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𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @aurorab-0-realis @baby-bread-in @sra7riddle-malfoy @frostbitetrap-blog @athena-portgas @piancqwrites @soleilscb @cottonheadedninnymugggins @scara-simp69 @aurorarose2112 @bad4amficideas @ineed-myspace @yukimaniac @thegreatpapaya666

Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 7.3 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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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: 10.2k not proof read

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

“Bet you’ll break just right for me,” Abby murmured, his voice a low ripple of promise against your throat.

His gaze dropped to where your body lay beneath him—bare, flushed, already kissed and claimed by three of his brothers. But you were still trembling, still wanting. And that did something to him. It lit him up from the inside like a fuse catching flame.

His big palms settled on your hips, his thumbs stroking over the curve with quiet possession. A soft, satisfied sound escaped him, deep from his chest, as he gave your skin a subtle squeeze, like he was grounding himself in the feel of you.

Your fingers threaded into the soft waves of his pink-streaked hair, tugging gently. He didn’t flinch—if anything, he leaned into your touch like it fed something primal in him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, your lips brushing his—barely. Just enough to tease. Just enough to make him chase.

He chased the kiss with a growl of warning, lips crashing against yours with a hunger that scattered every thought in your head. One hand clenched harder on your hip while the other braced beside your head, holding himself back even as he devoured you. His mouth moved over yours like he’d been holding back for far too long, and now that he had you, he wasn’t letting go. Not until your body remembered his touch.

You moaned into the kiss, hips instinctively rocking up to meet his weight. You were still slick, still trembling from the others—but this was different. Abby felt different. Larger. Heavier. Calmer on the surface, but brimming with something darker underneath.

And he knew it. He could smell it on you. Feel the pulse of the bond humming in your chest, too loud, too sweet to ignore.

“I see,” he muttered against your lips, voice a low drawl. “Took my brothers so sweetly—let them wreck you…and you’re still this needy?” His teeth scraped your jaw as he added with a smirk, “ You couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded, helpless, mouth parted as a whimper caught in your throat. That was all he needed.

The next second, his lips left yours and found your throat, open-mouthed kisses trailing fire down your skin like worship. His fangs grazed your pulse, not biting, not yet, but the threat was there, pulsing with promise. Each nip sent sparks racing down your spine until your nails curled into his shoulder, clutching him like an anchor.

His hands slid down your back, wide and sure, fingers splaying at the curve of your spine. Then lower—gliding under until both hands cupped your ass, squeezing firmly before pulling you into him with a growl that vibrated against your collarbone. Your breath caught as your hips met, his arousal hard and unforgiving against your core.

“Feel that?” he murmured, lips brushing your throat. “That’s what you’ve been waiting for… isn’t it?”

You choked out a yes, your fingers weaving into his soft pink hair, tugging him down into another kiss, open and wet and desperate. He groaned into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours like he was already imagining how you'd taste when he finally—

He didn’t break the kiss.

Not right away.

His mouth moved over yours like he couldn’t get enough, like he was tasting every sound he planned to drag out of you. But even as he kissed you, even as his tongue danced against yours, his gaze never left your face. His eyes burned into you with that unflinching, unshakable heat that always made your breath catch, that knowing stare that said mine, again and again, without a single word.

Then his hand slid between your thighs.

He circled your entrance slowly, teasing you with the promise of more. Then, with one slow push, he slid a thick finger inside—stretching you open around him. Your walls clamped down, the slick heat of your body wrapping around him as you let out a broken moan.

He groaned low in his throat, leaning in to murmur against your lips, “So fucking tight... and still dripping”

Your hips answered before your voice could, rocking forward into his palm, chasing the heat of him as your body fluttered in anticipation.

His thumb moved next, finding your clit with maddening precision—slow, teasing circles that made your head fall back, lips parted, breath stuttering. Meanwhile, his finger curled inside you, knowing and patient, and dragged along your walls like he was mapping every reaction, every shiver. His free hand kept your hips steady, holding you there, making you take everything he gave you.

He watched you like he was starving, like every twitch of your body was some holy thing meant only for him.

Then came the second finger.

You gasped, a high, breathless sound as the stretch deepened, sharp and perfect. Your legs parted wider on instinct, thighs trembling as he filled you deeper. The slick sound of his fingers working you echoed in the heat-thick air, filthy and divine.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough and low. “So greedy for me… look how well you take my fingers.”

His pace stayed steady, intentional, unhurried. Like he was savoring every twitch of your body around him. His fingers pumped with that slow, devastating rhythm that had your thighs quaking, your hands fisting the sheets.

Then he angled deeper, curling again, and your whole body jolted—hips twitching upward as if drawn to him by instinct alone. He found it. That spot. That unbearable sweet place inside you.

“There,” he said, gaze dropping to where you were soaking his hand, then lifting back to your face. “Right there, huh? That’s your spot, isn’t it?”

He didn’t hold back.

His fingers moved faster now, still intentional, still precise, but no longer holding back. Every thrust stroked against your most sensitive spot, the pressure just shy of overwhelming. The wet, obscene sound of it filled the room, mixing with your broken moans and the sharp catch of your breath.

You clenched around him, hips rocking shamelessly into his palm. The friction was maddening, every drag of his knuckles making your thighs tremble, your head tipping back in surrender.

He groaned low, deep in his chest, eyes flickering between your face and where his hand was buried between your legs. “That’s it, princess… yeah, just like that,” he murmured, voice a dark purr. “So fucking good like this...”

Your lips parted around a mewl, your body already moving on its own. Hips rolling, chasing him, grinding into his palm like you could pull him deeper. Every muscle was drawn tight with tension, your breath coming in broken gasps.

“Mm, there you go,” he coaxed, his thumb circling your clit faster now, fingers curling up inside you with ruthless precision. “I need you to come again for me, sweet thing…he murmured, lips brushing your cheek like a promise. “come on, I know you’ve got more for me.”

The way he said it, like your pleasure was a gift he needed, made your chest tighten. There was something in his voice, something feral, ancient. Like you were feeding a hunger in him he’d buried deep. Like this wasn’t just sex, it was claiming.

“Yes... abby,” you panted, voice breathy and wrecked. “Harder… please—”

He huffed a breathless chuckle against your neck, his mouth dragging open kisses along your collarbone. “You don’t need to beg, princess,” he said, voice molten and possessive. “I’ll give you everything. All of me, just like you deserve.”

