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Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 8: 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬
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: 10.6k+ not proof read
comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

The first thing you felt was the purring.
It thrummed through your bones—low, steady, soothing—and so close it felt like it was coming from inside your own chest. You didn’t open your eyes right away. You didn’t need to. The heat pressed against you, the arm slung tight around your waist, the deep inhale brushing against the curve of your throat—everything in you already knew who it was.
Mystery.
He was draped over you, skin to skin, shirtless and half-asleep, warm in a way that made the ache between your thighs pulse again. His lips brushed your collarbones like they belonged there, over and over, soft and deliberate. Each kiss landed directly over the mark he’d left on your skin the night before, a slow claim he was reasserting in the laziest, most dangerous way.
His breath hitched when your body shifted—just slightly closer to him. And this time, you didn’t pull away. You didn’t hide. The soreness in your muscles only reminded you how thoroughly they’d claimed you, and instead of curling inward, you leaned into it. Into the feeling. Into him. Into the terrifying, addictive truth that he was yours just as much as you were his.
His lips stilled at your throat, breath warm against your skin, but his grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, dragging your hips just slightly deeper into the cradle of his body.
The oversized shirt you wore slipped slightly off your shoulder as you reached up sleepily, fingers brushing against the sharp edge of his jaw. His skin was warm, and your thumb traced the curve of his cheek until you could tilt his face toward you. His mouth parted like he couldn’t quite believe you were touching him like that—so gently, so freely.
His light purple hair spilled across his features in a soft, tangled mess—like it always did, hiding too much of him. But when you brushed it back, you saw the way his lashes fluttered, the way his pupils stayed wide, dilated, drinking you in like you were something unreal.
Your body moved before your thoughts could keep up.
You swung your leg over his hips, easing yourself into his lap, straddling him fully now. The shift in weight made your shirt ride up higher—exposing the bare skin of your thighs as they bracketed his waist. His eyes snapped open, and stayed open this time, locking on where you sat.
His entire body stilled beneath you.
Then his gaze dragged up slowly, reverently, from your thighs… to the shirt that barely covered you… to your mouth.
“Mmm—baby…” he rasped, his voice low and ruined from sleep, eyes blinking through the haze of lavender strands that had slipped back into his face. His fingers flexed on your hips like he wasn’t sure whether to hold you still or pull you closer.
You leaned in, still quiet, still suspended somewhere between dreaming and desire. Your hand slipped into his hair again, brushing it gently back so you could see him. Really see him. The flushed tips of his ears, the dazed heat in his eyes, the soft tremble in his jaw like he was barely keeping himself together.
And then you kissed him.
Your lips met his softly, unspoken, unhurried.
Mystery froze for a second—completely still beneath you like he’d short-circuited.
His fingers slid to your hips, gripping you with the gentlest desperation, thumbs pressing into the soft stretch of bare skin beneath the hem of your oversized shirt. The kiss deepened naturally, like his body already knew the rhythm of yours. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy.
It was slow and sweet and aching, the kind of kiss that said I missed you even in my sleep.
You shifted again, settling more comfortably on his lap, deepening the kiss by just a breath. Your hands threaded into his hair, tugging it back to bare more of his face, because you needed to see him. Needed to feel all of him.
His breath hitched. He exhaled shakily into your mouth.
“God…” he whispered, lips brushing yours, voice hoarse and wrecked from sleep and want. “You’re gonna kill me like this…”
Time blurred. You didn’t know how long the kiss had lasted. Minutes? Hours? A heartbeat stretched across eternity?
All you knew was his mouth never left yours for long. And your body never stopped pressing into his— straddling his bare waist like you belonged there.
His hands anchored you gently at your hips, thumbs stroking slow circles into your skin, reverent and unhurried. His lips tasted like sleep and want and something older, something deeper. Like he was feeding on the moment. Like the bond was still blooming between your ribs.
But somewhere in that haze—somewhere between the way his lips kept tugging at yours and the warm press of his fingers tracing lazy patterns down your spine—something flickered in the back of your mind.
A thought.
A memory.
A responsibility.
An entire day waiting for you. Something you were supposed to do. Handle.
Your lips parted from his with a soft gasp, breathless, and you pulled back slightly, your hand still tangled in his hair. “Wait—”
He didn’t even hesitate.
He chased your mouth like he was starving for it, heavy-lidded and greedy, kissing you again before you could finish the thought.
“Mm-mm,” he hummed against your lips, velvet and rasp, slow and hungry. “Don’t pull away darling. C’mere…”
“Wait,” you said again between kisses, breathless and dazed, laughing as you placed your palms to his chest to hold him back—barely. “I just remembered—I have work—”
He didn’t even pretend to listen.
Instead, he kissed you again, deeper this time, like he could devour the protest off your tongue. His smirk ghosted against your lips when you whimpered, when your hands pushed weakly at his chest.
“I’m working too,” he said, voice low and wicked, nosing along your jaw. “Working on kissing you until you forget what you were saying.”
You almost did.
But you managed to brace your hands more firmly against his chest, pushing just enough to create a breath of space. You were panting, flushed, legs tangled in the sheets, the hem of your shirt hitched high over your hips.
“I’m serious,” you said, trying not to fall apart under the heat of his gaze. “The schedule—we have a full shoot today, remember? I have to get the rest of you up, make sure you’re fed, dressed—”
He groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck like your words physically pained him.
“God, you’re evil baby," he muttered against your skin, his lips grazing your pulse before dragging a long, slow kiss over your throat. “You’re sitting here in nothing but a shirt, warm and pretty in my lap, and you're talking about work?”
Your breath stuttered. “Myst—”
His nose brushed your cheek, voice a deep rasp against your skin. “We cleared everything. Canceled the whole schedule.”
You stared, heartbeat skittering. “You what?”
“We decided last night.” His lips traced your jaw, slow and teasing. “You’re not going anywhere today.”
“I—Myst, I have things to do,” you tried, even as your hand gripped his shoulder like you didn’t mean it. “I’m supposed to be managing you—”
“You are,” he murmured, kissing the mark on your neck with possessive reverence. “You’re just not leaving our bed to do it.”
You pulled back slightly, eyes searching his face. “All of you agreed to this?”
He nodded lazily, like the question barely needed answering. His eyes dragged over your flushed face, gaze simmering with hunger. When he saw how hard you were trying to stay composed, trying to breathe through the haze, his smirk returned. Slower this time. Hungrier. Drunk.
“We weren’t gonna let you get up and pretend nothing happened,” he said, voice rough and fraying at the edges like it physically pained him to speak instead of kiss you.
“After last night? After claiming you?” His hand curled around your waist and pulled you closer until your legs tangled. “No one’s letting you run off. Not when you still smell like us.”
“I…” Your breath caught as his lips brushed your shoulder again, then lower, teeth scraping softly. “I thought you’d all just… go back to normal.”
His eyes lifted to meet yours.
And they glowed—deep and molten, golden shadows swirling with something dark and ancient. Something that didn’t understand the word normal.
“This is normal now,” he murmured, tilting your chin up with a fingertip. “You’re ours. That doesn’t reset in the morning.”
Then, like the words alone weren’t enough to make you feel it, he kissed you. Slow, deep, drugging. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your thoughts scatter like ash.
You turned your head away just to catch a breath, dizzy and half-gone. But he followed.
His lips trailed after yours, brushing your cheek… your jaw… the corner of your mouth. A kiss for every place you tried to escape. You murmured his name like a warning.
He only smirked against your skin, utterly unrepentant.
“Mm. Look at you,” he whispered, lips pressing to your throat, hot and open-mouthed. “Already trying to run.”
You gasped as he kissed lower, mouth dragging over your collarbone, nipping just enough to make you twitch.
When you pressed your hand to his chest again, trying to slow him, he only chased you more. His hands roamed. His lips found every inch you exposed.
“You’re lucky…” he murmured against your collarbone, voice thick and full of wicked amusement, “...I like the chase.”
Just when you thought he might relent, he dragged you back into another kiss.
This one was messier, needier, drunk with want. His fingers tightened at your waist, possessive and coaxing.
Even when you tried to breathe, tried to speak, his mouth was already back. He kissed you again, soft but urgent, murmuring something like “Don’t stop” between kisses “Not done with you yet”.
His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make your knees buckle—then his tongue soothed it, coaxed another kiss from you, slow and open-mouthed and dizzying.
He kissed you again.
And again.
Like he was trying to brand you from the inside out, until all that was left of you was his.
You moaned softly into his mouth, and it broke something in him.
He groaned, hands sliding down to map every curve he hadn’t touched yet—possessive, reverent, like he owned the shape of you.
Then—
grrroowllll
Your stomach betrayed you with a loud, unapologetic rumble.
You froze.
Mystery blinked, lips still hovering against yours. Then his eyes widened a little… and the smirk that spread across his face could’ve lit the room.
A low, husky laugh slipped from his chest, and before you could stop him, he dropped his head to your neck with a snort, shoulders shaking.
You groaned in mortification, hiding your face in his shoulder. “No. Don’t. Don’t you dare—”
“You got hungry while I’m here kissing you?” he teased, voice thick with affection and laughter. “Seriously?”
You swatted at his arm, weak and blushing and still half-drunk on his kisses.
He only laughed harder.
Then, without warning, he leaned in and bit your cheek.
“Hey!” you gasped, smacking at his chest with a muffled squeak.
He just licked the spot, eyes gleaming, smug and unrepentant. “Sorry, darling… you’re just too cute.” he purred, voice dropping a note lower, richer. “Can’t help it. I’m starving—might as well eat you up.”
Before you could recover, he was all over you again—assaulting your cheek with slow, messy kisses, every so often nipping you just hard enough to make you gasp. It wasn’t gentle.
You squirmed, giggling now, voice caught somewhere between a flustered whimper and a laugh. “Myst—!”
He hummed like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard, nosing along your jaw. “Mm. Say my name again like that and I will keep you from breakfast.”
Then his hands slipped beneath your thighs, and with a low grunt, he stood—lifting you effortlessly into his arms like you weighed nothing.
“Time to feed you,” he murmured, voice thicker now with sleep and satisfaction. “Before you start gnawing on me.”
“I can walk,” you mumbled, but you were already curling into his warmth, letting him carry you.
“I know,” he said, tilting his head to press a slow, possessive kiss beneath your ear. “But I like carrying you.”
And you didn’t argue after that.
Not when he was holding you like you were something rare and breakable, like putting your feet on the ground would somehow be a tragedy. His bare chest was hot against your body, the strong flex of his arms and the scent of your bond still humming between your skin making it hard to think clearly.
Dizzy and pliant, you let yourself melt into him, cheek pressed against his collarbone as he carried you down the hall.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
Abby stood at the stove, tall and shirtless, a comically tiny apron tied low around his waist—white with bold red lettering that read Kiss the Cook. The fabric barely covered anything important. His back flexed as he flipped a pancake with casual precision, muscles rippling in the soft gold wash of morning light. His hair was tousled, sleep-warm and wild, like someone had dragged fingers through it.
Mystery snorted beside you. “Subtle.”
Abby glanced over his shoulder and immediately grinned when he saw you draped in Mystery’s arms, cheeks flushed, legs still lazily tangled around his waist. “Well, well,” Abby teased, voice rich with amusement. “Look who finally crawled out of bed.”
Your eyes widened. “What... what are you wearing?”
Abby turned fully, posing like a devilish model. The apron barely clung to his hips, riding scandalously low. “Do you like it?” he asked, all mock innocence, though the curve of his mouth said he knew exactly what he was doing. “Romance picked it out. Said it matched my energy.”
You stared. Blinked. Tried so hard not to drool. “He’s not wrong.”
Mystery let out a low breath, clearly amused, before finally placing you down onto the kitchen counter. The cold marble met the backs of your thighs with a sharp sting, making you jerk and hiss softly as your borrowed shirt rode high, in a way that didn’t help your modesty or the boys’ restraint.
“Cold,” you muttered, shifting with a squirm.
Mystery’s lips twitched in a lazy, sinful grin as his hands smoothed along the backs of your thighs, slow and teasing, his palms warm where the marble wasn’t. His fingers lingered just under the hem of the shirt. He leaned in until his lips brushed your ear.
“You should’ve let me carry you straight to my mouth instead of the kitchen,” he murmured, voice thick and low, a shiver running through each word. “Bet that would’ve warmed you up faster.”
You opened your mouth to answer but Abby swept in like sunlight and sin, a spatula in one hand and nothing but trouble in his eyes.
“Well, good morning, gorgeous,” he drawled, flashing a grin that was all teeth and charm, like he already knew you were seconds from melting. He raked one hand through his messy hair, the movement stretching the muscles in his bare chest. They rippled with just enough flex to make your breath catch.
“What do you want in your pancakes, hmm?” His eyes dragged down your body—slow, indulgent, lingering a little too long on your bare thighs. “Chocolate? Strawberries?”
Then his voice dropped a note lower, velvet and wicked.
“...Or me?”
Your breath hitched. Words short-circuited somewhere between your mouth and your brain.
Mystery chuckled low against your neck, the vibration sliding straight down your spine. His lips grazed your skin, deliberate. “She’s full from earlier,” he said, all innocence layered over implication. “But maybe she’s got room for dessert.”
Abby tilted his head like he was genuinely considering it. “I do make a mean whipped cream.”
Your entire body flushed. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands—but it did nothing to hide your smile or your wrecked composure.
“Correction,” Abby said smoothly, stepping in close—too close—until the warm press of his bare skin brushed your knees. “Irresistible.”
And then—before you could even think of stopping him—he leaned in.
His mouth met yours in a slow, devastating kiss, warm and lazy like honey poured over fire. The ties of his apron grazed your thighs as he bent closer, teasing silk against skin, the heat of him melting into you with every second.
By the time he pulled back, your lips were swollen and parted, eyes dazed like you’d forgotten your own name.
He lingered close, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth with maddening care. His voice dropped to a low purr.
“Now,” he murmured, tilting his head. “What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”
Your brain sputtered like static. “Just… syrup,” you managed, breathless.
Abby chuckled, the sound satisfied and deep, before stepping back with a wink. “Classic. Sweet.”
He glanced down your legs again, eyes darkening slightly.
“Just like you.”
Abby plated two servings—one for you, one for Mystery—but when he turned to hand yours over, he didn’t pass the plate.
Instead, he picked up the fork, sliced off a bite, and looked you dead in the eyes as he lifted it.
“Open up, sweetheart,” he said softly.
You obeyed, letting him feed you the warm, fluffy bite dripping in syrup. Your lips closed around the fork, and his eyes dropped—watching the way your mouth moved, the slow pull of your tongue, the delicate sound that slipped from your throat when you swallowed.
“Good?” he asked, voice thicker now, thumb brushing across your lip where a smear of syrup glistened.
“Mmhmm,” you managed, still chewing, heat blooming in your cheeks.
But he didn’t look away.
He held your gaze as he brought that same thumb to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick it clean, slow and deliberate. His smirk deepened, satisfied.
“Messy girl,” he murmured.
Before you could react, Mystery leaned forward, fork already prepared with a piece of pancake topped by a single plump blueberry.
“Try mine,” he said, voice all velvet and smoke.
You leaned forward, lips brushing the tips of his fingers as you accepted the bite. His eyes darkened slightly, his hand lingering just a moment longer against your mouth before he drew back, chewing his own bite with a pleased hum.
“Where are the others?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the heat curling low in your stomach.
Abby answered between giving you bites. “Living room. They already ate.”
“They said we should take our time,” Mystery added, scooting closer, his thigh pressing against yours. “Said you looked too good sleeping between us to wake you early.”
Abby reached down to rest a large palm on your bare knee, then slowly slid it up to your thigh, fingers idly tracing circles just under the hem of your shirt. “They’re not wrong.”
“You’re spoiling me,” you whispered, already feeling drunk on the way they looked at you.
Abby’s lips lifted into a slow smile. “Good.”
Mystery leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, his voice a silken thread as he murmured, “Let us.”
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
You whimpered before you could help it, squirming slightly on the counter, your belly already tight and achingly full—yet Abby still wasn’t finished. He lifted the fork again, syrup dripping from the bite as he nudged it toward your lips with calm, deliberate insistence.
“Abby…” you whined, voice airy and petulant, your pout forming automatically as you tilted your head away, lips barely parted. “I’m full…”
He gave you a look. Patient. Playful. But with that steady, unwavering heat behind it that made your thighs press together. His hand didn't move from your leg—instead, it wandered higher, teasing just under the curve of your hip.
You turned your eyes to Mystery like he was your last hope.
He stood against the fridge, arms crossed, his empty plate forgotten on the counter behind him. Watching the scene unfold like it was the best part of his morning. His smirk was slow and amused, his gaze unreadable—but sharp.
“Mystery,” you breathed dramatically, reaching one hand out toward him like a starved maiden begging for rescue. “Help me. Please.”
His brows lifted with exaggerated interest. “Help you with what, exactly?” he said, the drawl in his voice practically sinful. “Chew?”
You groaned and collapsed back against the cabinet with a theatrical sigh. “I’m dying…”
“Mm,” he mused, finally pushing off the fridge. He moved toward you slowly, like he had all the time in the world, his steps smooth and silent. “You look pretty alive to me. And very, very spoiled.”
You tried again, this time sweeter. Softer. Almost a whimper. “Help,” you whispered, lashes fluttering. “I’ll cuddle you after.”
Mystery’s mouth curved, clearly tempted—but before he could take another step, Abby’s voice cut through the air like velvet steel.
“Don’t.”
He didn’t even look at him. His gaze never left yours, unwavering as he lifted the fork again and tapped the edge lightly against your lower lip in silent command.
You froze, breath catching. That single word—low, firm, possessive—set something off inside you, a shiver that ran straight down your spine.
Mystery blinked once, then chuckled softly, lifting both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, clearly amused.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then bent to your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, just for you, “You’re so cute when you’re bratty…”
And then he just… turned and walked off. Casual as ever, like he hadn’t just left you breathless and exposed on the counter. The soft click of his steps retreating made the silence around you feel even heavier.
“You traitor!” you called after him, squirming when Abby’s hand curled more firmly around the back of your thigh.
“Mm,” Mystery replied lazily over his shoulder, that smirk audible in his voice. “I’ll cuddle you later… if you survive.”
“Mean,” you muttered, pout deepening. But when you turned your head back—
Abby was still there. Still standing between your legs. Still holding that same damn fork with that same maddening patience.
Still feeding you like you hadn’t already told him three times you were full.
“You really trying to get someone else to rescue you right in front of me?” he asked quietly, not angry—just amused. Dangerous. Dark amusement lacing his words like heat curling at your spine.
“I was just—” you started, trying to sound innocent.
He arched a brow, tilting his head in that slow, pointed way that made your breath catch.
“You were just being a bad girl,” he said simply, voice dipping deeper.
Your cheeks burned. Your thighs clenched around his hips instinctively as he leaned in, lips brushing a warm, unhurried path across your cheek, grazing lower until his breath kissed your ear. His words poured into you like smoke.
“You didn’t eat dinner after everything we did to you last night,”he murmured, thumb stroking the side of your throat, right over your fluttering pulse. “You passed out with nothing in your belly. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”
You swallowed hard. You could feel the heat of him, his focus, his care—twisted up in that firm, quiet dominance that made your body respond before your brain could catch up.
“I’m full,” you whispered, almost pleading.
Abby’s eyes dropped to your lips, then your stomach, and back again.
“Then you should’ve told me that two bites ago,” he said, voice edged with dark amusement, a wicked grin tugging at his mouth. “But you didn’t. You just kept whining and fluttering those lashes like you didn’t know better.”
He leaned in until your noses almost touched, gaze locked on yours, unblinking.
“Now you’re gonna finish like a good girl.”
Your breath hitched.
He raised the fork slowly, deliberately. “Open.”
You hesitated, lips parted—but the warmth of his hand on your thigh and the dark heat in his gaze stole your will.
You obeyed.
He fed you the last bite with such care it almost hurt, his other hand sliding up your spine in long, possessive strokes. Every movement felt like praise and punishment all in one.
You chewed and swallowed obediently under his gaze, your lips wet and trembling when you finally licked them clean.
And then he was there—close, closer—pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
Then your cheek.
Then lower, hovering by your mouth like he was considering stealing a taste.
“Good girl,” he whispered against your lips, voice thick with pride, with hunger, with something darker.
Your whole body lit up.
Abby helped you down from the kitchen counter with practiced ease, strong hands gripping your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His fingers lingered for a beat too long on your hips before one palm drifted lower.
pat pat
A soft, deliberate pat on your ass. Just enough to make you gasp.
“You’re good to go, baby,” Abby murmured, voice thick and low, like he hadn’t quite shaken off the heat of feeding you. “Living room’s yours.”
You made a noise under your breath, equal parts flustered and annoyed, your body still too warm and too soft from his touch. Pouting, you started to pull away—but your knees didn’t quite cooperate at first, and he chuckled behind you, smug and unbothered.
You turned to glare at him over your shoulder, lips twitching in an unconvincing attempt at indignation.
Abby winked, unapologetic. “You’re welcome, baby.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks still hot, breath not quite steady.
Barefoot, still flushed, you padded toward the living room. Your steps were slow, hips swaying a little more than necessary—calculated. Punishing. If they were going to toy with you, you could play too.
Mystery had left you at Abby’s mercy without a whisper of warning. That wouldn’t go unanswered.
You were plotting.
But the moment you stepped down into the sunken den, every thought flew from your head.
You stopped short, heart skipping.
All four of them were already there—sprawled across the massive sectional like a centerfold pulled straight from your most dangerous dreams. Limbs relaxed, legs spread, arms thrown over the back of cushions. Their postures were effortless, obscene in how much space they took up. Shirts tugged low or half-forgotten. Collarbones and veins and bare chests on display like they hadn’t even noticed. Like you were the one intruding on them.
Romance’s shirt hung completely off one shoulder. Baby had his hoodie up but nothing underneath. Jinu was in his tank top, damp and clinging to his chest in all the wrong ways.
And in the center—of course—was Mystery.
He lounged like he owned the couch, like he was born into that space with the air bowing around him. One hand twirled a coin between his fingers in lazy, practiced flicks, while the other stretched across the back of the cushions like an invitation—or a trap. His long legs were spread wide, his expression unreadable except for the heat simmering behind his lashes.
And then he looked at you.
He didn’t even turn his head. His eyes just found you like gravity bending toward a single fixed star.
You raised a hand and pointed at him, murder in your gaze.
Mystery blinked, then let a slow, amused smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Uh-oh.”
“You,” you hissed, storming forward. “You ditched me.”
He caught the coin mid-spin, set it aside with deliberate care, and finally—finally—sat up to face you, slow and regal like he was indulging you.
“Correction,” he said smoothly. “I strategically retreated.”
“Coward.”
His eyes dipped—slowly, brazenly—down your body, then back up again. You felt every inch of his gaze like heat tracing under your skin.
“You were in excellent hands,” he murmured. “Judging by how flushed you still are… I’d say it worked out.”
Then Romance made a strangled gasp from his side of the couch. “Wait,” he cried, clutching his chest like a drama prince. “Was it bad? Did he feed you?”
You reached for a pillow on instinct. “I should smother you with this.”
Romance only grinned wider, unbothered.
Your gaze cut back to Mystery. “And you—you're lucky I don’t have something heavier in hand.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping into something intimate and dangerous.
“Wouldn’t stop me from catching it,” he murmured. Then, slower—deliberate, a dare you could feel between your thighs—“Or throwing you right back.”
Your breath hitched despite yourself, heat curling low in your belly. God, he was so smug. And worse—he could back it up.
“God, you’re all so—ugh!” You ran a frustrated hand through your hair, only to wince at the way your scalp still tingled, every nerve remembering Abby’s touch like a brand.
“I think she’s mad,” Jinu whispered theatrically to Romance.
“She’s so hot when she’s mad,” Romance whispered back.
You narrowed your eyes and stepped into full manager-mode, arms crossing tightly under your chest. “Since you’re all listening so well,” you said, voice sharp as glass, “let’s talk about the real problem here—why the hell did all of you cancel your schedules today?”
“She’s doing the hands-on-hips thing,” Baby whispered from his corner, still half-reclined with one knee bouncing lazily. “Oh, she’s serious.”
“Damn right I’m serious!” you barked, leveling them all with a glare. “You think you can just wake up, decide you’re not feeling it, and throw away an entire day’s work? Do you have any idea how hard I worked to line everything up—?”
