get a face to the name I've been hearing so much about," Namjoon says with a lopsided grin. You nod slowly, feeling oddly warm under his unwavering gaze and naturally charming presence. The fact that he had yet to let go of your hand certainly wasn't helping either and you wondered if he could feel how clammy your palm was getting. 

The moment is broken when Mabel suddenly speaks up, "Isn't she a sweet lady?" She doesn't attempt to hide the praise as it falls from her lips. "I'll count myself lucky to have ran into you twice, dear. Now stuff like that only happens when the stars and the moon align in a certain—"

"Mother, let's not harass her with your superstitions like this." Namjoon quickly hushes his old mother with a hand on her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. "Forgive her," He says when turning his attention back toward you, "She's been forever grateful for your help last time," He nods toward the bags beside him, "And I suppose I owe you double now." 

There's lightheartedness to the way he speaks, the words finding him easily and it was hard not to get pulled along by them. Nodding slowly, you send him a quiet smile, "It is no mind." 

"No mind?" Mabel exclaims, suddenly butting in as she takes a small step forward. "Dear, we have yet to have you over for dinner! I must find a way to repay your kindness." 

"Oh— You that is so sweet of you but I don't need—" 

"We would love to have you over for dinner," It is Namjoon's voice that cuts you off mid sentence. He's wearing a friendly expression, his gaze certain and almost hopeful as he awaits your verdict, "If you would like to, of course."