(Y/N) POV:

"This feels familiar." I laugh, squirming at the playful skim of Mi-sun unnie's fingers grazing down my back before she reaches for the small zip to drag up from the curve of my hips to the low of my back.

"Doesn't it sweetheart? Cos just months ago I was practically wrestling you into a dress, trying to get you to let your hair down and what? I don't even get invited to the first performance you've done in decades?" voice incredulous and complaining, whining as she lets her hand brush against my back, her touch warm against my skin.

"It feels familiar because you're always helping me get ready. And besides you've seen me dance... you were the one who forced me into all those lessons in the first place."

"And you enjoyed it after a while. It's just a shame Habaek never got into it with the same enthusiasm... now that's a man whose body would own the pole. His proportions—" she sighs with dismay, his presence, half-dressed peers past the open wardrobe door.

Broad shoulders peeking first and eyes glinting under tousled hair.

"You liar. You told me I was fine holding the clothes for you when you took them off." He laughs, tugging out a shirt, the sheer fabric slippery on his hands, his smile curved amusedly as he looks at the two of us. His grin widening as he looks at me peer past her shoulders.

"And I consent to being (Y/N)'s pretty clothes holder—at least she doesn't fling them at my face." He chides, laughter bubbling in his eyes, seeping into his voice.

Peering past Mi-sun unnie with a look of impatience until she steps aside with a small frown, hand flourishing as gestures to me instead.

A proud smile tugging wide at her face when his lips part, going lax slightly.

Before he's hurrying towards me, hand reaching out for me. Tugging me to him.

Chest pressing to my side, arm banding around me, eyes bright with delight as he takes me in.

"Aren't you a sight in gold cherub? You'll leave them breathless." Voice soft and gentle, fingers crooking under my jaw to angle my face up, drawing my gaze to his to see the burning pride and awe that makes his eyes shine as he looks at me.

"And me?" voice and fingers both prodding for the praise as Mi-sun unnie leans over, batting her lashes coy and flirty, head cocked as she waits for the inevitable praise, or lack of, as she leans against the dressing table. Legs stretched out, inviting eyes to drag across the bare length of them, the matching skirt-top combo, clinging and tight and showcasing every curve.

There's nothing but confident self-assurance and knowledge in her eyes as she looks at Habaek oppa with an expectant grin, glossy lips curved wide as he raises his brows at her in turn.

Unfazed by her.

"You'll leave the floor breathless." Words making his lips quirk, fully aware of how she intended to take this night, how she intended to lose herself in the mindless rush of it once more.

"That'll do. I don't think one person is going to be enough tonight." Eyes shining wicked and full of promise and intent.

I admire how clear she is with what she wants.

Pleasure and company with no strings attached. A night to have fun and forget without regrets. I admire her for it. For always living on her terms. For getting what she wants.

I fear for the people at the club. For the show Mi-sun unnie is.

For all that she's complaining about not being there for the show I've trained and re-learned and created for the seven men I want to enthral and draw in without the siren-nature, for the only men I want to draw in... I know she'll be holding the same pull in the club, weaving an inescapable net to snare her willing, giving victims; surrendering easily and readily to her charm.

She doesn't need to be a siren. She's a danger and desire both without it anyways.

"Should I bother to find you afterwards?" Habaek oppa offers, peering at the mirror, fingers carding through his hair, leaning back to draw the shirt over his head, sinking down into the seat I've just vacated.

"Do that... I don't want to waste the night..." she muses, slowly beginning to draw her hair back, pinning it away from her face with a deft quickness.

There's a shared conspiring glance that passes between Habaek oppa and me, silently moving to drift around her to finish getting ready, fingers carefully drawing the earrings in, lips curved with happiness, startling at the hand that teasingly drags against my skin before playfully swatting at the low of my thigh. Teasing fingers tugging the hem down.

Laughing at the startled yelp before I laugh, continuing to lean forward to reach for lipstick, fingers dithering on the choices before a larger hand steers mine to a nude shade.

A weight leaning against me as Mi-sun unnie peers curiously at Habaek oppa and me.

Watching him reach for a darker shade of gloss, smoothening it over his lips, lips quirking at the wolf-whistle he gets once he straightens, eyes smoky and gaze hooded, fingers reaching out to tousle his hair, artfully making it messier.

"Why don't you find someone tonight?" she suggests.

He leans back against the table, letting her add her finishing touches, spritzing perfume at his throat and wrist, stealing some for herself, my eyes tracking her wild energy through the mirror, laughing when she steers me round to lean forward to do the same.

This close her eyes drag across my body, slow and teasing and sultry, the heat of her gaze playful as she lets her fingers drift down my bare arm.

Taking my wrist lightly before spritzing the scent onto my pulse points.

"Make sure to make them wait before you give the proper show. Give them a taste... a feel here and there. And have fun. There'll be no safer place in Seoul for you to let your hair down and take things further at the club if you wanted." She lilts.

"Because of all the things to buy after working centuries is a club?"

"A fine establishment that I merely choose the staff for. It's in the name of a never to be born great-great descendant." She waves off, her smile wicked and full of laughter.

Her money, her name, her "inheritance" passed down through her own hands to herself, cycling through official papers and legal ownership.

"And when we're not sirens?"

"I'll come back to claim it. Maybe work the floor more... I do miss it. Will you dance with me sweetheart?"

Eyes glinting and silently coaxing.

"I've given up this sort of dancing... I'm a changed woman." I lilt, stepping upright once she moves away, reaching down to pluck the heels she'd set out for me, fingers crooked through the straps.

There's mumbling dissatisfaction slipping past her lips, loud and clear for all that she avoids my eyes as she says it.

Ever the one to play her cards right.

Feigning disappointment.

But the way her eyes burn with wildness and pride and life... it's a look I'm slowly becoming more and more used to seeing in my own reflection.

And with the same wild burning will to live, to enjoy my life, to take it back in my own hands... it continues tonight.

With a dance I hope not a single one of them forget.

That I hope ruins them.

In the best of ways.

----------------

Mi-sun unnie's arms loosen and with them she draws Habaek oppa's off my waist, inching them higher until she's twisting and tugging him against her back, smile wide and eyes shining, her skin glowing under the lighting, continuing to keep the rhythm as she sways, this time the two of them curved together.

The brief surprise lasts only for mere fleeting seconds before a pair of arms replace their touch, muscled and thick and bracketing me against an equally firm chest, lips brushing against my ear.