“We worked very hard last night,” Jinu muttered lowly, just loud enough for them to hear.
That earned a chorus of snickers and a loud choking noise from Baby.
Your jaw dropped. “You—! That has nothing to do with—!”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” Mystery drawled, finally pushing up from his lounge into a slow, predator’s lean. His elbows rested on his knees, dark gaze laser-focused on your collarbone—right where his mark pulsed, hot and aching. “We did mark you. That makes today your rest day.”
“You can’t just—!”
And then Abby strolled in behind you, calm as ever, toweling off his hands like he hadn’t just heard the entire argument.
“We adjusted the day,” he said, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet.
“You canceled it,” you snapped, rounding on him. “Without discussing it with me—your manager. No one even told me!”
He didn’t even blink. Just tilted his head as he met your fire head-on, calm and unbothered. “You needed the morning. We all agreed.”
Mystery didn’t flinch. “And we did tell you.”
“You told me after.”
You bristled, but Jinu stood and crossed the space with silent intensity, head tilted as he studied you like a puzzle only he could solve. “You think any of us could sit through press conferences or dance rehearsals knowing your scent is smeared on our skin… while you’re here, walking around all soft, marked, and fragile—”
“I’m not fragile,” you bit out, defensive heat rising in your chest.
But they weren’t even listening to your words. They were listening to your pulse. Feeling the spike in your tension. The too-tight way your arms crossed, the rapid flutter of your heart, the barely-concealed tremble that threaded through your body like static. It echoed down the bond—their bond—burning bright and wild.
“No,” Abby rumbled behind you. “But you’re ours.”
Then, without warning, his arms slid around your waist from behind, strong and sure. You gasped as your back met his chest, heat bleeding through his bare skin to yours.
One big hand pressed over your lower belly. The other rested high over your ribs, fingers spreading like he could hold your heart still through the touch.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “You’re shaking”
“I’m fine,” you whispered, even as your hands curled around his wrists like you needed him to keep you upright.
“No, you’re not,” he said gently, pulling you closer until you were fully cocooned in his arms. “You’re overwhelmed. We can feel it. We didn’t mean to push you.”
You blinked, throat tightening around something you couldn’t name. “Because you—”
“—acted like demons protecting their mate?” Jinu said coolly, gaze fixed on you like he could see straight through your skin. “Yeah. We did. And we’re not sorry.”
“You don’t need to manage anything today,” Mystery added. “You need to be taken care of.”
Romance finally sat up, patting his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. “C’mere, sweetheart. You’ll feel better.”
You opened your mouth to protest—but the words dissolved when you finally saw it.
Romance’s tail was out.
The long, sleek appendage curled lazily behind him, the pointed heart-tip flicking once, then swaying back and forth with a rhythm that felt almost… hypnotic. You hadn’t even seen it emerge. You’d been too busy trying to scold them, too caught in your own heat and fluster. But it was there now, bold and relaxed, a devilish punctuation mark to the open space he was offering you.
Abby smiled against your temple, his lips brushing your skin in a way that made your breath catch. “Let us spoil you,” he murmured, voice velvet and smoke. “You deserved it baby.”
“I don’t need to be spoiled,” you whispered, though the words trembled, teetering on the edge of surrender. And they heard it. Felt it.
Abby’s laugh was low and dangerous, a purr rolled in thunder. “You were marked by five demons last night, baby,” he rumbled. “You couldn’t even walk straight this morning.”
Heat rushed up your neck, flooding your cheeks as flashes of memory teased at your mind—gripping hands, growled praise, whispered filth as you shattered again and again beneath them.
“Exactly,” Baby drawled from the couch, arms behind his head, hoodie riding up to expose a sliver of smooth muscle and toned belly. His grin was lazy, but his eyes were sharp.“So sit that pretty ass down and let us baby you before you pass out on your feet.”
Romance’s tail swayed again, curling slowly as if beckoning you. That damn heart-shaped tip lifted in an almost teasing arc before it flicked once more, waiting.
“You’re so stubborn,” Abby growled at your back, voice dropping to something that curled around your spine. “Always pretending you don’t want this.”
You turned, ready to snap back—but didn’t get the chance.
Because his arms were already around your waist.
And then you were airborne.
“Abby—!”
“Nope.” His breath was warm against your ear, his tone soft but final. “You’re clearly overwhelmed. And we’re not letting our mate burn herself out.”
He walked you straight over to Romance, who was already leaning back, one hand resting lazily on his thigh, the other held out in invitation. His tail swayed lazily behind him, the heart-shaped tip already twitching in anticipation.
The moment Abby placed you into his lap, you felt it—Romance’s tail immediately curling around your waist in one smooth, possessive loop.
Your body tensed. Your breath caught.
“Oh,” you whispered, your voice suddenly much softer.
Romance grinned against your temple like a devil who’d just caught his favorite sin. “There she is,” he purred.
His tail gave a gentle tug around your hips, tugging you deeper into his lap, dragging you closer until there was no space left between you. Chest to chest and you straddling one of his strong thighs. Heat radiated from beneath you, his muscles shifting like coiled silk.
All around you, the boys were spread out across the massive couch in various states of chaos and focus. Abby lounged with a drink in hand, legs wide, his gaze cutting your way now and then with that sharp, knowing gleam. Jinu sat on the floor, one arm draped over the cushion, knee raised, his head tilted back—but his eyes, half-lidded and dark, never strayed from where you sat. Mystery was silent in the corner, elbows on his knees, eyes unreadable but fixed on your hips like he was trying not to move. And Baby—Baby was upside down on the far end, humming something soft and strange, but even he had gone still, the hum pausing mid-note as his eyes flicked to where Romance’s tail held you in place.
But you couldn't focus on any of them.
Not when Romance's hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair with slow, hypnotic intent. One stroke. Another. Fingertips dragging against your scalp, grazing just behind your ear—
Your body gave out.
A soft, broken sound slipped past your lips—half sigh, half whimper—as you melted into him, spine curving, your cheek brushing against his shoulder like it was your final place of rest. Your head lolled gently, the muscles in your thighs twitching as you clung to his lap like it was the only stable ground left.
Romance’s other hand cradled your lower back, firm and steady, anchoring you with just enough pressure to make you feel owned. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice like a velvet rope pulling you deeper. “Just relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”
His lips ghosted against your temple, down toward your jaw—but never fully landed. Just enough to make you ache.
Romance’s fingers slid again through your hair, nails dragging ever so gently.
You whimpered—barely audible, but real.
And that was when Baby spoke, voice a lazy purr from across the massive sectional.
“Mmh. She’s so quiet now,” he teased, hanging upside down with his strands brushing the floor, a wicked grin stretching his lips. “Is she asleep?”
His words barely touched you. Everything felt slow and liquid and safe. His arms caged you in warmth, the slow drag of his fingertips through your hair lulling your body toward sleep. The weight of the boys’ gazes around you should’ve been suffocating, but somehow, it only made you feel more protected.
You were seconds from slipping under when you remembered it.
His tail.
Still curled tight around your waist.
Your lashes fluttered open, breath hitching in your throat. The realization bloomed like heat under your skin, turning your limbs molten with curiosity. Your fingers twitched against his forearm—testing, teasing, emboldened by the way he hadn’t let go.
You hesitated. Then, like you were asking something innocent—like you weren’t straddling a demon’s lap in a room full of them—you let the question fall out in a whisper.
“…Can I touch it?”
Silence.
The air shifted like pressure dropping before a storm.
Abby, who’d been lounging with his drink balanced casually on his thigh, sat bolt upright like someone had snapped a leash. Jinu turned, slow and sharp, his head tilted, mouth parted, eyes locked on you like he didn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Baby gasped his hand smacking over his mouth with a delighted slap like he couldn’t hold it in. Even Mystery moved, his cold gaze zeroing in on you, jaw twitching, his entire body alert with interest like a predator catching a tremor in the ground.
But Romance?
Romance didn’t flinch.
He just leaned back a little, tilting his head, a slow, lazy smirk curving his lips like you’d just whispered something filthy straight into his ear.
“You really want to touch my tail, sweetheart?” he murmured, his nose brushing your cheek, lips hovering close enough to steal your next breath.
You swallowed, your thighs tightening around his. “…Yes?”
His purr hit you like thunder under your skin.
“You always ask the dirtiest things,” he said, voice dipping until it was thick velvet wrapped around you, “in the softest little voice.”
You blinked, flustered, but caught in his gravity. “I didn’t mean it like—!”
“Oh, I know how you meant it,” he interrupted smoothly, that grin never fading. His hand slid lower down your back, fingers tracing the base of your spine. “But my tail… it’s a bit sensitive.”
As if to prove it, the silk-wrapped coil around your waist shifted—slowly, deliberately—unwinding with a sensual slowness that made your stomach flip. Then it rose between you, the heart-shaped tip hovering in the space just below your chin.
Your breath stuttered.
Then—flick.
The tip brushed your cheek in the lightest, most feather-soft tease. You flinched and giggled without meaning to, your body jolting slightly in his lap.
“Romance—!” you squirmed, trying not to laugh as the tip flicked again, brushing the edge of your nose, then tracing a teasing path down your jaw. “That tickles—!”
He made a pleased noise behind you. “It likes you.”
Your hand moved instinctively, swatting gently, but the moment your fingertips brushed the smooth surface, his whole body shuddered. A low, deep purr rolled from his chest, so rich it made your bones vibrate.
“Oh…” you whispered, eyes wide.
Romance’s breath stuttered against your neck.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “There. Just like that.”
His tail curled into your palm on its own, like it wanted more, like it knew it was being touched by you. The texture was smooth, warm, responsive, almost like a second spine. You stroked down the length slowly, testing the reaction.
Romance groaned.
A dark flush crept up your neck as you glanced back at him. His eyes were glowing. Not just gold, but bright—lit from within with something hungry and unrestrained. His lips were parted, breath heavy, and the muscles beneath you had gone taut, like he was holding himself still with everything he had.
“You okay?” you breathed.
His laugh was low and wrecked. “Sweetheart, I’m holding on by a thread.”
You made the mistake of looking to the side.
Jinu’s mouth was slightly open like he'd stopped breathing. Baby was fanning himself with the hem of his hoodie, cheeks flushed bright pink. Mystery had a pillow hugged to his chest, eyes wide behind his bangs like he wasn’t sure whether to flee or watch harder. And Abby—he hadn’t moved an inch. Still, quiet, unreadable… but his eyes were pinned to you, dark and sharp like a predator tracking prey.
You swallowed hard.
“…Are they really that sensitive?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Your tails, I mean.”
The room shifted again—not in silence, but in tension.
Romance exhaled a slow, hot breath against your jaw, then leaned back just slightly so you could see the curve of his smirk.
“It depends,” he said, voice like a secret. “On the Demon. On the moment.”
His fingers trailed lazily along your outer thigh, a slow back-and-forth stroke that made it hard to think. “But mostly? Yeah. They’re sensitive. Especially around the base… ”
He paused.
“And the tip.”
You froze.
Your fingers were still resting on the soft underside of his tail—the tip.
The same one that had been nuzzling your palm like it couldn’t bear to be away from you.
“Oh,” you breathed, finally understanding.
Romance’s smirk deepened, eyes half-lidded as he purred, “Exactly.”
He shifted slightly beneath you, enough to lean in. “It also only reacts like that,” He murmured, dragging the tip of his tail across your palm like a kiss. “when it’s someone specific.”
You blinked. “Specific how?”
Baby made a dramatic noise. “It means you, dummy.”
“Baby—” Jinu hissed, mortified, but Baby just kept talking, his cheeks pink.
“Our tails don’t do that for anyone else,” he said, gesturing to the way Romance’s tail had wound itself tighter around your wrist like it was staking a claim. “That clingy, cuddly thing? It only happens when we’re around someone we’ve bonded with.”
Your heart stuttered. “Bonded?”
“It’s not—” Jinu jumped in, face flushed, clearly trying to salvage what pride they had left, “—It’s not that simple.”
He nodded toward Romance’s tail, which was still curling tighter against your skin, as if it were echoing his words. “It just… happens. You don’t trigger that kind of response unless…”
“Unless you’re the one,” Mystery said quietly, still hugging a pillow to his chest. “It’s instinctual. Not conscious. Our bodies just… know. When someone touches us and it feels like home. Smells like something we can’t let go of.”
You blinked down at the tail coiled around your wrist, warm and possessive. Its slow movement felt like a caress—like it was soothing you, too.
“So, like… mates?” you asked, the word fragile in your mouth.
Romance didn’t even hesitate.
“Exactly like mates.”
Your chest tightened. The word hit something deep. Raw.
Romance didn’t move. He was watching you with those molten gold eyes, waiting to see how you’d react. Not pushing. Just… waiting.
You swallowed. “You said it reacts when it feels something,” you murmured, barely able to trust your own voice. “But what if you haven’t… decided yet?”
“It doesn’t care,” Mystery answered before anyone else could. “The tail knows before we do.”
He sat forward slightly, gaze fixed not on you, but on the way Romance’s tail had coiled around your fingers like a living confession.
“Some of us can hide it better,” he continued, almost to himself. “But the tail doesn’t lie. It wraps around what it wants. It touches what it’s craving.”
Your breath caught.
Romance’s tail tightened slightly in your hand, like it was responding to the words without his permission. Like it agreed.
Jinu cleared his throat. “It’s instinctual. Tails react to emotional bonds… to compatibility, scent, touch—” He coughed into his sleeve. “Especially touch.”
Baby, draped across the rug like a sulking prince, let out a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s the same for all of us. Not that our tails are out right now, but if they were?”
He held up one hand, fingers wiggling like he was imitating a twitch. “It’d be game over. No use pretending.”
You looked down again, your gaze drawn helplessly to the tail now twined between your fingers like it had been made for your hand. It was warm. Alive. Slowly curling tighter, pulsing with quiet want.
“So…” you whispered, barely breathing. “This means…”
Romance chuckled, voice low and reverent, like he’d been waiting all day for you to get it.
“It means,” he said, voice silken and reverent, “I want you.”
The tail twitched in your grasp, curling possessively.
His gaze burned.
“Every part of me does,” he murmured, thumb brushing a slow stroke along your thigh. “Even the ones I can’t control.”
And then you felt it.
Not just his hand at your waist or his tail brushing your thigh like it couldn’t help itself—but something else. The way the air shifted. The way all of them went still.
The moment you realized… this was real. All of it.
The fire in their gazes. The aching restraint in their hands. The way their demon instincts whispered mine every time you so much as breathed near them. The way your name sounded different when they said it—like a prayer, like a promise.
You blinked hard, chest squeezing around something that had been growing, quietly, insistently, since the first time you saw them.
And now?
Now it felt like the final piece had dropped into place.
You weren’t just theirs.
They were yours.
You blinked hard and leaned in closer to Romance, your fingers twisting in the front of his shirt like you needed something—anything—to hold on to. His breath ghosted over your cheek.
“I love you.”
The words were soft, but they rang through the room like a shot.
Not whispered in a haze of heat. Not slurred or unthinking.
Romance went still. Every inch of him locked up beneath you, like your voice had frozen time. His tail twitched sharply in your grasp, startled and trembling. His pupils dilated instantly—so fast it made you shiver.
“What?” he rasped, almost afraid to believe it.
“I love you,” you repeated, firmer now. Certain. “Not just one of you. All of you.”
Jinu sucked in a sharp breath, like he’d been struck clean through the chest. “You… mean it?”
“Yes.” Your voice cracked. “Even when you’re impossible. Even when you’re annoying. Even when you make me feel like I’m losing my mind—I love you.”
The moment the words left your lips, the silence snapped.
“Gods, I’m gonna cry,” Baby whimpered.
He launched himself toward you with trembling arms, crawling across the cushions and wedging himself between you and Romance like his body couldn’t not be close. His eyes were wide and glassy, lip trembling as he clung to your side.
“I knew it,” he sniffled. “I knew you loved me. You were just being mean and pretending you didn’t—but I feel it.”
You cupped his cheeks gently, brushing your thumbs beneath his eyes. “I love you, Baby,” you whispered, smiling through the tears threatening to fall. “I always have.”
His lower lip wobbled harder. “That’s it. I’m never letting go of you. Ever. You’re stuck with me now.”
He kissed your cheek with a loud, wet smack, arms tightening around your waist like a clingy little shadow. His scent—warm, sweet, his—wrapped around you like comfort.
From the other side of the room, Jinu's breath hitched.
Then his eyes flared gold.
A visible tremor ran through him, not of fear, but of barely contained need. Hunger. Something primal and deep, pulsing just beneath the surface.
He rose from the cushions with quiet purpose, moving toward you with a kind of reverence that made your throat go tight.
He knelt beside you slowly, like approaching a shrine, and lifted his hands to your face. Careful. Steady. Like you were made of something he didn’t dare rush.
His thumbs swept softly along your cheeks, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. His gaze dragged across your features like he was relearning every inch.
“We love you,” he said again, his voice lower now, rougher, like it scraped against something unspoken. “And now that you’ve said it…we’ll never let you forget it.”
Your pulse jumped.
Jinu tilted your chin with two fingers. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, smell the wild spice of his power coiling around your senses.
Everything stilled.
Everything waited.
“Say it again,” he whispered, breath warm on your lips. “One last time.”
Your voice shook, but you didn’t look away. You couldn’t.
“I love you.”
Jinu exhaled like he’d been drowning for weeks. Then his mouth crashed into yours, not in violence, but in something even more devastating.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t rough. But gods, it was deep. He kissed you like he needed it to breathe. Like your mouth had been haunting his every waking thought. Like the words you’d just said had shattered something inside him and all he could do was put the pieces back together with his lips pressed against yours.
When he finally pulled back, your lips tingled, your heart racing like a trapped thing.
And then you saw them.
The others.
Their expressions had changed.
They were staring at you like they could already feel your scent buried in their lungs. Like they’d finally been given permission to crave you out loud.
They were demons.
And they were in love.
And now that you’d said it—now that you’d looked at them and bared your soul without flinching—they would never let you go.
You belonged to them.
But gods help anyone who forgets…
They belonged to you, too.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The moment you stepped into the sleek black van, Baby was already there—waiting like he knew exactly where you'd be before you even moved. Without a word, he reached for your hand, his fingers threading through yours. Then, with that lazy, smug kind of grace only he had, he sank down into the plush bench seat and tugged you with him, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snug against his chest.
“Mmph. You're mine today,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a sleepy cat marking its favorite spot. His breath was warm, his body hotter.
Behind you, a long, pointed sigh cut through the thickening air.
“You can’t keep doing this,” Jinu muttered, voice sharp with a thread of barely disguised jealousy.
“Doing what?” Baby asked innocently, already pressing another soft nuzzle into your neck, lips brushing your pulse. “It’s not like anyone stopped me.”
Romance climbed in next, throwing himself onto the opposite cushion with a huff, one leg thrown wide, his chest rising and falling too fast to match his casual pose. “You moved faster than I’ve ever seen you move. I was literally reaching for her—”
“Should’ve reached quicker,” Baby muttered, arms cinching around your waist like a velvet trap. His smile was pure wickedness, hidden against your skin.
“You little—”
“He’s using his maknae privilege again,” Mystery noted, voice calm but eyes sharp as he settled in beside Romance, crossing his arms as his gaze pinned the pair of you. “It’s manipulation. Classic strategy.”
“Not manipulation if she likes it,” Baby said, just loud enough for them to hear—just low enough for only you to feel the vibration of his voice against your neck.
Your fingers lifted on instinct, slipping into his hair, threading slow and gentle through the soft blue strands. He groaned, low and wrecked, like the touch undid him. His mouth brushed your skin again, softer this time.
The van hadn’t even started moving, but you were already sinking into him, pliant and flushed, his warmth curling around you.
“Let him be,” you murmured, voice softer than silk, but carrying weight. The kind of softness that soothed and silenced, that made hearts still—and demons listen. “He’s just being sweet.”
Baby beamed, proud and smug, hiding it in your neck like he knew exactly what he was doing. And you knew he did.
That single sentence hit like a shot to the chest.
Romance’s head snapped up. “Sweet? That little gremlin?”
“He’s not hurting anyone,” you said softly, your fingers still threading slowly through Baby’s hair. He melted at your touch, the smallest, pleased purr vibrating through his chest.
The van erupted with groans and protests.
“You’re spoiling him!” Jinu said.
“She likes spoiling me,” Baby murmured into your throat, not even bothering to lift his head.
Romance groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Can we please just get moving before I do something regrettable like yank you into my lap instead?”
The words hit like a punch to your gut. Your gaze snapped to him.
He looked just as wrecked.
“You wouldn’t dare,” you tried, breath catching halfway through.
His smirk curved slow and dark. “Try me.”
That image alone sent a flutter through your stomach. You were already practically draped over Baby’s lap, and now all five of them were sprawled across the seats inside the van—like kings at rest, waiting for their prize to fall straight into their hands.
“Fine,” you said, trying to sound composed even though your skin was singing. “Before this turns into an actual brawl—where are we going?”
That finally got their attention.
Jinu leaned forward, expression softening. “We booked out a private bathhouse for you.”
You blinked. “A what?”
“Mmm,” Abby confirmed, voice deep and rumbly from the front. “Private bath. Massage. Full package. Just us. No one else.”
“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now, wrapped in confusion and a sudden, inexplicable swell of emotion.
“You’ve been pushing yourself,” Romance said, a little more serious now. “And we don’t like seeing you worn down.”
“You take care of us every day,” Abby added. “So today, we take care of you.”
A pause hung in the van, heavy with emotion and unspoken want.
Your voice came out quieter. “All of this… for me?”
Baby finally looked up at you, his eyes lazy and golden. “You’re ours.”
Jinu’s voice followed, steady and calm and final. “We want to spoil what belongs to us.”
The rest of the ride passed in a haze of heat and teasing tension. They were all on you—touching, smelling, stroking little parts of you as if their hands needed constant confirmation that you were still here.
The car slowed, pulling into a secluded alley where soft lights lit the entrance of a modern, private bathhouse. The windows glowed golden from within, steam wafting behind the tinted glass.
Jinu stepped out first, always the first to move when it came to you. He turned, hand extended, eyes gentle. “Come on, sweetheart.”
You took it, and instantly Abby was there on your other side, steady and warm. Baby was still clinging to you, of course—unapologetically threading his fingers between yours. The others flanked you without speaking, their presence solid, instinctive.
Inside, the lobby was dim and polished, wood and slate and soft jazz humming in the air.
At the reception desk sat a young woman, tablet in hand. Her eyes lifted.
And her entire posture changed.
“Oh,” she breathed, eyes going wide at the sight of the five men surrounding you. She stood straighter, her voice sweetening. “Good evening. Do you… have a reservation?”
“Under Jinu,” he replied smoothly, placing a hand lightly on your lower back. “Private suite. For six.”
The receptionist blinked, trying to smile through her sudden fluster. “Ah, right… I see it here. Wow, that’s a long session. You boys really know how to indulge.” Her voice dropped just enough to make her intention clear.
Her gaze swept over the group, eyes lingering a little too long on Abby’s arm, on the way Romance’s shirt hung slightly open, on the silver of Mystery’s rings. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and bit her lip.
They didn’t even glance at her.
Not even once.
Every gaze was already locked on you.
You, standing between them with damp lashes and flushed cheeks from the car ride. You, wrapped in the scent of all five of them, marked in ways no one could see but they could smell.
They weren’t flirting back. Not one of them smiled. Not one of them responded to her attention. Instead, they were fixed on you.
Baby had his chin on your shoulder. Jinu’s hand never left the small of your back. Abby's form loomed just behind you like a silent wall. Romance tilted his head, gaze half-lidded, watching your mouth. And Mystery... Mystery wasn’t looking at you anymore.
He was watching the receptionist.
So when she finally glanced at you, the flicker in her expression wasn’t curiosity. It was dismissal. A silent Really? Her?
She didn’t even try to hide it.
Baby’s voice came first. Low. Lethal. Lazy.
“Don’t look at her like that.”
The girl blinked. “I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were.” Jinu’s smile was still polite, but his eyes had gone cold. “Fix your face.”
Mystery stepped slightly in front of you, eyes narrowed. “Do your job. Give us the key.”
Abby’s tone dropped a level deeper. “Now.”
The girl startled. Her hands scrambled a little as she reached for the keycard, placing it on the counter with a too-bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Enjoy your stay.”
They were already done with her.
