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𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @aurorab-0-realis @baby-bread-in @sra7riddle-malfoy @frostbitetrap-blog @athena-portgas @piancqwrites @soleilscb @cottonheadedninnymugggins @scara-simp69

Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 7.2 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Masterlist

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔.𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒔.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒍/𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅, 𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔), 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 (18+)

—𝑬𝒎𝒓𝒚𝒔 🩷

w/c: 7.1k

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

You would’ve blushed if you weren’t already flushed head to toe. Baby knelt between your spread thighs—completely bare, visibly trembling with need. For you. Because of you.

Your gaze drifted, drinking in every inch of him. His skin looked almost ethereal under the low light, a little translucent where the sweat clung to him, catching on the sharp cut of his abs and the curve of his ribs. Strands of his blue hair were damp and curling, plastered to his forehead. Droplets slid down his chest, trailing lower, lower…

His cock stood heavy between his legs, long and veiny, flushed a dark, desperate pink. The skin looked painfully tight around the base, his tip glistening with thick, pearlescent precum that gathered and spilled slowly. It twitched under your gaze. You swallowed, breath catching at the sight of it.

He noticed. Of course he always did.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he curled his hand around the base of his cock, pumping himself with lazy, deliberate strokes—like he knew exactly what it was doing to you. “You’ve already seen it, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice warm and laced with teasing. “Tasted it too, remember? No use acting shy now.”

Your face burned as you instinctively glanced away, caught like a thief with your hand in the cookie jar.

But his palm found your cheek, warm and gentle as he turned your head back to him. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he whispered, thumb brushing your skin. “I like when you look.”

You giggled through the haze of heat, your body still soft and buzzing from the orgasms they’d already pulled from you tonight. The air was thick with their scent, their warmth, their presence. And you—spread open, loved, cherished—felt nothing but safe. Held. Worshipped.

The emotion bubbled up too fast to stop. You reached for Baby, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as you pulled him into a hug, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your chest tightened, tears pricking at your eyes. The rush of oxytocin, the weight of the moment—it cracked you open.

“Hey,” he whispered, surprised. But he didn’t hesitate—his arms wrapped around you tight, grounding you with the weight of him. His cock pressed against your stomach, leaving hot, wet streaks across your skin.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, voice small and trembling from the storm of hormones still crashing through your bloodstream.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin, the words quiet and unguarded, but undeniable.

His breath caught. Then a low chuckle rumbled through his chest—a sound full of affection and something darker underneath. He hugged you tighter, almost possessive now, like you were something fragile and precious that he’d never let go of again.

“I love you too,” he murmured, voice rough with something ancient and reverent. Then it dropped lower, edged with heat. “So remember that, sweetheart…”

He leaned back just enough to meet your eyes, and you saw the shift happen.

His usual stormy irises bled into glowing gold, his pupils narrowing into slits. Demon marks bloomed across his cheeks and shoulders, glowing faintly like constellations against his sweat-slicked skin. Power shimmered beneath the surface of his body like it was waiting to be unleashed.

“Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

Then Baby kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life.

His mouth moved over yours with slow-burning hunger, devouring you sweetly, endlessly, like he had all the time in the world—and every second of it belonged to you. His thumb stroked under your jaw, coaxing your lips wider, deeper, and when his tongue slipped inside, it was a tease first... then a promise. He tasted you like a man who knew you were his.

Your body melted into the bed, still trembling with aftershocks. But Baby—he was steady. Anchoring. Addictive.

When he finally pulled away, it was with a soft, slick sound and a breathless, almost drunk chuckle against your lips.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice thick, honeyed with heat.

Before you could answer, he was already moving—hands sliding down your sides with a kind of reverence that made your breath hitch. Then, effortlessly, he flipped you onto your stomach.

The gasp that left you was muffled by the pillow, your pulse skipping wildly as the cool air kissed your newly exposed skin. Your thighs instinctively pressed together, but his hands were already there—palming your hips, spreading you open.

“Fuck, look at you…” Baby breathed, the reverence in his voice laced with something rougher now. Need. Claim. Hunger.

You felt his gaze like a touch, dragging down the curve of your spine. His fingers followed, painting a trail of heat over your skin as he straddled your thighs, settling his weight lightly against you. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. Another just above the dip of your lower back. And another—lower still.

He exhaled like he was worshipping.

Then his hands found your ass, and his palms molded to the flesh like they were made to. He squeezed softly at first, groaning low in his throat.

“So pretty,” he murmured. “So fucking soft.”