"Mind if I have this dance beautiful?"

My head tilts back to peer back at the body pressed against mine, lips curving up at the sight of dimples and dark eyes, lips curving against his, body turning to press against him, arms winding around his neck and tugging him closer for a deeper kiss.

Fingers brushing against his hair, carding through the long strands that graze his nape, a lighter colouring to it, marvelling at how it makes his features sharp. A dangerous gleam in his eyes, dimpled smile both warm and heavy as he looks at me, eyes slowly raking downwards.

"I like the hair."

"I love the dress." Voice low and thrumming with appreciation.

The dark intensity in his eyes draw me closer, lips ghosting along his, fingers brushing against his nape.

"Did Mi-sun choose it?" a low voice asks behind me, silently having snuck up, only now do his hands curve around me, winding low around my hips, lips brushing against my nape.

Startling me for a brief, fleeting moment before he curves closer, nose brushing against skin, lips dragging lower.

Tilting my head back to peer at the glittering assessing sharpness in Jimin's eyes, full lips curved into a deep grin.

Features glowing and sharp, softened by the way his hair brushes against his cheeks and temples, the way his smile is warm and curves against the seam of my lips, fingers angling my face to his, neither of them relinquishing their hold, leaning closer to crowd against me. The flush of his body against my back, body half curved to his, Namjoon and Jimin sandwiching me between them as I lean to him, thumb brushing against his bottom lip when I draw away, the lipstick only vaguely mussed.

"It's mine. I chose it—why? Doesn't suit me?" I ask teasingly, watching his eyes flash, smile pearly and distracting.

"Never said that. But..." he leans in closer, lips brushing against my ear.

"What's our siren doing in the middle of a dance floor starting the fun without us?"

Our siren.

The title, the label, the proud, possessive claim comes with only desire and admiration and love that brews together in a heady cocktail of feelings. Our siren. He says the label with admiration, accepting and desiring me for who I am, for who I was before them, who I remain with them, who I'll have once been once it's all done.

From his lips it sounds like praise and compliment both. It sounds like acceptance so easily and readily given, breath catching in my throat.

"Should've found me earlier then." I tease.

Teeth drag against the shell of my ear briefly.

"It wasn't my fault." Words a low whine, full of amusement and mirth, gaze shining with mischief before he tilts his head towards past my shoulder.

"I would've started the night with you if you'd have let any one of us stop by... but now I can see why you wanted to hold out on us. Wanted to leave us stunned."

Hands manoeuvring me round so his chest can press to my back instead, hand curving around my hip, a slow teasing drag of his body against mine.

Joon's eyes dark and drawing me closer.

"Try find them."

My eyes drift past the two, skimming past faces and bodies unfamiliar to me, past entangled limbs and faces lost with intoxication and pleasure, with the music and the buzzing vibrant high of feeding off each other's energy.

Gaze first settling on Jin and Hobi, their smiles curving, gaze brightening as they note our eyes meeting, Jin winking playfully at me before blowing a kiss. Hobi laughs beside him, murmuring something quietly, lips moving as he holds our gaze before he in turn allows me to feel the slow trawl of his eyes lingering on the lines and curves of my body. Eyes sparking with flickering embers of heat.

The tilt of his mouth, corners quirking, is playful and promising, a contrast to the easy-going flirty heat in Jin's smile.

They don't move to immediately weave past the crowd to move towards where the three of us are, content for now to watch from a distance, a crackling sear of heat their gazes felt across the distance still, past the maze of bodies blocking them from making a direct course forward.

"Three boyfriends left to find." Jimin nudges.

"You're usually at the centre of chaos but it's tame for now." I laugh, squirming at the light pinch of his fingers at my waist.

"The night is young and so are we~ the chaos is yet to happen." He lilts, steering my body past the steadily growing cluster of bodies, hand hot against the low of my spine, scorching through the fabric, words quiet and low and sparking heat as he and Namjoon carve the path back to where the others are.

Yoongi's the first to sense people approaching, head turning from where he's watching Tae and Kook to turn in his seat, the sprawl of his legs open and inviting, half-reclined against the barstool. It's not the first time that I see him, that he holds my gaze and looks like he's settled his eyes on prey, something about the dark hypnotic gaze that's both enthralling and luring and dangerously warning too. His lips quirk up when he notices my gaze settling on the inviting spread of his thighs, the stance widening in the slightest. The barest movement doesn't go unnoticed by me, eyes dragging over the slither of skin where the top buttons of his shirt are undone, smooth unblemished, unmarked skin left for my eyes to linger on.

Inviting me to leave a mark on.

His fingers are loosely curled around a drink, but the sharp gleam in his eyes tells me it's not the first of the night, eyes lazily tracking the movement of it being brought to his lips, throat bobbing as he swallows the last sip of the red wine, the seam of his lips a shiny deep crimson.

"Hey baby..." words drawled low and warm, drawing the attention of the other two, mouth drying at the sight of them clustered together, a hand possessive on the slender dip of Jungkook's waist, dark eyes peering past curls, throat and torso glittering with the sequins and diamonds that rest against his sternum, fabric clinging.

There's pure desire pulsing through me as I take them all in, the slow, quiet approach of Hobi and Jin fully letting it sink in that these seven men are looking at me with the same unfiltered want that I feel make my heart's pace quicken. The same electric headiness of their gazes making my blood sing. They look at me as if I'm a siren solely for them. Drawing them in to the orbit that I occupy, that the eight of us share.

"Starting without me? Or do you think you'll need drinks to get through the night?" I ask carefully, lips quirking when his thin in response. Keeping the words stifled and unspoken, swallows them down with a barely noticeable bob of his throat.

The unspoken burning sear of his gaze as he tilts his head at me, the movement inviting my eyes to his throat, to the delicate gleam of thin silver earrings glinting at his lobes.

"Getting a head-start from the others. Although I doubt being sober or drunk changes anything." Words lilted, voice low and murmured. Molten dripping honeyed drawl that no-one misses, silent glances exchanged. Picking up on the subtle insinuation in his words.

"They've been plotting since we went to the Magic Shop. But hyung won't say." Hobi observes, eyes narrowing in careful scrutiny, a dangerous glittering intensity to them.

But neither Yoongi nor I give an answer, an explanation.

Neither does Yoongi's blasé gaze confirm nor deny, dark eyes sharp and almost cruelly taunting with the knowledge he holds.

