The text had come at 3:17 PM, stark and commanding against the festive backdrop of your phone screen, cluttered with well-wishes and pictures of ugly sweaters.

Jungkook: The workshop is prepared. The sleigh is... eager. Your list has been reviewed, little one. Be ready at 8. The red and white. Nothing else. You know the rules for naughty list applicants.

A shiver, wholly separate from the winter chill seeping through your apartment windows, raced from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. It was a familiar tremor, one of anticipatory dread and liquid heat.

He'd been building this up for weeks, dropping cryptic hints about a "special Christmas audit," his eyes darkening with promise whenever you wrapped presents or hummed a carol.

You knew what "the red and white" meant. It wasn't a cheerful Mrs. Claus costume. It was a weapon of mass seduction, chosen by him, for him.

And "nothing else" meant exactly that. The rules were part of the game, the framework that allowed you both to shatter into a million filthy pieces within it.