You whimpered into the sheets, the muscles in your thighs twitching under his touch. You were already wet again, breath coming in shallow bursts. You could feel his cock against the back of your thigh—hard, heavy, leaking. But he didn’t rush. Baby never rushed when it came to you.

He massaged one cheek, then the other, slow and steady. His thumbs circled into the muscle like he was mapping you, relearning you, worshipping every inch. And when he spread you open just enough to look… a low groan vibrated from his chest.

“You’re dripping,” he rasped, the hunger in his voice sharpened now. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Needed to feel me right here…”

He kissed the back of your thigh, then trailed his lips up until they reached the base of your spine.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he whispered, resting his forehead against your skin for a moment, like he was collecting himself. “I don’t ever wanna let another soul see you like this. Not even in their dreams.”

Smack.

His hand came down, hard and sharp, the sound cracking through the thick air like lightning.

You gasped—hips jolting, thighs flexing. But the sting bloomed into heat almost instantly, warm and aching, and your body betrayed you.

You clenched around nothing.

Baby’s breath hitched audibly. His fingers stilled for a beat. Then he laughed—low, breathless, aroused. Dark amusement curling in his throat.

“…Oh?” he murmured, trailing his palm across the reddened skin, fingertips grazing the dip beneath. “What was that, sweetheart...?” His fingers slid lower, between your thighs, brushing over your slick heat with practiced ease. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

You tried to muffle the sound building in your throat, burying your face in the sheets. But it was no use. He could feel everything.

He leaned closer, mouth near your ear, voice a velvet rasp. “Don’t hide it. I want it all. All your sounds, all your reactions.” Another spank—firmer this time. “Every. Single. One.”

You moaned again, thighs trembling. The rhythm of it was maddening. Punishing. Addictive. Not too hard—but sharp enough to make your toes curl. Sharp enough that the edge of pain bled perfectly into pleasure, and your body welcomed it.

Smack. Smack.

The others were silent behind you, the room heavy with heat and breath. You could feel their eyes. Hear the restrained exhales. Someone cursed softly. Someone else shifted like they were holding back the urge to move.

Baby’s smile stretched wider, that dark satisfaction glittering in his eyes as he dragged his palm down again—massaging, teasing the sore flesh like he owned every inch of you. Each slap was a promise, and each pause in between was worse—because that’s when he stroked you. Slow. Intentional. His thumb brushed through your folds, fingers gliding through the slick mess he’d pulled from you, spreading it deliberately like he wanted you to feel just how soaked you were.

Then he turned his head, slow and lazy, looking back at his hyungs over his shoulder with his slitted golden eyes. His lips curled, fangs peeking past them in a smirk that was pure sin.

“Go on,” he purred, voice like silk soaked in heat. “Enjoy the view.”

His hand dipped again between your thighs, fingers moving with reverence and filth. He gathered your wetness without shame, collecting it until it coated him entirely. Then he lifted his hand, slowly, letting your slick shine under the low light—each droplet catching like crystal. He tilted his wrist just enough to make it drip, to let it glisten for them.

His fingers shimmered like temptation as he held them there—unapologetic, triumphant.

“God, you're such a menace.” one of his hyungs muttered, voice rough, laced with something darker.

“Tease,” another growled under his breath, eyes locked to Baby’s hand like it was a threat and a dare all at once.

Baby just smirked, wicked and slow, basking in their frustration like it fed him.

“You say that like I’m not doing you a favor,” he drawled, tongue brushing across his lips before he slid those fingers into his mouth. He sucked them in deep, moaning softly like you were the only thing he ever wanted to taste. His eyes stayed locked on the others, daring them to speak again as his tongue curled around each digit, lips sealing tight before he let them slip free with a soft, obscene pop.

His breath came heavier now, his restraint cracking at the edges.

Then his hand trailed back down, this time wrapping around the thick length of him. He groaned just under his breath as he stroked himself in long, deliberate pulls. Your slick made every movement obscene, wet sounds barely muffled by the tension in the room. He coated himself in you, from base to tip, slow and purposeful like he was painting your name onto his cock.

His head tilted back slightly, breath catching in his throat, throat bobbing as he exhaled.

“God,” he muttered, voice rougher now. “Even my cock knows who it belongs to.”

You buried your face into the pillows, a soft, broken sound escaping your lips. Your whole body trembled, heat coiling low and tight in your belly. The weight of their eyes pressed down on you—hot, dark, hungry—and the attention only made you ache more, want more.

You whimpered.