The cards he holds to his chest.

Tae's curls brush against his temple and briefly fall in front of his eyes, slender ringed fingers brushing them away with a carelessness.

Head tilted to the bar.

"What drink can I buy you jagi?"

"It's the first of the night... surprise me."

Dark eyes flash with the promise of a challenge that even I don't know yet.

----------------

The final beats of the music filters out of the headphones Yoongi had slipped over my ears, the sultry low croons quietening to allow for the final stretch of melody, rich and sinful, to filter through. Heady and the music's pulse thrumming wild and slow and snared.

His gaze is focused sharply on me, trained on drinking in every small shift of my expression. A mixture of eagerness and anticipation entangling with the bated breath he waits with, body curved close to mine, his chair twisted to face me directly.

Hand tugging to draw not the headphones off my ears as silence follows but to tug my chair to face his, knees touching his, his body leaning forward, arm resting on the table as he looks at me drawing them off my head.

"Well?"

My lips curve deep, fingers brushing over the headphones, letting them sit in my lap, meeting his eyes and holding them.

"Min Yoongi, genius." I breathe, watching as his eyes crinkle slightly, lips stretching into a gummy smile. Endeared by the flushed bashfulness that's readable in his posture, in the curve of his smile. Equally in awe of the man in front of me. At the talent that still rings in my ears.

His lips quirk with amusement.

"Finally someone sees it." He teases.

"My eyes are always open." I murmur, leaning closer to him, knees nudging against his, crowding against his space.

His hand moves to brush against my jaw, cupping my cheek, something simultaneously warm and glinting in his eyes as I lean into the touch, tilting my head to brush a kiss across his palm.

Fingers curling around his wrist slowly to draw his hand closer to me, lips brushing a kiss to each fingertip, slow and lingering.

One hand then the next, gently steering him closer, hands still curled around his wrists, every gesture slow and measured, so at odds with the thrumming heat of the music that still echoes in my ears.

But the kiss I draw him into is anything but, bruising and sharp against the pretty smirking lilt of his mouth, soft lips turning harsh against my own, fingers reaching to curl against my nape and tugging me forward, tugging me towards him. His mouth just as claiming and possessive, just as scorching where his smirk brands its shape against my lips.

Tongues slick against one another, his moves possessively through the parted seam of my mouth. Curling and thrusting deep. His hand keeping me angled towards him, breaths shuddered and swollen whole, his eyes intense and heavy.

Dilated with arousal.

"I can't wait to see what you'll do with this." He admits, voice low and hoarse. Pink lips flushed a deep vivid rosy hue, swollen and darkened with pressure, slick where his tongue flicks to chase the remnants of my taste off parted lips, eyes dark and lidded.

An intense heat in his eyes that I can feel scouring past the layers of fabric and skin to meld with the fire in my veins.

He doesn't lean away, he doesn't need to crowd against me closer, body feeling somehow caged despite the fact that if I really wanted I could move away. But there's something that sends a thrill of electric excitement and anticipation to thrum through my body.

And I find that moving away is the last thing I want to do.

"I can't wait to see if your own music will undo you." I whisper, words hushed and secretive. An indulgent confession that quirks the corners of his kiss-swollen lips up.

Eyes glittering.

"If it's you. Undoubtedly so."

------------------

The very heart of the club seems to thrive and pulse with the electric atmosphere, with the pulsing music and the drag of bodies against one another. Of alcohol and lust fuelling intoxication further, driving hands to linger, bodies sinking back one another, tugging each other closer.

The very air crackles. Charged with something in that instant is just as dangerously inviting than the siren call. Something that to my blood and bones, to my very essence is a stronger lure than I've ever known. It's unadulterated want that seeps into the crevices of the clubs, which invites the pair of hands around me to snake against my hips, dragging lower, tugging me back, lips hot against my nape. Words burning against my skin.

"Do you know the things you do to me?" voice curious, words slowly dragged out.

My head tilts back, pressing against his collarbone, peering up at him, rewarded with lust-blown pupils and skin flushed, dewy with exertion, lips trailing instead over the curve of my shoulder, over the thin strap, teeth dragging briefly against it. The weighted awareness that it'd take little to nothing for him to drag the strap down with his mouth. Instead, his lips linger there, trailing lower to slot over the curve of my shoulder, tongue flicking against skin.

"Maybe. Nothing more than usual I'm sure." Voice quiet and hushed, a lure that's void of siren song and yet draws him in impossible closer, the drag of his hips against the curve of my backside, hands seeming to fuse to skin and burn through fabric. Hot enough that it feels his touch must remain underneath, must've branded themselves to the curve of my hips, to the front of my thighs, tugging me back against him, letting me feel exactly how much his body responds to mine.

Just how much he's affected.

Teeth briefly nipping. Tongue soothing the sting easily.

"Pretty lies. This dress. This dress does nothing to hide what it covers."

Watch as his eyes sweep over the neckline, dragging lower. Hunger darkening his gaze.

There's always a playful heat in his words, in his movements. But right now there's nothing playful about the slowly drawn out tension that crackles the air between the two of us, and the air between our audience. Of the six others who watch enraptured, lost in one another but undeniably all gravitating closer. A headiness they can't forget, that won't be washed away with the night.

Because the night... as I've promised it... as I've insinuated it is far from over.

"It's not meant to. This dress has one thing in mind Hoseok."

The slight narrow of his eyes, the brief flick of his tongue against his teeth and lips, the more noticeable swallow of his throat.

Voice low and rough.

"What's that?"

"Access."

The flutter of his lashes, dark against warm tan skin is a lure, a snare, my entire attention rooted to it but before he can tug me back further against him, before I lose myself to the snaring loop of his arms wound around me, I reach for them.

Drawing them alongside me, turning in the circle of his arms to face him. Eyes dragging leisurely over his front.

Over the expanse of skin, over the trousers slung low, over the t-shirt that's only encased tighter because of the harness belted across his front, clinging to the outline of his chest, hair tousled and messy, pressed against his temples where sweat gleams on his skin.

"You're a vixen." He groans out, the band of his arms slipping lower, hand dragging possessively down the curve of my backside, sprawling and a firmer yank to tug me to him, bodily manoeuvring me so I stand in the cradle of his looming body. Dark eyes glittering dangerously.

