Sooooo...you guys might start seeing different content from me soon 👀
Lately I’ve been really interested in Love and Deepspace even though I don’t fully know the lore and I don’t actually play the game. But the characters already have me so attached that I might end up giving it a try soon✨
So if random posts/reblogs/content about them start appearing…no they didn’t kidnap me. Probably.
The city was quiet at this hour — the kind of quiet that pressed against your ears and made your heartbeat sound too loud. His breath misted with every exhale, curling upward and dissolving into the dark. His boots struck the pavement in a steady rhythm, but his thoughts were anything but steady.
Rumi was half demon.
And worse — she was a hunter.
The air split open without a sound.
One second he was standing on wet asphalt. The next, the world folded like molten glass around him — heat surging up from nowhere, reality bending at its seams — and then he was somewhere else entirely.
Underground.
The earth trembled beneath him. Walls of black stone rose on every side, threaded with glowing veins of magma. At the chamber's heart burned a mass of fire with no shape and no face — only a voice that came from somewhere deeper than sound, deeper than bone.
Gwi-ma.
His presence wasn't something you saw. It was something you felt — a scorching pressure that settled over your soul like a hand pressing down.
"One of the Hunters bears my mark," the demon said, each word a low tremor through the floor. "But she is beyond my reach."
The flames pulsed. Something almost like amusement moved through the heat.
"The other one, though…" A pause, deliberate and burning. "I can reach her through the mind. She hears me. She feels me. My voice has been living in her head for years now — and she doesn't even know whose it is."
Jinu went still.
"She may be caged now." The inferno rose higher, devouring the last of the shadows. "But if she stands beside us — beside you — humans will fall far more easily."
The vision came before Jinu could brace for it.
It poured into his mind like scalding water — uninvited, consuming, impossible to look away from.
And then—
He saw you.
You were curled in the corner of a stone chamber, arms wrapped tight around your knees like they were the only thing keeping you from coming apart. Your hair fell loose and tangled around your face. A thick iron collar circled your throat, chained to the floor with a single heavy link that clinked softly whenever you shifted — like even the smallest movements were something you'd learned to make carefully. Your chest rose and fell too fast. Your body trembled with something that wasn't quite fear and wasn't quite exhaustion. Something older than both.
You weren't crying.
You weren't begging.
You were simply enduring. The way someone does when they've forgotten that anything else is possible.
The moment Jinu's eyes locked onto you, something inside him moved.
It wasn't a thought. It wasn't a choice. It was older than either — something primal and tectonic shifting in the deepest part of him, in the place where instinct lived quiet and patient, waiting for exactly this.
Her.
His claws were out before he realized it. He felt them scrape against his own thigh, felt his scent shift without permission — hot and sharp and flooded with dominance, a territorial flare his body released entirely on its own. He tried to breathe through it. Failed. The air had grown too thick, his lungs too full of something that wasn't oxygen.
And then — the sound.
Low. Guttural. Involuntary.
A purr rose in his chest, deep and primal and meant for exactly one kind of person. A bonded Omega. His Omega.
He swallowed it down with a harsh clench of his jaw, nails biting into his palms hard enough to sting. His inner Alpha didn't quiet — it roared — but he held it. Barely.
The vision shifted closer. Your head turned, just slightly, catching the light. Dry lips parted. Lashes low. Expression dazed and worn and so devastatingly vulnerable that something in Jinu's chest cracked down the middle.
"Find her," Gwi-ma whispered, the voice dissolving back into flame. "See what she becomes — when she is no longer bound."
The vision shattered.
Jinu stood alone in the dark, breathing like he'd been running.
And he already knew — before he'd taken a single step — that he would find you.
Even if he had to take the world apart to do it.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
The penthouse smelled like cedar, sweat, and restless energy.
Training had ended an hour ago, but none of them had really settled. They moved through the space like wolves with nowhere to pace — shirts damp at the collar, muscles still humming from exertion, that particular edginess that came when instinct sensed something was wrong before the mind caught up.
Jinu stood at the window.
His arms were crossed. His eyes were fixed on nothing. The city below blazed with light, but he wasn't seeing any of it.
Abby noticed first.
He always did — that was the thing about him. Abby wore his perceptiveness lightly, tucked behind an easy smirk and the habit of saying whatever was on his mind before anyone else had fully formed the thought. He was the one who broke silences. Not because he was careless, but because he'd learned long ago that most silences were just truths waiting for permission.
"You gonna say it," Abby said, dragging a towel across the back of his neck, "or are you planning to become part of the furniture?"
Across the room, Romance looked up from where he was sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. He didn't move — Romance rarely moved unless he had to — but his attention sharpened, subtle and immediate. He had a way of making you feel observed without looking directly at you. Like he was always reading three sentences ahead.
"Something's been crawling under your skin since last night," Romance said. His voice was low and unhurried, the kind of voice that made you want to keep talking just to fill the space it left. "What did you see?"
Mystery said nothing.
He was leaning against the far wall with his arms folded and his eyes half-closed, the way he did when he was paying closest attention. Mystery was the quietest of them — not cold, just careful. He chose his words the way other people chose weapons: slowly, deliberately, and only when necessary. When he finally spoke, people listened, because he never wasted the breath.
Baby was upside-down on the loveseat, legs thrown over the backrest, dark hair falling away from his face. He blinked at the ceiling with the particular patience of someone who had learned to wait. He was the youngest and carried it the least — Baby had a kind of warm, unhurried steadiness that made people want to lean on him, and he always let them.
Jinu turned from the window.
"There's another demon."
The room stilled.
"Another hunter?" Romance asked, sitting up.
"Not exactly." Jinu's jaw worked. A flicker of gold moved through his irises, there and gone. "She's not a hunter. But she's blood-related to one."
Baby dropped his legs to the floor and sat upright. "To Rumi?"
"She has a sister," Jinu confirmed. "Half-demon. Half-human."
Abby stood slowly from where he'd been crouched by the fireplace. His voice was clipped — not cold, but controlled, the way it got when something was already making him angry and he hadn't decided yet what to do about it. "Why haven't we heard of her before?"
"Because she's been hidden." Something fractured in Jinu's voice — small but audible. "Locked away."
"By who?" Romance asked.
"Celine."
The name landed in the silence like a stone.
Abby took a step forward. "Their aunt."
"She was just a child when it started." Jinu's voice was gravel now, every word costing something. "Celine couldn't control her powers — couldn't purify them the way she purified Rumi's. So she made a different choice. She locked her away. Bound her in a collar with suppressants. Burned runes into her skin. And she's been down there ever since — underground, hidden, completely alone."
"What the fuck," Baby said quietly.
It wasn't loud. Baby rarely raised his voice. But there was something in it that settled over the room like weight.
Mystery's eyes opened fully for the first time. "And Rumi?"
"Doesn't know," Jinu said. "Celine told her the girl didn't survive the ritual. Said she was born too tainted to save. Rumi thinks she's been dead for years."
Abby's hands closed into fists at his sides.
"She's been buried alive," he said. Not a question. "Isolated. Shackled. While we've been up here."
"She has no bond," Jinu said, voice dropping. "No one to regulate her instincts. No one to soothe her when the suppressants make it worse. And she's starting to feel us, even through all of it — I saw it. I saw the way her body reacted. She doesn't understand what's happening to her. She doesn't have the language for it. But she feels us. Feels me"
The silence that followed was not the absence of sound. It was five Alphas sitting very still, processing something that had made all of them furious in five completely different ways.
"How do you know all of this?" Romance asked carefully.
"Gwi-ma showed her to me." Jinu held his gaze. "A vision."
Mystery's voice came quiet from the wall. "What did you feel, Jinu?"
Jinu looked away.
That was answer enough.
Abby crossed the room. He stopped in front of Jinu — close, deliberate — and searched his face.
"You felt her," he said. Low. Certain.
"The second I saw her." Jinu's voice was barely above a breath. "It was like my Alpha had been standing in the dark his whole life, and someone finally turned the light on." He exhaled. "My claws came out before I could stop them. My body wanted to— I wanted to go to her. To take every chain off and carry her somewhere no one would ever touch her again."
Abby held his gaze for a long moment.
Then he reached for his jacket from the back of the chair.
"South of Seoul," Jinu said, already anticipating the question. "A cathedral. Repurposed as a containment site — not on any map anymore. Celine calls it a purification facility."
"It's a prison," Abby said flatly.
"Yes."
"Then we're going." He pulled his jacket on with the quiet finality of someone who has already decided and is simply letting the rest of the world catch up. "Now."
"And Rumi?" Mystery asked.
"She's not the enemy. She's a victim of the same person who hurt her sister." Jinu's eyes darkened. "When the truth comes out—"
"She'll break," Romance said softly.
"We all might," Jinu replied. "If we don't reach her in time."
No one moved for a breath.
Then Baby stood, unhurried but absolute. "Then let's not waste any more time talking."
Jinu was already at the door.
"We bring her home," he said. "Whatever that takes."
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
The cathedral loomed through the fog like something the city had tried to forget.
Its stone walls bled ivy. Its windows had long gone dark. The iron gate at its threshold stood open, which should have been a warning — but warnings had stopped mattering the moment Jinu and Abby descended the first stair.
Because below them, something was pulling.