He didn’t hesitate.

One strong hand curved around your waist and dragged you back against him—possessive, greedy. Like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between your body and his. You felt the thick head of his cock press between your folds—hot, heavy, and unforgiving. He rubbed it along your entrance, back and forth, with maddening slowness.

“You want me to put it in, sweetheart?” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Want me to stretch you open while they watch how good you take it?”

Your head bobbed in a frantic nod, hips pressing back against him on instinct, but that wasn’t enough for him. Not even close.

“No,” he growled, the sound curling against your ear. “Use your words, babygirl. I want to hear you beg for it.”

The command wrapped around your spine and squeezed. You shuddered, your voice trembling as you forced the words out between broken breaths.

“Please… I want your cock. I want you inside me. I need it…need you inside.”

He groaned, the sound raw and ruined.

“Good girl”

Then—finally—he pressed in.

The thick head of him slid against your entrance, not just blunt and hot but devastatingly slow, like he needed you to feel it all. To know exactly what you’d begged for. Your back arched as he began to sink in, inch by torturous inch, stretching you open, filling you with a groan that vibrated through both your bodies.

“That’s it,” he breathed, almost to himself, eyes fluttering shut. “You take me so well...”

When his hips finally met yours, his cock buried to the hilt, there was a beat of silence. Just feeling. Just stretch. Your body clenching instinctively around him as if it already knew it was his.

One hand smoothed slowly along your spine, almost tender—then tangled in your hair and tugged. Not rough, but firm enough to drag a gasp from your throat, your mouth parting with a shivery cry. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“You take me too well,” he murmured, teeth grazing your skin. “Like you were made to be fucked like this.”

His grip shifted, one hand sliding down to press into your lower back, guiding you into the perfect arch. The other trailed to your throat—not choking, just grounding you, a silent claim. You barely had time to brace yourself before he pulled back, leaving only the thick tip inside you.

And then he slammed back in.

The sharp smack of skin meeting skin echoed in the air, loud and filthy and perfect. You cried out, the sound mixing with his broken moan, a harmony of ruin.

“Fuck—there she is,” he growled, voice dark and thrilled. “Knew you could take it. Knew this pussy would open up for me.”

Then came the rhythm. Relentless. Brutal. His hips snapped forward again and again, each thrust punishing, precise. Your body rocked under him, shoved toward the edge of the bed only for his grip to drag you back down the length of him, keeping you right where he wanted.

Every movement was slick, wet, loud—the sound of need made flesh.

He was panting now, jaw clenched, eyes burning into your back as if he could see through your skin to where he lived inside you.

“Ohh… o-oh fuck, Baby!” you mewl, voice muffled by the sheets as your face was shoved down, your spine in a deep arch, ass up and trembling. The silver bell around your neck jingled with every breathless gasp, soft and helpless, the sound driving him wild.

“Please—please, harder—ah!” you cried, reaching back toward him without thinking, fingers flexing, desperate for more. The soft chime followed your movements, that teasing little bell giving you away, betraying every tremble, every needy shift.

He snatched your wrists without hesitation, pinning them in one hand like it was nothing, using them for leverage as he slammed back into you.

“Harder?” he echoed with a mocking pout, voice dark with amusement. “Poor little thing. You’re already drooling all over the sheets, and this still isn’t enough?” He leaned over your back, hips pistoning forward as the sound of your skin clapping against his grew louder, filthier.

You choked on a sob, the shame and pleasure tangling beautifully.

He growled low as he let go of your arms, pushing you even deeper into the mattress with one heavy palm between your shoulder blades. The other gripped your hip, fingers bruising as he adjusted your angle with brutal precision.

“Oh—right there—, more! More, please—just like that—” you cried, completely undone, lips parted, eyes fluttering back in your skull. The jingle of your bell matched the rhythm of his thrusts, sharp and merciless.

“Yeah?” he taunted. “You gonna come from just this? Bent over like a bitch in heat, drooling all over my cock?”

“Fuck yourself, babygirl,” he growled, low and dark, the words dragging over your skin like smoke. Smack. His palm landed hot and sharp across your ass, making you jerk forward before he tugged you right back into place. “Since you’re such a greedy little slut.”

You whimpered, already aching, and obeyed, shifting forward just enough to sink your hips down onto him, the head of his cock splitting you open with ease. One hand gripped your ass cheek, spreading yourself shamelessly as you turned to look over your shoulder at him, eyes wide and glazed with need.