And he did.

His fingers moved faster, curling with devastating precision, dragging over the spot that made you cry out, again and again. Heat coiled low in your belly, pressure building fast, blinding—your body tightening like a bowstring.

Then it snapped.

Your body arched, a cry tearing from your lips as your orgasm crashed through you, fierce and all-consuming. Your muscles clamped around his fingers, fluttering with every pulse of release, your thighs quivering with overstimulation as he kept going, kept holding you through it like he couldn’t stand to stop. Your slick coated his hand, hot and glistening, soaking his knuckles and palm like a reward.

"That’s it..." Abby whispered, lips brushing your temple. "That’s my good girl. So fucking perfect…just like that."

He kept his fingers buried inside you, fucking you through it with a slow, indulgent rhythm, like he didn’t want to let go of how you felt around him. Your release shimmered across his knuckles, slick and shining.

Then he pulled his fingers from your soaked heat and brought them to his mouth. His eyes never left yours as he sucked them clean, lips parting around the mess you made of him. A deep, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest.

“As fucking delicious as I imagined,” he rasped, voice wrecked with hunger. His other hand slid up your thigh, kneading the trembling flesh with a kind of possessive care, as if your softness belonged to him now—claimed by touch alone.

His gaze flicked down your body, possessive and hungry. His cock strained beneath the fabric of his slacks, painfully hard. He hadn’t touched himself once, but just the scent of you, the sound of your pleasure, had him on the brink. Your scent was everywhere—thick, heady, sweet—and it clung to his skin like a spell, muddling his thoughts and drowning him in want.

“I wanted to be patient,” he said, voice dark and low, barely restrained. “Wanted to take care of you slow... make you feel safe, spoiled, full.” His nose brushed your cheek as he exhaled hard, the tremble in his tone betraying how close he was to snapping. “But right now... all I can think about is filling you up so deep they’ll never get your scent off me.”

In your haze, it hit you—he was still dressed from the waist down.

Your eyes dropped slowly, greedily, tracing every plane of him. The way his slacks hugged his hips, how they clung to his thighs, the soft press of muscle beneath tailored fabric—it all felt unfair. But your gaze halted at the unmistakable bulge between his legs.

Your breath caught.

Holy—

Even confined, he looked huge. Thick and heavy, resting along the side of his leg, the outline alone enough to make your mouth go dry and your cunt clench around nothing. It twitched beneath the fabric, eager, threatening, obscene. Your stomach fluttered, anticipation pooling between your thighs like heat sliding down your spine.

With trembling fingers, you reached for his belt, the soft clink of the buckle sounded too loud in the quiet. You took your time, drawing the moment out like a prayer. The zipper came down slow, the tension palpable, and his cock surged forward against the thin cotton of his boxer briefs—impossibly hard, leaking, and clearly aching.There was already a dark patch spreading near the tip, soaking through.

Your jaw dropped slightly.

He was…massive. Thicker than you imagined, longer than you could’ve guessed, the flushed head glistening with arousal even through the cotton. Your breath caught in your throat as your fingers brushed along the rigid length, barely a touch—and still he twitched hard against your palm, his body lurching like he’d been starved for it.

“Princess,” he chuckled, voice dark and husky, “you’re staring.”

He cupped your face gently, but there was something primal in the weight of his gaze—possessive, almost feral beneath the fondness.

You lifted your eyes to his, breathless, then looked back down and finally freed him from his briefs. His cock dropped heavy into your waiting hands, hot and velvety, the flushed head glistening with a bead of precum that made your lips part in wonder.

You licked your lips without thinking.

Both hands wrapped around him instinctively, unable to take him all at once. Your grip was careful at first, exploring, testing. But it didn’t stay gentle for long. The feel of him—thick, pulsing, slick with need—made your pulse roar in your ears. Your strokes grew bolder, tighter, more assured.

He let out a sound, low and guttural, like it had been ripped from somewhere deep.

That sound did something to you.

His eyes stayed locked to yours, dark and dilated. You bit your lip, drinking him in, relishing the sight of him unraveling under your touch. His hips began to subtly move with your strokes, chasing more, chasing you.

“Yes, princess,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

You smiled up at him, drunk on the feel of him, on the way his voice curled around your spine like dark velvet.

Your grip tightened, both hands working him with smooth, hungry strokes. Abby’s cock throbbed in your palms like it had its own pulse, hard and slick and hot enough to brand you. You could feel the pressure building in him—his thighs taut, his breath ragged, his shoulders trembling from the effort it took not to just take.

He was beautiful like this—head tilted back, lashes fluttering, lips parted and glossy with breath. And when you swiped your thumb over the head again, catching the frenum just right, he groaned. The low groan he let out made your thighs clench around nothing, the sound slithering down your spine like a promise.

God, you wanted him inside.

Your folds clenched around nothing, slick and needy. The ache between your thighs was unbearable now—relentless, deep, wild. The idea of having him split you open on that fat, heavy cock made your breath hitch, your vision blur with want.

All your hesitation had long since melted away. You didn’t want slow or soft anymore. You wanted him to ruin you, to take what the others had already marked and make it his.

And he knew.

Abby rasped, his hand sliding from your cheek down the column of your throat—fingers brushing the black ribbon tied there, the small silver bell trembling where it hung against your pulse. His thumb grazed it. Chime. “Collared like a good girl and still this needy. You wanna feel all of me, don’t you, princess?”

Your lips parted to answer, a soft gasp escaping instead, the sound tangled in your throat like a plea.

“Hyung!” Baby’s whine cut through the haze, loud and petulant. “You’re getting a handjob? Seriously?”

You didn’t stop.

Neither did Abby.

His hips rolled into your grip, slow and deliberate, and he didn’t even bother to look over at Baby at first. Just kept his eyes locked on you, voice low and unbothered. “Keep crying about it. I earned it.”

“Oh, please,” Baby scoffed, flopping dramatically across the couch, still shirtless, his hair an adorable mess, lips swollen and kiss-stained from the last time your mouth was on him. “You weren’t even the first in line. I literally just—mmph!”

A throw pillow smacked him in the face.

Mystery didn’t even look up from where he was cleaning his nails with a blade. “You already got a blowjob, Baby. Shut the hell up.”