The slow teasing sway of my body against his doesn't still and neither does the firmer, rougher grind of his front against my own, his growing hardness against my core, hands a branding, weighted press against my curves, burning heat through fabric with the intent of leaving their sprawling claims behind.

"Me?" voice lilting quietly, quiet enough that only he can hear even if the others can see the way his throat bobs, the rough swallow and sharp intake of breath as my own hand skims from his arm to drift down to his hand, feeling the way his grip on me tightens possessively. Guiding the sprawl of one of his hands to drag slowly against the bare of my back, fingers leaving hot-white trails against my skin, spine curving as I both arch into the touch and push further into him.

"You."

"You have no idea what you do to us... what you do to me do you?"

And even though everything we share is simultaneously new and familiar, something dizzying about his touch sprawling with weighted heat, tugging me to him, head dipping to mine, his gaze turning hooded. Dark.

Drifting to my lips and tracking the unconscious way my tongue briefly wets my lip, fingers curling to grasp at his wrist tighter, fingers against the delicate chains that already encircle the sharp jut of bone, tracing the prominent veins against his forearm.

"If it's anything like the effect the seven of you have... then I may have an idea."

"But even then... do you know exactly what I'm thinking? Exactly what I want to do?"

I tilt my head to the slow press of his lips, hot against my ear lobe before they trail to the curve of my jaw, hands equally guiding and drawing one another closer, guiding each movement to be more pronounced, intentional.

The slow sway of my body to his, hips flush to his, the pulse of desire electric under my veins, suffusing with the heat of his body, with the low beat of music that echoes and melds with my heartbeat, until every dragged motion of my body pushing into his, cradled by his, is with the beckon of the music entangled up in my veins, pulsing through me.

"Fuck... you can't... you can't..."

"Putting on a show in public?" a new voice croons at my ear, all at once disarming and familiar, a lilted low murmur, another pair of hands slipping to wind around my body, to entangle themselves against fabric, sprawling and possessive.

Head tilting back towards dark lidded eyes, glittering with a grin that tugs wide at his lips.

"Jungkook..."

His eyes track the movement of my lips, uncaring as he leans in to taste the way his name sounds off my lips, drinking in the soft sound I make against the seam of his mouth, head tilted back, body sandwiched between the hard lines of their bodies, cradled secure between them, the feverish intensity of Hobi's hands paired with the slow indulgent drag of Jungkook's hands reacquainting himself to the curves of my body, thumbing at my hip.

Fingers teasing at the crease between hip and thigh as his tongue sweeps against my lip.

"Because you know... I've always had a problem with sharing with others. And this show—I don't want to let others enjoy. Not when it's for us."

My lips curve against his, a deep smile that I feel tugging one from the slick heat of his mouth, teeth nipping at my bottom lip.

"If you want... there's private rooms."

Hobi's hands clasp tighter. The hand flush against my backside tugging me against him in a rough grind, teeth nipping at the shell of my ear.

Words low and throaty.

"Lead the way."

HOBI POV:

I don't know whether to feel mortified or not, the flush of heat burned into my veins bubbling hotter, the sear stemming slightly at the sight of Mi-sun's gleaming mischievous stare once we approach the secluded entrance to the private rooms. Grin widening as she rakes a quick glance over us, approval and pride curling her lips deep as she raises her glass to (Y/N), pushing herself upright from the seat.

"Enjoy your undisturbed private time. This wing's closed for everyone else." Words coy and eyes glittering with knowledge far more than any of us hold in this moment, her hand squeezing (Y/N)'s hip as she takes the steps forward, their brief exchange of words quiet and teasing.

But then her stare briefly sharpens. Focuses.

"Take care and get home safe."

"Do you need a lift back later?" Jin's words mean well but it tugs a throaty laugh from her. Rich and vivid.

The flash of pearly teeth and deep red lips are wickedness in themselves, and her eyes burn with a gleaming fire.

"And ruin the inevitable end of this night? I doubt leaving (Y/N) will be a possibility once she's done with you. Besides Habaek's here. Not that I intend on leaving without at least two admirers tripping over themselves for me."

There's always been an unabashed firm confidence in her.

But I don't know what to make of the insinuating words that trail off suggestively, the almost pleased lilt that it elicits on (Y/N)'s lips. The soft hum.

"Have fun."

Eyes sharp and all too knowing as she leaves, quickly filtering past and letting herself be lost in the crowd we've left behind. The strobe lights illuminating shadows against (Y/N)'s skin, her steps measured and confident as she leads the way.

And not for the first time do I feel the undeniable urge of surrendering to the enthralling lure of her. Something so entirely removed from the foreign unknowingness of siren.

She doesn't need the Sea to be enthralling.

She doesn't need the label, the power, to have the seven of us following her.

Reeling us in with a strong gravitational tug that no-one attempts resisting.

And my mouth dries once the door closes behind us all. The spacious interior of the private room, gaze falling to the pole at the centre.

Suddenly finding that the flush under my skin flares to life with an almost angry vengeance, bubbling strong and wild and its inferno blazing courses through my limbs.

And even though her eyes fall to Yoongi hyung first.

A conspirator grin shared, a wicked curl of lips and narrowing eyes.

Despite the dazed realisation that at least to some extent he knew, it doesn't keep the blazing heat from his eyes either.

And the thick swallow of his throat, as if he needed to physically remind himself to breathe, to draw in an inhale... the wrecked quality of his voice, so at odds with the smooth thickness that paired with the whiskey he'd been drinking.

"You never said anything about pole dancing."

Her eyes sparkle.

Mirth glittering in her eyes, entrancing as her fingers trail down the metal, humming contemplatively.

"No fun if I lay out all my cards on the table."

--------------------

The soft sway of her hips draw everyone's eyes to the sight of her slowly approaching steps, the fabric of the dress rippling, liquid gold against the lines and curves of her body, moving with a targeted aim.

Something dark and viscerally jealous rearing its head when her hand skims from my arm to trail to settle on the line of Yoongi's shoulder.

His eyes gleaming, a wickedness in his smile, lips curling as he wraps an arm around her waist, sprawling fingers against the low of her back, tugging her forward with no resistance.

"Keeping your promise?" words low and crooned, his eyes fixed solely on her.

But that doesn't mean I don't see the way desire and electric want clouds the other's eyes, know that it must be mirrored in my own eyes with how I feel my control fray, throat tight and lungs constricted at the sight as the music that filters through is rich and hypnotic and seductive.