A moan ripped from your throat as his heavy length filled you, stretching you wide. You could feel the weight of his balls slap against your clit each time you rocked your hips back, the pressure sending sharp pulses of heat straight through your core.

He groaned, head falling back for a second before his hands gripped your ankles hard, yanking them wider with a growl. You were helpless like this, knees dug into the bed, back arched and pussy swallowing him whole while your bell gave a soft, desperate jingle.

“G-give it to me, baby…” you panted, pouting through the moans. “Wan’ it so bad, please…”

That earned a dark laugh, low and dangerous.

“Now you’ve done it.”

That little pout undid him. His hand fisted in your hair, shoving your face back into the sheets. The other curled around the back of your neck, thumb pressed just under your jaw as his hips slammed up into you with a punishing rhythm.

You let out a cry as he ground himself into you, the thick head of his cock pressing right up against your cervix—hot, heavy, and unrelenting.

“Such a filthy little thing,” he hissed, hips snapping fast and deep. “My desperate, cock-drunk slut... fuck, I’m close. Where do you want it, sweetheart? Beg for it.”

The bed jolted beneath you, headboard rocking as he chased his release. Your bell jingled with every thrust, a soft chime under the sound of skin slapping and breathless moans.

You could barely form words, your body burning, breath caught in your throat.

“I-inside! Don’t miss—nngh! Please, please, can I—c-can I cum? Please—m’cumming!”

Your voice broke into a sob as your body clenched around him, hips jerking uncontrollably. That question—your begging—made his cock throb inside you.

The second you said it, he lost it.

A growl ripped out of him, low and feral, as his hips stuttered hard. His cock twitched deep inside you, slamming into your cervix, and suddenly he leaned down fast, teeth sinking into your shoulder—right where your shirt wouldn’t ever cover.

You screamed his name, eyes rolling back as your pussy locked down around him, gushing hard, soaking the sheets. The room spun. Every nerve in your body snapped tight with your orgasm.

He moaned into your skin, voice trembling. “F-fuck—I love you.”

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was possessive, broken, real—something dark and violent underneath it, like he’d rather die than let anyone else touch you.

“I love you,” he repeated again, panting against your neck as his hips jerked through your orgasm, rutting into your soaked cunt with a desperation that bordered on obsession. “You’re mine. You’re mine forever. You hear me? No one else gets you. No one. I’ll fucking kill them.”

Your fingers clawed at the sheets, overwhelmed, overstimulated, but the sound of his voice—the way he meant every word—pushed you over the edge again. Your cunt milked his cock greedily, begging for more even as his hips slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt.

You could barely speak, body spasming as wave after wave tore through you, but you choked out, “Y-yours—Baby, I’m yours—!”

That was all it took.

He came with a guttural moan, thick white heat spilling into your womb in long, punishing spurts, cock still grinding into the mark he made, into the mess he created. You sobbed against the sheets as it leaked out around him, your body spent, but he wouldn’t pull out—not yet.

One hand stayed firm around your neck, and the other slid up to cup your breast possessively. His hips finally stilled, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear, breath warm and unsteady.

“I love you,” he whispered again, calmer now, voice dark and dreamy as he nuzzled your hair. “Even if you run, even if you fight it.”

He kissed the spot where his teeth had bitten, tongue dragging lazily over the angry mark.

“I’ll find you.”

You could feel him smile against your skin. Not soft. Not sweet. But something darker—proud.

“I’ll always find you. You’re mine until the end.”

You could still feel the bite stinging as his thumb brushed over it lazily, proud.

Baby pulled out slowly, dragging a groan from deep in his chest, like even his body hated leaving yours. You whimpered as he slipped free, your hips twitching at the sudden emptiness, the wet slide of him retreating leaving you raw, aching, and flooded with heat.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over your spine as he leaned down and kissed the bite he’d left. “You took me so well. So perfect for us.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely move. Your legs trembled beneath you, slick and heat dripping down your thighs, your breath caught somewhere between a moan and a sob. But the mark—his mark—burned gently at your shoulder, and the glow pulsing under your skin matched the shimmer now emanating from Baby’s body.

The same supernatural light that had bathed Mystery now pulsed beneath Baby’s demon form, illuminating his toned chest, the curve of his horns, the ridges of his claws. His golden eyes glowed brighter than before, as if the bond had deepened his very nature. Another thread of fate now tied to your soul.

He gave you one last lingering glance, the kind that scorched, before walking away from the bed. His steps were slow, smug, and soaked in pride as he joined the others.