Romance gave a low chuckle, sprawled on the couch with his shirt unbuttoned, the faintest pink still lingering on his lips. “You had your turn, Baby.”

“Yeah,” Mystery added, dry as ever. “You already came down her throat. Let him have his moment before you start wailing.”

Baby huffed and sank back against the cushions, arms crossed like a pouting prince. “Whatever. I just think it’s unfair how good she looks with his dick in her hands.”

“You think she doesn’t look good with every dick in her hands?” Romance added lazily, grinning.

“Enough.” Abby’s growl rumbled through his chest—low, gravelly, final. His hand caught your jaw, tilting your face up to him. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his gaze heavy, locked on yours. “They’ve had their fill. But you?” His voice dropped as he leaned in, lips ghosting just above yours. “You’re mine right now.”

The words sank into you like a brand.

You bit your lip, hand still moving, desperate now. The weight of him, the heat, the way his body tensed under your touch—you needed more.

And then the thought struck.

Sudden. Raw. Unstoppable.

You wanted him inside you. Not just his cock in your hand, but all of him—splitting you open, dragging that low, delicious ache through your core until you were wrecked and boneless and full.

Your folds clenched hard at the idea. Wet heat flooded you. You didn’t even try to hide the way your breath stuttered, or how your thighs squeezed together.

Abby saw it.

A slow, predatory smile curved his lips. He reached down, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh, feeling the tremble there. He hummed low in approval.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped.

Your lips parted before your thoughts could even form.

“I want…” you swallowed, breath shaky, “I want to feel you—inside.”

Abby’s chuckle rumbled low in his chest, dark and knowing, his breath fanning against your throat as he leaned in. One large hand gripped the base of his cock while the other steadied you by the waist, his thumb brushing lazy, grounding circles into your skin. He rubbed the thick head of his length through your folds—slow, savoring the slick warmth that welcomed him.

You gasped at the sensation—the gliding tease of him sliding between your folds again and again, coating himself in your arousal, preparing you for the stretch he knew would follow.

"Shhh, princess," he murmured, voice like velvet smoke, “just wanna make sure you’re ready for me. Don’t want to hurt you.”

Then, with one guiding press of his hand, he aligned your hips with his. And you felt it—the beginning. That slow, heady push as he started to ease into you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your body opened for him inch by aching inch, your walls clenching instinctively, the stretch thick and overwhelming. Every nerve along your spine lit up in a feverish cascade as your muscles tried to accommodate him. It was too much, too deep—but not nearly enough. You needed him all the way in.

Abby gritted his teeth, jaw tight, a rough curse slipping past his lips as your heat squeezed around him like velvet fire.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, arms tightening around you. His muscles flexed with restraint, his voice low and shaking. “You’re so fucking tight, princess…”

You could only moan, fingers curling into the hard lines of his shoulders, your thighs trembling as you slowly sank down onto him. The fullness was overwhelming, every nerve lit up, pleasure blurring into sweet, intoxicating pressure. Each inch felt impossibly deeper than the last, and he was still going.

"Gods...Abby—A-abby—" your voice cracked as you grabbed his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Your eyes were squeezed shut, heart pounding. "W-Wait—"

“Shh… just a little more,” he cooed, his voice gentling, kisses dotting your cheek, your jaw, your temple like a balm. “You’re doing so good, pretty. You’re taking me so well.”

You whimpered, breath hitching.

“I’ll make it fit… we’ll make it fit, won’t we?” His voice dropped lower, velvet and reverent.

He rolled his hips just a fraction deeper and murmured against your ear, “Breathe, princess. Just like that… Come on, relax for me, yeah? Let me in…let me all the way in…”

You obeyed without thinking, gasping through shaky breaths, forcing your body to soften, even as your muscles spasmed from the effort. You felt like there was no way he could get deeper—

But he did.

And then he kept going until he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against the deepest part of you, and the sound that ripped from your throat was almost a sob.

Your head fell forward against his shoulder, your whole body trembling from the effort to contain the flood of sensation.

“That’s—” you choked out.

“All of me,” he finished for you, voice rich with dark satisfaction. His hand cradled your jaw, turning your face toward his. His eyes were burning, half-lidded, pupils blown wide. “Every inch, princess. You took it all.”

He ground his hips against you, slow and deep, just enough to remind your body what it had accepted—and your insides clenched in helpless response.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, voice rough and reverent, brushing his nose along your cheek. “Tell me, pretty thing.”

Every movement proved indefinitely that he was as long as he was thick—your core stretching to accommodate him. You felt him in places you'd never felt before—moulding and carving you out just for him, digging out new space inside you that only he could occupy.

“A little—” you whispered, voice cracking. Your bell chimed faintly as your head tipped back, the delicate sound like a signal of surrender. “G-gods…”

He hissed, biting down a groan as your walls spasmed around him again. “You’re trying to kill me,” he muttered, but his tone was laced with heat—part soft worship, part barely-contained snarl.

But your body had a mind of its own—your walls clenching again around the thick intrusion as he slid out and thrust back in harder, testing you. Stretching you. Wrecking you.

“Not helping,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk in his voice. “You’re not making this any easier on yourself, princess.”

His hips snapped forward again, sharp and punishing, forcing a cry from your lips as your thighs shook around his waist.

“I could be soft,” he continued, voice dark and laced with mock-affection. “If you’d stop clenching so tight every time I sink into you.”

Your apology came out broken between moans. “I’m—ohh—sorry—”

“Mm.” His tongue flicked against the pulse in your throat. "That's not going to make it easier, you know."

His voice curled like smoke, hot and cruel and amused, thick with the restraint it took not to ruin you then and there. But there was a grin hiding in his words—a sinful one. One that knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Your bell jingled again, sharp and high as he rocked you forward with the next thrust. He stilled for a moment, just to listen. “That sound,” Abby said softly, mouth pressed against the side of your neck. “I think it’s my new favorite song.”

“Keep clinking that little bell, princess,” he purred, his next thrust cruelly slow, “and I’ll make sure you’re too sore to walk tomorrow. Maybe the day after, too.”

The bell chimed delicately as he adjusted his grip on your thighs, and the sound made his pupils dilate. You didn’t miss the flicker of hunger across his face, like that single jingle was a call he couldn’t ignore.