Not a sound. Not a scent — not yet. Something older than both. Something that moved in the blood and the marrow, in the deep architecture of an Alpha's instinct.
Her.
Every step down pulled tighter. The bond — not yet sealed, not yet complete, but alive, undeniably alive — drew taut between them and whatever waited at the bottom of the dark, like a thread being slowly wound.
And then the door at the bottom of the stairs gave way.
And they saw you.
You were curled in the far corner of the chamber, folded in on yourself, your frame trembling in the pale, sickly light of suppression runes that bathed the stone in a cold and sterile glow. The iron collar was worse in person than it had been in the vision — thick and graceless and absolutely wrong against your throat. The single chain attached to it lay coiled on the stone beside you, and every tiny movement you made sent a soft, awful clink of metal through the silence.
You were whimpering.
Small sounds. Broken sounds. Like you were trying not to make them and losing.
Abby made a sound of his own — low and wrecked — before he even knew it had left him.
"Jinu," he said, and his voice had come apart somewhere in the middle of the word. "Is that her?"
Jinu couldn't answer.
He was already at the bars.
Even like this — sweat-damp skin, hair wild, lip bitten raw — you were the most devastating thing he had ever laid eyes on. Something ancient in him recognized you immediately. Not your face, not your name — you. The thing beneath the skin. The soul the bond had been quietly reaching toward his entire life without his knowledge.
His eyes went gold.
His claws came out with a slow metallic whisper.
Demon marks bloomed under his skin in lines of flame-kissed ink, climbing his throat, his jaw, the inside of his arms — his body declaring what his voice hadn't said yet.
Mine.
You shifted slightly on the stone floor.
The runes flared.
Magic lashed across your body like a whip — sharp, instant, merciless — and you cried out, your frame arching and then collapsing, folding back into itself like a puppet whose strings had been cut all at once.
"Don't move," Jinu said, and his voice was half-command and half-desperation, pitched low through the bars. "Angel, please — it's punishing you when you move. Stay still. Stay still for me."
Your head turned. Just barely. Just enough.
You had heard him.
"Alpha…" The word came out barely above a breath — worn thin, uncertain, like you weren't sure if you were allowed to say it.
The sound of it hit them both like a physical force.
Abby sank to his knees beside Jinu before he'd made the decision to, his hands pressing through the bars, reaching for you even though the distance was still too great. His eyes burned gold. His chest ached.
"We're here," he said, voice thick and reverent. "Little omega. We're right here. We've got you now."
You blinked. Your eyes opened for just a moment — glassy and lost and searching — and the bond lurched inside both of them. Your body moved instinctively toward the warmth you could feel even through iron and stone, your knees dragging you forward by centimeters.
The collar flared.
The runes struck.
You convulsed and collapsed again, the cry that tore from your throat small and helpless, and Jinu pressed his forehead against the bars with a sound that was barely human.
"No—" His voice broke. "Don't fight it, angel. Please. You don't have to come to us. We're coming to you. We're going to tear every piece of this place apart if we have to. You just have to hold on."
"It hurts," you whispered. Your cheek was against the cold stone. Your breath came in shallow, ragged pulls. "I don't — I can't—"
"I know," Abby said. Fiercely. Gently. Both at once — that specific contradiction that was entirely him. "I know it hurts. You've held on for so long, sweetheart. A little longer. Just one more breath. Can you do that for me?"
You gave the smallest nod imaginable.
"That's it." His voice softened further, dropping into something low and warm. "Good girl. Just like that."
Jinu's hands moved over the bars, eyes scanning the glowing runes, his Alpha scent beginning to shift. Not the sharp, dominant flare of before — this was something else. Warmer. Steadier. It rolled out from him like heat from a hearth, filling the cold chamber in slow, deliberate waves.
Soothing.
Not a scent that commanded. A scent that said safe. safe. safe.
You felt it reach you even through the bars. Something in your chest unclenched. Your pulse, which had been hammering at your throat, began to slow — pulled down by the weight of it, by the warmth, by the low rumble vibrating from his chest that was barely audible but felt everywhere.
“That’s it…” Jinu murmured. His voice had changed — softer now, deeper, the Alpha purr threaded underneath every syllable. "Just breathe, sweet girl. Good omega. You don't have to do anything else. Let us take care of everything else. We've got it. All of it."
Your exhale shuddered out of you.
And then — so quietly, like a confession you'd been holding for years — you said:
"I dreamed about you."
The chamber went still.
"I didn't know who you were," you continued, your voice trembling but pressing forward, like the words needed to come out before you lost the courage. "But there were voices. Warmth. Smells I couldn't explain. Things that made my whole chest ache for something I couldn't name. I thought — I was sure I was going insane."
Jinu pressed his forehead against the bars, eyes closed, jaw tight.
"You weren't going insane," he said. "You were waiting. We were all waiting — we just didn't know what for." He opened his eyes and looked at you through the iron. "It was us. It's always been us."
A tear slipped down your cheek, hot and silent.
"I didn't know it would hurt like this," you whispered.
Abby's hand reached as far through the bars as it could. Not far enough — but he kept it there. An offering. A promise.
"It won't anymore," he said. "We swear it."
Then the seal shattered.
Abby had been working at it in silence, his eyes tracing the rune lines while Jinu held you at the edge of consciousness — and now his claws found the fault point in the enchanted steel, and he pulled, his demon marks blazing up his arms in rivers of light, his body a wall of concentrated Alpha fury that had exactly one target.
The bars screamed.
The runes shrieked and burst into sparks.
And then the cage came apart all at once — twisted steel scattering, the cold magic that had lived inside those walls shattering outward like glass — and the air rushed in to fill the place it had held.
It hit your skin like knives.
Raw. Unfiltered. Real.
Your lungs jolted. A broken sob tore out of you that tasted like blood and something almost like relief. You hadn't realized you'd stopped breathing properly until you'd started again.
Jinu was on his knees in front of you before the last echo had died.
His hands found your face — both palms, cupped with a gentleness so absolute that it didn't match the gold burning in his eyes or the marks still glowing along his jaw. His chest rumbled with a purr so deep it entered your bones before your ears registered it.
"Shh," he whispered, and the word alone was warm. "You're safe. You're safe, baby. We're here. Your alphas are here. We've got you — we've got you — we're not letting go."
"Alpha," you breathed.
Your hands lifted toward him — barely, trembling — and he caught them both before they'd traveled an inch, folding them carefully between his own.
"I know," he murmured, pressing your knuckles to his lips. "I know."
Abby was already there, crouched at your side, one hand settling against your ankle — warm, broad, his thumb moving in slow circles over the bone like he needed the contact as badly as you did. His purr joined Jinu's, lower and rougher and fiercely protective, the two sounds layering into something that wrapped around you like a physical thing.
"You're ours now," Abby said softly. Simply. The way you'd state something that had always been true. "No one is going to touch you again. Not while we're breathing."
You leaned into them.
You hadn't meant to. Your body made the decision entirely on its own — the instinct that had been straining against its chains for years finally allowed to move — and you folded into the warmth of them like you'd been doing it forever.
A noise came from behind you.
Both alphas stilled.
A man descended the stairs with his collar unbuttoned and his hands in his pockets, wearing his arrogance like a second skin. His eyes moved over the broken bars, over the two glowing-eyed Alphas crouched over you, and then landed on your face with the kind of look that made Jinu's vision go white at the edges.
"Well," he said, mouth curving. "Isn't this something."
“You’re trespassing,” he said, arms crossed as his gaze dipped toward your chained body. “She’s locked up for a reason, you know. Half-breed trash like her? Better in chains.”
Jinu didn’t blink.
Abby rose.
Slow. Measured. The particular calm of something very large that has chosen, for the moment, not to move.
"Watch your mouth," he said. Quiet as a blade being drawn.
The man scoffed. "She's pretty, I'll give you that. Shame about the rest."
The world stopped.
Even you went still.
"Abby," Jinu said, voice utterly calm in the way that should have frightened everyone in the room. His eyes didn't leave the man. "Cover her eyes."
"With pleasure."
Abby was behind you before the word had finished leaving Jinu's lips — his warmth flooding your back like a wall, one broad hand sliding gently over your eyes, blocking out the room. His other arm wrapped around you, pulling you back into his chest, and you went without resistance, your body recognizing the shelter before your mind could form the thought.
"You don't need to see this," Abby murmured against your hair. "I've got you."
His nose dragged slowly along your temple. Down to your cheek. Down to the line of your jaw, reverent and unhurried, breathing you in with the careful deliberateness of someone discovering something they intend to spend a very long time with.
His breath caught.
"You smell like home," he breathed, barely audible, voice wrecked at the edges. "Smell so good omega...so soft… so sweet... fuck."
A purr rose in your throat entirely without your permission. Small and shy and instinctive, curling outward toward the warmth of him.
Abby's head dropped to your shoulder. The sound that came out of him was low and undone.
"There she is," he whispered. He held you tighter. Not crushing — precise. Like he'd already calculated exactly how much pressure made you feel safe versus overwhelmed. "So good. You're so good, little omega. Just like that."
You sagged back into his arms, the bond between you thrumming so loud it drowned out the world. Abby’s voice was the only thing you heard now, soft and low, his purr a constant lull in your ears.
“Just listen to me,” he whispered again, reverent. “Only me. You’re safe. We’ve got you. No one will ever touch what’s ours again.”