Jinu was the first to speak, laughing low and sharp as he clapped Baby on the back. “You really had to go full demon, huh?”

“You and Mystery did,” Abby added, arms crossed over his chest, glowing marks crawling over his skin like chains of flame. “Was that necessary?”

“Completely,” Baby said with zero shame, licking his bottom lip like he could still taste you. “She was begging for it.”

“She’s not just marked,” Abby said, voice tighter, jaw clenched. “She’s bonded. I can feel it pulling—like it’s wrapping around us too.”

“It is,” Mystery confirmed quietly. “It’s not just growing. It’s tightening. She’s sinking into us now. Thread by thread.”

Baby grinned wickedly. “Then I guess we should keep going before it snaps.”

Romance stepped forward with a soft tsk, rolling his shoulders as he loosened his neck. The gold in his eyes flickered like firelight, and his smile was slow, fond, dangerous.

“You two came in like monsters,” He stepped closer, eyeing Mystery’s fangs and the lingering glow beneath Baby’s skin. Romance himself was still in his human form, but the jagged black markings crawling up his chest and neck shimmered like they were alive, and his golden eyes burned. “Horns out, claws bared, glowing like the underworld itself.”

Romance let out a quiet breath, half a laugh, and then turned his glowing gaze back to the others. “I guess it’s my job now… to take care of her properly. Gently. Sweetly. Like she deserves.”

Jinu scoffed. “You? Gentle?”

“I can be,” Romance said, voice silken. “Sometimes.”

Abby leaned against the wall, arms still crossed, but the strain in his shoulders betrayed him. “I give you five minutes before you’re growling into her neck and marking her so hard we see the bite from space.”

Romance grinned wider. “Jealous?”

“I’ll be next,” Abby said darkly. “So you better not break her.”

Romance turned back to the bed slowly, his eyes drinking you in. The teasing glint was gone, replaced by something deeper, darker. Hunger laced with reverence. Like the sight of you—wrecked, panting, shimmering with the marks of the others—had snapped something inside him.

He moved with that signature grace, slow and deliberate, like every step was meant to wind you tighter. His voice dropped, low and smooth like silk sliding over heat. “Poor little kitten… they were so rough with you, weren’t they?”

You nodded weakly, instinctive, wordless. Your body leaned into his touch the second his hand cupped your cheek, your mouth brushing against his palm like you couldn’t help it. You kissed it, soft and slow, then dragged your tongue along the warm, slightly calloused skin, desperate to taste more.

Just like a kitten.

Romance’s lips curled at the edges, equal parts amused and enthralled by how pliant you were for him. You, still trembling from the others, still chose to reach for him.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “So good for me already.” His hand slid lower, long fingers gliding over your slick folds. “Need me to make it better?”

“Mm-hmm,” you whimpered, nodding again. “Please… hurts, need you…”

Your words tangled and broke apart as the pad of his finger circled your clit, slow and cruel, dragging it out. Your hips jolted, lips parting in a shaky moan.

“Such a good girl,” Romance said with a soft laugh, but his eyes burned gold. “That mouth, and that body. You were meant to be worshipped, you know that?”

Before you could answer, he shifted, leaning back against the headboard and tugging you with him. His grip was firm, commanding, and somehow still gentle as he spun you around with one fluid motion. Your back now faced him, your thighs still trembling. Then he lifted you, his hands strong under your hips as if you weighed nothing at all.

A soft gasp escaped you as he guided you down, settling you onto his lap, straddling his waist. Your knees sank into the mattress on either side of him, thighs spread, your core pressed hot and aching against the thick line of him beneath you.

He groaned low, head falling back briefly at the contact, before his hands roamed, palming your hips, your waist, your thighs, slow and worshipful.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, voice curling against your neck. “Sitting so pretty like this. You know what that does to me?”

You arched slightly, grinding down on him with a needy whine, the motion sending a sharp ripple of pleasure through both of you.

Romance’s answering chuckle was dark and low, curling through your spine like smoke. “Greedy little thing,” he murmured, his voice dipping into that rich, velvet tone he knew made you melt. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you everything.”

One hand slid up your spine, his touch soothing and possessive all at once, while the other held you firmly in place. His lips brushed your shoulder, warm and lingering, fangs just grazing the skin like a warning wrapped in affection.

A breathy, broken sound slipped from your lips as you shifted, thighs trembling from how full you were. His cock sat impossibly deep inside you, thick and heavy, nudging at a spot that had your breath hitching and your skin prickling with heat. The stretch was intense—almost too much—and yet you couldn’t stop. You’d taken him slow, careful, inch by inch, like your body knew it needed to feel every second of it.