He pushed in again, slow and greedy, with a grunt, pinning your knees high as his weight sank into you. His forearms bracketed your head, caging you. Your wrists gripped the sheets beneath you, knuckles white, breath stolen from your lungs as his cock filled you in one relentless slide.

You gasped, your head pressing back into the pillow, and the bell at your throat gave another soft ring.

“That’s it,” he growled above you, hips rolling. “Make that sweet sound for me.”

He kept you folded beneath him, trapped in a perfect mating press, his pace brutal and deep. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, your cunt clenching tight around him, soaking. The lewd slap of skin filled the room, tangled with your breathless moans.

"Fuck—so good…so fucking wet..." Abby hissed, eyes locked on your face as he drove into you. You flushed, the sound of him inside you wet and filthy, and he loved it. His cock dragged against your walls, hitting deep, pulling cries from you with every thrust.

“You like that?” he rasped. “Being stuffed full like this? All soft and wide open for me…greedy little thing…”

"Ohh—yes,” you choked out between moans. "Gods—you're huge—"

“I am,” he said, not modest in the slightest, lips brushing your cheek. His hand slid to your belly, pressing down gently until you felt him from the inside, thick and impossibly deep. He slowed then, thrusts long and slow and cruelly controlled, forcing you to feel every inch he gave you.

“That’s how deep I am,” he whispered. “Right here, princess. Your little body taking all of me like it’s mine...”

The bell trembled again as you arched, crying out helplessly. Abby grunted, sweat dripping down his neck as he held you tighter, his chest brushing yours.

Then his fingers found your clit.

You flinched at the contact, already too sensitive, already spiraling. He rubbed you slow, circular, precise. His gaze devoured every twitch of your body.

"Can...fuck—can I cum in you?" he asked, his voice suddenly softer but no less commanding. "Fuck—let me cum in you...in this pretty little cunt.."

Without waiting, he shifted.

With a grunt, he shifted your legs up, folding you tighter. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting them until they rested on his shoulders. The new angle made you gasp—his cock drove in deeper, thick and brutal, hitting something devastating inside you. Your back arched, thighs twitching uncontrollably as your cunt clamped down around him, milking him with each desperate pulse.

“Ohh—fuck, that's it,” he rasped, jaw tight. “This sweet little thing’s choking me. You feel that? You’re dripping—gripping me like you don’t wanna let go.”

Your hands shot out to grab the sheets, but you didn’t make it. His arm wrapped around your waist, locking you in place like he knew you’d try to run from the pleasure. You cried out, the bell ringing high as your body trembled beneath the pressure of him.

He kept going—deep, slow, breaking you open with every roll of his hips, each thrust deliberate and filthy. His cock dragged inside you, thick and pulsing, your nerves stretched tight with overwhelming bliss. You were unraveling around him, every stroke pushing you closer to something unbearable.

You sobbed out something—half his name, half a plea—and your climax hit again, brutal and hot. Your cunt throbbed around him, spasming with each wave, pulling him deeper as your body begged for it. It felt like forever—pleasure tearing through your nerves, your mind blank, body wrecked.

Abby cursed under his breath, losing rhythm for a second as you clenched around him. “Fuck—fuck, princess, I’m gonna—shit—”

And then he came.

With a rough cry, he slammed deep and held there, cock buried to the hilt as you felt the heat of him spilling inside. His body shuddered, sweat slick down his back, and his hand gripped your thigh—

—and then his mouth latched onto the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You screamed his name as his fangs sank in, the bite sharp, possessive, final. It sent another aftershock through you, your body clenching hard around him. The bell jingled one last time before falling still, your whole form trembling under his weight.

And then he shifted.

You felt it in the heat that burst off his skin, in the sudden, primal hitch of his breath. A raw pulse of something ancient rippled through him, and then his body changed. Horns curled forward from his crown, his golden eyes igniting with an eerie glow that cast shadows across your skin. Jagged black marks split through his cheeks, pulsing with the same power glowing from the fresh bite on your thigh.

His voice, when it came, was feral. Low and guttural. Possessive to the point of madness.

He licked over the mark slowly, reverently, his tongue hot against your skin. Saliva slicked his lips, glinting faintly in the dark as he lifted his head to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, the demon in him thrumming just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t fading—it was awake, and it was in love.

The fourth mark pulsed beneath your skin like a vow etched in fire—hot, glowing, eternal.

“You’re mine now,” Abby growled, voice like a vow.

His cock twitched deep inside you again, like it knew, like even your body had accepted it—him—irrevocably. And still, he didn’t pull out. Didn’t ease away. He curled around you tighter, as though to shield his prize from the world.

And then, quieter—rougher, like a secret he didn’t mean to say out loud

“I love you.”

A beat passed. His body was shaking faintly with it, the pressure of the words almost too much to contain.

His hand caressed your cheek, gentle and reverent. It should’ve felt tender, but the burn in his eyes made it dangerous.

"You belong to me now," he whispered, forehead pressed against yours. "I’ll carve it into the bones of anyone who thinks otherwise."

He kissed your jaw slowly, then lower, your throat, your collarbone. As if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. Like he had to.

His voice cracked then—still low, still dark—but something raw had bled into it. A terrifying kind of love that dug its claws into every word.

“I want your heart,” he growled, a kiss punctuating each word, “your soul. Your forever.”

He dragged his mouth back up, meeting your dazed eyes, his own burning with gold and ruin.

“And if I have to bleed the world dry to keep you…” His hand cupped your cheek, almost tender. Almost. “I will.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled out, you gasped softly at the sensation, the emptiness somehow sharper than the stretch had been. Your thighs trembled as slick heat slipped down them, the thick mix of their release and yours dripping to the sheets.

Abby stayed hovering over you for a second longer, catching his breath, eyes still glazed from the high. His muscles were taut, chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

He reached blindly behind him for the boxers Romance had tossed earlier. They hit his back with a lazy thwack, and he let out a low breathless laugh, teeth flashing as he caught them one-handed and dragged them up his thighs.

“Thanks” he muttered, still drunk on you.

Romance, leaning casually against the dresser, had his arms crossed over his chest but his eyes never left you. “She needs water,” he said softly, voice gentle now, as if the whole room needed to adjust back to something slower, safer.