Romance turned without so much as a glance in her direction, his full attention on you as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your cheek. The back of his knuckles grazed your jaw, slow, reverent. It made your knees feel like mist.
“Let’s go, sweetheart.”
Their hands never left you.
They didn’t have to drag you toward the private suite—you followed willingly, instinctively, caught in the trance of their proximity, your steps synced to theirs like you belonged nowhere else but between them.
You barely noticed the shift in atmosphere as you passed through the lounge.
Didn’t notice the hush that fell.
You didn’t notice the way one pair of familiar eyes widened from across the room.
But Rumi did.
She heard your laugh before she even saw your face—softer, breathier than she remembered. And when she looked up and caught sight of you, something in her stilled.
There you were.
Surrounded.
Encased in shadows and warmth and something far more dangerous.
The Saja Boys encircled you like a pack—like you were prey and queen all at once. A treasured thing they’d stolen back from the world.
Rumi’s grip on her drink faltered. Her lips parted—about to speak your name. But the sound never left her throat.
Because then she saw your smile.
The slow, dreamy curve of it. The softness in your eyes as Jinu leaned down to murmur something against your temple. She saw how Baby’s fingers idly played with the hem of your sleeve, how Romance reached forward to adjust the collar of your blouse like you were something delicate.
And you… you didn’t resist any of it.
You were relaxed. Dazed. Glowing.
Theirs.
Rumi’s chest tightened, a strange ache blooming in the silence.
The last time you spoke, it had ended in a fight.
Now she stood frozen, watching them worship you with nothing but their eyes, their touch, their silence.
And then the boys noticed her.
Jinu slowed first. His steps didn’t falter, but his head tilted ever so slightly—those golden eyes finding hers with chilling ease. His gaze, moments ago so tender on you, turned cold and blinding, like sunlight catching the edge of a blade. Warning. Dismissal.
Abby didn’t bother with subtlety. He met Rumi’s gaze head-on, unblinking. A slow dare flickered in his gold-rimmed stare. Then his hand, broad and deliberate, slid down the length of your back in a possessive stroke that sent a shiver through you. His palm lingered at your waist, fingers splaying like he was staking a claim.
Romance didn’t stop touching you. He didn’t even flinch. His eyes locked on Rumi’s as his fingers tilted your chin up, gentle but firm. His voice dipped low as he whispered something against your lips that made you gasp, cheeks flushing under the weight of it. Whatever it was, it was not meant for her ears.
Baby was last.
He blinked slowly at Rumi, his expression unreadable and gaze cool. Then he turned deliberately to you. His lips brushed your cheek, slow and warm, leaving behind a soft smear of affection like a brand. And then, with a purr that curled around your spine, he said, “Almost there, pretty thing. Just a few more steps and we can finally have you all to ourselves.”
It wasn’t just teasing.
It was a promise.
And through it all, Mystery didn’t glance Rumi’s way once. His full attention was on you, hand resting low on your back like a quiet claim, thumb brushing your spine in rhythmic circles. He didn’t need to look. His message was already clear.
Rumi sat frozen, heart thudding painfully behind her ribs.
The gold in their eyes pulsed a little brighter now—subtle but unmistakable. It was deliberate, like they wanted her to see. Like they needed her to understand what she was witnessing wasn’t a game, wasn’t a casual fling, wasn’t some passing obsession.
You were claimed.
Desired.
Guarded like treasure and worshipped like sin.
Theirs.
The door to the private suite opened with a soft click, and Jinu guided you inside with gentle pressure at the small of your back.
Romance didn’t stop grinning.
He looked back one last time, eyes catching Rumi’s like a hook, and gave her the smallest nod—mocking, amused, unapologetically smug.
And then the door shut with a deep, final thud. Sharp as a heartbeat.
Just like that, she was shut out.
She saw everything.
The glow in their eyes. The way their bodies gravitated toward you like you were gravity itself. The touches—casual in motion, loaded with heat. The way their stares softened when they looked at you, like you were the first and last thing they ever wanted.
Like they would raze the world just to keep you warm.
And in that moment, Rumi understood something that rattled in her bones.
Maybe they were demons.
But they didn’t look incapable of love.
Not anymore.
Not when it came to you.
Next Chapter...

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Bound to Them

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 8: 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬
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: 10.6k+ not proof read
comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

The first thing you felt was the purring.
It thrummed through your bones—low, steady, soothing—and so close it felt like it was coming from inside your own chest. You didn’t open your eyes right away. You didn’t need to. The heat pressed against you, the arm slung tight around your waist, the deep inhale brushing against the curve of your throat—everything in you already knew who it was.
Mystery.
He was draped over you, skin to skin, shirtless and half-asleep, warm in a way that made the ache between your thighs pulse again. His lips brushed your collarbones like they belonged there, over and over, soft and deliberate. Each kiss landed directly over the mark he’d left on your skin the night before, a slow claim he was reasserting in the laziest, most dangerous way.
His breath hitched when your body shifted—just slightly closer to him. And this time, you didn’t pull away. You didn’t hide. The soreness in your muscles only reminded you how thoroughly they’d claimed you, and instead of curling inward, you leaned into it. Into the feeling. Into him. Into the terrifying, addictive truth that he was yours just as much as you were his.
His lips stilled at your throat, breath warm against your skin, but his grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, dragging your hips just slightly deeper into the cradle of his body.
The oversized shirt you wore slipped slightly off your shoulder as you reached up sleepily, fingers brushing against the sharp edge of his jaw. His skin was warm, and your thumb traced the curve of his cheek until you could tilt his face toward you. His mouth parted like he couldn’t quite believe you were touching him like that—so gently, so freely.
His light purple hair spilled across his features in a soft, tangled mess—like it always did, hiding too much of him. But when you brushed it back, you saw the way his lashes fluttered, the way his pupils stayed wide, dilated, drinking you in like you were something unreal.
Your body moved before your thoughts could keep up.
You swung your leg over his hips, easing yourself into his lap, straddling him fully now. The shift in weight made your shirt ride up higher—exposing the bare skin of your thighs as they bracketed his waist. His eyes snapped open, and stayed open this time, locking on where you sat.
His entire body stilled beneath you.
Then his gaze dragged up slowly, reverently, from your thighs… to the shirt that barely covered you… to your mouth.
“Mmm—baby…” he rasped, his voice low and ruined from sleep, eyes blinking through the haze of lavender strands that had slipped back into his face. His fingers flexed on your hips like he wasn’t sure whether to hold you still or pull you closer.
You leaned in, still quiet, still suspended somewhere between dreaming and desire. Your hand slipped into his hair again, brushing it gently back so you could see him. Really see him. The flushed tips of his ears, the dazed heat in his eyes, the soft tremble in his jaw like he was barely keeping himself together.
And then you kissed him.
Your lips met his softly, unspoken, unhurried.
Mystery froze for a second—completely still beneath you like he’d short-circuited.
His fingers slid to your hips, gripping you with the gentlest desperation, thumbs pressing into the soft stretch of bare skin beneath the hem of your oversized shirt. The kiss deepened naturally, like his body already knew the rhythm of yours. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy.
It was slow and sweet and aching, the kind of kiss that said I missed you even in my sleep.
You shifted again, settling more comfortably on his lap, deepening the kiss by just a breath. Your hands threaded into his hair, tugging it back to bare more of his face, because you needed to see him. Needed to feel all of him.
His breath hitched. He exhaled shakily into your mouth.
“God…” he whispered, lips brushing yours, voice hoarse and wrecked from sleep and want. “You’re gonna kill me like this…”
Time blurred. You didn’t know how long the kiss had lasted. Minutes? Hours? A heartbeat stretched across eternity?
All you knew was his mouth never left yours for long. And your body never stopped pressing into his— straddling his bare waist like you belonged there.
His hands anchored you gently at your hips, thumbs stroking slow circles into your skin, reverent and unhurried. His lips tasted like sleep and want and something older, something deeper. Like he was feeding on the moment. Like the bond was still blooming between your ribs.
But somewhere in that haze—somewhere between the way his lips kept tugging at yours and the warm press of his fingers tracing lazy patterns down your spine—something flickered in the back of your mind.
A thought.
A memory.
A responsibility.
An entire day waiting for you. Something you were supposed to do. Handle.
Your lips parted from his with a soft gasp, breathless, and you pulled back slightly, your hand still tangled in his hair. “Wait—”
He didn’t even hesitate.
He chased your mouth like he was starving for it, heavy-lidded and greedy, kissing you again before you could finish the thought.
“Mm-mm,” he hummed against your lips, velvet and rasp, slow and hungry. “Don’t pull away darling. C’mere…”
“Wait,” you said again between kisses, breathless and dazed, laughing as you placed your palms to his chest to hold him back—barely. “I just remembered—I have work—”
He didn’t even pretend to listen.
Instead, he kissed you again, deeper this time, like he could devour the protest off your tongue. His smirk ghosted against your lips when you whimpered, when your hands pushed weakly at his chest.
“I’m working too,” he said, voice low and wicked, nosing along your jaw. “Working on kissing you until you forget what you were saying.”
You almost did.
But you managed to brace your hands more firmly against his chest, pushing just enough to create a breath of space. You were panting, flushed, legs tangled in the sheets, the hem of your shirt hitched high over your hips.
“I’m serious,” you said, trying not to fall apart under the heat of his gaze. “The schedule—we have a full shoot today, remember? I have to get the rest of you up, make sure you’re fed, dressed—”
He groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck like your words physically pained him.
“God, you’re evil baby," he muttered against your skin, his lips grazing your pulse before dragging a long, slow kiss over your throat. “You’re sitting here in nothing but a shirt, warm and pretty in my lap, and you're talking about work?”
Your breath stuttered. “Myst—”
His nose brushed your cheek, voice a deep rasp against your skin. “We cleared everything. Canceled the whole schedule.”
You stared, heartbeat skittering. “You what?”
“We decided last night.” His lips traced your jaw, slow and teasing. “You’re not going anywhere today.”
“I—Myst, I have things to do,” you tried, even as your hand gripped his shoulder like you didn’t mean it. “I’m supposed to be managing you—”
“You are,” he murmured, kissing the mark on your neck with possessive reverence. “You’re just not leaving our bed to do it.”
You pulled back slightly, eyes searching his face. “All of you agreed to this?”
He nodded lazily, like the question barely needed answering. His eyes dragged over your flushed face, gaze simmering with hunger. When he saw how hard you were trying to stay composed, trying to breathe through the haze, his smirk returned. Slower this time. Hungrier. Drunk.
“We weren’t gonna let you get up and pretend nothing happened,” he said, voice rough and fraying at the edges like it physically pained him to speak instead of kiss you.
“After last night? After claiming you?” His hand curled around your waist and pulled you closer until your legs tangled. “No one’s letting you run off. Not when you still smell like us.”
“I…” Your breath caught as his lips brushed your shoulder again, then lower, teeth scraping softly. “I thought you’d all just… go back to normal.”
His eyes lifted to meet yours.
And they glowed—deep and molten, golden shadows swirling with something dark and ancient. Something that didn’t understand the word normal.
“This is normal now,” he murmured, tilting your chin up with a fingertip. “You’re ours. That doesn’t reset in the morning.”
Then, like the words alone weren’t enough to make you feel it, he kissed you. Slow, deep, drugging. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your thoughts scatter like ash.
You turned your head away just to catch a breath, dizzy and half-gone. But he followed.
His lips trailed after yours, brushing your cheek… your jaw… the corner of your mouth. A kiss for every place you tried to escape. You murmured his name like a warning.
He only smirked against your skin, utterly unrepentant.
“Mm. Look at you,” he whispered, lips pressing to your throat, hot and open-mouthed. “Already trying to run.”
You gasped as he kissed lower, mouth dragging over your collarbone, nipping just enough to make you twitch.
When you pressed your hand to his chest again, trying to slow him, he only chased you more. His hands roamed. His lips found every inch you exposed.
“You’re lucky…” he murmured against your collarbone, voice thick and full of wicked amusement, “...I like the chase.”
Just when you thought he might relent, he dragged you back into another kiss.
This one was messier, needier, drunk with want. His fingers tightened at your waist, possessive and coaxing.
Even when you tried to breathe, tried to speak, his mouth was already back. He kissed you again, soft but urgent, murmuring something like “Don’t stop” between kisses “Not done with you yet”.
His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make your knees buckle—then his tongue soothed it, coaxed another kiss from you, slow and open-mouthed and dizzying.
He kissed you again.
And again.
Like he was trying to brand you from the inside out, until all that was left of you was his.
You moaned softly into his mouth, and it broke something in him.
He groaned, hands sliding down to map every curve he hadn’t touched yet—possessive, reverent, like he owned the shape of you.
Then—
grrroowllll
Your stomach betrayed you with a loud, unapologetic rumble.
You froze.
Mystery blinked, lips still hovering against yours. Then his eyes widened a little… and the smirk that spread across his face could’ve lit the room.
A low, husky laugh slipped from his chest, and before you could stop him, he dropped his head to your neck with a snort, shoulders shaking.
You groaned in mortification, hiding your face in his shoulder. “No. Don’t. Don’t you dare—”
“You got hungry while I’m here kissing you?” he teased, voice thick with affection and laughter. “Seriously?”
You swatted at his arm, weak and blushing and still half-drunk on his kisses.
He only laughed harder.
Then, without warning, he leaned in and bit your cheek.
“Hey!” you gasped, smacking at his chest with a muffled squeak.
He just licked the spot, eyes gleaming, smug and unrepentant. “Sorry, darling… you’re just too cute.” he purred, voice dropping a note lower, richer. “Can’t help it. I’m starving—might as well eat you up.”
Before you could recover, he was all over you again—assaulting your cheek with slow, messy kisses, every so often nipping you just hard enough to make you gasp. It wasn’t gentle.
You squirmed, giggling now, voice caught somewhere between a flustered whimper and a laugh. “Myst—!”
He hummed like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard, nosing along your jaw. “Mm. Say my name again like that and I will keep you from breakfast.”
Then his hands slipped beneath your thighs, and with a low grunt, he stood—lifting you effortlessly into his arms like you weighed nothing.
“Time to feed you,” he murmured, voice thicker now with sleep and satisfaction. “Before you start gnawing on me.”
“I can walk,” you mumbled, but you were already curling into his warmth, letting him carry you.
“I know,” he said, tilting his head to press a slow, possessive kiss beneath your ear. “But I like carrying you.”
And you didn’t argue after that.
Not when he was holding you like you were something rare and breakable, like putting your feet on the ground would somehow be a tragedy. His bare chest was hot against your body, the strong flex of his arms and the scent of your bond still humming between your skin making it hard to think clearly.
Dizzy and pliant, you let yourself melt into him, cheek pressed against his collarbone as he carried you down the hall.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
Abby stood at the stove, tall and shirtless, a comically tiny apron tied low around his waist—white with bold red lettering that read Kiss the Cook. The fabric barely covered anything important. His back flexed as he flipped a pancake with casual precision, muscles rippling in the soft gold wash of morning light. His hair was tousled, sleep-warm and wild, like someone had dragged fingers through it.
Mystery snorted beside you. “Subtle.”
Abby glanced over his shoulder and immediately grinned when he saw you draped in Mystery’s arms, cheeks flushed, legs still lazily tangled around his waist. “Well, well,” Abby teased, voice rich with amusement. “Look who finally crawled out of bed.”
Your eyes widened. “What... what are you wearing?”
Abby turned fully, posing like a devilish model. The apron barely clung to his hips, riding scandalously low. “Do you like it?” he asked, all mock innocence, though the curve of his mouth said he knew exactly what he was doing. “Romance picked it out. Said it matched my energy.”
You stared. Blinked. Tried so hard not to drool. “He’s not wrong.”
Mystery let out a low breath, clearly amused, before finally placing you down onto the kitchen counter. The cold marble met the backs of your thighs with a sharp sting, making you jerk and hiss softly as your borrowed shirt rode high, in a way that didn’t help your modesty or the boys’ restraint.
“Cold,” you muttered, shifting with a squirm.
Mystery’s lips twitched in a lazy, sinful grin as his hands smoothed along the backs of your thighs, slow and teasing, his palms warm where the marble wasn’t. His fingers lingered just under the hem of the shirt. He leaned in until his lips brushed your ear.
“You should’ve let me carry you straight to my mouth instead of the kitchen,” he murmured, voice thick and low, a shiver running through each word. “Bet that would’ve warmed you up faster.”
You opened your mouth to answer but Abby swept in like sunlight and sin, a spatula in one hand and nothing but trouble in his eyes.
“Well, good morning, gorgeous,” he drawled, flashing a grin that was all teeth and charm, like he already knew you were seconds from melting. He raked one hand through his messy hair, the movement stretching the muscles in his bare chest. They rippled with just enough flex to make your breath catch.
“What do you want in your pancakes, hmm?” His eyes dragged down your body—slow, indulgent, lingering a little too long on your bare thighs. “Chocolate? Strawberries?”
Then his voice dropped a note lower, velvet and wicked.
“...Or me?”
Your breath hitched. Words short-circuited somewhere between your mouth and your brain.
Mystery chuckled low against your neck, the vibration sliding straight down your spine. His lips grazed your skin, deliberate. “She’s full from earlier,” he said, all innocence layered over implication. “But maybe she’s got room for dessert.”
Abby tilted his head like he was genuinely considering it. “I do make a mean whipped cream.”
Your entire body flushed. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands—but it did nothing to hide your smile or your wrecked composure.
“Correction,” Abby said smoothly, stepping in close—too close—until the warm press of his bare skin brushed your knees. “Irresistible.”
And then—before you could even think of stopping him—he leaned in.
His mouth met yours in a slow, devastating kiss, warm and lazy like honey poured over fire. The ties of his apron grazed your thighs as he bent closer, teasing silk against skin, the heat of him melting into you with every second.
By the time he pulled back, your lips were swollen and parted, eyes dazed like you’d forgotten your own name.
He lingered close, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth with maddening care. His voice dropped to a low purr.
“Now,” he murmured, tilting his head. “What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”
Your brain sputtered like static. “Just… syrup,” you managed, breathless.
Abby chuckled, the sound satisfied and deep, before stepping back with a wink. “Classic. Sweet.”
He glanced down your legs again, eyes darkening slightly.
“Just like you.”
Abby plated two servings—one for you, one for Mystery—but when he turned to hand yours over, he didn’t pass the plate.
Instead, he picked up the fork, sliced off a bite, and looked you dead in the eyes as he lifted it.
“Open up, sweetheart,” he said softly.
You obeyed, letting him feed you the warm, fluffy bite dripping in syrup. Your lips closed around the fork, and his eyes dropped—watching the way your mouth moved, the slow pull of your tongue, the delicate sound that slipped from your throat when you swallowed.
“Good?” he asked, voice thicker now, thumb brushing across your lip where a smear of syrup glistened.
“Mmhmm,” you managed, still chewing, heat blooming in your cheeks.
But he didn’t look away.
He held your gaze as he brought that same thumb to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick it clean, slow and deliberate. His smirk deepened, satisfied.
“Messy girl,” he murmured.
Before you could react, Mystery leaned forward, fork already prepared with a piece of pancake topped by a single plump blueberry.
“Try mine,” he said, voice all velvet and smoke.
You leaned forward, lips brushing the tips of his fingers as you accepted the bite. His eyes darkened slightly, his hand lingering just a moment longer against your mouth before he drew back, chewing his own bite with a pleased hum.
“Where are the others?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the heat curling low in your stomach.
Abby answered between giving you bites. “Living room. They already ate.”
“They said we should take our time,” Mystery added, scooting closer, his thigh pressing against yours. “Said you looked too good sleeping between us to wake you early.”
Abby reached down to rest a large palm on your bare knee, then slowly slid it up to your thigh, fingers idly tracing circles just under the hem of your shirt. “They’re not wrong.”
“You’re spoiling me,” you whispered, already feeling drunk on the way they looked at you.
Abby’s lips lifted into a slow smile. “Good.”
Mystery leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, his voice a silken thread as he murmured, “Let us.”
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
You whimpered before you could help it, squirming slightly on the counter, your belly already tight and achingly full—yet Abby still wasn’t finished. He lifted the fork again, syrup dripping from the bite as he nudged it toward your lips with calm, deliberate insistence.
“Abby…” you whined, voice airy and petulant, your pout forming automatically as you tilted your head away, lips barely parted. “I’m full…”
He gave you a look. Patient. Playful. But with that steady, unwavering heat behind it that made your thighs press together. His hand didn't move from your leg—instead, it wandered higher, teasing just under the curve of your hip.
You turned your eyes to Mystery like he was your last hope.
He stood against the fridge, arms crossed, his empty plate forgotten on the counter behind him. Watching the scene unfold like it was the best part of his morning. His smirk was slow and amused, his gaze unreadable—but sharp.
“Mystery,” you breathed dramatically, reaching one hand out toward him like a starved maiden begging for rescue. “Help me. Please.”
His brows lifted with exaggerated interest. “Help you with what, exactly?” he said, the drawl in his voice practically sinful. “Chew?”
You groaned and collapsed back against the cabinet with a theatrical sigh. “I’m dying…”
“Mm,” he mused, finally pushing off the fridge. He moved toward you slowly, like he had all the time in the world, his steps smooth and silent. “You look pretty alive to me. And very, very spoiled.”
You tried again, this time sweeter. Softer. Almost a whimper. “Help,” you whispered, lashes fluttering. “I’ll cuddle you after.”
Mystery’s mouth curved, clearly tempted—but before he could take another step, Abby’s voice cut through the air like velvet steel.
“Don’t.”
He didn’t even look at him. His gaze never left yours, unwavering as he lifted the fork again and tapped the edge lightly against your lower lip in silent command.
You froze, breath catching. That single word—low, firm, possessive—set something off inside you, a shiver that ran straight down your spine.
Mystery blinked once, then chuckled softly, lifting both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, clearly amused.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then bent to your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, just for you, “You’re so cute when you’re bratty…”
And then he just… turned and walked off. Casual as ever, like he hadn’t just left you breathless and exposed on the counter. The soft click of his steps retreating made the silence around you feel even heavier.
“You traitor!” you called after him, squirming when Abby’s hand curled more firmly around the back of your thigh.
“Mm,” Mystery replied lazily over his shoulder, that smirk audible in his voice. “I’ll cuddle you later… if you survive.”
“Mean,” you muttered, pout deepening. But when you turned your head back—
Abby was still there. Still standing between your legs. Still holding that same damn fork with that same maddening patience.
Still feeding you like you hadn’t already told him three times you were full.
“You really trying to get someone else to rescue you right in front of me?” he asked quietly, not angry—just amused. Dangerous. Dark amusement lacing his words like heat curling at your spine.
“I was just—” you started, trying to sound innocent.
He arched a brow, tilting his head in that slow, pointed way that made your breath catch.
“You were just being a bad girl,” he said simply, voice dipping deeper.
Your cheeks burned. Your thighs clenched around his hips instinctively as he leaned in, lips brushing a warm, unhurried path across your cheek, grazing lower until his breath kissed your ear. His words poured into you like smoke.
“You didn’t eat dinner after everything we did to you last night,”he murmured, thumb stroking the side of your throat, right over your fluttering pulse. “You passed out with nothing in your belly. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”
You swallowed hard. You could feel the heat of him, his focus, his care—twisted up in that firm, quiet dominance that made your body respond before your brain could catch up.
“I’m full,” you whispered, almost pleading.
Abby’s eyes dropped to your lips, then your stomach, and back again.
“Then you should’ve told me that two bites ago,” he said, voice edged with dark amusement, a wicked grin tugging at his mouth. “But you didn’t. You just kept whining and fluttering those lashes like you didn’t know better.”
He leaned in until your noses almost touched, gaze locked on yours, unblinking.
“Now you’re gonna finish like a good girl.”
Your breath hitched.
He raised the fork slowly, deliberately. “Open.”
You hesitated, lips parted—but the warmth of his hand on your thigh and the dark heat in his gaze stole your will.
You obeyed.
He fed you the last bite with such care it almost hurt, his other hand sliding up your spine in long, possessive strokes. Every movement felt like praise and punishment all in one.
You chewed and swallowed obediently under his gaze, your lips wet and trembling when you finally licked them clean.
And then he was there—close, closer—pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
Then your cheek.
Then lower, hovering by your mouth like he was considering stealing a taste.
“Good girl,” he whispered against your lips, voice thick with pride, with hunger, with something darker.
Your whole body lit up.