And Romance… he just watched.

Watched while your back arched, while your hips stuttered, while the blush on your cheeks bloomed like a secret only he was allowed to see. His thighs twitched beneath you, betraying just how badly he wanted to move. But he didn’t. He stayed still, breath coming in slow, uneven waves, as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“Romance…” your voice broke, barely audible, like a breath of wind. “It’s… it’s too deep.”

He moved then, slow and deliberate. His hands came to rest on your hips—big, warm palms anchoring you, but not demanding. He didn’t grip or force; he just held you there, thumbs stroking gently over your skin like he was calming something wild and precious.

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice sweet and low against your ear. “Feelin’ full, baby?”

You shuddered when he leaned forward, chest brushing against your back, his lips ghosting along your shoulder. He kissed the skin there—once, twice—then pulled back just enough to admire the curve of your spine, the way your body sat so perfectly on top of him.

You whimpered, head tipping forward.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, his voice smooth as silk but steeped in hunger. “But you’re takin’ me so good. Look at you—already stretched open so pretty, just for me.”

The words made your whole body tense with heat, your nails biting into his thighs beneath you. You could feel how deep he was, how your walls fluttered just trying to adjust.

“Just roll your hips,” he whispered, that gentleness threading into something heavier, deeper. “Nice and slow. Like you do when you’re sittin’ on Mystery’s face… all needy and spoiled.”

Your stomach clenched. “Romance—!” you gasped, mortified and turned on all at once.

“Mm-mm,” he hummed behind you, one hand smoothing up your spine, the other tightening just slightly on your hip. “Don’t get shy now, kitten. You were so good for him. So greedy with those slow, little rolls of your hips. Rubbin’ yourself all over his mouth, moanin’ like you wanted the whole world to hear.”

You whimpered, face burning as your walls fluttered around him.

“Yeah… made the prettiest sounds too,” he continued, breath warm on your neck. “I want that. Want you. Show me how much you need me.”

Your breath hitched as you did exactly what he asked—rolled your hips, slow and unsure. His cock dragged deep inside you, the thick length brushing against spots that made your vision blur, made your toes curl. A soft moan spilled from your lips as your hands flew back, fingers splayed across the hard ridges of his abs for balance.

“There you go,” Romance said, praise heavy in every word. “That’s it, kitten...just like that. So perfect like this.”

He tilted his hips slightly beneath you, adjusting the angle just enough that when you moved again, you choked on a gasp. Your eyes fluttered, body arching instinctively, chasing that same drag, that same high.

“Fuck,” he groaned behind you, hands sliding up your waist, holding you like he never wanted to let go. “You feel that, baby? How deep I am? You’re so good for me. Look at you—riding my cock like you were meant to.”

You whimpered, the rhythm of your hips stuttering as heat built low in your stomach. He was letting you ride him, but you weren’t in control—not really. Not when every movement pulled you deeper into him, not when his hands made you feel owned and worshipped in the same breath.

“I’ll guide you, baby,” Romance murmured, nuzzling your shoulder, his breath hot and tender against your skin. “I’ll help you take it. Just like this. Let me give you everything…”

You rolled your hips like he said, letting out a shaky breath as you took him to a new, aching depth, stretching open around the thick weight of him. The silver bell tied around your throat gave a soft jingle with every shift, its delicate chime lost beneath the wet sounds of your bodies meeting.

You kept moving, rocking your hips with slow, messy rhythm, his cock dragging against every swollen nerve inside you. A pretty string of moans escaped your lips, soft, breathy sighs of his name like prayer.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tipping back as you gave yourself over to the moment. You were on top now, your pace, your rhythm, your control, and Romance watched you with something dark and proud in his eyes, chest rising heavy beneath you like he was trying not to lose it.

“There you go, kitten…” he groaned, voice warm and velvet-sweet. “Atta girl. You got it.”

His praise only spurred you on. You braced your hands on his thighs and began to bounce, harder, deeper, each movement punching out a whimper as his cock rammed into your cervix again and again. The sharp slap of skin echoed through the room, punctuated by the shaky sound of your bell.

But your strength was slipping. Just a few bounces and your thighs trembled, your rhythm faltering as the burn set in. You whimpered and dropped back into that needy grind, rolling your hips over him instead, desperate to keep the friction.

Romance snickered behind you, smug and lazy-sounding. “Already tired, baby?” His voice was teasing, but laced with hunger. “Can’t even ride it properly?”