Recognise the low rasp of the man's voice in it, eyes flaring wide, flashing to the lazy smirk Yoongi's lips sport, his eyes tracking (Y/N) but posture indicating he's all too aware of our stares.

"You made her the song?" Tae has no qualms in asking, the baritone of his voice dropping lower. Huskier and rich. Full-bodied desire thrumming in each syllable of the words.

"Maybe..." word drawled out, his hands sprawling possessive and guiding her body to his, my eyes snared to the sight of the dress riding up as she straddles Yoongi hyung, leg swinging over his lap, thighs astride him.

"Oh don't be coy Yoongi..." (Y/N) lilts, her torso swaying in time with the rasp of his voice, her gaze flickering over him, head tilting to appraise the rest of us.

Something weighted and promising in them.

"It was mutually beneficial... he helps me with a song that ruins your self-control... I give him the first dance."

His hands clasp at her hips, trailing down to palm at her thigh, their gazes conspiratorial and sharing in the dark heat that pools in the unspoken tether of connection between them.

There's glittering intensity in Jimin's stare, in the contemplative barely there tilt of his head before a flicker of a smile flitters over his features.

A tinkling laugh that is at odds with the dripping weight of thick Satoori rolling off his tongue, a crooned rumble of words as he tugs Jungkook back, hand possessive at his tiny waist.

"Is this payback hyung? Because we danced on stage, and you were stuck watching? With so much distance between us?"

Countless vivid memories blur together, flitting behind my eyes, a tape of another song heavy and hypnotic, the timed drag of her hand against the inside of her thigh, the low coil of her hips, the snap of thrusts—

There's a glazed burning look of pure arousal that sharpens Joon's features, fingers curling and unfurling before he tilts his head briefly heavenwards.

The angle only makes the swallow of his throat more pronounced, sharp.

But there's only intensity and unwavering focus when a low groan slips past Yoongi hyung's lips; gazes dragged and pinned to the sight of the arch of (Y/N)'s throat and front, angled for the sweeping heat of pink lips against her skin, her hips slowly gyrating, circling, the gold gleaming like liquid against her skin, rippling with the slow intentional circles.

Matching the rhythm of Yoongi's voice, the beat that his low rumbling timbre sets, hands skimming down her side, down her thighs, tugging her closer even if there's a noticeable sharpness to hyung's stare, a predator lying in wait to pounce.

Something akin to carnal desire simmering impatiently under his skin.

My skin feels hot. Too hot. Flushed and overheated as I watch the teasing grinds and the arch of her body, the sway as her hands trail from Yoongi's shoulders down his front. Hand dragging down his sternum, nails trailing with a playful, teasing slowness, tracing featherlight circles and patterns against his chest, the other hand curled at his bicep.

I know without needing to reach out to affirm it that the muscle and sinew under (Y/N)'s hand is taut and thick, that the breadth of hyung's body is only a testament of how much he's begun to fill out more, a dizzying rush of heat that spirals southwards, sending electric pulses of fire shooting through my veins as I watch his lips map a downwards trail from her throat to her collarbones.

The flick of tongue as his teeth nip small blooming marks against unblemished skin, deep reds that make the gold all the more striking.

There's somehow nothing about the scene that makes me feel as if I hover on the edges of it, intruding or an outsider to it. We're all lost in the heady thrall of Yoongi's body entangled with (Y/N)'s, watching his composure falter even if the heated smirk on his lips curls deeper at the throaty exclamation that filters past my lips unbidden.

Reeled out without conscious thought.

Watching as he guides (Y/N)'s body into more pronounced moves against him, welcoming the disaster and undoing of her touch with low husky praise that only feeds the fire under my skin too.

Aching to feel her body pressed close to mine, aching to touch and let my lips drift in taste across the proffered skin.

It should be startling how quickly everything, but pure base desire remains, how quickly the world falls away to fall to the hypnotic sight of two of them, to the way every move resonates with the low seductive timbre of the music.

It feels all too soon that the music dwindles down, to the rapid raggedness of Yoongi's breathing and the quiet shudder of my breathing ringing loud in my ears.

It feels like every sense is haywire, a sharp

It feels like every sense works in overdrive, all too aware of how hot and tight my skin feels, stretched taut over limbs, how confining the room feels because everything narrows down to the sight of her thighs, bearing the imprint of where fingerprints gripped tighter, her eyes dark and shining with a gleaming thrill that's echoed in the breathless grin she sports. Letting herself take one halting step back then another, the heels adding to the height, to the curved length of her legs that my eyes drift hungrily over. Her laugh, ringing and delighted, when a figure surges for her, hands gathering her to him, kissing her bruising and sharp, until both their lips are slick and kiss-swollen- until words, low and awed, are trailing over her skin, her hands brushing against red leather, winding into dark curls.

"How many secrets are you hiding jagi?"

The rich rumble of Tae's baritone has turned lower, huskier. Rasps with a low heady appreciative tone, hand skimming down her back, settling just shy of fabric, fingers tracing circles into skin.

Her gaze flits to me briefly, sensing the weight of my stare, of our stares... and takes the time to briefly let her gaze drift.

But there's something darkly rich and promising in her stare as she tilts her head to me, the motion catching the light of the earrings that glint at her ears.

The inviting curve of her throat and the lines of her collarbones.

"I never hid this. I told you... Mi-sun got me into dance." Words lofty and coy, drawing Tae's hand to take slow purposeful steps back, her eyes glinting when she looks at Joon.

"And what was it you asked once Namjoonie? What centuries have taught me?"

"What?" he echoes with a hoarseness to his voice, Jin hyung's hand sprawled heavily against the inside of his thigh, against the fit of denim against thick muscle.

"How to move."

But before she can say anything, before she can demonstrate there's a question that tumbles out unbidden from the depths of my throat.

Barely recognising the roughness that laces my voice.

"Will you teach us?"

One of her hands stretch out, unfurl to extend out towards me.

Beckoning me closer, my palm against hers before slipping upwards against the bare curve of her arm.

"Thought you'd never ask~"

--------------------------

"After you beautiful." I gesture, drawing her closer towards the centre of the stage, towards the pole, eyeing it with a mix of trepidation and wonder.

Curiosity and thrumming anticipation at the thought of her body curving around it, stretching to elongate the delicate lines and curves of her body with the pole.

Already so certain, so aware that the pole isn't centre stage. She is.