Behind you, Jinu stood.
He rose in one slow, terrifying motion, shoulders squared, fangs bared. His demon marks glowed brighter, licking up his throat, his jaw, the edges of his golden eyes, now slit like a predator's.
“Say that again,” he growled, his voice the sound of death. Cold. Final.
The man blinked. His smirk wavered.
“I said—” He didn’t finish.
One blink.
That was all.
And then Jinu was no longer standing across the room.
He had the man pinned to the far wall with a sickening crack, claws wrapped around his throat like iron. Fangs bared. His expression didn’t change. It was cold. Controlled. Deadly.
"You looked at her like she was an object," he said, and each word was its own sentence, "like she was beneath you."
The man kicked. Grabbed at Jinu's wrist.
Jinu's expression didn't change.
"She belongs to us." His grip tightened. "She carries our scent. She has our bond living inside her and she doesn't even know it yet. And you — you spoke her name like she was nothing."
The air thickened with magic—burning, suffocating. The stones behind the man’s head cracked again from the pressure of Jinu’s grip.
“You’re not even worth the energy it would take to rip you apart.”
The man choked, gurgling. “Y-you can’t—”
“Try me.”
Jinu’s claws clenched. There was another sickening crack and the man’s head snapped back with a brutal crunch. The sound echoed.
“You think I won’t end you?” Jinu’s voice turned feral. “Think I won’t devour the soul of a filthy little insect who dared to speak her name like that?”
A sound left Jinu's chest that wasn't human anymore.
"I'm going to enjoy this," he said quietly.
The soul-pull came without theatrics. One moment the man was fighting. The next, the fight left him entirely — drawn out of him like smoke — and his body crumpled to the stone floor, empty and silent.
Jinu turned.
And the second his eyes found you — still held in Abby's arms, your face tucked against his chest — every line of him softened.
“Mine,” he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.
Abby eased his hand from your eyes, his palm now stroking your cheek, murmuring soft nothings while his other hand stayed curled around you, anchoring you to the present.
“You did so well,” Abby whispered, breath fanning over your temple. “Held on for us like a good girl.”
Jinu crossed back to you and crouched low, reaching for the collar.
His claws found the lock.
"This," he said, jaw tight, "does not belong on you."
He twisted his wrist.
The collar shattered.
It hit the floor in pieces.
And then—
Your scent.
Your real scent. Unbound. Unfiltered. Freed for the first time in years from every layer of suppression they'd buried it beneath.
It flooded the chamber like something had been uncorked.
Both men stilled, their chests heaving as the fragrance of your scent flooded the air. It was warm, rich, and so devastatingly addictive their bodies reacted before their minds caught up.
“Fuck,” Abby choked, a guttural groan pouring from his throat. His arms wrapped around you from behind, possessive and desperate, and his face buried in your neck like he needed to drown in you. “That’s you? That’s what you’ve been hiding from us, little omega?”
Jinu’s lips parted as he leaned in, eyes wide and dazed. He inhaled deeply, his tongue flicking out to taste the air near your throat. “Sweet... gods, you’re so fucking sweet.”
Your body arched between them without meaning to, overwhelmed, the bond singing so loud inside you that your own heartbeat seemed secondary to it.
And from your chest — deep and involuntary and meant entirely for them — the purr rose again.
Stronger this time. Steady. Theirs.
They came apart quietly and completely.
Abby's arms wound tighter around you. Jinu pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, chest heaving, his own purr vibrating against your skin in answer. The sounds layered and wound together — yours soft and melodic, theirs deep and primal and protective — and the knot of pain that had lived in your chest for years began, slowly, to loosen.
Abby and Jinu kept you close, their bodies radiating warmth, their hands gentle as they checked your wrists, your legs, your scent.
"She's okay," Abby said eventually. Softly. Like he needed to hear it aloud. He brushed your hair back from your face, studying you with glowing eyes. "She's safe now."
He lifted you like you weighed nothing.
One arm beneath your knees, the other at your back, pulling you up against his chest in a single fluid motion. You went with it completely, nose finding the warm curve of his neck on instinct, breathing in the scent of him — cedar and heat and something darker underneath that made your whole body feel heavy and safe and right.
"You like that?" he murmured, lips curving, even as his grip on you tightened.
You made a small sound against his shoulder.
He kissed your temple. Slow. Like he had nowhere else to be and nothing more important to do.
He carried you through the hall like you were the only thing in it worth protecting. His steps were unhurried, his body relaxed but the hand at your back never shifted, and his jaw stayed set, and anyone who had looked at him closely would have understood immediately that casual was not the same as unguarded.
For the rest of the world, he was immovable.
For you, he was warm.
Jinu walked beside you both, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed Abby's, one hand drifting to rest against your lower back in a touch that was quiet and constant and said I'm here without a single word. His eyes swept the corridor ahead of you with the careful attention of someone who has already decided that nothing will touch what matters and is simply verifying.
"She's still purring," he said quietly, and his voice had that wrecked, reverent quality again.
"Of course she is," Abby replied. He pressed another kiss to your hair. "She knows she's safe."
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────
The inside of the car was warm and dark and smelled entirely of them.
Abby settled into the backseat with you still in his arms, tucking you against his chest without any particular discussion about it, like the arrangement was obvious. Your cheek found the plane of his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady beneath it. You matched your breathing to it without deciding to.
Jinu climbed in beside you.
His thigh pressed against yours. His hand found your knee. And then — slowly, carefully — it began to move, tracing patterns against your skin with a tenderness so quiet it barely felt like touching. Just warmth. Just their presence.
Checking you. Making sure you were whole.
You turned toward him slightly, and he noticed immediately, his thumb pausing, his eyes lifting to your face with a softness in them that he probably didn't know was visible.
"Sleep," he said gently.
"I don't want to," you murmured.
"I know." His hand moved again, slow and soothing. "Do it anyway. We'll be here when you wake up."
Your eyes grew heavy.
Abby's chest rose and fell in that slow, oceanic rhythm beneath your cheek. Jinu's warmth pressed against your side. Their purrs were low and constant, threaded through the hum of the road, through the dark, through everything — a sound that your body recognized the way it recognized warmth and breath and the feeling of ground beneath your feet.
Safe.
Safe. Safe. Safe.
You slept.
"She's so trusting," Jinu said quietly, watching your face in the passing light. His knuckles grazed your cheek once — barely. "It makes something in me come completely undone."
Abby's lips pressed to the crown of your head and stayed there for a moment. "She's going to have five Alphas who would level entire cities for her," he murmured. "And she doesn't even know it yet."
Jinu reached into his jacket and unlocked his phone with one hand, his eyes never fully leaving your face.
He opened the group chat.
Jinu: We found her.
The replies came in within seconds.
Mystery: WHERE
Romance: Is she okay?
Baby: Do I need to destroy something
Jinu looked at your sleeping face for a long moment.
Then he typed:
Jinu: She's safe. We're bringing her home.
He locked the screen and put the phone away.
His hand returned to your knee. His thumb resumed its slow, quiet path.
Outside the window, the city moved past in streaks of light.
Inside the car, there was only the hum of the engine, the warmth of two bodies bracketing yours, and the low, steady sound of alphas at rest.
"You have no idea what's waiting for you," Jinu murmured, almost to himself, watching your face in the dark. "How many hands are going to reach for you. How many of us have already decided, without meeting you yet, that there isn't anything we wouldn't do."
Abby's arm tightened around you. He said nothing. He didn't need to.
You slept on, unknowing and soft, curled into them like you'd been doing it forever.
And both of them — without looking at each other, without saying a word — made the same silent promise to the same sleeping face.
Never again.
Not the cage. Not the silence or the dark or the years of being alone without knowing why you ached.
Never again.
You were found.
And they would spend every day after this making sure you knew it.
I went back and fixed parts that I wasn’t fully happy with, added details, improved scenes, and polished the overall flow. If you’ve already read it before, I highly recommend checking it out again 👀💜
But instead of posting a new chapter right away, I’ve decided to go back and edit/rewrite parts of the story because I’m honestly not satisfied with how some of it turned out. I want the story to feel the way I originally envisioned it, and I’d rather take my time fixing it than rush out updates I’m not proud of.
Thank you for being patient with me and still sticking around. I promise it’ll be worth it ✨
You wake up to the wet heat of your own tears, your breath stuttering in sharp, broken pulls. The phantom burn of invisible fingers still lingered on your throat, as if the demon’s hands had followed you into waking.
It wasn’t just a dream — you remembered the way your vision had tunneled, the helpless weight in your limbs, the cold that had swallowed you whole.
Your pulse thrummed in panic, your chest tight.
You sat up quickly, scanning the room, needing the sight of them — their warmth, their presence, their voices — to prove you were safe. But the living room was empty. Silent. The hum of the air felt too loud, too hollow.
No footsteps. No laughter. No familiar shadows moving in the periphery.
Your heart clenched, sharp and unrelenting.
They promised.
They swore they’d never leave you alone.
“...No,” you whispered, the word trembling out of you as you swung your legs over the couch, stumbling toward the door. “No, no, no…” The panic crawled up your spine until it was a full-body ache, until your hands shook and your throat burned. “You promised!”
It must have torn through the bond like a flare in the dark, because the air shifted in an instant — charged, electric, trembling with their power. Then, in a rush of heat and shadow, they were there.