"I got it," Abby said, already on his feet. He turned and vanished into the kitchen, still glowing faintly from the shift. You could see the edges of the demonic marks curling along his spine like black vines—remnants of the power still clinging to him. His devotion still thick in the air.

Your body felt boneless, too full, too raw, too claimed to move. You could still feel the phantom echo of him inside you. Of all of them.

Jinu—who’d been silently watching from the corner with his usual unreadable calm—stepped forward now, smoothing your damp hair away from your cheek. “Shower,” he said quietly, his voice impossibly gentle. “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

You blinked up at him slowly, still dazed.

That’s when Abby returned, crouching at the edge of the bed with a bottle of water already opened. He tipped it toward your lips carefully, one hand cupping the back of your neck to help you drink.

“Easy,” he said. “Slow sips, baby”

You drank, throat working as the cool water soothed the burn in your lungs. Abby’s eyes stayed on you the entire time, something dangerous still flickering in the gold.

Abby pressed a kiss to your temple before standing. The bed dipped as Mystery, smoothed a soft blanket around your bare shoulders, tucking it gently under your arms. You clung to it instinctively, shivering from more than just the cool air.

Warm fingers brushed your throat.

“Mm,” someone hummed, amused, adoring. “Still wearing this?”

You blinked, and there was Baby, his hand resting lightly at the base of your throat. His thumb caressed the thin black ribbon that still held the silver bell you’d dared to tease them with.

“You were such a good little thing,” he said, voice low, soft, and laced with something darker. “But this...” His fingers tugged gently, drawing the bell from your neck with a faint chime. “This belongs to us now.”

The bell disappeared into his hand. He didn’t toss it aside—no, he pocketed it. As if it was sacred. As if it still held the sound of your surrender.

The others moved around you in quiet, tender chaos. One wiped between your legs with a warm cloth. Another kissed your ankle before slipping it into the folds of the blanket. It was overwhelming—their touch, their care, the way they hovered like shadows ready to defend and worship in the same breath.

The blanket was pulled tighter around your shoulders as Jinu scooped you up effortlessly. You clung to the edge, flushed and exposed even under layers, but he didn’t look away—not once.

“You’re safe,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Jinu cradled you in his arms, walking with quiet, reverent steps toward the bathroom as if he were carrying something precious. And to him, you were. The soft drip of water from the previous shower echoed in the distance, but the only thing you could hear was his heartbeat—steady, strong, and just a little too fast.

“You look absolutely fucked out,” he murmured, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glanced down at you.

You groaned, rolling your eyes without any heat. “Wow. Thanks. I didn’t know.”

That earned a real smile—small, a little sheepish, but no less beautiful.

“That was… intense,” he added softly, brushing some damp hair from your face with his knuckles. “After you shower, I could get you some painkillers. Help with the soreness.” His tone dipped, quiet and concerned, as he gently lowered you to your feet. “Can you stand?”

The second he loosened his grip, your knees buckled.

You grasped onto his arm, fingers curling into his bicep as you swayed. “I guess not,” he chuckled, answering his own question as he steadied you again, one hand sliding instinctively to your waist.

Your fingers curled into his warm skin. “Mind helping me out?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head with a girlish smile.

Heat surged up the back of his neck, blooming across his ears. You still had that effect on him—no matter how many times you’d touched, kissed, whispered his name in the dark. His breath hitched as he looked at you, soaked in love and ruin, asking him for help like you didn’t already own him completely.

“…You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, half under his breath.

But he moved anyway.

His fingers slid to his belt, metal clinking softly before he undid it with practiced ease. You didn’t look away. The moment he pushed his pants and boxers down, his cock sprang free—already thick, flushed, and visibly aching for you. The pink tip glistened, leaking precum steadily as if it missed the feel of you already.

And you didn’t make it easier for him.

You let the blanket drop from your shoulders like a dare, revealing all of you—skin kissed red, marked, glowing faintly from the last bond. Then you leaned forward slowly, your bare chest brushing against his torso, and the soft friction of your skin against his made him groan low and sharp.

His hands flew to your thighs again, gripping harder this time.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, voice low, almost shaking.

“You already promised to help me,” you whispered, teasing.

He swept you up without another word, stepping carefully into the tub with you wrapped around him. You melted into him, your spine pressed against Jinu’s chest as he stepped carefully into the warm water with you in his arms. The tub embraced you both in soothing heat, steam curling around your bodies like a veil. You sighed softly, lids fluttering, your cheek resting against his damp shoulder. Your limbs felt boneless, your body heavy in the best way.

The scent of him mingling with the warmth as his lips brushed your shoulder—soft, reverent. Like he couldn’t not kiss you. Like even this moment was a privilege he was barely surviving.

“You were… incredible,” he murmured between kisses, each word thick with awe. “The way you took all of them. Let them mark you. You were made for us, weren’t you?”

You let out a soft laugh, turning your face toward his neck, and he caught your cheek in a gentle kiss. His lips followed the line of your jaw—featherlight, slow—until you were shivering, not from cold, but from the sheer tenderness of it.

“You don’t even know what it did to me,” he whispered. “Watching you give yourself to them, one after the other, like your body knew it belonged to us. I nearly lost my mind.”

His teeth scraped lightly against your skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue. You let out a soft sound, hips shifting slightly beneath the water.

Then his hands began to move.

He reached for the soap with one hand while the other stayed wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him. His hands swept over your back and shoulders with practiced care, fingertips pressing gently into the sore spots, kneading the tightness from your muscles.

You moaned before you could help it, a quiet, dreamy sound. “Feels good, Jinu…”

He froze for half a second.

Then his breath hitched, and a flush spread across his face and down his neck like wildfire.

God, that voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough and low. His thumbs pressed into your flesh there, possessive and reverent, and he couldn’t help the way he leaned forward, brushing his lips to your shoulder. One kiss. Then another. Gentle, then lingering, open-mouthed and hot.

“(Y/N)…” he whispered, like your name alone was enough to undo him. “Let me take care of you…”

You barely had time to respond before you felt his hand move—slow and sure—guiding down your belly. You gasped as his fingers slid between your thighs beneath the water, finding your soft, swollen heat. He rubbed slow circles against your clit, the touch maddeningly gentle, as if he wanted to tease pleasure out of you rather than take it all at once.