"Not going to give it a try?" eyes curious, lips curling deep at the sight of the maknaes eyeing the pole with gleaming excitement and curiosity, a familiar tingling in my palms, a restless itch as I watch her hand curl around the pole, gripping it with an assuredness.

There's faint low laughs paired with dark, dark appreciative eyes as Jin playfully circles his hips against Joon, the two of them entangled in a playful, taunting show to only wind that fraying tether of control tighter around Yoongi hyung, his eyes dark and blown wide and his lips damp. Grip tightening on his glass.

Not entirely sure whether he's more amused or turned on.

"I will...I just—" gaze briefly rooted to the sight, not sure whether the purposely exaggerated sway of Jin hyung's body is the reason Joon's hands clasp tighter to keep him steadied and anchored or because it's to tug him further against the hard lines of his own body.

There's a soft lilted hum of appreciation as (Y/N)'s gaze follows my line of sight.

"Now that's how you have fun...I've not seen you go down and dirty on anyone yet Hobi."

Words lilted and honeyed as if she hadn't been pressed to my body with more lethal precision, as if I hadn't felt every curve flush to my front, a delirious hunger coaxed to life under my veins and still simmers away now.

"Oh I intend to return the favour." I murmur, lips against her jaw, leaning in towards her, body gravitating towards her, nosing along skin, fighting the urge to tug her to me, to let the night, the club, everything fall away but her.

"Don't talk dirty and distract her hyung... I want to see her dance." Jimin lilts, the coy tease in his voice briefly shattering the snare of her gaze holding mine, of my body curled to hers, lips lingering shy of her mouth, crooking my fingers under her jaw, angling her lips to mine for a quick, fleeting burning kiss that my lungs and the tightness in my throat still feel as I relinquish her.

And even though Tae tugs me back to sit beside him, his leg sprawled over mine, the lazy slanted splay of his body inviting and beckoning, his eyes are dark and fixed onto (Y/N), the same near-trance of not even daring to blink for fear of missing a single instant. A sharp alertness and focus that has the curve of her smile bearing a faint tremor as she feels our gazes.

"No need to be nervous flower. At your pace...and if you still want to."

Jin hyung's eyes have nothing but tenderness and patience in his eyes, a bolstering encouragement in the wide curl of his lips, smile deepening when she lets out a soft exhale, watching him, his face open and earnest.

He's also half leaning off his seat, ready to move forward at a single instant's notice, something she doesn't miss, smile losing its faint tremble, fingers curling tight.

"It's just... it's been a while." Words exhaled through her lips, satin nude lips curling at the corners.

And I know when (Y/N) says it... when she means a while that could easily pan decades. The thought is disorienting—she's an impossibility of nature, she's a bold, glowing defiance of nature and she's so utterly radiant as she takes her place, the looseness that sets in her body immediately recognisable.

The music sinking into her bones, fusing with her blood.

I see that instant when everything changes. When her nerves vanish.

When she loses herself to the music.

Because above all (Y/N)'s a dancer.

And when she surrenders to the music, she becomes the dancer I've admired and revered for a long time.

She becomes the person proud and accomplished of her talent and so assuredly confident in it too.

And that is one of the biggest turn-ons, the pure comfort she feels in her own skin.

Because even though the notion of being alive for centuries, for being distinctly more than human, someone extraordinary and unbelievably, is still something that I don't think we'll ever grasp in its entirety, in its whole magnitude... the woman before me glows with life and with a confidence and centredness that's intoxicating to watch. To see in her every move, in the lithe curl of her body as she twists, her expression flashing with pure elation the moment the muscle memory falls into place and (Y/N) has fun.

Not just showing us, indulging us... but having fun for the parts of her life that form the beautiful enthral of the woman, the vision in gold that melds with the layered seduction of the music that filters out the surround speakers, loud and encasing and reeling us in.

There's no way I can bring my eyes to drift away, following the sensual, graceful curves of her body, twisting to curl around the pole, the sheer strength in her core as her body contorts and twists, seemingly suspended in air, the intensity of the dance not lost. Nor is the effort and strength needed even if she makes it look delicate and easy, not a flicker of exertion or strain on the dark thrall of her eyes and the enticing lilt of her mouth.

Dance has never been just going through the motions, the body enacting the movements. And with (Y/N) dance is everything, it's within the contained measure of her breaths, its in the way her body suspends, somehow rooted and disconnected from the centre of gravity that the pole acts as, it's in the way her body is the music; brimming with its own melody, its own seductive base, the embodiment of pure unadulterated desire to me.

There's a dizzying rush when the blood in my veins boils and travels southward, throat feeling painfully constricted as I try to draw in air as I look at her, the fluid gold material stretched over her curves as she arches, the line of her spine turning pronounced, the angled tilt of her head that bares her throat, invited and body splayed with a bold, welcoming invite.

I haven't had nearly enough to drink compared to the others but the tight press of a hand against my thigh both jolts me with a sharp awareness that roots me to the space, to the others and not solely drowning in the enticing sway of (Y/N)'s body. I haven't had nearly as much to drink as the rosy flush on Jimin's cheeks indicate, the sweetness of the wine on his breath enticing, pressing a lingering kiss against the curve of my jaw, teeth and tongue toying at my earlobe, words throaty and crooned.

"Stunning."

And I don't whether the praise is intended for the hypnotic sight before us or the way Jimin leans in to press teasing, fleeting kisses against my throat, his hand settling against my thigh, trailing upwards, tight squeezing touches that leave my throat feeling raw and mind spinning.

I haven't drunk enough to be inebriated, to take lose of my senses and yet without it, she manages to throw my entire body, every sense into disarray.

Now I know the painful torment of sharp arousal that the others had felt, seeing the gyrating circle of her hips, the way the intentional grinding movements bare more of her upper thighs, the strap slipping off one shoulder to bare the curved slope of her bare shoulder, body aglow with a glittering sheen that only makes the words more sharply stuck in my throat and gaze fixated.

The expanse of her back, bare, the curve of her spine in slow swaying, beckoning motion, eyes dark and molten, a bubbling rich heady laugh spilling past her lips when Tae moves to join her, hands possessive against the curve of her hips, following the guiding motion of her hips, one hand grasping the pole, the other swaying in slow, teasing sync with Tae's body curved behind hers. Leather and sequins against her bare back, ringed fingers slotted over her hips, the grip tight.