Abby helped you down from the kitchen counter with practiced ease, strong hands gripping your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His fingers lingered for a beat too long on your hips before one palm drifted lower.
pat pat
A soft, deliberate pat on your ass. Just enough to make you gasp.
“You’re good to go, baby,” Abby murmured, voice thick and low, like he hadn’t quite shaken off the heat of feeding you. “Living room’s yours.”
You made a noise under your breath, equal parts flustered and annoyed, your body still too warm and too soft from his touch. Pouting, you started to pull away—but your knees didn’t quite cooperate at first, and he chuckled behind you, smug and unbothered.
You turned to glare at him over your shoulder, lips twitching in an unconvincing attempt at indignation.
Abby winked, unapologetic. “You’re welcome, baby.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks still hot, breath not quite steady.
Barefoot, still flushed, you padded toward the living room. Your steps were slow, hips swaying a little more than necessary—calculated. Punishing. If they were going to toy with you, you could play too.
Mystery had left you at Abby’s mercy without a whisper of warning. That wouldn’t go unanswered.
You were plotting.
But the moment you stepped down into the sunken den, every thought flew from your head.
You stopped short, heart skipping.
All four of them were already there—sprawled across the massive sectional like a centerfold pulled straight from your most dangerous dreams. Limbs relaxed, legs spread, arms thrown over the back of cushions. Their postures were effortless, obscene in how much space they took up. Shirts tugged low or half-forgotten. Collarbones and veins and bare chests on display like they hadn’t even noticed. Like you were the one intruding on them.
Romance’s shirt hung completely off one shoulder. Baby had his hoodie up but nothing underneath. Jinu was in his tank top, damp and clinging to his chest in all the wrong ways.
And in the center—of course—was Mystery.
He lounged like he owned the couch, like he was born into that space with the air bowing around him. One hand twirled a coin between his fingers in lazy, practiced flicks, while the other stretched across the back of the cushions like an invitation—or a trap. His long legs were spread wide, his expression unreadable except for the heat simmering behind his lashes.
And then he looked at you.
He didn’t even turn his head. His eyes just found you like gravity bending toward a single fixed star.
You raised a hand and pointed at him, murder in your gaze.
Mystery blinked, then let a slow, amused smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Uh-oh.”
“You,” you hissed, storming forward. “You ditched me.”
He caught the coin mid-spin, set it aside with deliberate care, and finally—finally—sat up to face you, slow and regal like he was indulging you.
“Correction,” he said smoothly. “I strategically retreated.”
“Coward.”
His eyes dipped—slowly, brazenly—down your body, then back up again. You felt every inch of his gaze like heat tracing under your skin.
“You were in excellent hands,” he murmured. “Judging by how flushed you still are… I’d say it worked out.”
Then Romance made a strangled gasp from his side of the couch. “Wait,” he cried, clutching his chest like a drama prince. “Was it bad? Did he feed you?”
You reached for a pillow on instinct. “I should smother you with this.”
Romance only grinned wider, unbothered.
Your gaze cut back to Mystery. “And you—you're lucky I don’t have something heavier in hand.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping into something intimate and dangerous.
“Wouldn’t stop me from catching it,” he murmured. Then, slower—deliberate, a dare you could feel between your thighs—“Or throwing you right back.”
Your breath hitched despite yourself, heat curling low in your belly. God, he was so smug. And worse—he could back it up.
“God, you’re all so—ugh!” You ran a frustrated hand through your hair, only to wince at the way your scalp still tingled, every nerve remembering Abby’s touch like a brand.
“I think she’s mad,” Jinu whispered theatrically to Romance.
“She’s so hot when she’s mad,” Romance whispered back.
You narrowed your eyes and stepped into full manager-mode, arms crossing tightly under your chest. “Since you’re all listening so well,” you said, voice sharp as glass, “let’s talk about the real problem here—why the hell did all of you cancel your schedules today?”
“She’s doing the hands-on-hips thing,” Baby whispered from his corner, still half-reclined with one knee bouncing lazily. “Oh, she’s serious.”
“Damn right I’m serious!” you barked, leveling them all with a glare. “You think you can just wake up, decide you’re not feeling it, and throw away an entire day’s work? Do you have any idea how hard I worked to line everything up—?”
“We worked very hard last night,” Jinu muttered lowly, just loud enough for them to hear.
That earned a chorus of snickers and a loud choking noise from Baby.
Your jaw dropped. “You—! That has nothing to do with—!”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” Mystery drawled, finally pushing up from his lounge into a slow, predator’s lean. His elbows rested on his knees, dark gaze laser-focused on your collarbone—right where his mark pulsed, hot and aching. “We did mark you. That makes today your rest day.”
“You can’t just—!”
And then Abby strolled in behind you, calm as ever, toweling off his hands like he hadn’t just heard the entire argument.
“We adjusted the day,” he said, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet.
“You canceled it,” you snapped, rounding on him. “Without discussing it with me—your manager. No one even told me!”
He didn’t even blink. Just tilted his head as he met your fire head-on, calm and unbothered. “You needed the morning. We all agreed.”
Mystery didn’t flinch. “And we did tell you.”
“You told me after.”
You bristled, but Jinu stood and crossed the space with silent intensity, head tilted as he studied you like a puzzle only he could solve. “You think any of us could sit through press conferences or dance rehearsals knowing your scent is smeared on our skin… while you’re here, walking around all soft, marked, and fragile—”
“I’m not fragile,” you bit out, defensive heat rising in your chest.
But they weren’t even listening to your words. They were listening to your pulse. Feeling the spike in your tension. The too-tight way your arms crossed, the rapid flutter of your heart, the barely-concealed tremble that threaded through your body like static. It echoed down the bond—their bond—burning bright and wild.
“No,” Abby rumbled behind you. “But you’re ours.”
Then, without warning, his arms slid around your waist from behind, strong and sure. You gasped as your back met his chest, heat bleeding through his bare skin to yours.
One big hand pressed over your lower belly. The other rested high over your ribs, fingers spreading like he could hold your heart still through the touch.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “You’re shaking”
“I’m fine,” you whispered, even as your hands curled around his wrists like you needed him to keep you upright.
“No, you’re not,” he said gently, pulling you closer until you were fully cocooned in his arms. “You’re overwhelmed. We can feel it. We didn’t mean to push you.”
You blinked, throat tightening around something you couldn’t name. “Because you—”
“—acted like demons protecting their mate?” Jinu said coolly, gaze fixed on you like he could see straight through your skin. “Yeah. We did. And we’re not sorry.”
“You don’t need to manage anything today,” Mystery added. “You need to be taken care of.”
Romance finally sat up, patting his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. “C’mere, sweetheart. You’ll feel better.”
You opened your mouth to protest—but the words dissolved when you finally saw it.
Romance’s tail was out.
The long, sleek appendage curled lazily behind him, the pointed heart-tip flicking once, then swaying back and forth with a rhythm that felt almost… hypnotic. You hadn’t even seen it emerge. You’d been too busy trying to scold them, too caught in your own heat and fluster. But it was there now, bold and relaxed, a devilish punctuation mark to the open space he was offering you.
Abby smiled against your temple, his lips brushing your skin in a way that made your breath catch. “Let us spoil you,” he murmured, voice velvet and smoke. “You deserved it baby.”
“I don’t need to be spoiled,” you whispered, though the words trembled, teetering on the edge of surrender. And they heard it. Felt it.
Abby’s laugh was low and dangerous, a purr rolled in thunder. “You were marked by five demons last night, baby,” he rumbled. “You couldn’t even walk straight this morning.”
Heat rushed up your neck, flooding your cheeks as flashes of memory teased at your mind—gripping hands, growled praise, whispered filth as you shattered again and again beneath them.
“Exactly,” Baby drawled from the couch, arms behind his head, hoodie riding up to expose a sliver of smooth muscle and toned belly. His grin was lazy, but his eyes were sharp.“So sit that pretty ass down and let us baby you before you pass out on your feet.”
Romance’s tail swayed again, curling slowly as if beckoning you. That damn heart-shaped tip lifted in an almost teasing arc before it flicked once more, waiting.
“You’re so stubborn,” Abby growled at your back, voice dropping to something that curled around your spine. “Always pretending you don’t want this.”
You turned, ready to snap back—but didn’t get the chance.
Because his arms were already around your waist.
And then you were airborne.
“Abby—!”
“Nope.” His breath was warm against your ear, his tone soft but final. “You’re clearly overwhelmed. And we’re not letting our mate burn herself out.”
He walked you straight over to Romance, who was already leaning back, one hand resting lazily on his thigh, the other held out in invitation. His tail swayed lazily behind him, the heart-shaped tip already twitching in anticipation.
The moment Abby placed you into his lap, you felt it—Romance’s tail immediately curling around your waist in one smooth, possessive loop.
Your body tensed. Your breath caught.
“Oh,” you whispered, your voice suddenly much softer.
Romance grinned against your temple like a devil who’d just caught his favorite sin. “There she is,” he purred.
His tail gave a gentle tug around your hips, tugging you deeper into his lap, dragging you closer until there was no space left between you. Chest to chest and you straddling one of his strong thighs. Heat radiated from beneath you, his muscles shifting like coiled silk.
All around you, the boys were spread out across the massive couch in various states of chaos and focus. Abby lounged with a drink in hand, legs wide, his gaze cutting your way now and then with that sharp, knowing gleam. Jinu sat on the floor, one arm draped over the cushion, knee raised, his head tilted back—but his eyes, half-lidded and dark, never strayed from where you sat. Mystery was silent in the corner, elbows on his knees, eyes unreadable but fixed on your hips like he was trying not to move. And Baby—Baby was upside down on the far end, humming something soft and strange, but even he had gone still, the hum pausing mid-note as his eyes flicked to where Romance’s tail held you in place.
But you couldn't focus on any of them.
Not when Romance's hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair with slow, hypnotic intent. One stroke. Another. Fingertips dragging against your scalp, grazing just behind your ear—
Your body gave out.
A soft, broken sound slipped past your lips—half sigh, half whimper—as you melted into him, spine curving, your cheek brushing against his shoulder like it was your final place of rest. Your head lolled gently, the muscles in your thighs twitching as you clung to his lap like it was the only stable ground left.
Romance’s other hand cradled your lower back, firm and steady, anchoring you with just enough pressure to make you feel owned. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice like a velvet rope pulling you deeper. “Just relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”
His lips ghosted against your temple, down toward your jaw—but never fully landed. Just enough to make you ache.
Romance’s fingers slid again through your hair, nails dragging ever so gently.
You whimpered—barely audible, but real.
And that was when Baby spoke, voice a lazy purr from across the massive sectional.
“Mmh. She’s so quiet now,” he teased, hanging upside down with his strands brushing the floor, a wicked grin stretching his lips. “Is she asleep?”
His words barely touched you. Everything felt slow and liquid and safe. His arms caged you in warmth, the slow drag of his fingertips through your hair lulling your body toward sleep. The weight of the boys’ gazes around you should’ve been suffocating, but somehow, it only made you feel more protected.
You were seconds from slipping under when you remembered it.
His tail.
Still curled tight around your waist.
Your lashes fluttered open, breath hitching in your throat. The realization bloomed like heat under your skin, turning your limbs molten with curiosity. Your fingers twitched against his forearm—testing, teasing, emboldened by the way he hadn’t let go.
You hesitated. Then, like you were asking something innocent—like you weren’t straddling a demon’s lap in a room full of them—you let the question fall out in a whisper.
“…Can I touch it?”
Silence.
The air shifted like pressure dropping before a storm.
Abby, who’d been lounging with his drink balanced casually on his thigh, sat bolt upright like someone had snapped a leash. Jinu turned, slow and sharp, his head tilted, mouth parted, eyes locked on you like he didn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Baby gasped his hand smacking over his mouth with a delighted slap like he couldn’t hold it in. Even Mystery moved, his cold gaze zeroing in on you, jaw twitching, his entire body alert with interest like a predator catching a tremor in the ground.
But Romance?
Romance didn’t flinch.
He just leaned back a little, tilting his head, a slow, lazy smirk curving his lips like you’d just whispered something filthy straight into his ear.
“You really want to touch my tail, sweetheart?��� he murmured, his nose brushing your cheek, lips hovering close enough to steal your next breath.
You swallowed, your thighs tightening around his. “…Yes?”
His purr hit you like thunder under your skin.
“You always ask the dirtiest things,” he said, voice dipping until it was thick velvet wrapped around you, “in the softest little voice.”
You blinked, flustered, but caught in his gravity. “I didn’t mean it like—!”
“Oh, I know how you meant it,” he interrupted smoothly, that grin never fading. His hand slid lower down your back, fingers tracing the base of your spine. “But my tail… it’s a bit sensitive.”
As if to prove it, the silk-wrapped coil around your waist shifted—slowly, deliberately—unwinding with a sensual slowness that made your stomach flip. Then it rose between you, the heart-shaped tip hovering in the space just below your chin.
Your breath stuttered.
Then—flick.
The tip brushed your cheek in the lightest, most feather-soft tease. You flinched and giggled without meaning to, your body jolting slightly in his lap.
“Romance—!” you squirmed, trying not to laugh as the tip flicked again, brushing the edge of your nose, then tracing a teasing path down your jaw. “That tickles—!”
He made a pleased noise behind you. “It likes you.”
Your hand moved instinctively, swatting gently, but the moment your fingertips brushed the smooth surface, his whole body shuddered. A low, deep purr rolled from his chest, so rich it made your bones vibrate.
“Oh…” you whispered, eyes wide.
Romance’s breath stuttered against your neck.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “There. Just like that.”
His tail curled into your palm on its own, like it wanted more, like it knew it was being touched by you. The texture was smooth, warm, responsive, almost like a second spine. You stroked down the length slowly, testing the reaction.
Romance groaned.
A dark flush crept up your neck as you glanced back at him. His eyes were glowing. Not just gold, but bright—lit from within with something hungry and unrestrained. His lips were parted, breath heavy, and the muscles beneath you had gone taut, like he was holding himself still with everything he had.
“You okay?” you breathed.
His laugh was low and wrecked. “Sweetheart, I’m holding on by a thread.”
You made the mistake of looking to the side.
Jinu’s mouth was slightly open like he'd stopped breathing. Baby was fanning himself with the hem of his hoodie, cheeks flushed bright pink. Mystery had a pillow hugged to his chest, eyes wide behind his bangs like he wasn’t sure whether to flee or watch harder. And Abby—he hadn’t moved an inch. Still, quiet, unreadable… but his eyes were pinned to you, dark and sharp like a predator tracking prey.
You swallowed hard.
“…Are they really that sensitive?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Your tails, I mean.”
The room shifted again—not in silence, but in tension.
Romance exhaled a slow, hot breath against your jaw, then leaned back just slightly so you could see the curve of his smirk.
“It depends,” he said, voice like a secret. “On the Demon. On the moment.”
His fingers trailed lazily along your outer thigh, a slow back-and-forth stroke that made it hard to think. “But mostly? Yeah. They’re sensitive. Especially around the base… ”
He paused.
“And the tip.”
You froze.
Your fingers were still resting on the soft underside of his tail—the tip.
The same one that had been nuzzling your palm like it couldn’t bear to be away from you.
“Oh,” you breathed, finally understanding.
Romance’s smirk deepened, eyes half-lidded as he purred, “Exactly.”
He shifted slightly beneath you, enough to lean in. “It also only reacts like that,” He murmured, dragging the tip of his tail across your palm like a kiss. “when it’s someone specific.”
You blinked. “Specific how?”
Baby made a dramatic noise. “It means you, dummy.”
“Baby—” Jinu hissed, mortified, but Baby just kept talking, his cheeks pink.
“Our tails don’t do that for anyone else,” he said, gesturing to the way Romance’s tail had wound itself tighter around your wrist like it was staking a claim. “That clingy, cuddly thing? It only happens when we’re around someone we’ve bonded with.”
Your heart stuttered. “Bonded?”
“It’s not—” Jinu jumped in, face flushed, clearly trying to salvage what pride they had left, “—It’s not that simple.”
He nodded toward Romance’s tail, which was still curling tighter against your skin, as if it were echoing his words. “It just… happens. You don’t trigger that kind of response unless…”
“Unless you’re the one,” Mystery said quietly, still hugging a pillow to his chest. “It’s instinctual. Not conscious. Our bodies just… know. When someone touches us and it feels like home. Smells like something we can’t let go of.”
You blinked down at the tail coiled around your wrist, warm and possessive. Its slow movement felt like a caress—like it was soothing you, too.
“So, like… mates?” you asked, the word fragile in your mouth.
Romance didn’t even hesitate.
“Exactly like mates.”
Your chest tightened. The word hit something deep. Raw.
Romance didn’t move. He was watching you with those molten gold eyes, waiting to see how you’d react. Not pushing. Just… waiting.
You swallowed. “You said it reacts when it feels something,” you murmured, barely able to trust your own voice. “But what if you haven’t… decided yet?”
“It doesn’t care,” Mystery answered before anyone else could. “The tail knows before we do.”
He sat forward slightly, gaze fixed not on you, but on the way Romance’s tail had coiled around your fingers like a living confession.
“Some of us can hide it better,” he continued, almost to himself. “But the tail doesn’t lie. It wraps around what it wants. It touches what it’s craving.”
Your breath caught.
Romance’s tail tightened slightly in your hand, like it was responding to the words without his permission. Like it agreed.
Jinu cleared his throat. “It’s instinctual. Tails react to emotional bonds… to compatibility, scent, touch—” He coughed into his sleeve. “Especially touch.”
Baby, draped across the rug like a sulking prince, let out a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s the same for all of us. Not that our tails are out right now, but if they were?”
He held up one hand, fingers wiggling like he was imitating a twitch. “It’d be game over. No use pretending.”
You looked down again, your gaze drawn helplessly to the tail now twined between your fingers like it had been made for your hand. It was warm. Alive. Slowly curling tighter, pulsing with quiet want.
“So…” you whispered, barely breathing. “This means…”
Romance chuckled, voice low and reverent, like he’d been waiting all day for you to get it.
“It means,” he said, voice silken and reverent, “I want you.”
The tail twitched in your grasp, curling possessively.
His gaze burned.
“Every part of me does,” he murmured, thumb brushing a slow stroke along your thigh. “Even the ones I can’t control.”
And then you felt it.
Not just his hand at your waist or his tail brushing your thigh like it couldn’t help itself—but something else. The way the air shifted. The way all of them went still.
The moment you realized… this was real. All of it.
The fire in their gazes. The aching restraint in their hands. The way their demon instincts whispered mine every time you so much as breathed near them. The way your name sounded different when they said it—like a prayer, like a promise.
You blinked hard, chest squeezing around something that had been growing, quietly, insistently, since the first time you saw them.
And now?
Now it felt like the final piece had dropped into place.
You weren’t just theirs.
They were yours.
You blinked hard and leaned in closer to Romance, your fingers twisting in the front of his shirt like you needed something—anything—to hold on to. His breath ghosted over your cheek.
“I love you.”
The words were soft, but they rang through the room like a shot.
Not whispered in a haze of heat. Not slurred or unthinking.
Romance went still. Every inch of him locked up beneath you, like your voice had frozen time. His tail twitched sharply in your grasp, startled and trembling. His pupils dilated instantly—so fast it made you shiver.
“What?” he rasped, almost afraid to believe it.
“I love you,” you repeated, firmer now. Certain. “Not just one of you. All of you.”
Jinu sucked in a sharp breath, like he’d been struck clean through the chest. “You… mean it?”
“Yes.” Your voice cracked. “Even when you’re impossible. Even when you’re annoying. Even when you make me feel like I’m losing my mind—I love you.”
The moment the words left your lips, the silence snapped.
“Gods, I’m gonna cry,” Baby whimpered.
He launched himself toward you with trembling arms, crawling across the cushions and wedging himself between you and Romance like his body couldn’t not be close. His eyes were wide and glassy, lip trembling as he clung to your side.
“I knew it,” he sniffled. “I knew you loved me. You were just being mean and pretending you didn’t—but I feel it.”
You cupped his cheeks gently, brushing your thumbs beneath his eyes. “I love you, Baby,” you whispered, smiling through the tears threatening to fall. “I always have.”
His lower lip wobbled harder. “That’s it. I’m never letting go of you. Ever. You’re stuck with me now.”
He kissed your cheek with a loud, wet smack, arms tightening around your waist like a clingy little shadow. His scent—warm, sweet, his—wrapped around you like comfort.
From the other side of the room, Jinu's breath hitched.
Then his eyes flared gold.
A visible tremor ran through him, not of fear, but of barely contained need. Hunger. Something primal and deep, pulsing just beneath the surface.
He rose from the cushions with quiet purpose, moving toward you with a kind of reverence that made your throat go tight.
He knelt beside you slowly, like approaching a shrine, and lifted his hands to your face. Careful. Steady. Like you were made of something he didn’t dare rush.
His thumbs swept softly along your cheeks, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. His gaze dragged across your features like he was relearning every inch.
“We love you,” he said again, his voice lower now, rougher, like it scraped against something unspoken. “And now that you’ve said it…we’ll never let you forget it.”
Your pulse jumped.
Jinu tilted your chin with two fingers. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, smell the wild spice of his power coiling around your senses.
Everything stilled.
Everything waited.
“Say it again,” he whispered, breath warm on your lips. “One last time.”
Your voice shook, but you didn’t look away. You couldn’t.
“I love you.”
Jinu exhaled like he’d been drowning for weeks. Then his mouth crashed into yours, not in violence, but in something even more devastating.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t rough. But gods, it was deep. He kissed you like he needed it to breathe. Like your mouth had been haunting his every waking thought. Like the words you’d just said had shattered something inside him and all he could do was put the pieces back together with his lips pressed against yours.
When he finally pulled back, your lips tingled, your heart racing like a trapped thing.
And then you saw them.
The others.
Their expressions had changed.
They were staring at you like they could already feel your scent buried in their lungs. Like they’d finally been given permission to crave you out loud.
They were demons.
And they were in love.
And now that you’d said it—now that you’d looked at them and bared your soul without flinching—they would never let you go.
You belonged to them.
But gods help anyone who forgets…
They belonged to you, too.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The moment you stepped into the sleek black van, Baby was already there—waiting like he knew exactly where you'd be before you even moved. Without a word, he reached for your hand, his fingers threading through yours. Then, with that lazy, smug kind of grace only he had, he sank down into the plush bench seat and tugged you with him, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snug against his chest.
“Mmph. You're mine today,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a sleepy cat marking its favorite spot. His breath was warm, his body hotter.
Behind you, a long, pointed sigh cut through the thickening air.
“You can’t keep doing this,” Jinu muttered, voice sharp with a thread of barely disguised jealousy.
“Doing what?” Baby asked innocently, already pressing another soft nuzzle into your neck, lips brushing your pulse. “It’s not like anyone stopped me.”
Romance climbed in next, throwing himself onto the opposite cushion with a huff, one leg thrown wide, his chest rising and falling too fast to match his casual pose. “You moved faster than I’ve ever seen you move. I was literally reaching for her—”
“Should’ve reached quicker,” Baby muttered, arms cinching around your waist like a velvet trap. His smile was pure wickedness, hidden against your skin.
“You little—”
“He’s using his maknae privilege again,” Mystery noted, voice calm but eyes sharp as he settled in beside Romance, crossing his arms as his gaze pinned the pair of you. “It’s manipulation. Classic strategy.”
“Not manipulation if she likes it,” Baby said, just loud enough for them to hear—just low enough for only you to feel the vibration of his voice against your neck.
Your fingers lifted on instinct, slipping into his hair, threading slow and gentle through the soft blue strands. He groaned, low and wrecked, like the touch undid him. His mouth brushed your skin again, softer this time.
The van hadn’t even started moving, but you were already sinking into him, pliant and flushed, his warmth curling around you.
“Let him be,” you murmured, voice softer than silk, but carrying weight. The kind of softness that soothed and silenced, that made hearts still—and demons listen. “He’s just being sweet.”
Baby beamed, proud and smug, hiding it in your neck like he knew exactly what he was doing. And you knew he did.
That single sentence hit like a shot to the chest.
Romance’s head snapped up. “Sweet? That little gremlin?”
“He’s not hurting anyone,” you said softly, your fingers still threading slowly through Baby’s hair. He melted at your touch, the smallest, pleased purr vibrating through his chest.
The van erupted with groans and protests.
“You’re spoiling him!” Jinu said.
“She likes spoiling me,” Baby murmured into your throat, not even bothering to lift his head.