At the same time, his other hand cupped your breast from behind, thumb brushing over your nipple with delicate care. It sent a ripple of heat straight through your core, your body instinctively arching back into him.

You melted against him, lips parted, a low whimper escaping before you could stop it. And he groaned behind you, like your pleasure undid him more than his own ever could.

You jolted as something brushed against your ankle beneath the water.

It wasn’t his hand.

You looked down through the swirling clouds of steam and bubbles, heart fluttering as something coiled delicately around your leg, warm and alive.

“…Jinu?” you whispered, uncertain. “What was…?”

He stilled behind you.

Oh.

You remembered now—Romance had one when he marked you. At the time, you thought it was some rare fluke, something brought on by the intensity of the bond, but now…

“You… have a tail?” you asked breathlessly, turning your head as much as you could.

Jinu flushed behind you, the tips of his ears glowing pink even as his fingers didn’t stop moving between your thighs. “We all do,” he admitted, voice a little hoarse.

“They come out when we’re close,” Jinu murmured, his tail slowly winding higher, stroking up your thigh in a lazy curl. “When the bond starts pulling too hard. When we stop holding back.”

Your heart thudded.

“And now?” you asked softly, your voice barely a breath.

His lips pressed to your temple. “Now it’s harder than ever to stop,” he whispered, fingers sliding deeper between your folds, stroking you with devastating patience. “Because you’ve already taken all four of them. You let them mark you. You let them in.”

You shivered as his tail wrapped snugly around your thigh, holding you open just enough.

“I watched you fall for them,” he continued, his voice raw with reverence and heat. “Watched you give and give and break for them. And all I could do was wait for my turn.”

You turned your head slightly, catching his eyes—dark with hunger and devotion and something older than time.

“It’s your turn now,” you whispered.

His tail tightened just a little, like it understood before he even spoke.

Jinu’s breath was hot against your shoulder, his mouth barely brushing your skin as his hand continued its slow, maddening rhythm between your legs. But it was the sensation below that shattered your focus—the firm, warm press at your entrance that wasn’t his hand, or his cock.

It was his tail.

You whimpered, the sound half-shocked, half-helpless, as your body reacted on instinct. Nerves fired wildly, your thighs twitching with the need to close around something—around him—but Jinu only shushed you gently, his voice low and thick.

The tip of his tail pulsed softly, like it had a heartbeat of its own. It didn’t push in—not yet. It waited. Testing. Learning the shape of your hesitation and teasing it apart with patience honed from centuries of restraint. Your body trembled, every part of you tuned to that singular sensation—the stretch of pressure, the slow build of heat, the deliberate not yet that made you ache.

“Jinu—” you gasped, but the words dissolved into a moan when his tail slid in.

Not rushed. Not rough.

Just one smooth, claiming push that filled you with the thick, pulsing length of it. You clung to his forearm, nails digging in as your head fell back against his shoulder.

“Oh my god—”

“I know,” he breathed, his mouth brushing your cheek. “I know, baby. Just let me in.”

The stretch was maddening—just shy of overwhelming. It wasn’t just the size, though it was thick enough to have your thighs trembling—but the way it moved. Each slow retreat dragged against every sensitive nerve inside you, like it knew exactly where to touch, exactly how to ruin.

And then it pushed back in deep, making your breath stutter, your hips jolt forward on instinct.

Jinu held you steady.

“That’s it,” he purred. “You’re doing so good for me. Let me feel you… just like that.”

His tail curled ever so slightly inside you, stroking your walls with a sinuous rhythm that had your toes curling. You were already so sensitive, so far gone but all he did was hold you, touch you, worship you like he had all the time in the world. He couldn’t stop. Not when you sounded so sweet, not when your body was singing for him.

Then, his finger slipped inside you.

You gasped, and Jinu growled low in response, the sound vibrating against your back as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear.

“Gods… you're so warm,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with reverence, almost dazed. “So wet for me.”

Each thrust of his thick finger hit just right, curling in that way that made your toes curl, that had you gripping his thigh behind you for balance. He added another with a soft, encouraging whisper, and the stretch made you moan, your walls fluttering helplessly around the intrusion.

You could feel the slow, delicious grind of his hips against you, the hard press of his leaking cock flush to your ass, throbbing in time with your racing heart. The air between you turned molten, every movement making you more sensitive, more desperate. His fingers glided in and out, coated in your slick, the sound so wet, so filthy, it made your cheeks burn.

His tail didn’t let up. It never did. That smooth, teasing pressure on your clit, light, then firm, then featherlight again, kept you teetering on the edge, gasping and whining, your hips moving without permission.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Jinu whispered, kissing down the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin. “Let go for me. I need to feel you lose it, just for me.”

As your release built to its peak, he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his. His lips moved over yours with hungry devotion, swallowing your moans as you shattered in his hands. You clenched around his fingers, your thighs shaking, your whole body curling into him as the pleasure took you under.

He didn't pull away, not once. As you rode out the waves of your climax, his tail slowed, his fingers stayed buried inside, and his mouth moved to your jaw, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he could press a kiss. You barely noticed your soft whimpers until he soothed them with a quiet hum, rubbing your clit in soft, loving circles to help you down gently.

“You did so well,” he breathed, rubbing his nose into the crook of your neck, his voice thick with awe. “My perfect girl.”

Your body was still fluttering, trembling from the high he’d coaxed out of you with nothing but his hands and that devilish tail. Slick and breathless, you were barely aware of your own limbs, your mind clouded in the warm haze of overstimulation.

But Jinu wasn’t done.

He turned you gently, reverently, like he was handling something fragile and sacred. His lips met yours with a softness that made your heart twist—a contrast to the way he’d just unraveled you. He kissed you slow, like he needed it, like he was grounding himself in the taste of your pleasure.

Then his lips traveled lower, trailing kisses down your jaw, across your collarbone, until his mouth found your breast. He latched on without warning, the wet heat of his tongue making you arch with a gasp. He groaned at the taste of you, like it only made him hungrier. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer, guiding him, needing him to take more as he sucked your nipple like he was trying to drink the heat from your skin.

You whimpered, already too sensitive, your hips twitching against him.

He pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at you, eyes blown wide and dark. “Think you can give me one more?” he asked softly, like a coaxed secret, voice sticky-sweet and sinful. “Just one more, baby.”