Watching as the two circle one another, the air turning impossibly thicker, crackling with tension, charged and weighted, the slow smirk curling at Tae's lips just as hungry and wild as the lilted smile she returns, turning in the circle of his arms so she's facing him instead.

Another squeeze at my thigh, the soft amused huff of laughter at the sensitive spot behind my ear, shivering at the scrape of teeth and flick of tongue.

"Angel got your tongue hyung? Though looking like that—she's a vixen."

2000

"...fuck."

The expletive is tugged past lax lips, tugging at the hand that trails roughly up and down the inside of my thigh.

"Come on hyung... come dance~" words lilting and coaxing, hand briefly palming at my thigh, nails almost cruelly pressed to the tightening of my muscles under his touch before Minnie's hand entangled with mine, tugging me up, body welcoming mine as I stumble into him.

Trying to will feeling and movement back into my body, trying to stop the dizzying rush of arousal as I watch the teasing grins curling at (Y/N) and Tae's lips, the two of them intent in riling each other up, in unravelling everyone's patience.

(Y/N)'s body welcomes mine, hand unfurling to reach for mine, a sharp tug of motion that leaves the four of us half entangled in one another, bodies pressed close, flush against the lines and dips of each other's limbs, the heady thickness I feel coating my skin soaking in, lips bruising against mine, lax as she surrenders control of a kiss that's all tongue and teeth, sharp and unrelenting.

Hungering and devouring with the same ferocious intensity I feel claw at me from the inside.

"You stare with such—want..." she murmurs between slick kisses, the swaying lilt of her body drawing me impossibly closer, crowding her against Tae, angling her face to mine when her eyes flutter, the groan that tumbles past her lips honeyed lust making the air ripple, my gaze dragging from the flutter of her lashes to the lips at the crook of her throat, working to colour a blooming mark of reds against her skin, the proud claim striking against the gold, against the radiant sheen of her skin, teeth working the sensitive skin between them, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses and slow sucking pressure. Tugging out a soft moan.

The sound sends fire to sear through my body.

Watching her.

Drinking in the sight, throat parched.

"Can I?" lips press to my jaw, Jimin's hands snaking round my front, tugging me back with a rakish grin, Jin's eyes dark and appreciative and burning with a flux of emotions and sensations, sending me a fleeting grin before he occupies the space I've vacated.

Slotting to her front, words low and murmured against her skin, something that makes the loose curve of her lips deepen and soften, hand curling around his shoulder where he slowly draws her arm up, guiding her body to his slightly, Tae's own crowding her regardless. Falling into step behind her immediately, unwilling to relinquish his hold.

And I watch with a knowing glint as her eyes flit to the slither of chest on display, the welcomed rarity of the low neckline of hyung's shirt.

"You look good Jinnie. Really good." Eyes trailing appreciatively, her fingers mapping out the downwards exploration, skimming across skin, mapping the v-neckline with a slow indulgence.

"Just good?"

"Good enough to eat~" leaning forward to press her lips against his sternum, mouth parting slightly, the brief flick of tongue making my hips push back at the sight.

"When I've been waiting to get my lips on you all night... just a taste~"

"Go on then hyung... you won't be able to stop." Tae taunts, the words rippling with heat, teeth and tongue slowly and devotedly lathing attention to the deep flushed red mark at her throat, letting his mouth skim across her shoulder, teeth tugging at the thin strap that remains precariously close to slipping, nosing along skin with a deep rumbled hum.

"That... that's exactly what I'm afraid of." He admits.

"Why? Why afraid Jinnie?" words lilting, molten honey dripping from her lips, pressing slow kisses against his sternum, groaning softly against him when Tae's hands clasp tighter, his gaze briefly drifting.

And as if (Y/N) wasn't enough to spell my undoing, my doom tonight, then the others were trying to ensure it with maximum damage.

Gaze drifting over the toned, honeyed slither of warm skin, Kook's tiny waist captured between sprawling large hands, sandwiched between Yoongi hyung and Namjoon. Relishing just as much in being their undoing, his hand at Joon's front, squeezing and palming, grinding his hips back, hyung's knuckled whitened with pressure, with how tightly he grips Kook to try still him. Eyes blazing as he groans against the crook of his throat, teeth against his skin.

The moan that tumbles past my lips is with abandon, with wanton lust and need so visceral I feel as if my lungs cave under the weight of it.

Gaze flitting, unsure where to still, wanting to drink in the sight of everyone.

The pearling laughter, ringing and tinkly at my skin is warm, soaks into skin that feels all too hot, all too tight.

"Did you plan on having an orgy in the middle of a club (Y/N)? Is that what you wanted minx? To see us fall apart for you?"

Her eyes slip over to me, the breathless slant to her mouth, lips leaving their marked, physical trail against Jin hyung's chest, her lipstick intact but the soft blooming marks she leaves, a proud telling claim the map her touch has left behind.

"Not at all. I didn't think--" head tilting back with an inviting arch, keening softly as her fingers curl tighter at hyung's shoulder, surrendering to the pleasure that Tae's mouth sweeps against her skin, fingers trailing dizzying shapes against her sides.

"That you'd dance and it'd cause anything but carnage? Your power is this sweetheart... the way you have us in the palm of your hands."

"Look at hyung jagi." Tae croons, words low and dulcet but it's not a request, the rakish weight of his smile against her shoulder.

Eyes dark and possessive.

"Look at how much we want you. Look what you did."

And through the beginning fog of pleasure and thrill, blinking almost dazedly, she follows the commanding rumble of his voice, pushes back against the grip at her hips that surely will leave bruised indents behind with how tightly Tae holds her, hips rocking against the curve of her backside.

"Feel that jagi? Feel what you did to me?"

There's a flushed heat colouring her cheeks, warmth making her skin glow, already dewy with the faint sheen of exertion.

And I wonder how time and time again I can simultaneously fall further and be utterly and wholly wrecked by the sight of her as a dancer, the moves and sways of her body burned violently into my memory, branding themselves across the inside of my eyes, joining the accumulated mass of images and memories of her dancing.

And to think that once... that the first time I'd met her dance was the last thing she had wanted to do.

A pit of something raw and carnal knotting together, winding its tight pressure round my gut.

A low hoarse laugh bubbling past my lips, thoughts forming into words that drip off my lips.

"And you were going to deny yourself the thrall of dancing again..."

Disbelief and shock and emotion bleeding into my voice.