“Angel—” Abby’s voice was already breaking as he caught you before you could retreat, strong arms wrapping around you like he’d never let go.
But you shoved at him weakly, tears streaming hot down your face. “You left me!” Your voice cracked into a sob. “You promised you’d stay, and you—” Another sob swallowed your words. “I woke up and you weren’t here and I thought—”
Mystery stepped forward, his jaw tight, eyes burning with a dangerous glow as if he wanted to destroy whatever had dared to put that terror in you. His voice was rough, almost feral. “We were just—”
“I don’t care!” you cut him off, your voice trembling with raw hurt. “You weren’t here. I needed you.” Your fists twisted into the fabric of Abby’s shirt, torn between clinging and pushing him away, your desperation dragging a growl from his chest.
Romance’s hand slid into your hair, tender in a way that felt almost unbearable against the sharp edge of panic. He bent close, his breath brushing your ear, his words threaded with both plea and vow. “We were only preparing something for you, sweetheart. We didn’t leave you. Not truly. Not for a second in here—” he pressed his palm against his chest, the heat of him bleeding into your skin “—you never leave.”
Your breathing began to slow, but the panic still clung stubbornly. Something itched at the back of your mind, refusing to release you. You blinked, searching the room, counting them. One by one. And froze.
“Where’s Jinu?”
Silence.
Your voice rose. “Where is he?”
They exchanged sharp looks above your head, a silent conversation moving too fast for you to catch. You didn’t see the way Abby’s hold on you tightened until your ribs ached, or the way Mystery’s hand slipped into his pocket, fingers flying across his phone.
Your cries were raw, jagged things—like they were being ripped straight from somewhere deep and unhealed inside you. The boys’ arms tightened around you, bodies pressing in close in an unspoken agreement to keep you caged in their warmth, but no amount of closeness seemed to slow the trembling in your chest. The empty space where Jinu should be gnawed at you like a missing piece of yourself.
Romance pressed a kiss to your damp temple, murmuring, “Breathe for me, love. He’s close.” His voice was meant to soothe, but the tension in it betrayed him.
“He’s supposed to be here!” your cry tore from you, raw, jagged. “All of you—you promised me—”
Baby’s arms circled your waist from behind, locking you between him and Abby, his whisper a trembling vow against your neck. “Don’t doubt him. Don’t doubt us. He wouldn’t leave you if his soul depended on it. None of us would. You belong to us, angel, and we won’t survive a single breath without you.”
Abby’s forehead pressed to yours, his voice cracked open with desperation. “Punish me if you want, princess. Hate me. But don’t think—don’t you dare think—we’d ever walk away. You’re everything. You’re it. If Jinu isn’t in this room, it’s because he’s fighting the universe itself to make sure nothing can touch you again.”
The living room was heavy with the sound—your sobs, their uneven breathing, the faint creak of fabric as they shifted to hold you tighter.
And as if summoned by the panic screaming through the bond, the air shifted. A sudden rush of energy, a familiar thrum, and Jinu appeared in the room.
He stood at the center of the room, eyes locking onto you in an instant. Whatever emotion had driven him until now shattered into something raw, almost sick with worry at the sight of you—crumpled in their arms, trembling, wet with tears. His chest rose with a sharp inhale, and then he moved, crossing the space in a blur.
You turned toward him, and for one suspended heartbeat the room felt too small for everything burning there. But the moment his figure registered, your cries broke harder, rawer, and you buried your face against the nearest chest, clinging so fiercely it made the boy holding you grunt.
“baby—” Jinu’s voice cracked, hoarse and desperate. “Look at me.”
But you shook your head, pushing against him when his hand brushed your shoulder. “No,” you gasped between sobs. “You—you weren’t here. You promised. You promised me…”
“I didn’t leave you,” he said quickly, too quickly, the words tripping over each other in his urgency. “I never left you. Not for a second.” But you only shook your head harder, clutching at Mystery’s shirt as if Jinu’s presence meant one of the others might disappear.
The betrayal wasn’t rational, but it was real, bleeding into every tremor of your body. You turned into the others’ arms, burying yourself deeper in their hold.
The boys said nothing, though you could feel their conflict thrumming through the bond—protective of you, unwilling to loosen their arms, yet tasting Jinu’s pain like it was their own. Their bond tied them together, but right now, your trembling form in their embrace felt like something sacred, something they guarded even from him.
Jinu’s hands hovered uselessly at his sides, his jaw working like he was swallowing words he didn’t know how to say. And then, like he remembered something, he reached into his pocket.
When his hand emerged, silver caught the dim light—a delicate chain sliding over his knuckles, the small bell charm swaying as if even it was nervous to meet your gaze.
“I…” His voice cracked as he crouched to your level, bringing himself eye to eye despite the fortress of bodies still caging you. “I was getting something for you.”
You stared at it through wet lashes, your breathing still uneven.
“Please,” he murmured, crouching so he could be eye level with you despite the others still holding you. “I can’t stand watching you feel like this, thinking I’d ever leave you. None of us are leaving. Ever.” His voice faltered on the last word, but his eyes never left yours.
The fight in your chest was still there, but the sharpness of it dulled under the weight of his voice.
Slowly, the boys eased their grip just enough for Jinu to reach forward. His fingers brushed your cheek first, tentative, the pads of them warm against the cool track of a tear.
He didn’t rush it—just traced your skin, as though reacquainting himself with every curve and line, before he leaned in to press his lips there.
When he moved behind you, the chain whispering in his hand, you felt his breath along your neck—steady, deliberate, grounding. His fingers ghosted over the dark bruise marring your skin, and the gentleness of it nearly undid you.
“Never again,” he breathed against your ear, voice rough with both promise and threat. “As long as I breathe, no one touches you.”
The clasp clicked, and the cool silver settled against your collarbone. The bell charm lay perfectly above the bruise, as though guarding it. His hands lingered there, thumbs stroking over your pulse, feeling it steady beneath his touch.
Then came his mouth—at your temple, along your jaw, each kiss a wordless vow. “Mine,” he whispered finally, not as a demand but as a truth that every one of them in the room silently echoed.
The others pressed in closer at the word, their eyes fixed on you, then on him. Something passed between them—silent, electric, a vow forged without words. Protect her. Protect you. Always.
Romance’s hand slid around your waist, his grip warm and claiming. Abby’s palm brushed the top of your head, steadying, protective. Baby’s thumb traced your knuckles where your hands trembled, a silent tether. Mystery’s gaze burned through the shadows, sharp as a blade, daring the world to even try reaching for you again.
Surrounded, held, and anchored by all of them, you let out a shaky breath. The panic still lingered at the edges, but the weight of the necklace, the strength of their bodies around you, and the unyielding heat in Jinu’s voice made it impossible to believe they’d ever let you slip away again.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
Ever since the attack, the boys had kept you within arm’s reach—sometimes literally. You hadn’t gone a single day without at least one of them draping themselves over you like a living shield, their touch both grounding and consuming.
They’d refused to let you return to your duties as their manager for now, which might have been infuriating if the alternative wasn’t being carried, spoiled, and kissed at every turn. Their possessiveness had sharpened into something dangerous—cold, warning stares at anyone who lingered near you for even a breath too long—but in private, that feral edge unraveled into sweetness they gave only you.
It was a tenderness so consuming, so exclusive, that you sometimes wondered if you were the only person they remembered how to be gentle with.
The bruise on your neck had become their fixation. A silent reminder of the danger you’d been in—and of the fact that they hadn’t been fast enough to stop it. Each of them had their own way of dealing with it. None of them tolerated the sight of it. None of them tolerated the thought of any mark on you that wasn’t theirs.
Mornings were the worst—or the best, depending on how you looked at it.
You woke up to warmth. Not the gentle kind that comes from sunlight seeping through curtains, but the fierce, enveloping heat of two bodies pressed in around you. The air feels heavier here, thick with the faint, intoxicating scent that only belongs to them. It clings to your skin, fills your lungs, and makes you aware, in every nerve and every breath, of exactly who surrounds you.
Before your mind can fully catch up, you feel them—both of them—already on you.
The first thing you felt was the feather-light touch of someone’s lips brushing over your forehead, your temple, then the curve of your cheek. You stirred, eyes still heavy, and found Abby leaning close, his deep voice a gentle rumble.
“Morning, princess,” he murmured, mouth brushing the corner of your smile like he couldn’t resist tasting you awake.
On your other side, Jinu’s hand rested at your waist, thumb carving slow, possessive circles into the thin barrier of your shirt. He pressed his lips to your cheek, lingering long enough to make your skin tingle, then shifted to trace a line of kisses toward your jaw.
When your sleepy laugh slipped out, his mouth curved against you, but he didn’t stop—each kiss deeper, unhurried, steeped in the quiet intensity of a man who adored you beyond reason.
“Morning, baby,” he whispered, voice gravelled with sleep and restraint. His lips followed his words, scattering devotion along your skin until your pulse skipped beneath him.
You reached up, cupping Abby’s jaw and pulling him down for a slow kiss of your own, then turned back to Jinu. You pressed your lips to his, intending it to be brief, but the way his breath caught made your heart stutter. His mouth claimed yours in return, deepening the kiss with a husky sound in his throat that made warmth curl low in your stomach.