Romance groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Can we please just get moving before I do something regrettable like yank you into my lap instead?”
The words hit like a punch to your gut. Your gaze snapped to him.
He looked just as wrecked.
“You wouldn’t dare,” you tried, breath catching halfway through.
His smirk curved slow and dark. “Try me.”
That image alone sent a flutter through your stomach. You were already practically draped over Baby’s lap, and now all five of them were sprawled across the seats inside the van—like kings at rest, waiting for their prize to fall straight into their hands.
“Fine,” you said, trying to sound composed even though your skin was singing. “Before this turns into an actual brawl—where are we going?”
That finally got their attention.
Jinu leaned forward, expression softening. “We booked out a private bathhouse for you.”
You blinked. “A what?”
“Mmm,” Abby confirmed, voice deep and rumbly from the front. “Private bath. Massage. Full package. Just us. No one else.”
“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now, wrapped in confusion and a sudden, inexplicable swell of emotion.
“You’ve been pushing yourself,” Romance said, a little more serious now. “And we don’t like seeing you worn down.”
“You take care of us every day,” Abby added. “So today, we take care of you.”
A pause hung in the van, heavy with emotion and unspoken want.
Your voice came out quieter. “All of this… for me?”
Baby finally looked up at you, his eyes lazy and golden. “You’re ours.”
Jinu’s voice followed, steady and calm and final. “We want to spoil what belongs to us.”
The rest of the ride passed in a haze of heat and teasing tension. They were all on you—touching, smelling, stroking little parts of you as if their hands needed constant confirmation that you were still here.
The car slowed, pulling into a secluded alley where soft lights lit the entrance of a modern, private bathhouse. The windows glowed golden from within, steam wafting behind the tinted glass.
Jinu stepped out first, always the first to move when it came to you. He turned, hand extended, eyes gentle. “Come on, sweetheart.”
You took it, and instantly Abby was there on your other side, steady and warm. Baby was still clinging to you, of course—unapologetically threading his fingers between yours. The others flanked you without speaking, their presence solid, instinctive.
Inside, the lobby was dim and polished, wood and slate and soft jazz humming in the air.
At the reception desk sat a young woman, tablet in hand. Her eyes lifted.
And her entire posture changed.
“Oh,” she breathed, eyes going wide at the sight of the five men surrounding you. She stood straighter, her voice sweetening. “Good evening. Do you… have a reservation?”
“Under Jinu,” he replied smoothly, placing a hand lightly on your lower back. “Private suite. For six.”
The receptionist blinked, trying to smile through her sudden fluster. “Ah, right… I see it here. Wow, that’s a long session. You boys really know how to indulge.” Her voice dropped just enough to make her intention clear.
Her gaze swept over the group, eyes lingering a little too long on Abby’s arm, on the way Romance’s shirt hung slightly open, on the silver of Mystery’s rings. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and bit her lip.
They didn’t even glance at her.
Not even once.
Every gaze was already locked on you.
You, standing between them with damp lashes and flushed cheeks from the car ride. You, wrapped in the scent of all five of them, marked in ways no one could see but they could smell.
They weren’t flirting back. Not one of them smiled. Not one of them responded to her attention. Instead, they were fixed on you.
Baby had his chin on your shoulder. Jinu’s hand never left the small of your back. Abby's form loomed just behind you like a silent wall. Romance tilted his head, gaze half-lidded, watching your mouth. And Mystery... Mystery wasn’t looking at you anymore.
He was watching the receptionist.
So when she finally glanced at you, the flicker in her expression wasn’t curiosity. It was dismissal. A silent Really? Her?
She didn’t even try to hide it.
Baby’s voice came first. Low. Lethal. Lazy.
“Don’t look at her like that.”
The girl blinked. “I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were.” Jinu’s smile was still polite, but his eyes had gone cold. “Fix your face.”
Mystery stepped slightly in front of you, eyes narrowed. “Do your job. Give us the key.”
Abby’s tone dropped a level deeper. “Now.”
The girl startled. Her hands scrambled a little as she reached for the keycard, placing it on the counter with a too-bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Enjoy your stay.”
They were already done with her.
Romance turned without so much as a glance in her direction, his full attention on you as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your cheek. The back of his knuckles grazed your jaw, slow, reverent. It made your knees feel like mist.
“Let’s go, sweetheart.”
Their hands never left you.
They didn’t have to drag you toward the private suite—you followed willingly, instinctively, caught in the trance of their proximity, your steps synced to theirs like you belonged nowhere else but between them.
You barely noticed the shift in atmosphere as you passed through the lounge.
Didn’t notice the hush that fell.
You didn’t notice the way one pair of familiar eyes widened from across the room.
But Rumi did.
She heard your laugh before she even saw your face—softer, breathier than she remembered. And when she looked up and caught sight of you, something in her stilled.
There you were.
Surrounded.
Encased in shadows and warmth and something far more dangerous.
The Saja Boys encircled you like a pack—like you were prey and queen all at once. A treasured thing they’d stolen back from the world.
Rumi’s grip on her drink faltered. Her lips parted—about to speak your name. But the sound never left her throat.
Because then she saw your smile.
The slow, dreamy curve of it. The softness in your eyes as Jinu leaned down to murmur something against your temple. She saw how Baby’s fingers idly played with the hem of your sleeve, how Romance reached forward to adjust the collar of your blouse like you were something delicate.
And you… you didn’t resist any of it.
You were relaxed. Dazed. Glowing.
Theirs.
Rumi’s chest tightened, a strange ache blooming in the silence.
The last time you spoke, it had ended in a fight.
Now she stood frozen, watching them worship you with nothing but their eyes, their touch, their silence.
And then the boys noticed her.
Jinu slowed first. His steps didn’t falter, but his head tilted ever so slightly—those golden eyes finding hers with chilling ease. His gaze, moments ago so tender on you, turned cold and blinding, like sunlight catching the edge of a blade. Warning. Dismissal.
Abby didn’t bother with subtlety. He met Rumi’s gaze head-on, unblinking. A slow dare flickered in his gold-rimmed stare. Then his hand, broad and deliberate, slid down the length of your back in a possessive stroke that sent a shiver through you. His palm lingered at your waist, fingers splaying like he was staking a claim.
Romance didn’t stop touching you. He didn’t even flinch. His eyes locked on Rumi’s as his fingers tilted your chin up, gentle but firm. His voice dipped low as he whispered something against your lips that made you gasp, cheeks flushing under the weight of it. Whatever it was, it was not meant for her ears.
Baby was last.
He blinked slowly at Rumi, his expression unreadable and gaze cool. Then he turned deliberately to you. His lips brushed your cheek, slow and warm, leaving behind a soft smear of affection like a brand. And then, with a purr that curled around your spine, he said, “Almost there, pretty thing. Just a few more steps and we can finally have you all to ourselves.”
It wasn’t just teasing.
It was a promise.
And through it all, Mystery didn’t glance Rumi’s way once. His full attention was on you, hand resting low on your back like a quiet claim, thumb brushing your spine in rhythmic circles. He didn’t need to look. His message was already clear.
Rumi sat frozen, heart thudding painfully behind her ribs.
The gold in their eyes pulsed a little brighter now—subtle but unmistakable. It was deliberate, like they wanted her to see. Like they needed her to understand what she was witnessing wasn’t a game, wasn’t a casual fling, wasn’t some passing obsession.
You were claimed.
Desired.
Guarded like treasure and worshipped like sin.
Theirs.
The door to the private suite opened with a soft click, and Jinu guided you inside with gentle pressure at the small of your back.
Romance didn’t stop grinning.
He looked back one last time, eyes catching Rumi’s like a hook, and gave her the smallest nod—mocking, amused, unapologetically smug.
And then the door shut with a deep, final thud. Sharp as a heartbeat.
Just like that, she was shut out.
She saw everything.
The glow in their eyes. The way their bodies gravitated toward you like you were gravity itself. The touches—casual in motion, loaded with heat. The way their stares softened when they looked at you, like you were the first and last thing they ever wanted.
Like they would raze the world just to keep you warm.
And in that moment, Rumi understood something that rattled in her bones.
Maybe they were demons.
But they didn’t look incapable of love.
Not anymore.
Not when it came to you.
Next Chapter...

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#saja boys x reader#kpop demon hunters x reader#kpdh x reader#kpop demon hunters#saja boys#the saja boys#kpdh#jinu x reader#baby x reader#romance x reader#abby x reader#mystery x reader#yandere saja boys#reverse harem#Bound to Them
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Whaddup baby! It's your wild raccoon. I ADORE Bound to them you are one of my fave authors ever. Now I'm a curious cat...Can I ask for like a descriptions of their tails and horns? Like the other anon said a girly just wants to play with them, personally I'd love to put bows to their tails and horns lmao... Or like in another scenario would they be comfortable to let them out? like if you are petting their hair and they are relaxed would they let their horns and tail out? P.S I'd love to draw it

HELLO MY WILD RACCOON!!! You have no idea how much I smiled reading this—thank you for loving Bound to Them, you're seriously feeding my soul.
And yessss, let’s talk about horns and tails because I love that you're curious and even want to draw them—AH! So, I actually asked my best friend to sketch them out for me, and we settled that all of the boys’ tails are black, though each has a unique shape and texture that matches their vibe. As for the horns—Romance’s and Abby’s are the only ones with a different color. Romance’s horns are the same shade as his hair (that soft, gorgeous color), while Abby’s are a deeper, darker version of his. Jinu, Mystery, and Baby all have black horns, which adds to that sleek, shadowy aesthetic they give off.
As for them letting them out... YES. They would definitely let them out if they’re relaxed around you. Especially if you’re stroking their hair, touching them gently, maybe whispering something sweet… their bodies respond on instinct when they’re near their mate, so the horns and tails might slip out before they even realize it. And once they're out? Yeah, they’d let you pet them, play with them... even tie little bows if you're bold enough. They’d grumble and blush and pretend to complain—but they’d melt.
That said, I always encourage artistic freedom! If you wanna change up their horn or tail color to match your vision, go for it. I’d LOVE to see your drawing if you ever make one, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tag or DM me!! I would LOVE to see it. The thought of their smug little demon faces with bows on their horns is destroying me in the best way.
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For will be fine is mc ignorant towards sex and all things involving it like organisms and stuff due to her being locked away her whole life? Because if so omfg the boys are gonna have sooo much fun tormenting her LOVE YOUR WORK

Since she’s been locked away her whole life, she definitely has strong Omega instincts—things like wanting to be close, craving touch, or even reacting intensely to their scents—but she doesn’t fully understand why or what any of it actually means. She doesn’t know what heats are, or why her body reacts the way it does around the boys. It’s all instinct without knowledge, which makes her super vulnerable but also so endearing to them.
As for the boys, they’re absolutely aware she’s their mate—and they feel it deep in their bones—but they’re being really careful with her. They don’t want to scare her off or overwhelm her, especially since she’s so inexperienced and still figuring herself out. So yes, while they are struggling to hold back (lol), their top priority is making her feel safe, wanted, and slowly easing her into understanding everything she's never been taught. It’s going to be such a soft yet intense journey.
Thank you so much for loving the story!! 💜✨
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hi!
A quick and irrelevant update from my homework, yes I did finish them... At school🥰🥰 anyways, I am back from my long hibernation due to the school works being dumped at me and the club activities as an officer.
Enough rambling abt me tho, I really really love ur works. I'd be lying if I hadn't tried stalking your account once, I'm waiting for the update no pressure tho. I'm just at the sideline enjoying the food u serve plus how come u writers r so gifted?? Like AHHSBZJAJSAJAKAJA i can't explain it into words. No words could ever describe how delicious ur writings. Also another irrelevant thing, I am a writer/campus journalist at school, feature writer to be exact and somehoww every new word I learn from ur fics I'd use😭😭 don't get me wrong tho, I'm not bragging abt it.
I do miss your posts, and from time to time I check if you've posted something ( ´ ▽ ` )ノ no pressure in writing tho! writerz should prioritize their health stay hydrated n safee
Eagle anonn🦅🦅
Eagle Anonnnn hi!!
Welcome back! 😭💖 First off, CONGRATS on finishing your homework (even if it was at school lmao—still counts!!) and huge props to you for juggling so much. Officer duties and a feature writer? You're seriously killing it.
Also...the fact that you’re a campus journalist and you pick up vocabulary from my stories and use it?? PLEASEEE. That’s the most flattering thing ever. Like, you don’t even know how cool that makes me feel. I’m cheering for you all the way. You're out there doing it all, and still making time to check on my little demon stories? I'm so honored 😭💘
Thank you so much for this message—it really made my whole day. Updates are cooking slowly but surely (life is chaotic rn), but sweet messages like this remind me why I love writing for you guys. Stay safe, stay chaotic, and keep being the badass campus journalist you are 💜✨
With love (and unhinged Saja boys energy), Emrys 🪷
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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠
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𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏. 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓—𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓—𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒓. 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔. 𝑨 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅. 𝑨 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓. 𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍. 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑶𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆—𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐.
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒖𝒎𝒂, 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 (18+).
w/c: 7.9k+ not proof read
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The car was warm, soft, and swaddled in the mingled scent of your Alphas. Their presence wrapped around you like a second skin, and for the first time in years, you had slept with no bars, no chains, no cold floors or silver cuffs. Only the comforting weight of Abby’s arm around you, your head tucked beneath his jaw, his steady breathing cradling you deeper into dreams.
Warmth pressed against your side—solid, steady. A calloused hand slid beneath your hair, tilting your head gently. Fingers brushed the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. You stirred.
“Sweetheart,” Jinu’s voice purred beside your ear, low and coaxing, like velvet drawn over steel. “Wake up for us.”
Your lashes fluttered, slow and heavy, your body still floating in that syrupy space between sleep and awareness. You shifted, instinctively curling toward the source of heat behind you—and right into Abby’s chest. His arm was already wrapped around your waist, strong and possessive, anchoring you like he’d never let go.
A kiss brushed your temple. “Didn’t mean to wake you yet,” Abby murmured, breath warm against your skin. “You were purring so sweetly, baby. Could’ve listened to it all day.”
“Are we… already here?” you asked, voice husky from your nap, eyes barely open.
Abby shifted behind you, lips brushing your shoulder. “Not yet, baby. We saw something on the way. Had to stop.”
Something in his tone made your belly flutter.
The car door opened, and cooler air swept in. Jinu appeared outside, crouching just enough to see you eye-to-eye, one arm resting on the edge of the door. His eyes softened when they landed on you.
“Come on,” he said gently, offering his hand without pressure. “We want to show you something.”
You tried to sit up, but your legs faltered. You weren’t just sore—you were… slow. Your body hadn’t moved freely like this in years. The stiffness, the weight in your bones—it made your instincts curl up, uncertain.
Jinu saw it.
“You still can’t walk too well yet, huh?” he murmured, but it wasn’t mocking. He knelt lower, hand still outstretched, completely unbothered by your weakness. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Do you want me to support you?”
You stared at his hand. The way it waited. Still. Steady. There was no rush. No demand.
Only invitation.
And it was that, more than anything, that made you reach back.
You reached back before you even knew you were moving, fingertips brushing his palm, your body drawn to him like gravity. Like instinct had already decided for you. Jinu didn’t move at first. He let you come to him. Let you choose.
But the moment your hand settled fully into his—small, trusting, yours—he wrap his fingers around yours warm and firm, grounding.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.
His chest rose a little, swelling—not with arrogance, but pride. A kind of reverent, breathless awe.
You had chosen him.
When you wobbled, he stepped in without hesitation, his arm looping around your waist, supporting your full weight like it was nothing.
“You’re alright,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you”
The words cracked open something deep inside you. Some locked-up, hidden part of you that had forgotten how it felt to be held. To be caught before you could fall. You didn’t think—you just moved, your body responding faster than your thoughts ever could. You leaned into him. Clung. Pressed yourself against the curve of his side like your body had found their answer.
And Abby… Abby was already there.
You felt him before you even turned. His hand slid across the small of your back, splaying wide like he wanted to cover more than just skin—like he wanted to claim the space between your breaths. He stood so close you could feel the heat of his chest at your back, the way his presence molded to yours as if he couldn’t stand the thought of even a few inches of distance.
They surrounded you.
Not trapping you.
And for the first time in years… you let them be.
You let Jinu guide you forward, one step at a time, never letting you fall. You let Abby follow close enough that your backs almost brushed, his presence constant, like a second heartbeat pressed just behind you.
You weren’t used to this. To this softness.
To being wanted like this—held like this.
But this time?
This was a choice you made freely.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
You were barely awake, still soft from sleep, still pliant between them like warm satin, and gods—it was doing things to their heads.
Abby’s large hand settled low against your back, a firm, steady pressure keeping you upright without forcing you to move faster than you wanted. His touch wasn’t demanding. It was anchoring. Just enough to remind your sleepy body that you weren’t alone—that you were held, surrounded, protected.
Jinu’s arm stayed locked around your waist, drawing you tighter into his side with each step. His fingers brushed absently, reverently, along the hem of your oversized shirt, like he couldn’t help it, like his instincts refused to leave any inch of you untouched. His knuckles skimmed bare skin and you twitched faintly, and he bit back a low groan. You probably didn’t even realize you were doing it. And that somehow made it worse.
They guided you through the shop’s doors slowly. Unhurried. Each step felt like a ritual, quiet and reverent, wrapped in restraint.
You had no idea what kind of storm you’d just walked into.
To anyone watching, it looked harmless enough. A sleepy Omega, freshly woken from a car nap, trailed by two doting Alphas running a quick errand. But beneath the surface, beneath their skin, it was anything but simple.
This wasn’t a store visit.
This was a moment of control they were barely holding on to.
A chance to claim you without teeth. To mark you without fangs.
You were theirs, even if the bond hadn’t sealed yet.
Even if you hadn’t said the words.
The shop was quiet at this hour. Private. They’d chosen it deliberately. High-end, discreet, and stocked with curated pieces designed for bonded and pre-bonded pairs. From healing salves to tailored wearables, scent-enhancing oils to understated marking accessories—it was everything an Alpha could want for their Omega, and everything an Omega didn’t know they craved yet.
And they were going to spoil you with all of it.
Because you weren’t just some Omega.
You were theirs.
Your scent clung to them like a second skin, sweet and delicate, still laced with the softness of sleep, and it nearly unmade them. Abby’s jaw ticked. His molars ached with how badly he wanted to growl. Not because of you. Because of them—the shop staff, the distant customers, the way strangers let their eyes linger too long on you like they couldn’t tell you were already taken.
He didn’t like it.
He hated it.
Every glance was a threat. Every sniff of your scent a warning bell. Abby's body went rigid behind you, and only your warmth kept him grounded.
Jinu felt it too. The pull under his skin, low and brutal. That spark of territorial instinct threatening to drag him under. His fingers twitched against your side, holding you just a little closer, jaw tight as he caught one too many wandering stares.
Neither of them said a word.
But the air around them changed. Grew heavier. Thicker.
They didn’t need to speak.
Because they knew what this was.
This was the beginning of something neither of them could contain. A slow-burning storm they were welcoming.
And you walked between them like you didn’t realize it yet. Like your body hadn’t caught up to what your scent was already whispering to the room. Maybe you hadn’t felt it fully. Not yet. But they had. Every breath, every glance, every unconscious lean into their sides confirmed it.
As they guided you through the shop, past velvet-draped displays of silks, hand-stitched leather, and delicate metalwork meant to sit snug around an Omega’s throat, they weren’t looking at the shelves.
They were looking at you.
Imagining you in every single piece.
Abby could already see it. Your bare neck wrapped in soft black leather, a single silver ring at the center. Subtle. Elegant. Undeniably possessive. His chest tightened at the image—how it would gleam against your skin, how it would move when you swallowed, when you gasped, when you tilted your head to let one of them kiss just beneath it. A silent, beautiful scream of devotion.
Beside you, Jinu was quieter but no less intense. He wasn’t just picturing the collar. He was picturing the moment. Your lashes fluttering low, unsure but willing. The way you’d squirm under the weight of their eyes, heartbeat stuttering, thighs pressing together in a soft, helpless reflex. Not because the collar restrained you but because it meant something. Because it told the truth you hadn’t dared say aloud.
It would do something to you. They knew it would.
And gods, they were starving to see it.
Would the others feel it too?
Would Romance drop that lazy, infuriating smirk the second you turned your head to him, lips parted and neck wrapped in their mark?
Would Baby’s voice go breathless, pupils blown wide and hungry, the moment you made that soft little confused sound you always did when you didn’t know what to do with the attention?
And Mystery—calm, unreadable Mystery—would he go still when your scent wrapped around him like silk, triggering instincts he tried to bury?
Jinu and Abby were sure of it. They were already ruined.
And when the others got close—really close—they would be too.
No question asked.
Because no Alpha in their right mind could ignore an Omega like you.
Not one who radiated softness like a siren call. Not one who trusted so easily. Not one who stepped between two powerful Alphas without flinching, without fear. You didn’t even know what you were doing to them.
But you would.
Soon.
Because the thought of you in their collar had wrecked them already—completely. It lived in their bones now, a craving deeper than instinct. They were going to wrap you in velvet and luxury, in safety and devotion, until there was no space between you and them. Until you forgot what it meant to be alone.
Until every breath reminded you—you were theirs.
They were so lost in the want of it, the ache, that they almost missed it.
Almost.
The scent hit first.
Sharp. Cold. Wrong.
It cracked through your natural warmth like ice splitting glass, and it yanked both of them out of the haze instantly.
Jinu’s fingers tightened at his sides. Abby’s eyes darkened, full predator. And then they saw you.
Frozen.
Your body locked in place mid-step, barely breathing, wide eyes fixed on a nearby display like it had risen from a nightmare. Collars. Delicate ones—lace and leather, silver clasps glinting beneath soft lights. Symbols of belonging. Of union. Of ownership.
To an Omega, they were sacred. Symbols of trust and protection. Love.
But not to you.
Not right now.
Not with the way your shoulders had gone stiff. Not with the way your hands had begun to tremble.
Because the last time you’d seen collars like these, they weren’t symbols of protection.
They were chains.
They were warnings.
They were her voice—sharp and cruel—slithering down your spine like poison, uninvited and unforgettable.
"Demons like you don’t deserve to be mated."
"Don't deserve to be loved."
"Stay hidden."
"Stay silent."
The words gripped your lungs like a vice.
Your throat clenched as the ghost of old chain tightened around it. You could feel it—feel her—like the collar had never come off. Like the metal was still digging in. Like you were still trapped in that place, in that skin, in that lie.
Before you could stop yourself, your hand shot up to your throat.
Clawing. Shaky. Desperate.
As if you could tear the memory away with your nails. As if you could dig deep enough to remove the scar she left.
You didn’t hear them move.
But suddenly Jinu was there, and Abby was already in front of you—too close, too fast, too focused.
His eyes dark and burning, chest rising fast like he’d sprinted through a battlefield just to get to you. He crossed the room with thunder in his bones, fury and fear tangled tight in his jaw.
He looked like he was ready to tear through anyone who touched you.
“Don’t touch your neck,” he said, voice rough and shaking, low with something wild and barely caged. “Baby…hey. Look at me.”
You flinched as his hand rose, but he didn’t grab. Just hovered. Trembling. Fighting the instinct to seize and soothe.
His heat poured over you.
Then his fingers caught your wrists with a grip that was firm but reverent, grounding you in the gentlest way you didn’t know you needed. His thumbs brushed softly over the angry marks you’d scratched in your panic, and he leaned in, his breath grazing your cheek.
“Shhh,” he murmured, velvet-dark and steady. “You’re okay. You’re safe now. Look at me, sweetheart. Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you like that again.”
You didn’t even realize you were shaking until he touched you like that.
Jinu came up behind you, his presence draping over your back like a second skin. His scent was warm and dark and made to wrap you up, to calm the frantic thunder in your blood. “We’re not gonna hurt you, Omega,” he murmured into your hair, lips so close they barely brushed you. “Not now. Not ever.”
You trembled between them, eyes wide, breath caught, your throat bobbing with a silent sob you couldn’t seem to swallow.
Abby pressed his forehead gently to yours, his hand rising to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing under your lip. His voice was low, almost reverent. “That thing?” he nodded toward the collar resting on velvet. “It’s not what you think. Not some trap. We’d never cage you, baby. It’s just…” His gaze flicked down, then back to you, pupils dilated. “It’s so everyone else knows you’re already claimed.”