Your breath caught. “Jinu... I— I don’t know...”

He kissed your jaw, your cheek, your lips, smothering you in warmth and wanting. “C’mon, baby,” he cooed against your ear, the sound of it sending a ripple of need down your spine. “Just one more...for me.”

Jinu grabbed the base of his cock, his abs flexing as he tapped it against your clit—once, twice, three times.

Each brush of his tip made you jolt, your thighs twitching at the overstimulated sparks that shot up your spine. He smirked, gaze fixed on the way your body responded to him so perfectly. So eagerly.

He lifted you carefully, steady hands guiding your hips. You could feel the heavy press of his cock nudging between your folds—thick, hot, already leaking.

Inch by inch, he filled you. Your walls stretched around him, hot and slick, molding to his shape like your body had been made for his alone.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, eyes fluttering shut as your hips met his. He bottomed out inside you with a low, shaky breath against your ear. He hissed through his teeth, holding still just to breathe through it—just to savor the feel of you wrapped around him again.

“S-so full…” you moaned, the sound trembling as your fingers curled around his shoulders for support.

He shifted you gently, your back pressing against the tiled wall of the tub for better leverage. His cock pushed even deeper now, the head nudging your cervix with each thrust. You gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Your walls clenched helplessly around him, fluttering with each slow, devastating stroke. He wasn’t rushing. No—he was savoring it. Savoring you. Your cunt wept around him, slick and dripping, already a mess from how much he’d teased and filled you before. His precum smeared your insides, and the glide was so slick, so hot, it bordered on unbearable.

“Jinu—Jinu, please,” you gasped, barely able to hold your own weight as his balls slapped against your ass, heavy and hot with every thrust. His hips snapped forward just as his mouth latched around your nipple again, tongue flicking, lips suckling, pulling soft gasps from you that only seemed to feed his hunger.

You were falling apart, unraveling from the inside out.

“Hnghh… love your cock, Jinu. G-gonna cum…” you whimpered, voice breaking, head tipped back against the wall. Your thighs trembled around his waist, gripping him tighter as your body betrayed you, clenching around him with desperate, greedy pulses.

Jinu pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes glowing now—otherworldly, dark, burning. His voice was a low growl against your chest, still lapping at the sensitive skin of your tits. “It’s okay, baby. You can cum. Give it to me. Let me feel you...”

The room shimmered around him.

His tail slithered up your thigh like a velvet rope, curling around your waist, gripping you tight as if anchoring you to him. You gasped, clinging to his shoulders just as two horns pushed through his dark hair, curling up like obsidian crowns. His body pulsed with heat, muscles thicker now, radiating that demonic energy that always made your soul quiver.

“Mine,” he growled—and sank his fangs into the curve of your neck.

A strangled moan broke from your lips as your whole body locked up, cunt squeezing him so tight it knocked the breath out of both of you. Your orgasm hit hard and fast—your vision going white as your body squirted around his cock, hot and messy, painting his thighs and the space between you in sinful wetness. You were panting, twitching, barely holding on.

Your hands flew to his horns, gripping them like handles as your orgasm wracked through you.

Jinu growled low in your ear, his thrusts faltering, rough now—drunk on your release. “That’s it, good girl… fuck, you’re perfect.”

You were still shaking, breathless and raw, when you whimpered against his throat, “Please... please fill me up… need it…need all of you.”

His hips slammed into you one last time as he groaned—loud and filthy and broken. You felt the first pulse of his release deep inside, thick and hot, flooding your sensitive walls. He held you there, locked to him, his entire body pressed flush as he emptied himself inside you with heavy, panting breaths.

“Shit…” he hissed, resting his forehead against yours. “You feel too good...”

The bathroom was quiet, save for the uneven drag of your breaths and the soft splash of water sloshing against the edge of the tub. Steam clung to your skin. So did he.

・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢

Your body was warm, soaked in afterglow and bath steam, trembling slightly as you sat on the edge of the bathroom counter. The marble was cool beneath your thighs, but Jinu’s hands were warmer. Gentle. Devoted.

He stood between your legs with a towel draped over his shoulder, slowly patting your hair dry with another. But his focus kept drifting—his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to your temple, then your jaw, then down the line of your throat. He couldn’t seem to stop. And you didn’t want him to.

Your legs were loose around his waist, thighs barely twitching with the residual pleasure, body humming from being so full, so taken, so thoroughly claimed. His mark burned faintly against your neck—still fresh, still throbbing—and your other marks were pulsing like matching beats beneath your skin.

Five.

Five marks.

All five of them now carved into your soul.

His hands slid up your sides, smoothing over skin like he was sculpting you into memory. Every inch he touched made you sigh, too exhausted to speak but too enchanted to pull away.

You blinked slow, body sagging against his as your head lolled on his shoulder. You were tired, blissed-out, sensitive, but the love pouring from his every touch kept you tethered to the moment. Safe. Worshiped. Owned.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured. “You did so good.”

You blinked slowly, lips parted in a hazy pout. “M’tired…”

“I know, baby.” He smiled against your shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything.”

The door creaked open behind him.

You didn’t flinch—but Jinu’s eyes flicked over his shoulder with a knowing smirk.

Romance stepped in—barefoot, shirtless, the demon glow still faint behind his eyes. His eyes found you immediately, and his expression melted into something warm and wicked all at once.

You could feel the heat of his gaze slide over your body—your thighs still parted around Jinu’s waist, the way your skin bore the faint, blooming shades of all five of their touches. The marks. The exhaustion. The complete surrender.

Romance’s lips parted like he forgot how to breathe.

“Sweetheart,” he crooned, voice honeyed and low, “You look like something out of a dream.”

Your lashes fluttered. “Romance…”

He moved to your side, hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “You need your teeth brushed,” he murmured, mock-scolding, the edge of his smile curling against your skin. “And moisturizer, or your pretty face’s gonna dry out.”

Jinu snorted. “She can barely hold her head up.”

“Then we’ll hold it for her.” Romance’s voice dropped, gentle but firm, already reaching for the toothbrush.

Between the two of them, you were weightless. Jinu kept you steady, an arm around your back, while Romance tapped your chin lightly, smirking when your mouth fell open without question.