“So big,” you gasped out, voice cracking with the effort. “I can’t…”

He leaned up behind you slowly, like a predator rising to devour. One hand reached around to brush the hair clinging to your damp cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. The other ran up your trembling thighs and settled firmly on your hips.

“Does it burn?” His voice dropped low, almost tender, and it made your eyes snap open, breath hitching. “Want me to help, kitten?”

You nodded weakly, panting. “Yeah…”

“That’s okay, baby,” he whispered, mouth trailing up your shoulder as he pressed close to your back. “I got you.”

He kissed along your spine, then your neck, nuzzling just beneath the ribbon. The bell chimed again as he caught the knot between his teeth, tugging playfully before kissing the side of your throat. You moaned helplessly, your body clenching around him.

Then his arm curled tight around your waist and he sat up fully, pulling you flush against his chest as he began to thrust from below, slow at first, then harder, deeper, until your breath shattered in your lungs.

His other hand slid up to cup your breasts, kneading gently as you cried out. Every movement sent the bell around your neck ringing in time with the filthy rhythm he set.

“Just stay right here,” he rasped against your ear, thrusts snapping up into your soaked heat. “Let me fuck you properly, kitten…”

“Sooo tight,” Romance groaned, dragging the word out like he was tasting it, like the sound alone might make him come. His voice was low and rough with restraint, every syllable thick with need. “Squeezin’ me like you were made for it.”

You gasped, breath catching in your throat as his hips rolled up into you—slow, precise, like he knew the angles that made your body crumble. You leaned back against his chest, dizzy with fullness, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to your skin. The bell at your throat gave the faintest jingle as your head lolled to the side, exposing your throat.

Romance’s mouth found your jaw, breath hot as he murmured, “You gonna come like this? Sittin’ so pretty on my cock?”

You nodded, helplessly, barely able to speak. You were so close—your body drawn tight like a bow, every muscle trembling. Your clit pulsed with every slow thrust, and each time he helped you drop down again, the thick head of his cock hit so deep your vision blurred.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

Then he moved. Swift and sure, like instinct, he spun you around in his lap, hands never leaving your skin. Now chest to chest, breath tangled with his, you watched his eyes flicker—dark and wild. And then he kissed you.

God, did he kiss you.

It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate. Hungry. Tongue pushing past your lips like he owned your mouth, like he was claiming it. The kiss was open-mouthed and breathless, hips grinding up into yours at the same time, forcing you to feel every inch of him, again and again.

Your hands curled into his hair as he dropped his mouth lower. His tongue flattened and dragged slow over your nipple, then flicked fast, then sucked deep, cheeks hollowing like he was trying to drink something out of you. It wasn’t gentle—it was needy, possessive, downright filthy.

“Could suck these for hours,” he muttered between licks, the words hot against your soaked skin. “Sweet little tits all bared for me…”

His other hand didn’t rest—it squeezed your other breast like a stress toy, rolling your nipple between his fingers absently, as though he couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t get enough of you. Every graze sent heat pooling low in your belly, dragging you closer to the edge.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his back as he thrust up into you again, and your moan shattered in his mouth when he latched back on.

“You feel that?” he rasped, pulling back to press his forehead to yours. “That’s me, baby. Deep in your belly. You own this, yeah?”

You nodded, sobbed, kissed him—and he kissed you back.

Not soft. Not sweet.

Starved.

Mouths crashing together like you both couldn’t breathe without the other. His hand curled behind your neck, tilting your face as he devoured every sound you made. The kiss was hot, messy, so full of tongue and teeth that your head spun, your hips grinding down on instinct.

And all the while, that little bell on your ribbon chimed with every movement—proof that you were theirs. That you wanted to be caught.

“Come for me,” he growled against your lips, fucking up hard enough to bounce you. “Wanna feel you milk me.”

You shattered with a cry that was more sob than moan, clinging to Romance like you might fall apart without him. Your orgasm wracked through you in hot, helpless waves, muscles locking, body squeezing him so tight he hissed through clenched teeth.

And that’s when he bit you.

Right above your breast, right where your heart pounded the hardest.

The sting was sharp—then searing, as his fangs sank in deep and purposeful. You could feel it burn into you, not just skin, but soul. His name. His claim. The third mark. A flash of heat rippled out from the bite, curling deep between your legs.

Romance groaned against you, his demon form unfurling in one slow, possessive wave. Glowing marks shimmered across his chest and down his arms like. His horns curled higher, molten at the tips, and his irises burned amber-bright with hunger and devotion.