Jinu’s voice shifted, still soft but threaded now with something sharper—something lethal. “But you’re not marked. Not yet.” He pressed in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear, breath hot. “And your scent, little one—” he inhaled deeply, like it hurt to stop “—you don’t even know what it does. How it calls to every Alpha you pass.”
He paused, voice suddenly thick. “But we can handle them. You don’t need the collar if you don’t want it. We’ll deal with anyone who tries.”
“You don’t have to wear it,” Abby murmured again, fingers stroking through your hair now, slow and careful like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. “Not unless you want to. But if you do…” His eyes dropped to your throat, voice lowering into something dark and possessive. “It’s just until the bond’s official. Just until you’ve got our marks on you.”
“And once that happens…” Jinu’s voice barely made it past a whisper, but it hit like a vow against your skin.“No one else will even think about touching you.”
That heat in their voices… it wasn’t anger. It was need. The kind that simmers low and steady. The kind that seeps into your bloodstream. The kind that turns every brush of breath, every inch of space between you, into something unbearable.
They weren’t trying to calm you anymore.
They were claiming you—in the most dangerous, gentle way.
You felt Jinu’s nose skim the side of your neck, the touch light but electric, his breath catching as he inhaled deeply—trying, and failing, to steady himself. His exhale was slow and deliberate, like he was letting your panic bleed into him, like he wanted to carry it for you. To bear it so you didn’t have to.
Beside you, Abby’s lips hovered near your ear, not touching—just close enough for his breath to dance over your skin, close enough to make you shiver.
“You’re not a secret anymore,” he said, his voice warm and honeyed, like a spell woven just for you. “You’re the one we’ve been waiting for.”
Jinu’s mouth ghosted beneath your ear, “We’ll take it slow,” he promised, the tip of his nose nuzzling that spot that made your knees wobble. “But don’t ever think we’d cage you, Omega. You weren’t made to be hidden.”
Abby’s fingers slid over your collarbone, slow and possessive, tracing your shape like he was memorizing it. His thumb tilted your chin, coaxing your gaze up with gentle control. “When we mark you,” he murmured, dark eyes locked on yours, “it won’t be to hide you. It’ll be to show you off. So they know you’re ours.”
Your pulse still raced. But it was different now.
Still raw. Still scared. But now there was heat blooming under it—low and curling, the kind that made your thighs press together instinctively. Their scent filled your lungs, thick with need, with reverence, with the aching restraint of two predators trying so hard to go slow for their wounded mate.
But inside… they were barely holding on.
Because now that they had you in their arms, trembling and soft and breathing in their voices—they knew one thing for certain:
You wouldn’t need a collar for long.
You’d wear their marks soon enough.
And when you did... the whole world would know who you belonged to.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
You still weren’t sure how they managed to get you calm so fast.
But their hands never left you.
Even as your breathing steadied—ragged but no longer panicked—even after your voice cracked with a quiet apology, they remained.
Closer than necessary.
Closer than breath.
Jinu’s thumb moved in slow, endless circles over your pulse, tracing calm into your skin like a promise. Abby’s arm stayed curled tight around your middle, firm and grounding, like he could tether you to this moment and keep the past from dragging you back under.
The store faded around you, colors softening, edges blurring, swallowed by the heady warmth of their pheromones. Rich and sweet, like cedar and smoke and heat. It curled around your spine, kissed at your skin, made your lashes flutter.
The gentle, rumbling purrs from both of them draped over your nerves like velvet. You could feel it—thick and primal—in your chest, in the aching pull low in your belly. Jinu nosed lightly at your temple, voice a silken hum.
“You’re doing so well, angel.” he whispered, his breath grazing the shell of your ear, enough to make your skin tighten with awareness.
Your breath caught, ribs cinching like a gasp wanted to claw free. You looked up, dazed, blinking slowly. Their eyes were on you—devouring and tender all at once.
Abby’s nose pressed to your hair, and he breathed you in slow, as if scenting you was the only thing grounding him. “There you are,” he said, his voice barely more than a rumble. "That’s it, baby. Come back to us.”
Us.
The word landed in your chest and bloomed there, thick and sweet.
“I…” Your voice cracked on the word. You swallowed hard, chest trembling. “I think…” You hesitated, the words sticky and shy on your tongue. “I think I want a collar.”
The shift was instant.
Abby’s purr turned molten behind you, vibrating where his chest pressed to your back. His hand swept down to your hip, possessive and slow, thumb tracing lazy circles that made your stomach flutter.
“Yeah?” he rumbled, all velvet and heat. “You sure, little one?”
You nodded again.
Jinu smiled like the sun had broken through a storm. “Come on then,” he said gently, tilting his head toward the back. “We’ll show you where.”
They guided you in silence, letting you breathe, letting you settle. Jinu walked a few steps ahead, close enough to lead, far enough to let you breathe. But he kept glancing over his shoulder, like he couldn’t stand to have you out of sight for more than a moment. Abby trailed behind, his palm steady at your waist, fingers splayed wide like he was claiming every inch he touched.
He didn’t let go. Not once.
When they stopped at a velvet-lined display tucked into the back corner of the store, you froze again.
So many options. So many textures. Some soft. Some striking. Some delicate and some bold. It was overwhelming—but beautiful.
You didn’t know which one to touch first, or if you even should.
Jinu didn’t miss it.
He didn’t crowd you, but he stepped just close enough for the heat of his body to kiss your side. His voice came low and steady, rich like honey poured over warmth. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “Take your time, sweetheart. We’re not in a rush.”
You blinked at the display, your fingers twitching at your sides.
“There’s a lot to look at,” Jinu continued, softer now, like he was coaxing a skittish animal to trust.
You risked a glance up at him.
His eyes were warm, but his gaze… his gaze had depth. A kind of hunger tucked beneath all that softness, like he wanted you wrapped in something only he chose, something that said you belonged.
“If anything catches your eye,” he said, brushing the backs of his fingers along yours, “just point, baby. We’ll get it for you.”
“And you don’t have to choose just one,” Abby added from behind, voice low and rough with restraint. “Get as many as you want.”
You felt him shift closer, his hand settling just above your hip. “Every color. Every style. Doesn’t matter. If it makes you feel good, you can take it.”
Abby stayed flush behind you, his warmth blanketing your back, his chin barely grazing the top of your head like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you—not even for a breath.
The memory still clung to you, bitter and bruised… but it couldn’t compare to this. To the way Abby’s hand tightened ever so slightly when you hesitated. To the soothing drag of Jinu’s scent curling through your chest, sweet and sharp with protectiveness.
You swallowed hard and lifted your hand slowly, fingers hovering over the display of soft leathers and silks. The colors blurred at the edges, too bright, too loud—but your gaze snagged on one. Pale, elegant. Gentle.
You reached for it.
And that’s when you heard them.
“Oh, she’s unmarked,” one of the staff whispered behind the counter, voice far too amused. “Easy pickings. Omegas like that never last long out here.”
Your hand froze mid-air.
“She’ll probably need something reinforced,” another chimed in, eyes raking over you like you were an unsold item. “Soft ones won’t hold her when she starts acting up. Maybe something tighter around the throat—”
The air dropped.
Abby’s growl was low and feral, primal thunder rolling from his chest. It didn’t just vibrate against your back—it echoed through your ribs, down to your toes. Your body moved before you could think, instinctively pressing back into him, as if your bones knew who you belonged to.
Behind you, his eyes burned gold. Not subtle. Not human. And the moment the staff saw it, they paled, stumbling back, mouths suddenly useless.
“You want to repeat that?” he asked, voice quiet, dangerous.
The room tensed like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Jinu turned with elegant menace, his usual smile gone like it had never existed. His voice, when it came, was calm. Too calm. “You think a pretty little Omega under our protection is an easy target?”
He chuckled, but it was sharp, devoid of warmth.
“You must be new.”
He tilted his head slowly, eyes glowing just faintly at the edges now, intelligent and sharp, like a predator deciding whether to kill or simply maim.
“Should I remind you who we are?”
The staff said nothing. Couldn’t. One of them audibly swallowed. The other shook their head, eyes wide with barely concealed terror.
“Maybe we should remind you,” Abby added, stepping forward until he stood between you and the staff like a wall of heat and muscle. “Say another word about her and see what happens.”
The staff stepped back, the scent of fear cloying and thick in the air. It didn’t take supernatural senses to smell it. Even humans would’ve noticed.
Your fingers were trembling again, then Jinu turned back to you, his expression shifting in an instant. That sharpness faded, melted into something impossibly soft, eyes drinking you in with such reverence it made your chest ache. He reached out slowly, knuckles brushing the edge of your cheek, his voice dipping low.
“Don’t listen to them, baby," he whispered.
Your breath hitched.
Then, his hand moved past your line of sight, elegant fingers plucking something from the display—a collar. Deep violet, soft and rich like velvet, with no harsh buckles or unforgiving edges. Simple. Gentle. Safe.
“How about this one, angel?” he murmured, holding it up so you could see it in the light. “I don’t think the others would be good against your neck.”
You blinked slowly, still dazed from the thick, lingering haze of their scent and the venomous glares they’d shot at the staff moments ago.
The collar shimmered faintly beneath the glow of overhead lights. Its fabric looked too tender, almost fragile. Like it was meant to rest on skin that flinched at memory. Like it had been chosen for you.
“I have no doubt,” Jinu continued, brushing his thumb along the inner lining, “the others are going to buy you plenty of collars. Jewelry. Clothes. And things you won’t even know what to do with.” He held it up to your throat without touching.
“So this one…” His voice dipped, lower now. “This can be your temporary one. Until we get you something better.”
Your pulse jumped.
“…Others?” The word barely scraped past your lips. It cracked—confused, fragile—as it escaped. Your mind swam, unable to catch up with your body’s reaction. You looked up at him like he’d said something impossible.
Jinu paused, gaze flicking over your face like he could read every thought. “You didn’t think it was just the two of us, did you?”
Your stomach twisted. You pulled instinctively closer to Abby, pressing your body to his chest like he was the only safe place in the world.
Abby tightened his grip without hesitation, one massive arm wrapping around your thighs as he lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing. He didn’t say a word—just nuzzled into your temple, scenting you softly, soothing the tremble in your frame with his warmth alone.
“I… I didn’t know,” you whispered, curling instinctively against his chest, fingers clutching his shirt like it was the only solid thing left. “I thought… it was just you two.”
Jinu walked ahead, the violet collar still in hand. His voice drifted back to you as Abby carried you through the store, out into the early evening air. The car was already waiting—of course it was. Their world moved like clockwork.
“There are five of us,” Jinu said, opening the backseat for Abby to slide in with you still curled in his arms. “You’ve met me. And Abby.”
You buried your face into Abby’s chest, the hard press of his pectorals grounding you. But you couldn’t help listening. Couldn’t help wanting to know.
“The other three… well.” Jinu’s voice dipped lower, like he was talking about something sacred. “Mystery’s quiet, he watches everything, especially when it matters. Baby’s the youngest—don’t let the nickname fool you. He’s unhinged when it comes to protecting what’s his. And Romance…”
He paused as Abby settled you on his lap, brushing your hair back from your face with fingers that shook ever so slightly—like he was trying not to squeeze you too hard.
“Romance,” Jinu continued, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “hasn’t slept since he saw you in that vision the Demon Lord sent us.”
The air inside the car seemed to tighten.
Your whole body stilled. “The Demon Lord—what do you mean? What did he show you? Why—what does that even mean?”
Jinu didn’t answer.
His eyes softened, but his expression didn’t shift. And Abby, already holding you so close, curled his hand around the back of your head and pulled you deeper into his chest, like he could block the weight of the question entirely.
“Shhh,” Abby whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “You don’t need to worry about that. Not now.”
“But—”
“Later,” Jinu murmured, gaze smoldering. “We’ll tell you everything. We promise. But right now? All that matters is this.”
“You don’t have to be scared, baby,” Abby murmured, voice low and honey-slick. “They’re not going to hurt you. None of us ever would.”
Your chest trembled.
“But what if… what if they don’t like me?” you whispered. “What if I smell wrong? What if I’m not—”
“They already like you,” Jinu said, interrupting gently, his voice thick with something raw and possessive. “No—more than that. They’re already obsessed.”
Your thighs clenched.
Abby nuzzled into your hair, dragging in a deep breath like he needed your scent to survive. His lips pressed again to your temple, reverent.
“We all are,” Jinu went on, that velvet darkness in his voice sinking straight into your bones. “You were ours the moment we found you. The second your scent hit us—it was over.”
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
You were curled up in Abby’s lap like you belonged there—because to him, you did.
His massive arms held you tight, protective and possessive, the kind of embrace that told the world mine without saying a word. One broad hand rested on your hip, fingers splayed over your waist like he was keeping track of every breath you took, every tiny shift in your body. The other curled lightly around your thigh, thumb stroking slow, lazy circles into your skin like it soothed him, not you.
The hum of the car was low and smooth beneath you, barely noticeable under the steady rhythm of Abby’s breathing. One of their demon staff drove in silence, eyes fixed forward like he didn’t dare disturb what was happening in the backseat.
You were too soft in their arms, too drowsy from the nap you hadn’t meant to take, your cheek tucked against Abby’s thick shoulder as your lashes fluttered. The glow of luxury storefronts slipped past the tinted windows, all glass and gold and meaningless to them.
Because they already had the one thing money could never buy.
You.
Abby’s chest rumbled beneath you, the low thrum of his breathing like a lullaby stitched from heat and strength. His gaze never left your face, drinking in every little twitch, every sleepy sigh. The rise and fall of your chest. The faint warmth of your scent in the air. He was trying to behave—he really was. But you made it so hard.
You blinked sleepily, watching the city slide past in streaks of gold and neon—your little head barely peeking above the crook of Abby’s arm, cheek pillowed against the solid breadth of his chest. Your lashes fluttered, heavy with the afterglow of a nap you hadn’t planned, lips parted in the soft haze of warmth and safety.
In the front seat, the demon staff member said nothing. He drove in total silence, his expression unreadable, like his only purpose was getting you home safely and without disruption.
But in the backseat?
The air pulsed.
Neither of the demons flanking you could look away.
You were so perfect.
The kind of Omega demons like them dreamed of but never believed existed. Just the right size for them to carry, tuck under an arm, pin down and protect in equal measure. Soft in all the ways they craved—physically, emotionally, spiritually. You didn’t even know it yet, didn’t realize how maddening your natural sweetness was, how addictive your scent had become from the moment you stepped into their orbit.
They were already hooked.
And they weren’t letting go.
Neither could stop looking.
Your demon marks shimmered faintly along your skin, ancient and beautiful, curling like ink across your arms and legs with every breath. You hadn’t even tried to hide them—they were just part of you. Small. Harmless.
But not to them.
To them, it was proof. That your body was beginning to wake up. That you were coming into yourself, whether you knew it or not. That underneath the softness, underneath the dreamy scent and delicate pulse, there was something old.
Something terrifyingly powerful.
Something theirs.
You hadn’t even shown them your full form yet. Not the glow of your true eyes. Not the weight of your aura when fully unsealed. Not the presence that could shift gravity itself, stilling the air, bending the knee of every demon too bold to test you. You were hiding it—hiding yourself.
Your bloodline. Your heritage. Your control over the hoonmoon that slept beneath the city. The command that whispered at the edges of your thoughts like instinct, a crown waiting to be worn. All of it forced down. Caged by your Aunt’s hand. She’d made you shift too early, sealed the rest of you away before it could grow.
But it was surfacing now.
Bit by bit.
You shifted in Abby’s lap, stretching your legs just a little, your body easing into his warmth without thought. The movement brushed your hair slightly out of place, exposing something you hadn’t realized was peeking through.
Two delicate, curved horns caught the low light inside the car, glinting faintly like polished obsidian laced with stardust.
They noticed.
Jinu inhaled sharply beside you, the sound barely more than a breath, but it cracked the silence like lightning. Abby’s arms flexed around you, his whole body tensing beneath yours as his gaze zeroed in.
“Oh,” Jinu murmured, his voice warm and stunned. “Look at you…”
Abby’s breath brushed hot against your temple, his hand lifting slowly to part your hair further, reverent fingers tracing the base of your horn with featherlight touch. The stroke sent tingles down your spine—too soft to flinch from, too intimate to bear.
You froze, blinking up at him.
He was smiling.
Not wicked. Not smug.
Worshipful.
“You’ve been hiding these from us, pretty girl?” he whispered, voice thick with something that made your thighs clench. “You’re full of surprises.”
Jinu leaned closer, his fingers brushing gently under your chin to angle your face toward him, so he could look—really look. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something filthy and instead swallowed it back with effort.
“Gods…” he whispered. “They’re beautiful.”
His thumb brushed along your bottom lip.
“You’re beautiful.”
You could barely think under the weight of their voices, the slow, coaxing strokes through your hair, their scents wrapping around you like silk.
“It’s okay, baby,” Abby murmured against your temple, nuzzling you as he cradled your body to his chest like something fragile and divine. “The others are going to love you just as much as we do.”
“More,” Jinu added, brushing his lips against your hairline. “They’re going to lose their minds.”
You weren’t used to being looked at like this. Like prey and royalty all at once. Like a secret they wanted to protect—and keep all to themselves.
The hum of the engine stopped.
You didn’t realize the car had parked until the world shifted around you. The lights of the underground garage glared through the windows, sterile and cool, but nothing about this moment felt cold.
Jinu moved first. Without a word, he stepped out, the door shutting behind him with a quiet click. You thought maybe you’d follow him out, maybe stretch your legs—
But Abby didn’t let go.
Strong arms tightened around your waist, pressing you flush to his chest. “Mm-mm,” he hummed softly. “No running off yet.”
From the corner of your eye, you saw Jinu circling to the back of the vehicle, the trunk opening with a quiet click. He began pulling out bags—some you remembered, some you didn’t. You hadn’t realized how much they’d gotten you. How much they’d prepared.
Abby stepped out of the car, lifting you effortlessly with him, your body flush against his chest, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist like second nature, your face buried against the side of his neck.
As he walked toward the elevator, every step slow and certain, you could feel his muscles shifting beneath you, the strength in his hold unshakable. Jinu followed at a comfortable pace, arms full of bags that looked weightless in his hands. They weren’t rushing. They wanted to take their time.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Abby didn’t move until he looked down at you again, brushing his nose along your temple, slow and affectionate, like he was scenting you. His voice was a low rumble against your skin.
“We’ve got a nice place all set up for you, angel,” he purred, his breath warm against your temple, voice rolling low like velvet over fire. “Romance picked out some really soft blankets for your nest. Only the best, he said. And Baby and Mystery?” A soft chuckle followed, lips brushing your temple. “They raided their own closets. Scented the clothes themselves. Said you’d feel safer with something that already smells like them.”
The way he said safe made your stomach flutter. Like it was sacred. Like it mattered more than anything else.
Jinu moved beside you with silent precision, pulling a sleek black card from his pocket. He pressed it against a smooth panel on the elevator wall, a soft beep following. The lift jolted and began its slow ascent, humming quietly as it carried you toward the unknown.
But Abby didn’t stop talking.
He continued talking about each of his brothers to you, describing them to give you a chance to become more comfortable with them before you met them.
You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. But it vanished the second the elevator slowed… and stopped.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but what hit you wasn’t sound—it was their scent.
Warm. Sharp. Addictive.
Thick layers of Alpha pheromones coiled through the air like velvet smoke, rich and distinct, each strand teasing something deep and aching in your chest. It wasn’t just one scent. It was them. All of them.
You staggered, your breath catching as your body lit up in recognition. Your thighs pressed together without thinking, your chest rising with sudden need. You wanted—no, needed—to drown in it. Your instincts screamed to roll in their scent, let it cling to your skin, your throat, your hair. You wanted to soak in it until no part of you felt untouched by them.
And then came footsteps. Fast. Heavy.
You tensed, every nerve tightening as the energy barreled toward you from deeper within the penthouse. The air itself felt charged—like a storm about to break. The echo of footsteps pounded against the floors, voices colliding in excitement, and something primal inside you lurched.
They were close.
Too close.
Your body knew it. Your scent glands flared in response, but your fear edged in too, old panic rising alongside the new, needy heat.
But before you could even think to move, Abby shifted.
With gentle care, he lowered you to the floor… only for your body to betray you the second your feet touched down. You turned and scrambled right back up—clinging to him like a startled kitten, arms tight around his shoulders, legs locked around his waist, your face buried in the safe, steady scent at his throat.
He stilled. Then chuckled, low and proud, one hand reaching back to cradle your thigh where it locked around his waist.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice all calm thunder. “They’re just excited, angel. You smell too good.”
Then—
Silence.
Not just quiet. Absolute stillness.
The hallway had gone dead quiet. Even your breath felt too loud.
You lifted your head slowly, peeking over Abby’s shoulder.
They were there.
Three Alphas. Just a few steps away. Standing like statues—watching you.
Not moving. Not blinking. Not even breathing.
Their eyes were wide, dark, glowing faintly in the low light. They locked onto yours like they’d been starved. As if they’d been dreaming of this exact moment, this exact glimpse of you, and now that it was real, they didn’t dare blink.
Mystery stood the closest, his black hoodie slipping slightly off one shoulder, mouth parted like he’d forgotten how to speak. His scent curled toward you, cool and dusky and charged, and you could feel it shifting in rhythm with his pulse.
Romance was beside him, still and quiet, but his fists were clenched at his sides. His jaw was tight. His eyes burned into you with slow, aching heat, like he was trying to memorize every inch of skin you’d dared to show.
And Baby… oh, gods.
He tilted his head slightly, that grin stretching across his face—but his eyes didn’t match the playfulness. They were feral. His entire posture screamed Alpha—confident, wild, territorial. Like the only reason he hadn’t already reached for you was because Abby was in the way.
None of them moved.
Not one of them spoke.
They just watched you, still clinging to Abby’s back, like you were the last precious thing in the universe.
Your cheeks flushed. Your heart pounded.
And then Jinu broke the silence with a soft laugh behind you. “She climbed Abby like a tree.”
Romance let out a soft, helpless sound at Jinu’s words—a coo, high in his throat and full of want. His eyes were glued to you, every inch of him pulled taut like a bowstring. He was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, hands twitching at his sides, fighting the urge to just scoop you into his arms and never let go.
Beside him, Mystery had a firm grip on the back of his shirt, the only thing stopping him from lunging forward and scaring you off.
But you were already moving.
You peeled yourself away from Abby like it physically pained you to do so, your fingers reluctant as they slid from the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his body vanished from your front, and the air felt colder for it. You stepped forward carefully, eyes fluttering as you tried to make sense of the scents curling around you.
Your steps faltered. A soft sway, a blink too long.
And before your legs could give out, Romance was there.
He caught you like he'd been waiting for this exact moment since the day he was born—arms already open, hands already gentle. His breath hitched as you fell against his chest, face tucked into the crook of his neck, right where his scent was strongest. Strawberry and rose. Sweet and sharp. You whimpered quietly, like his very existence soothed something in your bones, and it nearly shattered him.
You melted against him.
Your entire body slackened, that dreamy sigh spilling from your lips like you were sinking into something deep and safe and final. It took everything in Romance not to groan aloud.
He sat down quickly on the couch, pulling you gently into his lap, adjusting you until you were curled neatly against his chest like a puzzle piece that finally found its home.
Romance looked down at you, and every part of him softened.
You could feel it in the way he held you. That shift.
Gone was the flirt. Gone was the playful spark in his grin.
What held you now was an Alpha—bare, raw, reverent. Possessive in a way that didn’t need to speak it aloud. You were his. And if the world wanted you, it would have to rip you from his arms, bone by bone.
Across the room, Baby didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
His fists hung useless at his sides, clenched so tight the bones in his knuckles cracked. His chest rose and fell with something feral, something he didn’t have a name for—because when he saw you melting into Romance’s lap, soft and so pliant it made his head spin, something snapped low in his gut.
And then he looked at his hyungs.
He saw it mirrored in every pair of eyes.
Mystery, leaning against the wall, his pupils blown wide and dark with want. Jinu, jaw tight, arms folded, like he was holding back a quake. Abby, expression unreadable, but his entire stance screamed one thing.
Mine.
It hit Baby all at once, how doomed they were.
Because the second you peeked out from behind Abby’s back, unsure and radiant, they weren’t just looking at an Omega.
They were looking at their Omega.
As you snuggled deeper into the curve of Romance’s neck, his warmth soaked into your skin like honey. You barely registered the weight of his hands stroking your lower back in slow, reverent passes, like he couldn’t believe you were real.