You let him brush your teeth, he tilted your chin up, the cool bristles grazing your gums—soft, rhythmic, intimate. Your eyes fluttered shut as his knuckles brushed your lips, as if each pass was meant to remind you how delicate you were in their hands.

A soft whine slipped from your throat before you could bite it back.

Jinu chuckled low against your ear. “She likes it.”

Romance didn’t even look up, just smirked as he reached for the towel. “Of course she does. She’s ours now. She needs to be spoiled.” He rinsed you with gentle hands, brushing water away from your lips with his thumb like he couldn’t resist touching your mouth again.

Then he turned to the sink, drying his hands with deliberate grace before pumping moisturizer into his palms. He stepped back to you with that same calm, predatory patience that always made your breath catch.

His fingers pressed into your cheeks, your forehead, the slope of your nose—each touch like a kiss, slow and affectionate. He knew exactly how to work your skin, but it wasn’t really about the skincare. It was the way his thumbs lingered under your eyes, the way he held your face like you were precious glass.

“Such a good girl,” Romance whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your nose. “Letting us take care of you like this…”

Your breath hitched, a sleepy moan in your throat as your legs curled around Jinu’s waist, instinctive and needy. Jinu pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢

Jinu carried you into the bedroom like you were something breakable and irreplaceable. His grip was firm, cradling you close to his chest, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist, your cheek resting against his collarbone. The oversized shirt you wore barely clung to one shoulder, your panties hidden beneath the hem. But they all knew what was under there now.

What was theirs.

Jinu whispered something in a low, gravelly hum, but you didn’t catch it. Your head tilted against his collarbone, lids heavy.

Romance walked beside him, his hand ghosting down your thigh as if he couldn’t stop touching you—even just a little. The moment they stepped into the bedroom, the rest of the boys looked up. The air shifted.

The lights in the bedroom were dim, casting golden shadows across the space where the others waited. The bed looked impossibly wide, the sheets already rumpled from where the boys had sprawled out—waiting for you like a dream that hadn’t ended yet.

Jinu climbed into the center of the bed and settled with you in his lap, your body draped across him. You blinked sleepily, lashes fluttering as warmth surrounded you on all sides. The others gathered close.

Romance was the first to lean in, his lips brushing yours softly. “Sleepwell, baby,” he murmured, eyes hooded.

Mystery lean in next, brushing your hair back with fingers that lingered, almost reverent. “Sleep tight, pretty thing,” he murmured, and kissed you softly on the lips—slow, unhurried, his thumb brushing your jaw like a promise. You sighed into it, lips parting under his, and his smile curved dark and sweet. “Good girl.”

Baby was next. He climbed over with a grin that didn’t quite hide the hunger in his eyes. “Dream about us,” he whispered, voice husky and low, before stealing a kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. He sucked on your bottom lip for just a moment too long, then pulled back with a cocky hum.

Abby didn’t say anything at all. Just pressed his forehead to yours, nose brushing yours, then caught your mouth in a kiss that was firm, slow, and completely his.

And Jinu.

He held your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you so sweetly your chest ached. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just full of something deep and ancient, something that made you feel like no one would ever be able to take you from him. “Ours,” he whispered. “Sleep, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

You sighed and melted against him, breath evening out as sleep pulled you under. Heavy, full, complete. Their scents, their warmth, their touches were all around you. You didn’t even hear the phone buzz.

But they did.

The screen lit up with your work contact.

The ringtone sliced through the silence.

None of them moved.

Jinu's eyes narrowed.

Baby tilted his head toward the phone, nose wrinkling like he smelled something rotten. “Is that work again?”

“She just fell asleep,” Romance said flatly, without even looking. “They can wait.”

Jinu scoffed, a low and disdainful breath against your crown. “They think they still have access to her.”

“She’s ours,” Abby growled. His fangs peeked into view. “They don’t get to drag her away from us like she’s theirs.”

Mystery chuckled darkly from the foot of the bed, eyes glinting as he leaned over and clicked the phone’s power button—silencing it without a single word.

One by one, they smirked.

A flicker of gold burned through their irises. Subtle at first. Then brighter. Unmistakable. Their pupils sharpened to slits. Fangs glinted from between parted lips. The careful illusion they wore for the world peeled back like mist.

Demons. All of them. And now, without question, your demons.

It was finally complete.

You were theirs.

No more flirting around the edge of it. No more pretending they were letting you choose. Your body was curled into them. Your scent coated their skin. Your heart—too soft, too stubborn—had already surrendered.

Mystery bit down on his lower lip, letting his fangs sink in for just a second as he drank you in. “She doesn't even realize what she's done to us, does she?”

“She doesn’t need to,” Jinu whispered, tracing small circles into your hip. “We’ll show her. Every day. Every night.”

Another hum of silence followed.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, your face nuzzling into Jinu’s bare chest, sighing in complete trust.

And just like that, something feral flickered beneath their calm.

Their smirks widened.

Golden eyes burned brighter.

Abby cracked his neck slowly, stepping closer to the edge of the bed. He exhaled, voice low and final as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Tomorrow,” he murmured darkly, climbing in behind you with the slow grace of something lethal and ancient, “we’re not going anywhere.”

The bed dipped as Baby slid in on the opposite side, one knee propped like a prince in his rightful place. He leaned in close, his bare shoulder brushed yours deliberately as he shifted closer, his fingers teasing along your thigh beneath the blankets.

“Schedule’s canceled,” he said lazily, though his tone had teeth. “Manager or not, she’s not lifting a single finger tomorrow. Except maybe…” His fingers tapped gently at your hip, then slipped away. “…to cling to us.”

Romance leaned forward, his hand brushing down your back. “She wants to take care of us.” He chuckled under his breath, soft but heated. “Sweet thing doesn’t realize we’d burn the world to see her rest. She doesn’t need to run herself ragged when she belongs here with us.”

“And now,” Jinu whispered, lowering his head to kiss your hair, “she finally will.”

The bed creaked with shifting weight as they all settled closer, the room glowing dimly with the golden fire of their eyes and the unmistakable, smoldering certainty in their bodies.

You were asleep, blissfully unaware of what had just been sealed in the room.

But they knew.

They felt it.

No more teasing. No more letting you pretend this was something temporary.

You were claimed.

You were theirs now.

And they weren’t letting go.

Next Chapter...

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