A long, thick tail slid out from behind him, dark and sleek, glistening faintly in the low light. It moved like it had a mind of its own, sinuous and sure as it curled around your thigh first, then your waist, until it looped around your hips in a slow, claiming spiral. The tip brushed your inner thigh, a soft, heart-shaped end that pulsed with heat, teasing where you were still trembling.

It didn’t stop moving. With every aftershock that rolled through you, the tail squeezed tighter in gentle pulses, like it could feel your release, like it was syncing with your rhythm. Possessing every part of you it could reach.

You collapsed into his chest, utterly boneless, breath hitching as your body throbbed around him.

He spilled inside you with a choked moan, then collapsed forward, bracing his weight just enough not to crush you. But he didn’t pull away. He wrapped himself around you tighter, possessive even in his exhaustion.

Kisses followed, desperate and fluttering down your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest. His voice was low and trembling, full of something broken and dangerously sweet.

“I love you,” he whispered against the bite. “I love you. I love you. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

His arms curled around you like he thought someone might try to take you away. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of it—of him—and you didn’t want to.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You ruined me the second you looked at me. You think I’ll ever stop? That I’ll ever let you go?”

You shivered as his tongue brushed the mark again, his breath burning against your skin.

“I’ll kill for you.”

“Gentle, huh?” Baby drawled, his tone full of smug amusement. “That was your idea of being soft?”

Romance didn’t even glance their way. He tucked your face against his throat, shielding you from their teasing like you were something fragile.

“She came so hard she forgot her own name,” Mystery added lazily, his voice velvety and teasing. “You trying to wife her up or melt her from the inside out?”

Romance didn’t look away from you. His hand brushed tenderly along your cheekbone, thumb grazing your lips. His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, soft in a way that made your stomach twist.

Behind him, his tail slid forward, uncoiling with a slow, serpentine grace. It curled around your leg, then wrapped around your waist like a second embrace, warm and steady. The heart-shaped tip traced small, soothing circles on your lower back, like it was trying to calm the flutter still trembling in your limbs. It wasn’t teasing. It was gentle. Protective. His.

“Whatever she needs,” he murmured, voice rough with heat. “I’ll give it to her.”

Jinu let out a low chuckle from the couch, the sound teasing but warm. “Don’t forget, lover boy—she’s still got two more marks to go.”

That finally pulled Romance’s gaze. He looked up, slow and unbothered, and smiled. Not a cocky grin. Not a smirk. It was quieter. Darker. The kind of smile that didn’t need to prove a thing—because they knew.

Knew you were already theirs.

Knew you weren’t going anywhere.

Already half-marked. Already ruined. Already his.

“I didn’t forget,” Romance murmured, finally answering his brothers without looking away from you.

Abby’s voice rumbled next, deeper than the rest, like thunder under skin. “Good. 'Cause it’s my turn now.”

But Romance wasn’t finished.

He looked back down at you, his expression softening, like the storm had quieted just for you alone. His palm cupped your cheek as if you were something precious, untouchable, and his. His tail coiled tighter around your waist for just a moment, almost like it didn’t want to let go.

He leaned in, brushing your hair gently away from your face. Then his lips found yours, slow, deep, claiming. The kind of kiss that didn’t just say mine, it carved it into you. Then another kiss, warm against your cheekbone. Then lower... his mouth lingering over the sensitive swell of your breast, where his mark still shimmered faintly against your skin like it glowed just for him.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he whispered, breath ghosting over your skin. His voice was rough, tender, full of heat and pride all at once. “Just two more. And then you’ll be ours. Completely.”

His tail gave one last teasing brush between your legs before slipping away entirely, like a secret.

“Good luck...”

And with that, he eased you forward into Abby’s arms.

It felt like falling into a furnace.

Abby caught you effortlessly, one arm locking around your waist while the other gripped your thigh and pulled you flush against him. His skin was hot to the touch, glowing faintly with the marks pulsing down his arms and across his chest like they were alive. His breath hit your ear, ragged and hungry.

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart.”

His hand slid over your hip, squeezing like he already owned it.

“Let’s see how much of that pretty strength you’ve got left.”

And then he moved.

Effortless. Commanding. He laid you down beneath him with a hunger just barely restrained, his eyes raking over you like you were something sacred—something he’d been denied for far too long.

And right before his mouth met yours, he smiled against your skin and growled

“Bet you’ll break just right for me.”

To be continued...

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