When you finally pulled back, Jinu’s eyes lingered on you, stormy and soft all at once, his thumb brushing at your waist like he couldn’t stop touching you.
“Good morning,” you whispered, your voice carrying the kind of affection you never offered anyone else—just them.
They soaked it in. Abby’s hand rose, brushing carefully just shy of the bruise at your throat, his gaze flickering to it with a dark, dangerous edge that made the air shift. For a heartbeat, the mask of tenderness faltered, and you glimpsed the predator beneath. Beside him, Jinu’s expression softened no more than a fraction, but his eyes carried the same storm, the same vow.
“You should get up now,” Abby coaxed, though his tone held no urgency. It was more command than suggestion, even wrapped in gentleness.
Instead, you burrow deeper between them, sighing. “Five more minutes,” you mumble, voice husky with sleep. “Please?”
Something in the way you said it made them still. You saw the exchange—Abby’s knowing smirk meeting Jinu’s narrowing gaze—and felt the air between you shift.
The room seemed smaller, warmer, as Jinu leaned in, his lips finding the curve of your neck where his mark lay like a promise carved into skin. He trailed slow, deliberate kisses over it, the gentleness of moments ago giving way to something deeper, heavier.
“Five minutes,” he echoed softly, though it sounded more like a warning than a concession. His mouth lingered, drawing heat into your skin, before he began to leave new marks—smaller, darker. The scrape of his teeth sent a shiver racing down your spine.
Abby’s fingers tightened lightly on your hip, grounding you even as your pulse skipped. Jinu cups your neck, tilting your head just enough for him to see the necklace he gave you—the silver chain catching the early light.
His jaw clenches when his gaze snags on the bruise marring your skin, left by the demon’s hand. The sight of it among their claims is an intrusion, an insult.
“No one touches what’s ours.” His voice breaks, low and reverent, trembling with restraint.
You barely noticed Abby shifting down the bed until his hand skimmed your thigh, large and steady, coaxing it to fall open for him. His gaze was deliberate, sweeping over your skin like he was hunting. When he found his own claim—faint but unforgotten on the inside of your thigh—his smirk deepened.
But he didn’t just kiss it. His mouth lingered dangerously close to where you ached for them most, the warm ghost of his breath teasing you until you gave a soft, desperate whine. Your fingers curled into the sheets, your body instinctively leaning into Jinu as though he could ground you.
Jinu’s lips curved against your neck at the sound. He tilted your chin up, and his mouth covered yours in a kiss that began deceptively sweet but burned with possession beneath, pulling you under. When he finally drew back, his teeth caught on the curve of your throat, biting down over his mark, dragging another moan from your lips.
Your thighs closed instinctively around Abby’s shoulders, but he only chuckled—low, vibrating against your skin—his horns faintly glowing as they curved forward, the sharp glint of his true nature pressing close. He brushed another teasing kiss against your thigh, his golden eyes lifting to catch yours. For an instant, they burned with hunger and devotion so intense it was almost frightening.
“You’re not leaving this bed,” he said, voice low and certain, “not until we’re satisfied.”
The words curled around you like a promise and a threat all at once, stealing the air from your lungs.
Jinu’s tail curled around your wrist possessively, holding you in place as his mouth roamed lower, tracing the slope of your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, scattering kisses like vows whispered into your skin. Abby mirrored him, his heat searing into the inside of your thigh, his mouth lingering with a hunger that was both worship and claim.
You let yourself melt into them, your hands moving instinctively—one threading through Jinu’s hair to keep him close, the other brushing against Abby’s jaw as if you could anchor yourself in his heat. You felt all of them, every shift of muscle, every inhale that pulled your scent into their lungs.
Even in the way they kissed, they were different but in sync. Jinu’s mouth was slow, deliberate, coaxing sighs from you with his lingering touches. Abby’s was hotter, bolder, each kiss against your skin a little deeper, a little more claiming. Together, they drowned you in attention so consuming it was impossible to think of anything but them.
When the rhythm of their mouths slowed, you thought for one fragile moment that they might release you. Their lips stilled against your skin, their breath evened, your chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm as the room seemed to pause.
But then Abby’s hand slid with purpose, finding the hem of your shorts. The fabric whispered down your hips before you could react. His voice followed—low, dark, certain.
“We’re not done yet.”
A shiver tore down your spine at the authority in his tone, at the raw certainty that left no room for refusal.
Jinu’s agreement came not in words at first, but in the deep, pleased purr that rumbled against your back. His horns curved closer as he nuzzled lower, his lips grazing over sensitive skin while his hands claimed what he loved most.
His palms molded around your chest, kneading possessively as though he could memorize the weight, the shape, the way you fit perfectly into his hands. His thumbs brushed teasing arcs before his fingers curled in a slow, worshipful squeeze that stole your breath.
“No,” he purred finally, voice dripping with hunger and devotion, his mouth brushing the swell of your chest as if in prayer.
“Not even close.”
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
Your legs still felt unsteady, the memory of the last hour leaving your body deliciously heavy and slow. You’d barely managed to convince Abby and Jinu to let you out of bed, and even then it felt more like a truce than a victory.
It was obvious in the way Jinu’s eyes lingered on you, golden-dark and unreadable, as though silently debating whether to drag you back under the covers. Before you could swing your feet down, he moved—swift, decisive. His arm slipped beneath your knees, the other braced against your back, and you were lifted effortlessly into the air.
The suddenness of it stole your breath, made you clutch his shoulder as your body molded instinctively against him. Heat radiated from him, seeping into your skin until you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart syncing with your own.
“Jinu,” you managed, though it came out weaker than you intended, almost breathless. “I can walk.”
He glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, smug smile. “Why would I let you, when I can carry you like this?” His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was a faint glint in his eyes—one that said he wasn’t just doing it to be helpful.
You were his, and he intended to make sure you knew it with every step.
Jinu’s arms stayed firm around you as he carried you toward the kitchen, his steps unhurried, as if the weight of you was something he’d never want to set down. His tail brushed against your calf, curling there for a fleeting second, as though even his body was unwilling to let you slip from his hold.
You were still warm from their touches, your skin marked in places only they had the right to see, and yet the steady rhythm of his breathing against your ear made you feel oddly safe in the aftermath.
When you entered the kitchen, Romance was waiting. He leaned against the counter like a dark idol, arms folded, his loose tank and low-slung sweats doing nothing to soften the sharp lines of him.
His gaze found you instantly. Once. Then again, slower. The storm behind his eyes flickered with heat before his mouth curved into that slow, wolfish smile that never failed to make your pulse stutter.
A low whistle slid past his lips, sharp and deliberate. “Tsk, tsk… you didn’t leave me any space,” he drawled, his voice velvet over steel. He tipped his chin toward the constellation of bruised blooms scattered across your neck and shoulders.
The faint shimmer of his tail flicking behind him as though restless. “How’s a man supposed to leave his claim when you’ve already been covered head to toe?”
Your cheeks burned, and you tried to look away, but Jinu only smirked, holding you closer like he was proud of every mark.
To them, you didn’t look messy—you looked claimed. Glowing.
Jinu set you down, though his hand stayed at the small of your back. Romance closed the distance with unhurried steps, the warmth rolling off him different from Jinu’s—edged, electric, making the air between you hum.
“Morning sweetheart,” he murmured, tilting your chin with one hand. The greeting was warm, gentle… until his mouth met yours. The kiss was deep that tasted faintly of coffee and something darker—like heat lingering in the back of your throat.
You kissed him back, shy but unable to resist the way he coaxed you deeper, stealing more of your breath. He pulled back just far enough to catch the edge of your top and ease it down, baring the mark—his mark, bold and unyielding, above your breast.
Romance’s expression darkened in satisfaction. His hands cupped you fully, thumbs brushing over your skin while his mouth pressed slow, claiming kisses around the mark. The next landed lower, then higher, then right over the steady pulse beneath your skin.
You bit your lip, trying to hold in the sound that wanted to escape.
That earned you a low, dangerous murmur against your skin. “Don’t you dare hide from me,” he said, the command wrapping around you like silk and steel. “I want to hear you.” His teeth grazed over the mark before he began kissing around it again, his other hand cupping and massaging your other breast with slow, purposeful pressure.
The pull of the bond flared hot and heavy in your chest, leaving you dizzy with need. Almost without thinking, you pushed him closer, your fingers threading into his hair and pressing his face against you.
You didn’t see his eyes roll back, didn’t notice the sharp catch of his breath before it broke into a groan—low, rough, and unrestrained. His lips parted against your skin, dragging open-mouthed kisses across it like he was starved, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. His hands clamped at your waist, strong and desperate, rocking you subtly against him.
From behind, Jinu’s quiet chuckle rumbled in the air. He didn’t move to intervene—he only watched, his gaze sharp and unreadable, letting one of his brothers lose himself completely in you.
Romance lingered far longer than necessary, his mouth branding you with every kiss. When he finally pulled back, it was only to admire what he’d left behind—several flushed hickeys blooming defiantly around his own mark, deliberate and unapologetically territorial. His eyes, molten and languid, slid up to meet yours, his smirk a sinful curl of lips, equal parts satisfied and possessive.
“Perfect,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jaw before stepping back.
Without a word, he turned to the counter, returning moments later with your favorite dish, still steaming.