"I couldn't have even if I tried. I had a dance teacher who wasn't happy to let me stay in my back corner."

Joon makes a light scoff, the smile accompanied with the faint fleeting sight of dimples.

"And hide away this? Never... Hob-ah you did good. Very, very good."

"It was all (Y/N)... baby couldn't hide her talent. She didn't deserve to hide."

And something in her eyes shifts.

Softens.

Not lost in the distracting flutter of her lashes or the unrushed sways of her hips.

Something strong and emotional and grateful.

And when her smile deepens, its warm and sweet.

Honeyed arousal entangled with sweet, sugary warmth.

And her smile in itself is a blow that leaves me winded further.

------------------------

She's long since surrendered the pole, watching with a wicked, proud gleam to her eyes as she watches Tae move to the pole instead, hands grasping it with a surety, body spinning, the sheen to his glowing warm skin dragging my eyes down his form, across sequins and leather, across the diamonds that glitter and hang at his chest.

His skin gleams under the strobe lights, under rooted eyes physically unable to tear away from the sight of how he glitters and shines, body swaying and twisting as he spins, the curves and lines of his body in a stretched, arch as he tilts his head back, laughter throaty and low. Husky.

Hair rumpled and messy, dark curls and sharp, piercing stare pinning each of us in turn, thighs slightly angled open where he twists, gyrating circling motions of his hips, a lazy smirk on his lips.

Jungkook and (Y/N) are the first to holler, loud cheers and laughs as they toast the sight, a piercing low whistle aimed at him, bolstering him further.

"I fucking can't—" I grit out, words slipping out, watching with my throat tightening impossibly further at the way the red leather jacket slips off one shoulder, the rippling movement of his body as he lets the motions of his body transition into a sensual roll, shucking the jacket off, letting it pool on the floor, the lines and breadth of his body emphasised with how much the fabric clings to him, leather pants tight, curls slightly clinging to skin.

And Yoongi hyung only echoes the sentiment with a rough rasp I can feel against my skin automatically.

Feeling the trail of his hand skimming up and down my spine before his fingers drag against my nape and briefly tug at the strands of my hair, tugging a broken, rough sound out my throat, hissing at the sting of pleasure-pain, his fingers sinking into the growing strands, longer than usual, teeth nipping at my throat.

"She wanted to do this mostly for you, you know?" he adds conversationally, as if his fingers don't leave the delicious heat of sparks fanning out, nudging a glass into my hand, his touch retreating to pour himself some wine, glass clinking to mine.

Startled and surprised by the candid detail shared.

"She wanted me to help make a track that would be guaranteed to make you struggle." Hand slipping round the crease of my hip, ghosting along my front, teasing touches that know all too well how tightly wound my body feels, length hard and straining against the confines of boxers, only slightly shielded under the loose fit of the trousers.

"Looks like it worked?"

"Why?" I grit out, hips bucking into his touch, following the lilted rough croon to keep my eyes on Tae, watching as Jimin joins him, their eyes bright with laughter and mischief, every move purposely exaggerated but it's far from funny. The swell of Jimin's backside against Tae's stiff front, the tight leather pants drawing attention to how he's also getting worked up.

The two of them entangling together with a familiar, intimate ease.

"Who could understand (Y/N) better than you when it comes to dance? Who could know what every single dance means to her in the way you'll always know?"

Because every single dance she does is a celebration of her, for her. It's a celebration of her survival, of her passion, of her life expressed in countless styles of dancers.

She's multitudes into one.

And every single dance she does is an expression of her.

"But this—"

"This is a fun way to do it?" voice soft, words murmured lilted in my ear as (Y/N) approaches, having caught the tail-end of our conversation, having sensed our gazes settle on her, lips tasting of fizzing, sweet champagne, tugged back into the embrace of my arms, cradling the back of her head, angling her mouth to mine.

Groaning wetly against her.

Fun is one way.

I swallow the soft bubble of laughter from her lips, taste her giddiness as it fizzes and bubbles with the same sweet intoxicating intensity that the champagne does from her slick lips.

"Very fun." I groan against her, teeth nipping sharp at her bottom lip, something raw and carnal blooming behind my ribs, hammering away, entangled with her body, tugging her closer.

She makes me feel dizzy with desire.

And I echo that between slick kisses, tugging her closer and closer, refusing to relent my grip on her, sandwiched between the softness of her curves and the hard lines of hyung's body against my back, his head against my shoulder, a lazy, indulgent appraisal of the two of us.

"Didn't you say you'd go down and dirty on her Hoseok-ah?" hyung reminds, the words filthy and heavy, weighted with laden honeyed promise, words a rasping drawl that makes my spine arch, tugging her closer.

A twist of our bodies so she's pressed against Yoongi, encased in the sprawl of his arms, his eyes dark and mischievous.

Daring and damning me both.

My eyes drift to the apex of her thighs, hidden by the slip of gold, hand dragging against the low of her thigh, fingers toying with the hem.

Voice breathless with desire when I speak.

"In more ways than one if you'll have me."

Watching the way her pupils dilate slightly.

A visceral, bodily reaction to my words, the slight clench of her thighs before she reaches back to clasp at Yoongi hyung's waist, fingers fisting into his shirt to tug him closer with a soft groan.

Lips trembling as they curl.

"Thought you'd never offer."

And her smile only spells ruin for the both of us.

(AHHHHHHHHHHHH! THE LITERAL CATHARSIS I FELT FINALLY COMPLETING THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN FAR TOO LONG AND I'M SO, SO SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU WAITING AND THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOU WHO DID. SS IS SO CLOSE TO MY HEART, ONE OF MY BABIES SO THE SLUMP WAS THE WORST FEELING EVER! I HOPE THIS CHAPTER IS ENJOYABLE AND YOU GUYS LIKED IT—I HOPE I DID BABY SIREN'S DANCING JUSTICE (IT'S BEEN FOREVER SINCE I WROTE THE WORDS BABY SIREN T__T) AND I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT, ONLY THAT I DID AND PLEASE BEAR WITH ME AS I MENTALLY TRY CHART OUT THIS STORY BETWEEN THIS CHAPTER AND THE NEXT. IT WON'T BE AS LONG THIS TIME BETWEEN UPDATES! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT~ TAKE CARE!)

This is my first update since Jin's enlistment— and though our moon may seem far, the earth and moon are always in orbit, and he'll come back home 💜

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3