You could feel their eyes on you. All of them.
Burning across your skin, watching every rise and fall of your chest, every subtle shift of your body like it meant something. Like you meant something. Like you were already theirs and didn’t even know it.
And the strangest part?
You didn’t want to hide.
Didn’t want to run.
You didn’t feel cornered.
You felt safe.
You knew it was too soon.
Knew you shouldn’t feel this way, not this fast, not this deep, not when you barely knew what you were walking into. But logic didn’t stand a chance under the weight of their attention. Not when it wrapped around you like velvet heat. Not when it made your pulse flutter like wings trapped beneath your skin.
Because no matter how hard you tried to hold yourself together, you couldn’t stop it.
You couldn’t stop the way your body softened under their eyes, how your breath hitched every time one of them so much as shifted closer. How the ache low in your belly coiled tighter, hotter, as if your body already knew them. Recognized their scent, their presence, the shape of the space they took up around you.
You couldn’t stop the way your throat betrayed you, how a helpless, instinctive purr hummed up from your chest the moment Romance leaned in and pressed his face to your hair, breathing you in like he was starved for it. Like your scent was the only thing keeping him from unraveling.
You didn’t know what to call this feeling. This heat. This ache. This invisible tether that pulled you toward them, helplessly, instinctively, like you were made for them.
But gods… it felt right.
For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were too much. You didn’t feel like a problem to be solved or a storm to be weathered. You felt claimed. Cherished. Like you were something sacred.
Like you belonged to all of them.
And gods help you, your Omega thrived under it.
She uncoiled inside you, slow and languid, basking in the attention, greedy for more. Not afraid. Not even shy. She wanted it. All of it. All of them. The heat, the scent, the way their gazes burned through your layers until there was nothing left but need. You were trembling on the edge of something wild and inevitable—and the worst part?
You didn’t want to run.
You wanted to be caught.

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We'll Be Fine


𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠
𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏. 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓—𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓—𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒓. 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔. 𝑨 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅. 𝑨 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓. 𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍. 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑶𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆—𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐.
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒖𝒎𝒂, 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 (18+).
w/c: 7.9k+ not proof read
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The car was warm, soft, and swaddled in the mingled scent of your Alphas. Their presence wrapped around you like a second skin, and for the first time in years, you had slept with no bars, no chains, no cold floors or silver cuffs. Only the comforting weight of Abby’s arm around you, your head tucked beneath his jaw, his steady breathing cradling you deeper into dreams.
Warmth pressed against your side—solid, steady. A calloused hand slid beneath your hair, tilting your head gently. Fingers brushed the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. You stirred.
“Sweetheart,” Jinu’s voice purred beside your ear, low and coaxing, like velvet drawn over steel. “Wake up for us.”
Your lashes fluttered, slow and heavy, your body still floating in that syrupy space between sleep and awareness. You shifted, instinctively curling toward the source of heat behind you—and right into Abby’s chest. His arm was already wrapped around your waist, strong and possessive, anchoring you like he’d never let go.
A kiss brushed your temple. “Didn’t mean to wake you yet,” Abby murmured, breath warm against your skin. “You were purring so sweetly, baby. Could’ve listened to it all day.”
“Are we… already here?” you asked, voice husky from your nap, eyes barely open.
Abby shifted behind you, lips brushing your shoulder. “Not yet, baby. We saw something on the way. Had to stop.”
Something in his tone made your belly flutter.
The car door opened, and cooler air swept in. Jinu appeared outside, crouching just enough to see you eye-to-eye, one arm resting on the edge of the door. His eyes softened when they landed on you.
“Come on,” he said gently, offering his hand without pressure. “We want to show you something.”
You tried to sit up, but your legs faltered. You weren’t just sore—you were… slow. Your body hadn’t moved freely like this in years. The stiffness, the weight in your bones—it made your instincts curl up, uncertain.
Jinu saw it.
“You still can’t walk too well yet, huh?” he murmured, but it wasn’t mocking. He knelt lower, hand still outstretched, completely unbothered by your weakness. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Do you want me to support you?”
You stared at his hand. The way it waited. Still. Steady. There was no rush. No demand.
Only invitation.
And it was that, more than anything, that made you reach back.
You reached back before you even knew you were moving, fingertips brushing his palm, your body drawn to him like gravity. Like instinct had already decided for you. Jinu didn’t move at first. He let you come to him. Let you choose.
But the moment your hand settled fully into his—small, trusting, yours—he wrap his fingers around yours warm and firm, grounding.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.
His chest rose a little, swelling—not with arrogance, but pride. A kind of reverent, breathless awe.
You had chosen him.
When you wobbled, he stepped in without hesitation, his arm looping around your waist, supporting your full weight like it was nothing.
“You’re alright,” he whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you”
The words cracked open something deep inside you. Some locked-up, hidden part of you that had forgotten how it felt to be held. To be caught before you could fall. You didn’t think—you just moved, your body responding faster than your thoughts ever could. You leaned into him. Clung. Pressed yourself against the curve of his side like your body had found their answer.
And Abby… Abby was already there.
You felt him before you even turned. His hand slid across the small of your back, splaying wide like he wanted to cover more than just skin—like he wanted to claim the space between your breaths. He stood so close you could feel the heat of his chest at your back, the way his presence molded to yours as if he couldn’t stand the thought of even a few inches of distance.
They surrounded you.
Not trapping you.
And for the first time in years… you let them be.
You let Jinu guide you forward, one step at a time, never letting you fall. You let Abby follow close enough that your backs almost brushed, his presence constant, like a second heartbeat pressed just behind you.
You weren’t used to this. To this softness.
To being wanted like this—held like this.
But this time?
This was a choice you made freely.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
You were barely awake, still soft from sleep, still pliant between them like warm satin, and gods—it was doing things to their heads.
Abby’s large hand settled low against your back, a firm, steady pressure keeping you upright without forcing you to move faster than you wanted. His touch wasn’t demanding. It was anchoring. Just enough to remind your sleepy body that you weren’t alone—that you were held, surrounded, protected.
Jinu’s arm stayed locked around your waist, drawing you tighter into his side with each step. His fingers brushed absently, reverently, along the hem of your oversized shirt, like he couldn’t help it, like his instincts refused to leave any inch of you untouched. His knuckles skimmed bare skin and you twitched faintly, and he bit back a low groan. You probably didn’t even realize you were doing it. And that somehow made it worse.
They guided you through the shop’s doors slowly. Unhurried. Each step felt like a ritual, quiet and reverent, wrapped in restraint.
You had no idea what kind of storm you’d just walked into.
To anyone watching, it looked harmless enough. A sleepy Omega, freshly woken from a car nap, trailed by two doting Alphas running a quick errand. But beneath the surface, beneath their skin, it was anything but simple.
This wasn’t a store visit.
This was a moment of control they were barely holding on to.
A chance to claim you without teeth. To mark you without fangs.
You were theirs, even if the bond hadn’t sealed yet.
Even if you hadn’t said the words.
The shop was quiet at this hour. Private. They’d chosen it deliberately. High-end, discreet, and stocked with curated pieces designed for bonded and pre-bonded pairs. From healing salves to tailored wearables, scent-enhancing oils to understated marking accessories—it was everything an Alpha could want for their Omega, and everything an Omega didn’t know they craved yet.
And they were going to spoil you with all of it.
Because you weren’t just some Omega.
You were theirs.
Your scent clung to them like a second skin, sweet and delicate, still laced with the softness of sleep, and it nearly unmade them. Abby’s jaw ticked. His molars ached with how badly he wanted to growl. Not because of you. Because of them—the shop staff, the distant customers, the way strangers let their eyes linger too long on you like they couldn’t tell you were already taken.
He didn’t like it.
He hated it.
Every glance was a threat. Every sniff of your scent a warning bell. Abby's body went rigid behind you, and only your warmth kept him grounded.
Jinu felt it too. The pull under his skin, low and brutal. That spark of territorial instinct threatening to drag him under. His fingers twitched against your side, holding you just a little closer, jaw tight as he caught one too many wandering stares.
Neither of them said a word.
But the air around them changed. Grew heavier. Thicker.
They didn’t need to speak.
Because they knew what this was.
This was the beginning of something neither of them could contain. A slow-burning storm they were welcoming.
And you walked between them like you didn’t realize it yet. Like your body hadn’t caught up to what your scent was already whispering to the room. Maybe you hadn’t felt it fully. Not yet. But they had. Every breath, every glance, every unconscious lean into their sides confirmed it.
As they guided you through the shop, past velvet-draped displays of silks, hand-stitched leather, and delicate metalwork meant to sit snug around an Omega’s throat, they weren’t looking at the shelves.
They were looking at you.
Imagining you in every single piece.
Abby could already see it. Your bare neck wrapped in soft black leather, a single silver ring at the center. Subtle. Elegant. Undeniably possessive. His chest tightened at the image—how it would gleam against your skin, how it would move when you swallowed, when you gasped, when you tilted your head to let one of them kiss just beneath it. A silent, beautiful scream of devotion.
Beside you, Jinu was quieter but no less intense. He wasn’t just picturing the collar. He was picturing the moment. Your lashes fluttering low, unsure but willing. The way you’d squirm under the weight of their eyes, heartbeat stuttering, thighs pressing together in a soft, helpless reflex. Not because the collar restrained you but because it meant something. Because it told the truth you hadn’t dared say aloud.
It would do something to you. They knew it would.
And gods, they were starving to see it.
Would the others feel it too?
Would Romance drop that lazy, infuriating smirk the second you turned your head to him, lips parted and neck wrapped in their mark?
Would Baby’s voice go breathless, pupils blown wide and hungry, the moment you made that soft little confused sound you always did when you didn’t know what to do with the attention?
And Mystery—calm, unreadable Mystery—would he go still when your scent wrapped around him like silk, triggering instincts he tried to bury?
Jinu and Abby were sure of it. They were already ruined.
And when the others got close—really close—they would be too.
No question asked.
Because no Alpha in their right mind could ignore an Omega like you.
Not one who radiated softness like a siren call. Not one who trusted so easily. Not one who stepped between two powerful Alphas without flinching, without fear. You didn’t even know what you were doing to them.
But you would.
Soon.
Because the thought of you in their collar had wrecked them already—completely. It lived in their bones now, a craving deeper than instinct. They were going to wrap you in velvet and luxury, in safety and devotion, until there was no space between you and them. Until you forgot what it meant to be alone.
Until every breath reminded you—you were theirs.
They were so lost in the want of it, the ache, that they almost missed it.
Almost.
The scent hit first.
Sharp. Cold. Wrong.
It cracked through your natural warmth like ice splitting glass, and it yanked both of them out of the haze instantly.
Jinu’s fingers tightened at his sides. Abby’s eyes darkened, full predator. And then they saw you.
Frozen.
Your body locked in place mid-step, barely breathing, wide eyes fixed on a nearby display like it had risen from a nightmare. Collars. Delicate ones—lace and leather, silver clasps glinting beneath soft lights. Symbols of belonging. Of union. Of ownership.
To an Omega, they were sacred. Symbols of trust and protection. Love.
But not to you.
Not right now.
Not with the way your shoulders had gone stiff. Not with the way your hands had begun to tremble.
Because the last time you’d seen collars like these, they weren’t symbols of protection.
They were chains.
They were warnings.
They were her voice—sharp and cruel—slithering down your spine like poison, uninvited and unforgettable.
"Demons like you don’t deserve to be mated."
"Don't deserve to be loved."
"Stay hidden."
"Stay silent."
The words gripped your lungs like a vice.
Your throat clenched as the ghost of old chain tightened around it. You could feel it—feel her—like the collar had never come off. Like the metal was still digging in. Like you were still trapped in that place, in that skin, in that lie.
Before you could stop yourself, your hand shot up to your throat.
Clawing. Shaky. Desperate.
As if you could tear the memory away with your nails. As if you could dig deep enough to remove the scar she left.
You didn’t hear them move.
But suddenly Jinu was there, and Abby was already in front of you—too close, too fast, too focused.
His eyes dark and burning, chest rising fast like he’d sprinted through a battlefield just to get to you. He crossed the room with thunder in his bones, fury and fear tangled tight in his jaw.
He looked like he was ready to tear through anyone who touched you.
“Don’t touch your neck,” he said, voice rough and shaking, low with something wild and barely caged. “Baby…hey. Look at me.”
You flinched as his hand rose, but he didn’t grab. Just hovered. Trembling. Fighting the instinct to seize and soothe.
His heat poured over you.
Then his fingers caught your wrists with a grip that was firm but reverent, grounding you in the gentlest way you didn’t know you needed. His thumbs brushed softly over the angry marks you’d scratched in your panic, and he leaned in, his breath grazing your cheek.
“Shhh,” he murmured, velvet-dark and steady. “You’re okay. You’re safe now. Look at me, sweetheart. Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you like that again.”
You didn’t even realize you were shaking until he touched you like that.
Jinu came up behind you, his presence draping over your back like a second skin. His scent was warm and dark and made to wrap you up, to calm the frantic thunder in your blood. “We’re not gonna hurt you, Omega,” he murmured into your hair, lips so close they barely brushed you. “Not now. Not ever.”
You trembled between them, eyes wide, breath caught, your throat bobbing with a silent sob you couldn’t seem to swallow.
Abby pressed his forehead gently to yours, his hand rising to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing under your lip. His voice was low, almost reverent. “That thing?” he nodded toward the collar resting on velvet. “It’s not what you think. Not some trap. We’d never cage you, baby. It’s just…” His gaze flicked down, then back to you, pupils dilated. “It’s so everyone else knows you’re already claimed.”
Jinu’s voice shifted, still soft but threaded now with something sharper—something lethal. “But you’re not marked. Not yet.” He pressed in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear, breath hot. “And your scent, little one—” he inhaled deeply, like it hurt to stop “—you don’t even know what it does. How it calls to every Alpha you pass.”
He paused, voice suddenly thick. “But we can handle them. You don’t need the collar if you don’t want it. We’ll deal with anyone who tries.”
“You don’t have to wear it,” Abby murmured again, fingers stroking through your hair now, slow and careful like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. “Not unless you want to. But if you do…” His eyes dropped to your throat, voice lowering into something dark and possessive. “It’s just until the bond’s official. Just until you’ve got our marks on you.”
“And once that happens…” Jinu’s voice barely made it past a whisper, but it hit like a vow against your skin.“No one else will even think about touching you.”
That heat in their voices… it wasn’t anger. It was need. The kind that simmers low and steady. The kind that seeps into your bloodstream. The kind that turns every brush of breath, every inch of space between you, into something unbearable.
They weren’t trying to calm you anymore.
They were claiming you—in the most dangerous, gentle way.
You felt Jinu’s nose skim the side of your neck, the touch light but electric, his breath catching as he inhaled deeply—trying, and failing, to steady himself. His exhale was slow and deliberate, like he was letting your panic bleed into him, like he wanted to carry it for you. To bear it so you didn’t have to.
Beside you, Abby’s lips hovered near your ear, not touching—just close enough for his breath to dance over your skin, close enough to make you shiver.
“You’re not a secret anymore,” he said, his voice warm and honeyed, like a spell woven just for you. “You’re the one we’ve been waiting for.”
Jinu’s mouth ghosted beneath your ear, “We’ll take it slow,” he promised, the tip of his nose nuzzling that spot that made your knees wobble. “But don’t ever think we’d cage you, Omega. You weren’t made to be hidden.”
Abby’s fingers slid over your collarbone, slow and possessive, tracing your shape like he was memorizing it. His thumb tilted your chin, coaxing your gaze up with gentle control. “When we mark you,” he murmured, dark eyes locked on yours, “it won’t be to hide you. It’ll be to show you off. So they know you’re ours.”
Your pulse still raced. But it was different now.
Still raw. Still scared. But now there was heat blooming under it—low and curling, the kind that made your thighs press together instinctively. Their scent filled your lungs, thick with need, with reverence, with the aching restraint of two predators trying so hard to go slow for their wounded mate.
But inside… they were barely holding on.
Because now that they had you in their arms, trembling and soft and breathing in their voices—they knew one thing for certain:
You wouldn’t need a collar for long.
You’d wear their marks soon enough.
And when you did... the whole world would know who you belonged to.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
You still weren’t sure how they managed to get you calm so fast.
But their hands never left you.
Even as your breathing steadied—ragged but no longer panicked—even after your voice cracked with a quiet apology, they remained.
Closer than necessary.
Closer than breath.
Jinu’s thumb moved in slow, endless circles over your pulse, tracing calm into your skin like a promise. Abby’s arm stayed curled tight around your middle, firm and grounding, like he could tether you to this moment and keep the past from dragging you back under.
The store faded around you, colors softening, edges blurring, swallowed by the heady warmth of their pheromones. Rich and sweet, like cedar and smoke and heat. It curled around your spine, kissed at your skin, made your lashes flutter.
The gentle, rumbling purrs from both of them draped over your nerves like velvet. You could feel it—thick and primal—in your chest, in the aching pull low in your belly. Jinu nosed lightly at your temple, voice a silken hum.
“You’re doing so well, angel.” he whispered, his breath grazing the shell of your ear, enough to make your skin tighten with awareness.
Your breath caught, ribs cinching like a gasp wanted to claw free. You looked up, dazed, blinking slowly. Their eyes were on you—devouring and tender all at once.
Abby’s nose pressed to your hair, and he breathed you in slow, as if scenting you was the only thing grounding him. “There you are,” he said, his voice barely more than a rumble. "That’s it, baby. Come back to us.”
Us.
The word landed in your chest and bloomed there, thick and sweet.
“I…” Your voice cracked on the word. You swallowed hard, chest trembling. “I think…” You hesitated, the words sticky and shy on your tongue. “I think I want a collar.”
The shift was instant.
Abby’s purr turned molten behind you, vibrating where his chest pressed to your back. His hand swept down to your hip, possessive and slow, thumb tracing lazy circles that made your stomach flutter.
“Yeah?” he rumbled, all velvet and heat. “You sure, little one?”
You nodded again.
Jinu smiled like the sun had broken through a storm. “Come on then,” he said gently, tilting his head toward the back. “We’ll show you where.”
They guided you in silence, letting you breathe, letting you settle. Jinu walked a few steps ahead, close enough to lead, far enough to let you breathe. But he kept glancing over his shoulder, like he couldn’t stand to have you out of sight for more than a moment. Abby trailed behind, his palm steady at your waist, fingers splayed wide like he was claiming every inch he touched.
He didn’t let go. Not once.
When they stopped at a velvet-lined display tucked into the back corner of the store, you froze again.
So many options. So many textures. Some soft. Some striking. Some delicate and some bold. It was overwhelming—but beautiful.
You didn’t know which one to touch first, or if you even should.
Jinu didn’t miss it.
He didn’t crowd you, but he stepped just close enough for the heat of his body to kiss your side. His voice came low and steady, rich like honey poured over warmth. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “Take your time, sweetheart. We’re not in a rush.”
You blinked at the display, your fingers twitching at your sides.
“There’s a lot to look at,” Jinu continued, softer now, like he was coaxing a skittish animal to trust.
You risked a glance up at him.
His eyes were warm, but his gaze… his gaze had depth. A kind of hunger tucked beneath all that softness, like he wanted you wrapped in something only he chose, something that said you belonged.
“If anything catches your eye,” he said, brushing the backs of his fingers along yours, “just point, baby. We’ll get it for you.”
“And you don’t have to choose just one,” Abby added from behind, voice low and rough with restraint. “Get as many as you want.”
You felt him shift closer, his hand settling just above your hip. “Every color. Every style. Doesn’t matter. If it makes you feel good, you can take it.”
Abby stayed flush behind you, his warmth blanketing your back, his chin barely grazing the top of your head like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you—not even for a breath.
The memory still clung to you, bitter and bruised… but it couldn’t compare to this. To the way Abby’s hand tightened ever so slightly when you hesitated. To the soothing drag of Jinu’s scent curling through your chest, sweet and sharp with protectiveness.
You swallowed hard and lifted your hand slowly, fingers hovering over the display of soft leathers and silks. The colors blurred at the edges, too bright, too loud—but your gaze snagged on one. Pale, elegant. Gentle.
You reached for it.
And that’s when you heard them.
“Oh, she’s unmarked,” one of the staff whispered behind the counter, voice far too amused. “Easy pickings. Omegas like that never last long out here.”
Your hand froze mid-air.
“She’ll probably need something reinforced,” another chimed in, eyes raking over you like you were an unsold item. “Soft ones won’t hold her when she starts acting up. Maybe something tighter around the throat—”
The air dropped.
Abby’s growl was low and feral, primal thunder rolling from his chest. It didn’t just vibrate against your back—it echoed through your ribs, down to your toes. Your body moved before you could think, instinctively pressing back into him, as if your bones knew who you belonged to.
Behind you, his eyes burned gold. Not subtle. Not human. And the moment the staff saw it, they paled, stumbling back, mouths suddenly useless.
“You want to repeat that?” he asked, voice quiet, dangerous.
The room tensed like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Jinu turned with elegant menace, his usual smile gone like it had never existed. His voice, when it came, was calm. Too calm. “You think a pretty little Omega under our protection is an easy target?”
He chuckled, but it was sharp, devoid of warmth.
“You must be new.”
He tilted his head slowly, eyes glowing just faintly at the edges now, intelligent and sharp, like a predator deciding whether to kill or simply maim.
“Should I remind you who we are?”
The staff said nothing. Couldn’t. One of them audibly swallowed. The other shook their head, eyes wide with barely concealed terror.
“Maybe we should remind you,” Abby added, stepping forward until he stood between you and the staff like a wall of heat and muscle. “Say another word about her and see what happens.”
The staff stepped back, the scent of fear cloying and thick in the air. It didn’t take supernatural senses to smell it. Even humans would’ve noticed.
Your fingers were trembling again, then Jinu turned back to you, his expression shifting in an instant. That sharpness faded, melted into something impossibly soft, eyes drinking you in with such reverence it made your chest ache. He reached out slowly, knuckles brushing the edge of your cheek, his voice dipping low.
“Don’t listen to them, baby," he whispered.
Your breath hitched.
Then, his hand moved past your line of sight, elegant fingers plucking something from the display—a collar. Deep violet, soft and rich like velvet, with no harsh buckles or unforgiving edges. Simple. Gentle. Safe.
“How about this one, angel?” he murmured, holding it up so you could see it in the light. “I don’t think the others would be good against your neck.”
You blinked slowly, still dazed from the thick, lingering haze of their scent and the venomous glares they’d shot at the staff moments ago.
The collar shimmered faintly beneath the glow of overhead lights. Its fabric looked too tender, almost fragile. Like it was meant to rest on skin that flinched at memory. Like it had been chosen for you.
“I have no doubt,” Jinu continued, brushing his thumb along the inner lining, “the others are going to buy you plenty of collars. Jewelry. Clothes. And things you won’t even know what to do with.” He held it up to your throat without touching.
“So this one…” His voice dipped, lower now. “This can be your temporary one. Until we get you something better.”
Your pulse jumped.
“…Others?” The word barely scraped past your lips. It cracked—confused, fragile—as it escaped. Your mind swam, unable to catch up with your body’s reaction. You looked up at him like he’d said something impossible.
Jinu paused, gaze flicking over your face like he could read every thought. “You didn’t think it was just the two of us, did you?”
Your stomach twisted. You pulled instinctively closer to Abby, pressing your body to his chest like he was the only safe place in the world.
Abby tightened his grip without hesitation, one massive arm wrapping around your thighs as he lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing. He didn’t say a word—just nuzzled into your temple, scenting you softly, soothing the tremble in your frame with his warmth alone.
“I… I didn’t know,” you whispered, curling instinctively against his chest, fingers clutching his shirt like it was the only solid thing left. “I thought… it was just you two.”
Jinu walked ahead, the violet collar still in hand. His voice drifted back to you as Abby carried you through the store, out into the early evening air. The car was already waiting—of course it was. Their world moved like clockwork.
“There are five of us,” Jinu said, opening the backseat for Abby to slide in with you still curled in his arms. “You’ve met me. And Abby.”
You buried your face into Abby’s chest, the hard press of his pectorals grounding you. But you couldn’t help listening. Couldn’t help wanting to know.
“The other three… well.” Jinu’s voice dipped lower, like he was talking about something sacred. “Mystery’s quiet, he watches everything, especially when it matters. Baby’s the youngest—don’t let the nickname fool you. He’s unhinged when it comes to protecting what’s his. And Romance…”
He paused as Abby settled you on his lap, brushing your hair back from your face with fingers that shook ever so slightly—like he was trying not to squeeze you too hard.