His fingers—so deft and unhurried—picked up each bite with a quiet reverence, holding it to your lips. “Open for me,” he coaxed, his tone soft but threaded with something that made your pulse trip. The moment your teeth closed over the offering, his gaze followed the movement of your lips like a man entranced.
He waited until you swallowed before offering the next, making a point to wipe the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb, as though even the smallest detail of you deserved his attention.
Jinu sat just across from you, chin resting on his hand, watching like he’d forgotten how to blink. His usual sharp, calculating expression was nowhere to be found—replaced by something devastatingly warm and unguarded.
You caught the faint twitch of a smile tugging at his lips, but he didn’t speak, didn’t tease. He simply let his eyes trace every line of your face, as though committing this exact moment to memory.
Romance wasn’t any better. His lips curved faintly, almost smug, yet his attention was all-consuming. They both looked at you like they were watching something sacred—like every blink, every quiet exhale you made was theirs alone to witness.
Fools in love, utterly content just to see you at peace, as if your calm was the only proof they needed that you were safe in their care.
Neither of them rushed you. Romance took his time between each bite, and Jinu stayed perfectly still, their combined attention wrapping around you like a cocoon. It wasn’t just the feeding—it was the way their stares seemed to say you were theirs, wholly and undeniably.
The air between you pulsed with quiet devotion, so palpable it almost made you shiver.
When you swallowed, Romance set the fork aside and bent toward you, his hand warm as it cupped the side of your face. He pressed a slow kiss to your forehead, lingering there far longer than necessary.
You felt the steady weight of his breath as he inhaled deeply against your skin, his chest easing as if your scent itself had reached into his ribcage and smoothed something wild inside him.
“Mm…” he exhaled, almost to himself, as though tasting the air you carried. “You smell so good, kitten.” His lips brushed your skin one more time before pulling back, though his hand refused to leave you, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek.
Jinu didn’t move. Arms loose at his sides, his expression unreadable yet deeply content. The corners of his mouth curved faintly—almost imperceptibly—but his eyes were clear in their meaning.
He and Romance shared a silent glance over your head, the kind that spoke volumes without a word exchanged.
The attack had shaken you, yes, but it had also left you here, in their arms, walls lowered, letting them do what they’d always wanted: protect, nurture, and surround you with their love.
For them, it was a strange, twisted blessing in disguise—proof that even in the shadow of danger, you were theirs. Entirely.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The afternoon was hushed, golden light spilling across the veranda, the kind of stillness that made every sound and every heartbeat louder. You were nestled in Mystery’s lap, your book open in your hands, your body half-curled into him. His arm circled your waist, fingers lazily stroking your side in a rhythm that lulled you deeper into his chest. It was so comfortable, so steady, that you almost forgot how dangerous the warmth around you really was.
His breath stirred against your neck first, soft, unhurried. Then his lips brushed down, featherlight kisses grazing your skin. You shifted, tilting your head just slightly but keeping your eyes on the words before you.
He purred low in his chest, the sound vibrating through you like it belonged to your bones. Still, you didn’t look away from the page. Instead, you leaned back more fully into him, a silent offering without surrendering your attention.
That wasn’t enough for him.
The kisses grew hungrier, trailing down your throat, mapping the hollow where your pulse throbbed. His lips lingered there, possessive, tasting the warmth that made you his. He nuzzled, searching, until his mouth closed over the place he wanted—your collarbone, the spot that would be his mark, his claim.
His tongue pressed against your skin, followed by the scrape of his teeth. The sound you made—half gasp, half sigh—pulled another purr from him, deeper, darker, vibrating through his chest and into yours.
“Mine,” he murmured against your skin, the word more growl than voice. His hand tightened at your waist, keeping you firmly in place as if the book between your fingers was a rival stealing what belonged to him.
Still, your eyes lingered on the page. It was a tease, a defiance that made his chest burn. He wanted every part of you—your voice, your eyes, your pulse, your thoughts—all fixed on him.
So he turned his face and caught your cheek between his teeth, a soft but unmistakable bite that made your whole body jolt. The book slipped slightly in your hands.
“Myst—!” you breathed, startled, finally looking at him.
His eyes were dark, molten with heat and a longing that bordered on madness. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. The hunger in his gaze was a smile, a warning, a promise.
“Focus on me,” he said, low and commanding, his lips still brushing your cheek where he’d bitten. His tail coiled tighter around your leg, horns faintly catching the afternoon light as his true self slipped through.
Your heart pounded, your breath uneven, and yet you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. His tenderness had dissolved into something fiercer, something hypnotic, and it was pulling you under. The book forgotten, you let it fall closed against your lap as your fingers curled into his shirt.
“Myst…” you whispered, torn between affection and surrender, your body betraying you with the way it arched into his touch.
Your book slipped from your hands without you even noticing. Mystery’s mouth claimed yours, soft at first, as though he was afraid of breaking you. His lips brushed gently, coaxing you into the kiss rather than demanding it, and the tenderness of it made your chest ache. He kissed you like you were fragile, his purr rumbling deep as his fingers curled tighter around your waist.
You smiled into the kiss, your heart stuttering at how careful he was with you, how every one of them treated you as if you were their entire world. That smile broke into a startled sound when his hips shifted beneath you—his hardness brushing against your most sensitive place through thin fabric.
The sweet moan that escaped you betrayed your composure, your voice soft and trembling as you breathed his name.
That single sound undid him.
Mystery’s control cracked, and the kiss deepened, heat flooding through the gentleness as he angled you back. One moment you were straddling him, the next he had you pressed beneath his body, your back meeting the cushions of the veranda couch.
The hem of your top had ridden up in the flurry of movement, leaving a flash of bare skin and the soft curve of your breast exposed. His gaze flickered down, and though hunger flared in his eyes, what he did first was shift, covering his body over yours like a shield.
The world outside—the open sky, the city far below—disappeared under the wall of him. His protective instinct was as fierce as his desire, making it clear that no one but him, but them, would ever see you like this.
“You’re mine,” he growled, low and rough, his horns framing his face as if to mark him as the demon who would never let you go. His tail tightened with a possessive flick, dragging over your thigh like it meant to brand you.
His kisses trailed lower, down the curve of your jaw, across your throat, until he reached the neckline of your tank. His fingers brushed the fabric aside just enough, reverent but greedy, before his mouth sealed over the delicate peak of your breast.
Heat shot through you as his tongue teased, his teeth grazing, his hand rising to cup and knead the other as if he couldn’t bear to leave any part of you untouched.
“Ah—Mystery,” you gasped, your back arching into him.
The purr that rolled from his chest was deep, dangerous, vibrating against your skin until you felt it in your bones. He suckled harder, as though to imprint himself there, his other hand squeezing possessively, thumb flicking with deliberate intent.
“You taste too good,” he groaned against you, his fangs grazing before he soothed the spot with his tongue.
After a long moment of worship, he lifted his head slightly, his mouth still brushing against your skin as he spoke in a husky whisper. “Do you want me to take you inside, angel?”
His hand stayed on your breast, rubbing slowly, deliberately, his thumb grazing over your nipple in a way that made your breath hitch. The squeeze that followed was patient—almost cruel in its restraint—as though he relished every second of your unraveling.
“Or should I keep you out here,” he murmured, lips grazing your collarbone, “where anyone might hear how sweetly you beg for me?”
Your breath hitched, body betraying you as it arched into his touch. The softest plea slipped from you, trembling and pretty. “Inside, please…”
His lips curved into a dark chuckle, equal parts fond and dangerous. “That’s my needy little girl,” he murmured, biting your lip gently before pulling back just enough to see the dazed look in your eyes.
With one hand, he tugged your top back into place, covering what he’d exposed. With the other, he slid beneath your body, lifting you effortlessly against his chest. His tail stayed curled around your thigh, refusing to let go, his horns gleaming as he stood.
You clung to him, heart racing, your lips parted as he bent to kiss you once more, slow and lingering, tasting of both promise and threat.
“Darling,” he whispered, his voice velvet-dark as his demon marks pulsed hotly against his skin, a visible echo of his desire for you. “We’ll continue this in the bedroom. Where I can take my time with you.”
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The penthouse was so still you convinced yourself you could get away with it. Everyone was out—or so you thought. Surely, surely you could slip out, grab some ramen, and come back before anyone noticed.
Shoes dangling from your fingers, you crept toward the door like a thief. Every breath felt dangerous, too loud. Your fingertips brushed the cool metal of the knob, victory just a twist away—
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The voice cut through the quiet like a knife, low and sharp. You froze, blood rushing hot to your ears. Slowly, guiltily, you turned.
Baby stood there in the hall. You hadn’t even known he was home. His hair was mussed, shadowing his eyes, and his arms were folded across his chest in that deceptively casual way that only made him look more dangerous. He wasn’t smiling—no, that smirk tugging at his lips was far worse.
““Uh…” You blinked, caught like a kid sneaking cookies. “Just… stepping out?”
“Stepping out.” he echoed, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. He pushed off the wall with lazy grace and crossed the space in a few strides, closing in before you could even think of bolting. “At midnight. With your shoes in your hand.”
You scrambled for an excuse. “Fresh air! You know… circulation is important. Oxygen. Very healthy.”
“Mhm.” His brows rose, unconvinced.
Before you could react, he closed the last inch between you, bracing one palm against the wall above your head. You had no choice but to tilt your chin up, your back brushing against the wall, your heart hammering as you met his sharp-eyed gaze.
“What’s the real reason?” he asked softly, leaning down so his eyes locked with yours.
“I told you—”
“You’re lying,” he cut in smoothly, the smug amusement in his voice sending a shiver through you.
“Please!” you gasped, hands pressing against his chest in a feeble attempt to shove him back. But the second you pushed, his arms were around you. He scooped you up, and you squealed, legs kicking before instinct made you cling to his neck.
“Much better,” he hummed, pinning you with his body weight as his hands found every ticklish spot they knew too well. Your laughter tumbled out, breathless and broken, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as you clung tighter, begging for mercy.
“Okay, okay, I give up! Baby, I give up!”
“Not until you confess.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he leaned in, his voice low and smug. “What were you sneaking off for?”
You wriggled half-heartedly before sagging against him, pouting up at him with wide eyes. “I was just hungry…”
The pout slipped out without thought—your lips pushing forward, your gaze soft, almost pleading. And Baby noticed. Oh, he noticed.
For a beat, he froze. The smirk slipped from his mouth, replaced with something raw, unguarded. His ears flushed first, then the apples of his cheeks, heat climbing down his neck. He still held you braced against the wall, but his composure was shattered by the simple sight of you pouting at him like that, innocent and wanting.
“Tch—” he tried to scoff, but it snagged in his throat. His grip tightened as though he wanted to cage you there forever, before he finally let out a rough, breathless curse. “...Fine. But I’m going with you.”
His words were gruff, almost defiant, but the heat in his gaze betrayed him. Then, quick and reckless, he dipped his head and brushed his lips against yours.
It wasn’t his usual teasing kiss, either. It was firm, sealing the promise in a way that made your chest ache.
When he pulled back, his ears were red to the tips. “Don’t make that face at me again unless you want me to lose my mind,” he muttered, already retreating toward his room to change.
You thought the boys were all out—some at the company, others scattered with errands—but what you didn’t know was that they never truly left you alone anymore. Not after what had happened. Even on their busiest nights, one of them would stay close, quietly shadowing you, making sure no such incident touched you again.
Tonight, that shadow happened to be Baby.
He disappeared into his room, the door clicking shut behind him. For a moment, you stood there, breath caught somewhere between flustered and restless, your heart still racing from the kiss.
By the time you managed to slip your shoes on, he was already back—casual in appearance, but sharp enough to make your pulse stutter. A jacket slung carelessly over one arm, his presence filled the space before you could even reach the door.
“Put this on,” he said simply, holding out an extra coat. His voice was steady now, the cool façade sliding neatly back into place, but his hands betrayed him. He didn’t just hand it over—he fussed, tugging the zipper up, smoothing the sleeves until they sat just right, his fingers lingering against your wrists as though testing the warmth.
Only once satisfied did he step back, his palm finding the small of your back in a quiet, steady claim. His touch was protective, but there was heat in it too—heat that dared the world to even think about touching you. With that single, wordless gesture, he guided you out into the night, as if he had always planned to walk at your side.
The air outside was cool, but you barely noticed. Baby’s presence wrapped around you like fire and steel, every step radiating a kind of intensity you weren’t used to from him.
Gone was the mischievous boy who teased and laughed at your expense—this was different. This was a man protecting what was his.
He walked close, always close, his arm brushing yours, his shoulder angled just enough to shield you inside the breadth of his frame. Anyone who lingered too near or let their gaze wander even a moment too long earned a sharp glare. His lips twitched, the barest threat of a snarl pulling at his mouth, and once, you swore you caught the rumble of a growl deep in his chest—quiet enough for only you to hear, but dangerous enough that strangers flinched and moved on.
“Baby…” you reached for him without thinking, sliding your arm through his and pressing yourself closer, grounding him. Your hand rested lightly over his, your voice soft as you whispered, “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
And just like that, the fury melted. His eyes flicked down to yours, softened instantly, and a sigh escaped him. He leaned in, brushing his nose against your temple in a subtle nuzzle, the kind of gesture that spoke volumes without words. Then he continued forward, his hand steady at your waist, guiding.
You weren’t used to this side of him—the sharp edge of his seriousness, the way he watched the world with suspicion, every movement calculated to keep you safe.
What you didn’t know was that each of your boys had this hidden self, one they showed to no one else. Playful, reckless, cold, or charming on the surface, but with you? With you, they became protectors. With you, they became something more.
By the time the warm glow of the ramen shop came into view, your mood lightened instantly. “Here! Let’s eat here,” you said, excitement bubbling through your voice as you grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the entrance.
No one else in the world could have dared touch him that way. It would’ve been unthinkable—him, the one who never yielded, never obeyed, letting someone else pull him like it was nothing.
Baby, the one others whispered about with fear in their throats, followed without hesitation. But with you, it wasn’t weakness. It was devotion. He would give you the world if you asked for it.
What you didn’t see was the faint curve of his mouth, the softening in his gaze as he let himself be led. To others, he might’ve looked foolish, like a monster tamed, but you were the only one who knew it was the opposite—you were the only fire he bowed to willingly.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” he drawled, letting himself be tugged along, though his free hand never left your waist. His eyes glinted, dangerous even in affection. “You’re the only one who gets away with bossing me around, you know that?”
You glanced back at him with a grin, not realizing how deeply it unraveled him every time you looked at him like that. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear as he held the door open for you, his voice hushed and hypnotic.
“Keep looking at me like that… and I won’t even remember the food.”
Before you could tease him back, his mouth claimed yours. You melted into him without thought, kissing him back with equal heat, tugging him closer until there was no space left to breathe.
The moment was broken when a waiter appeared, bowing politely as he asked if you needed a table.
Baby stiffened immediately, the shift so sudden you felt it ripple through him. His fingers twitched at his side, and his eyes narrowed dangerously on the man, a growl nearly spilling from his throat.
You sensed it before it happened. Quick, instinctive, you cupped his face and pressed your lips to his.
He froze. Then melted.
The waiter turned to lead you, and Baby—his body relaxed at once, the growl dissolving into a low hum as his mouth claimed yours back, deeper, hungrier. His hand slid up your back, trying to pull you into him, to make the kiss last.
You broke away with a soft laugh, breathless but smiling. “I’m hungry, Baby,” you whispered, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “We’ll have plenty of time for more later.”
He grumbled, eyes narrowing like he wanted to argue, but you leaned in close and promised, “Kisses later. I promise.”
Something flickered in his eyes—dark, dangerous, but utterly devoted. He dipped down suddenly, rubbing his nose against yours in an eskimo kiss, a surprisingly tender gesture for someone so cold to the rest of the world.
Only then did he allow himself to be guided toward the table, his hand firm and possessive against your back. His eyes never stopped sweeping the room—sharp, cold, silently daring anyone to look at you for too long. Yet every time his gaze returned to you, that icy edge melted, replaced by a lovesick heat meant for you alone.
Baby’s hand lingered against the small of your back as he guided you into the booth. He didn’t let you slide into the middle or leave room for anyone else—he tucked you all the way against the wall, making sure you were boxed in safely, your only way out through him. When you settled, he sat at the opening, shoulders relaxed but gaze sharp, like a guard dog in disguise.
The waiter who had led you both in offered a polite bow. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Baby didn’t look at him, not once. His eyes stayed soft on you as though the outside world didn’t exist. “The hyungs will follow,” he murmured, his voice low, warm, made only for you. “They said they’ll eat with us here.”
Your heart fluttered with anticipation, and you couldn’t hide it. The thought of being with all of them, together, made you light up. “I miss them…”
Baby’s lips curved faintly, clearly satisfied with your reaction, his hand brushing your knee under the table, grounding you. Before you could say more, his phone buzzed sharply, cutting through the soft lull between you. He cursed under his breath, glanced at the screen, then leaned in to press a quick, reassuring kiss to your lips.
“I won’t be far,” he promised, gaze locking with yours. “Stay here, angel.”
And then he slid out of the booth, answering the call with Jinu’s name flashing across the screen. His expression shifted instantly—serious, unreadable. He moved far enough to keep you from hearing Jinu’s voice, but not so far that his eyes ever left you. His tall frame leaned against the wall, phone pressed to his ear, his brow furrowed in concentration.
You watched him for a moment, comforted by how—even when he tried to give space—he still couldn’t resist tethering himself to you with his gaze.
Left alone, you reached for the menu when the waiter returned. His voice was polite at first, smooth in that practiced way, but you noticed the way his eyes didn’t rest on your face—they dragged lower, hungry, lingering.
You tried to ignore it, focusing on the food, but when he leaned closer, his tone shifted. “You’re too pretty to be sitting alone,” he said lightly. “Why don’t you let me take you out sometime?”
The words startled you, and you quickly shook your head. “No, thank you. I already have someone.”
He chuckled as if you hadn’t spoken at all. “C’mon. Just one date. I promise I’ll treat you better than your boyfriend.”
You frowned, your pulse quickening. “I said no. Please stop.”
But instead of stopping, he sneered, the mask of politeness falling away. His voice lowered, sharper now. “Figures. Girls like you always act like you’re too good. Look at you, sitting here dressed up—acting shy. What, you think you’re irresistible? You’re not even—”
His insult cut into your chest before he could finish. For a split second, you weren’t hearing him anymore—you were hearing echoes of the demon who had once hissed poison into your ear. Your throat tightened, and tears stung your eyes before you could stop them.