“Romance,” Jinu continued, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “hasn’t slept since he saw you in that vision the Demon Lord sent us.”
The air inside the car seemed to tighten.
Your whole body stilled. “The Demon Lord—what do you mean? What did he show you? Why—what does that even mean?”
Jinu didn’t answer.
His eyes softened, but his expression didn’t shift. And Abby, already holding you so close, curled his hand around the back of your head and pulled you deeper into his chest, like he could block the weight of the question entirely.
“Shhh,” Abby whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “You don’t need to worry about that. Not now.”
“But—”
“Later,” Jinu murmured, gaze smoldering. “We’ll tell you everything. We promise. But right now? All that matters is this.”
“You don’t have to be scared, baby,” Abby murmured, voice low and honey-slick. “They’re not going to hurt you. None of us ever would.”
Your chest trembled.
“But what if… what if they don’t like me?” you whispered. “What if I smell wrong? What if I’m not—”
“They already like you,” Jinu said, interrupting gently, his voice thick with something raw and possessive. “No—more than that. They’re already obsessed.”
Your thighs clenched.
Abby nuzzled into your hair, dragging in a deep breath like he needed your scent to survive. His lips pressed again to your temple, reverent.
“We all are,” Jinu went on, that velvet darkness in his voice sinking straight into your bones. “You were ours the moment we found you. The second your scent hit us—it was over.”
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
You were curled up in Abby’s lap like you belonged there—because to him, you did.
His massive arms held you tight, protective and possessive, the kind of embrace that told the world mine without saying a word. One broad hand rested on your hip, fingers splayed over your waist like he was keeping track of every breath you took, every tiny shift in your body. The other curled lightly around your thigh, thumb stroking slow, lazy circles into your skin like it soothed him, not you.
The hum of the car was low and smooth beneath you, barely noticeable under the steady rhythm of Abby’s breathing. One of their demon staff drove in silence, eyes fixed forward like he didn’t dare disturb what was happening in the backseat.
You were too soft in their arms, too drowsy from the nap you hadn’t meant to take, your cheek tucked against Abby’s thick shoulder as your lashes fluttered. The glow of luxury storefronts slipped past the tinted windows, all glass and gold and meaningless to them.
Because they already had the one thing money could never buy.
You.
Abby’s chest rumbled beneath you, the low thrum of his breathing like a lullaby stitched from heat and strength. His gaze never left your face, drinking in every little twitch, every sleepy sigh. The rise and fall of your chest. The faint warmth of your scent in the air. He was trying to behave—he really was. But you made it so hard.
You blinked sleepily, watching the city slide past in streaks of gold and neon—your little head barely peeking above the crook of Abby’s arm, cheek pillowed against the solid breadth of his chest. Your lashes fluttered, heavy with the afterglow of a nap you hadn’t planned, lips parted in the soft haze of warmth and safety.
In the front seat, the demon staff member said nothing. He drove in total silence, his expression unreadable, like his only purpose was getting you home safely and without disruption.
But in the backseat?
The air pulsed.
Neither of the demons flanking you could look away.
You were so perfect.
The kind of Omega demons like them dreamed of but never believed existed. Just the right size for them to carry, tuck under an arm, pin down and protect in equal measure. Soft in all the ways they craved—physically, emotionally, spiritually. You didn’t even know it yet, didn’t realize how maddening your natural sweetness was, how addictive your scent had become from the moment you stepped into their orbit.
They were already hooked.
And they weren’t letting go.
Neither could stop looking.
Your demon marks shimmered faintly along your skin, ancient and beautiful, curling like ink across your arms and legs with every breath. You hadn’t even tried to hide them—they were just part of you. Small. Harmless.
But not to them.
To them, it was proof. That your body was beginning to wake up. That you were coming into yourself, whether you knew it or not. That underneath the softness, underneath the dreamy scent and delicate pulse, there was something old.
Something terrifyingly powerful.
Something theirs.
You hadn’t even shown them your full form yet. Not the glow of your true eyes. Not the weight of your aura when fully unsealed. Not the presence that could shift gravity itself, stilling the air, bending the knee of every demon too bold to test you. You were hiding it—hiding yourself.
Your bloodline. Your heritage. Your control over the hoonmoon that slept beneath the city. The command that whispered at the edges of your thoughts like instinct, a crown waiting to be worn. All of it forced down. Caged by your Aunt’s hand. She’d made you shift too early, sealed the rest of you away before it could grow.
But it was surfacing now.
Bit by bit.
You shifted in Abby’s lap, stretching your legs just a little, your body easing into his warmth without thought. The movement brushed your hair slightly out of place, exposing something you hadn’t realized was peeking through.
Two delicate, curved horns caught the low light inside the car, glinting faintly like polished obsidian laced with stardust.
They noticed.
Jinu inhaled sharply beside you, the sound barely more than a breath, but it cracked the silence like lightning. Abby’s arms flexed around you, his whole body tensing beneath yours as his gaze zeroed in.
“Oh,” Jinu murmured, his voice warm and stunned. “Look at you…”
Abby’s breath brushed hot against your temple, his hand lifting slowly to part your hair further, reverent fingers tracing the base of your horn with featherlight touch. The stroke sent tingles down your spine—too soft to flinch from, too intimate to bear.
You froze, blinking up at him.
He was smiling.
Not wicked. Not smug.
Worshipful.
“You’ve been hiding these from us, pretty girl?” he whispered, voice thick with something that made your thighs clench. “You’re full of surprises.”
Jinu leaned closer, his fingers brushing gently under your chin to angle your face toward him, so he could look—really look. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something filthy and instead swallowed it back with effort.
“Gods…” he whispered. “They’re beautiful.”
His thumb brushed along your bottom lip.
“You’re beautiful.”
You could barely think under the weight of their voices, the slow, coaxing strokes through your hair, their scents wrapping around you like silk.
“It’s okay, baby,” Abby murmured against your temple, nuzzling you as he cradled your body to his chest like something fragile and divine. “The others are going to love you just as much as we do.”
“More,” Jinu added, brushing his lips against your hairline. “They’re going to lose their minds.”
You weren’t used to being looked at like this. Like prey and royalty all at once. Like a secret they wanted to protect—and keep all to themselves.
The hum of the engine stopped.
You didn’t realize the car had parked until the world shifted around you. The lights of the underground garage glared through the windows, sterile and cool, but nothing about this moment felt cold.
Jinu moved first. Without a word, he stepped out, the door shutting behind him with a quiet click. You thought maybe you’d follow him out, maybe stretch your legs—
But Abby didn’t let go.
Strong arms tightened around your waist, pressing you flush to his chest. “Mm-mm,” he hummed softly. “No running off yet.”
From the corner of your eye, you saw Jinu circling to the back of the vehicle, the trunk opening with a quiet click. He began pulling out bags—some you remembered, some you didn’t. You hadn’t realized how much they’d gotten you. How much they’d prepared.
Abby stepped out of the car, lifting you effortlessly with him, your body flush against his chest, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist like second nature, your face buried against the side of his neck.
As he walked toward the elevator, every step slow and certain, you could feel his muscles shifting beneath you, the strength in his hold unshakable. Jinu followed at a comfortable pace, arms full of bags that looked weightless in his hands. They weren’t rushing. They wanted to take their time.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Abby didn’t move until he looked down at you again, brushing his nose along your temple, slow and affectionate, like he was scenting you. His voice was a low rumble against your skin.
“We’ve got a nice place all set up for you, angel,” he purred, his breath warm against your temple, voice rolling low like velvet over fire. “Romance picked out some really soft blankets for your nest. Only the best, he said. And Baby and Mystery?” A soft chuckle followed, lips brushing your temple. “They raided their own closets. Scented the clothes themselves. Said you’d feel safer with something that already smells like them.”
The way he said safe made your stomach flutter. Like it was sacred. Like it mattered more than anything else.
Jinu moved beside you with silent precision, pulling a sleek black card from his pocket. He pressed it against a smooth panel on the elevator wall, a soft beep following. The lift jolted and began its slow ascent, humming quietly as it carried you toward the unknown.
But Abby didn’t stop talking.
He continued talking about each of his brothers to you, describing them to give you a chance to become more comfortable with them before you met them.
You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. But it vanished the second the elevator slowed… and stopped.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but what hit you wasn’t sound—it was their scent.
Warm. Sharp. Addictive.
Thick layers of Alpha pheromones coiled through the air like velvet smoke, rich and distinct, each strand teasing something deep and aching in your chest. It wasn’t just one scent. It was them. All of them.
You staggered, your breath catching as your body lit up in recognition. Your thighs pressed together without thinking, your chest rising with sudden need. You wanted—no, needed—to drown in it. Your instincts screamed to roll in their scent, let it cling to your skin, your throat, your hair. You wanted to soak in it until no part of you felt untouched by them.
And then came footsteps. Fast. Heavy.
You tensed, every nerve tightening as the energy barreled toward you from deeper within the penthouse. The air itself felt charged—like a storm about to break. The echo of footsteps pounded against the floors, voices colliding in excitement, and something primal inside you lurched.
They were close.
Too close.
Your body knew it. Your scent glands flared in response, but your fear edged in too, old panic rising alongside the new, needy heat.
But before you could even think to move, Abby shifted.
With gentle care, he lowered you to the floor… only for your body to betray you the second your feet touched down. You turned and scrambled right back up—clinging to him like a startled kitten, arms tight around his shoulders, legs locked around his waist, your face buried in the safe, steady scent at his throat.
He stilled. Then chuckled, low and proud, one hand reaching back to cradle your thigh where it locked around his waist.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice all calm thunder. “They’re just excited, angel. You smell too good.”
Then—
Silence.
Not just quiet. Absolute stillness.
The hallway had gone dead quiet. Even your breath felt too loud.
You lifted your head slowly, peeking over Abby’s shoulder.
They were there.
Three Alphas. Just a few steps away. Standing like statues—watching you.
Not moving. Not blinking. Not even breathing.
Their eyes were wide, dark, glowing faintly in the low light. They locked onto yours like they’d been starved. As if they’d been dreaming of this exact moment, this exact glimpse of you, and now that it was real, they didn’t dare blink.
Mystery stood the closest, his black hoodie slipping slightly off one shoulder, mouth parted like he’d forgotten how to speak. His scent curled toward you, cool and dusky and charged, and you could feel it shifting in rhythm with his pulse.
Romance was beside him, still and quiet, but his fists were clenched at his sides. His jaw was tight. His eyes burned into you with slow, aching heat, like he was trying to memorize every inch of skin you’d dared to show.
And Baby… oh, gods.
He tilted his head slightly, that grin stretching across his face—but his eyes didn’t match the playfulness. They were feral. His entire posture screamed Alpha—confident, wild, territorial. Like the only reason he hadn’t already reached for you was because Abby was in the way.
None of them moved.
Not one of them spoke.
They just watched you, still clinging to Abby’s back, like you were the last precious thing in the universe.
Your cheeks flushed. Your heart pounded.
And then Jinu broke the silence with a soft laugh behind you. “She climbed Abby like a tree.”
Romance let out a soft, helpless sound at Jinu’s words—a coo, high in his throat and full of want. His eyes were glued to you, every inch of him pulled taut like a bowstring. He was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, hands twitching at his sides, fighting the urge to just scoop you into his arms and never let go.
Beside him, Mystery had a firm grip on the back of his shirt, the only thing stopping him from lunging forward and scaring you off.
But you were already moving.
You peeled yourself away from Abby like it physically pained you to do so, your fingers reluctant as they slid from the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his body vanished from your front, and the air felt colder for it. You stepped forward carefully, eyes fluttering as you tried to make sense of the scents curling around you.
Your steps faltered. A soft sway, a blink too long.
And before your legs could give out, Romance was there.
He caught you like he'd been waiting for this exact moment since the day he was born—arms already open, hands already gentle. His breath hitched as you fell against his chest, face tucked into the crook of his neck, right where his scent was strongest. Strawberry and rose. Sweet and sharp. You whimpered quietly, like his very existence soothed something in your bones, and it nearly shattered him.
You melted against him.
Your entire body slackened, that dreamy sigh spilling from your lips like you were sinking into something deep and safe and final. It took everything in Romance not to groan aloud.
He sat down quickly on the couch, pulling you gently into his lap, adjusting you until you were curled neatly against his chest like a puzzle piece that finally found its home.
Romance looked down at you, and every part of him softened.
You could feel it in the way he held you. That shift.
Gone was the flirt. Gone was the playful spark in his grin.
What held you now was an Alpha—bare, raw, reverent. Possessive in a way that didn’t need to speak it aloud. You were his. And if the world wanted you, it would have to rip you from his arms, bone by bone.
Across the room, Baby didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
His fists hung useless at his sides, clenched so tight the bones in his knuckles cracked. His chest rose and fell with something feral, something he didn’t have a name for—because when he saw you melting into Romance’s lap, soft and so pliant it made his head spin, something snapped low in his gut.
And then he looked at his hyungs.
He saw it mirrored in every pair of eyes.
Mystery, leaning against the wall, his pupils blown wide and dark with want. Jinu, jaw tight, arms folded, like he was holding back a quake. Abby, expression unreadable, but his entire stance screamed one thing.
Mine.
It hit Baby all at once, how doomed they were.
Because the second you peeked out from behind Abby’s back, unsure and radiant, they weren’t just looking at an Omega.
They were looking at their Omega.
As you snuggled deeper into the curve of Romance’s neck, his warmth soaked into your skin like honey. You barely registered the weight of his hands stroking your lower back in slow, reverent passes, like he couldn’t believe you were real.
You could feel their eyes on you. All of them.
Burning across your skin, watching every rise and fall of your chest, every subtle shift of your body like it meant something. Like you meant something. Like you were already theirs and didn’t even know it.
And the strangest part?
You didn’t want to hide.
Didn’t want to run.
You didn’t feel cornered.
You felt safe.
You knew it was too soon.
Knew you shouldn’t feel this way, not this fast, not this deep, not when you barely knew what you were walking into. But logic didn’t stand a chance under the weight of their attention. Not when it wrapped around you like velvet heat. Not when it made your pulse flutter like wings trapped beneath your skin.
Because no matter how hard you tried to hold yourself together, you couldn’t stop it.
You couldn’t stop the way your body softened under their eyes, how your breath hitched every time one of them so much as shifted closer. How the ache low in your belly coiled tighter, hotter, as if your body already knew them. Recognized their scent, their presence, the shape of the space they took up around you.
You couldn’t stop the way your throat betrayed you, how a helpless, instinctive purr hummed up from your chest the moment Romance leaned in and pressed his face to your hair, breathing you in like he was starved for it. Like your scent was the only thing keeping him from unraveling.
You didn’t know what to call this feeling. This heat. This ache. This invisible tether that pulled you toward them, helplessly, instinctively, like you were made for them.
But gods… it felt right.
For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were too much. You didn’t feel like a problem to be solved or a storm to be weathered. You felt claimed. Cherished. Like you were something sacred.
Like you belonged to all of them.
And gods help you, your Omega thrived under it.
She uncoiled inside you, slow and languid, basking in the attention, greedy for more. Not afraid. Not even shy. She wanted it. All of it. All of them. The heat, the scent, the way their gazes burned through your layers until there was nothing left but need. You were trembling on the edge of something wild and inevitable—and the worst part?
You didn’t want to run.
You wanted to be caught.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @irethepotato @frootloopscos @celestialzdiviner @duchessdaisybat @myloveiskkalimari @bithebook @levifiance @minthoneynbasil @gojosukuna2268 @thejadevampire @aurorab-0-realis @ashleygryffindor @m35kbl @moonjellyfishie @celesteelysia @reni502 @calmmell @whatdoesthesenpai @aouoo @banj0possum @bigmood-myman @nothere2478 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @we-aime-le-vent-fan @call-me-nyxx @cloudfxvrs @yuurisfavblog @itsberrydreemurstuff @weponxwrites @existingtoreadfanfics @mxn14 @rithalie-sideblog @badbiddiesonly @shinebright2000 @dean097 @estellafake @sleepless-cloudy @zuoran03 @miuangel @izzieg3987 @littlepotaaatosimp @linospetsitter @bearzherbert @tatsuri-zomushiki @osball @type-ink @raineandcl0uds @my-anime-garden @mwhahahalasagna @chirikoheina
#saja boys x reader#kpop demon hunters x reader#kpdh x reader#kpop demon hunters#saja boys#the saja boys#jinu x reader#baby x reader#abby x reader#mystery x reader#romance x reader#We'll Be Fine
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📣✨We'll Be Fine – Chapter Update✨📣
I’ve been seeing so many messages asking when the next chapter of We’ll Be Fine is coming—and first of all, thank you. Like truly, from the bottom of my demon-loving heart, THANK YOU for caring about this story and checking in. It means the world that you’re still thinking about it and looking forward to what’s next. 🥹
✨ The good news: the next chapter is officially in progress!!
Now that the chaos that is the Holy Trinity chapter of Bound to Them is done and dusted (we survived... barely), I finally have time to pour all my attention into the next part of We’ll Be Fine. I really appreciate everyone who’s been so patient and kind while waiting.
Stay tuned—it’s coming soon. ✍️💫 Thank you for sticking around. Y’all are the reason I keep writing.
— Emrys 🪷
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I loved the new chapter 😍! You've got me so wound tight around this story 🥰! I can't wait to see how the reader gets pampered by her boys in the next one 😁🥺
Ahhh thank you so much!! 😭💜 I swear every time someone says they’re wrapped around this story, it adds +10 motivation to my soul. The pampering is definitely coming in the next chapter—they’ve been way too patient for demons in love. So expect some clingy, possessive affection, some soft chaos, and maybe a little bit of trouble 👀 Thank you again for reading and getting so invested, seriously—it means the world!! 🫶💕
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Now I really wanna play woth romance's tail, Like not even in a sexual way(well..) I just wanna figet with it, like the heart-shaped bit.
Can a gal just sit on her magic demon boyfriends lap and play with his tail without being looked at like I committed blasphemy?
probably not considering the second reader says “Can I play w ur tail” casually to romance in the middle of the living room while theyre all chilling he takes it as if she just casually offered to wank him off in front of everyone
.
.
he’d still let her do it-
OMG!!!! thank you for this, because now I can absolutely imagine that scene playing out 😭💀
Like yes, you should be able to sit on your demon boyfriend's lap and innocently fidget with the heart-shaped tip of his tail without causing a scene... but unfortunately, if it’s Romance? Yeah, no peace. The second those words leave your mouth, the room goes silent, half the boys are staring, and Romance is smirking like you just whispered something filthy in his ear. He would 100% pretend to misunderstand you on purpose, milk the moment, act all mock-scandalized while secretly loving the attention.
And the worst part? He’d still pull you onto his lap and let you do it. All smug, all warm, all “You better take responsibility for teasing me in public like this, kitten.”
So yes—I’m tucking this scene idea into my notes immediately. It’s going in. It’s canon now. Thank you for the chaotic inspiration 🫶✨
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SUPER RANDOM but because I LIVE for your stories and I love love the smut you write for saja boys id love to hear your thoughts on which of the boys would be willing to be submissive for reader hihihi
Omg I love this question so much 🤭 okay listen—being demons, the Saja Boys are very dominant by nature, so full-on submission would be rare... but not impossible 👀
If anyone’s gonna get soft enough to maybe hand over the reins, it’s Jinu. He’s level-headed, emotionally intelligent, and very attuned to reader’s needs. If she asks gently or begs he might raise a brow at first—but if he saw it made her feel confident or loved? Oh, he’d absolutely let it happen and let her take the lead just to see her pleased. He’d still be watching her like a hawk the whole time though. Quiet control, even in softness.
Mystery is next on the list, but it’s complicated. He’s possessive and primal, ruled by instinct more than logic. But if his mate wants something, he’ll give it. He’ll grit his teeth through it, maybe growl a bit, but if it makes her happy? He’ll submit in his own feral, grudging way. It won’t be gentle, but it’ll be real.
And then there's Romance… oh boy. He’s the illusion of submission. He’ll whisper sweet nothings, let her pin him for a second, even moan like he’s helpless—but it’s all a game. He’s teasing, mocking, playing with power just to watch her unravel. He’s soft, but only in the most frustrating, smug way. If he ever truly submitted, it’d be laced with smirks and petty revenge later.
Baby and Abby? Yeah… good luck. Baby has a bratty, chaotic dominant energy and would absolutely flip her over and laugh if she tried. Abby’s too protective and physically dominant—it’s not in his nature to let anyone else take the lead, especially not his mate. But if she cried just right? Maybe. Just once. (And they'd never talk about it again.)
#🪷 emrys' corner#saja boys x reader#kpop demon hunters x reader#kpdh x reader#kpop demon hunters#saja boys#the saja boys#kpdh#Bound to Them
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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.
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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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.
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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#saja boys x reader#kpop demon hunters x reader#kpdh x reader#kpop demon hunters#saja boys#the saja boys#kpdh#jinu x reader#baby x reader#abby x reader#mystery x reader#romance x reader#yandere#yandere saja boys#reverse harem#saja boys smut#Bound to Them
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Pls not Baby with “Hyung scoot.” He really said to move over LMFAO😭💀
LMAOOO right?? 😭💀 “Hyung, scoot.” Like sir??? Zero shame. Full maknae audacity. Just sliding in like he owns the place, stealing space like he pays rent. Iconic, honestly. He saw his opening and took it, and I deeply respect that kind of chaos.
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itsss mee again eagle anonn
Hii! I hope my fav author is doing good ♡(´。・ω・。`) I just can't wrap my head around your works it's really great. I love them so soo much, i can't stop re-reading them lol, anyways this might be random but at my country tomorrow is monday and yeah school and stuff, i didn't do my homework. Asideee from that, I have been doing well and I was really looking forward of yours works lately but no pressure!! \(´ ∇`)ノ
I hope you're doing good too! And again, breaks are necessary for the healthhh so please take care (。•́︿•̀。)
🦅 eagle anon is outtt
Hi my favorite anon!! 🦅 I’m so sorry for the late reply. You have no idea how much your message made me smile. Seriously, thank you for always dropping by with the sweetest energy (even if you’re dodging homework 😌 we’ve all been there).
I am doing okay, just taking things day by day and making sure the next chapter lives up to the chaos 😈 Please keep taking care of yourself too, okay? Eat something, get a lil rest when you can, and know that I’m cheering you on from here—school might be a pain, but you’ve got this!
Sending you love, good luck on the homework (if it ever got done 😅), and more stories soon! 🫶
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HOLY MF SHITTTT
the dichotomy between Baby and Romance and their methods of claiming had me absolutely blushing. I fucking adore this series, the characterizations, everything. Wow
Favorite line that had me sitting up and actually yell out loud was when Baby said he was going to fuck like he didn’t (love you). Like that soft moment right before was soooo important to me. My rough soft boy. Thanks for writing!!! You’re insanely talented and I eat it up
OKAY LISTEN!! your comment has me giggling, kicking my feet, and fanning myself like a Victorian maiden 😭😭
The dichotomy between Baby and Romance?? My Roman Empire. Baby saying he was gonna fuck like he didn’t love her and then proceeding to do exactly that but with his whole soul??? That’s our emotionally repressed menace in love meanwhile Romance is over here making eye contact like a villain and whispering sweet filth like it’s poetry. I adore them.
Truly, thank YOU for noticing those layers and screaming about them with me. I poured so much into their differences and how they each show love in their own way. I’m not normal about them and clearly—neither are you. Which means you have taste 💅💋 Now go lie down. Baby would 1000% make you drink water and take a nap after that chapter 😵💫💕
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good fucking lord your bound to them series is unmatched thank you for feeding my saja boys obsession 🙌 idk what kind of sorecery you’re using to make each chapter better than the last but please never stop queen 👑🫰
STOPPP 😭😭 not me blushing like the reader when they’re caught between Abby and Romance omg— Honestly?? I think it’s just caffeine, delusion, and being spiritually handcuffed to five dangerously hot demon men who refuse to let me rest. Like I try to sleep and they’re whispering “write the scene where we ruin her slowly” in my ear??
But fr, thank you!!! Comments like this keep me going when my brain’s melting from edits. I swear the Saja Boys have some kind of chokehold spell on all of us and I'm just out here translating their chaos one chapter at a time. I’m not stopping anytime soon so buckle up babes—it's only getting worse from here 😈💜
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