You turned toward Baby instinctively, desperate for him—but he was still locked in that serious phone call, jaw tense, brows furrowed. You didn’t want to interrupt him, didn’t want to seem weak, but your body betrayed you, trembling under the weight of the waiter’s scorn.
The waiter sneered. “Look at you. Crying already. Pathetic.”
And then a voice colder than winter sliced through the air.
“Step away from her.”
You jerked your head up, startled to see Romance standing there. You hadn’t even noticed his arrival, hadn’t felt the shift in the room until now. His presence was a blade—sharp, merciless, his eyes like shards of black ice. Gone was the warmth he always poured into you. To you, he was honey and fire. To the waiter… he was death.
Romance moved without hurry, but with devastating authority, sliding into the booth beside you. His arm curled around your waist, pulling you flush against him, shielding you completely from the waiter’s gaze. His other hand rested on the table, deceptively relaxed, though his posture screamed threat.
The waiter faltered, paling under that stare. “I—I was just—”
“Say that again.” Romance’s voice was low, velvet-wrapped steel.
The waiter stiffened, eyes widening. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t lie.” Romance’s smile was cold, a perfect imitation of politeness—but his eyes were something else entirely. Hard, merciless, lit with a darkness that made the blood in your veins run cold. “I heard you. Every word.”
His hand tightened on your waist, grounding you, steadying the tremor in your body. When you looked up at him, his expression softened only for you—his thumb brushing against your cheek as if to wipe away the hurt the insult had caused. Then he turned back to the waiter, his entire demeanor shifting into something sharp and dangerous.
“You owe her an apology.”
The waiter swallowed hard. “I—I’m sorry.”
Romance tilted his head, voice dropping into something hypnotic. “Not to me. To her. Look at her and say it.”
The man’s face burned with shame as he stammered, “I’m sorry, miss.”
But Romance wasn’t satisfied. You could feel it in the way his hand flexed against your hip, in the way his eyes didn’t blink.
“You don’t get to speak to her that way. If I so much as catch you looking at her again…” His smile sharpened, a glint of fangs betraying the truth of what he was. “You won’t have the luxury of breathing at all.”
The waiter stumbled back, nodding frantically, and fled before Romance’s stare could burn deeper into him.
Only when the intruder was gone did Romance finally soften. His cold mask melted the instant his gaze returned to you, and suddenly he was all gentleness again—hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped.
“Shh, don’t cry, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. His voice was velvet now, hypnotic, coaxing.
You leaned instinctively into Romance’s hold, clutching at his shirt. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his tone softening into that dangerous sweetness reserved only for you.
“Don’t listen to him.” he murmured, his voice coaxing, hypnotic. “Every word he said was a lie. You’re perfect. You’re ours. Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
You swallowed hard, the heat of his words battling the ache in your chest. Your trembling lips curved into something small, something fragile—but he kissed it away before it could falter, pressing a soft peck to the corner of your mouth, then another to your temple as if he couldn’t stop himself.
It was always like this with them—every one of your demons carrying a dual edge. To the world, they were cold, merciless, killers by nature. You were their only softness, their only reason to sheath claws and fangs.
They never wanted you to see how far their rage could go, how easily they could destroy. But in moments like this, their mask slipped—just enough for you to feel the truth of it.
Their obsession. Their devotion. Their instinct to kill for you.
Baby slipped back into the booth opposite of you, his jaw tight, eyes narrowing as he caught the remnants of your tears. He didn’t speak at first—just looked at Romance, and you felt the pulse of something sharp ripple through the air.
“What happened?” His voice echoed in their mindlink, low and furious. “Why do I feel the bond burning?”
Romance’s hand squeezed your hip beneath the table, grounding you before he answered. “A fool forgot his place. Don’t worry, I took care of it. She’s safe.”
The tension in Baby’s shoulders only grew. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on you now, softer yet searing all at once.
“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice dropped to something soothing, almost coaxing, even as his knee brushed yours beneath the table. “I should’ve never left you alone.”
Before you could speak, another presence swept in like sunlight cutting through storm. Jinu appeared beside the booth, a striking contrast to the smoldering tension. He held a bouquet in one hand, and the faintest smile curved his lips like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“There she is,” he said, lowering himself gracefully to slide in beside Baby. His eyes softened as they landed on you, a warmth so tender it made your tears dry on their own. He offered you the bouquet, tilting his head just enough to catch your gaze. “For you, my love. To remind you no one else’s words matter when you have ours.”
Your chest constricted, tears threatening again but this time from something gentler. You took the flowers with shaking hands, inhaling their fragrance as Jinu leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to your cheek. The simple gesture left your heart fluttering wildly.
Romance, sensing your shift, allowed a smile to tug at his lips, brushing his thumb beneath your eye one last time. Baby reached over the table to pinch your hand, muttering something about how you looked prettier smiling than crying. The weight of their combined attention wrapped around you like a cocoon—warm, suffocating, and strangely addictive.
A new waiter appeared then, this time a young woman with kind eyes and a nervous smile. She bowed slightly. “I apologize deeply for my colleague’s behavior. It won’t happen again. May I take your order?”
Romance’s arm remained firm around you as if he didn’t trust even her gaze. Before you could even glance at the menu, Baby cut in, rattling off your favorite dish with ease. Romance added the drink you always reached for without thinking, and Jinu ordered something sweet for you to try.
The girl nodded quickly and disappeared, leaving you flushed at the way they’d handled everything.
While waiting for the food, they didn’t let silence creep in. Instead, they leaned into you, distracting you with little teases—Baby cracking a sly joke that had you covering your mouth to hide a laugh, Romance feigning offense just to earn a giggle, and Jinu tugging a stray strand of hair behind your ear as though it had been bothering him all evening. The booth became its own little world, one where the shadows of moments ago couldn’t reach.
At one point, you found yourself asking softly, “Where are Abby and Mystery?”
The three of them stilled just a fraction, enough for you to notice. Romance gave you a knowing smile. “They couldn’t make it tonight.”
“But they already miss you,” Jinu added, his voice warm but edged with something heavier, a promise curling around each word.
Baby smirked, leaning closer. “They’re setting up a movie night back home. Said they’ll make it worth your while for missing them.”
The way they all looked at you then—eyes glowing faintly with possession, with hunger they didn’t bother hiding—made your heart pound unevenly. It was too much, their devotion, their obsession, their love. Yet when they coaxed another laugh out of you, when Jinu brushed a kiss against the back of your hand, when Romance tucked you closer into his side like you belonged there and nowhere else—every part of you surrendered to it.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
You barely manage to close the door behind you before you’re sprinting through the hall, heart thudding in anticipation. The moment you round the corner into the living room, two familiar figures lift their heads at once.
The coffee table was crowded with all your favorite snacks, the small details that always made you feel cherished. Without thinking, you ran toward them, laughter bubbling from your lips.
Abby caught you with ease, his strong arms caging you protectively as he murmured, low and careful, “Careful, baby. You’ll get hurt.”
His lips find your temple, your cheeks, your forehead — kisses like punctuation marks of relief. You laugh softly, trying to speak, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you the chance.
“Missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and hoarse. His hand slides up to the back of your head, untangling your bun with a single, possessive sweep of his fingers. Your hair spills down, and he immediately buries his face in it — inhaling deeply, the sound almost a growl. “God, you smell so good.”
You melted against him, Mystery appears behind him, that lazy half-smile curving his lips. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft but deliberate. “Don’t hog her,” he says, his tone teasing but his eyes—sharp, assessing—betraying the flicker of something darker. He leans in and presses a kiss to your mouth, brief but warm, as if to mark his turn.
“How was dinner, sweetheart?”
You gave them a bright smile, telling them how good the food was, keeping your tone light.
What you didn’t notice, though, was Jinu leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable as he filled Abby and Mystery in on what had happened with the waiter. Baby and Romance added their own details, each word laced with quiet fury. Their voices were calm, controlled, but their eyes were anything but.
The air in the room shifts.
You don’t notice. You’re too busy laughing softly, describing how good the dessert was. You don’t see the way Abby’s pupils narrow, turning gold, or how the marks in Mystery’s neck pulse once, twice, before disappearing beneath his collar.
Their priority tonight was you. The scum could wait; they’d deal with him later. Right now, they only wanted to drown you in sweetness.
Abby set you down gently on the couch, but his arm stayed firmly around your waist, anchoring you to him. The television flickered to life, a familiar opening sequence filling the room with color, but his focus never once left you.
You, blissfully unaware of the weight of his gaze, curled into the cushions and let the soft glow of the TV pull your focus. But they weren’t watching the movie. Not one of them. Every flicker of your lashes, every shift of your body, every little sigh you let out seemed louder to them than the dialogue onscreen.
Abby’s hand brushed your hair back, his fingertips grazing the side of your throat. His gaze sharpened when he saw the faint discoloration marring your skin. The shadows of that demon’s grip were almost gone now, nearly drowned out by the marks they had left—their teeth, their mouths, their obsession imprinted on your body. He exhaled, slow and heavy, a dark satisfaction curling in his chest.
He leaned close, whispering almost to himself, “That's better. It’s almost gone now.” Then softer, lower, so only you could hear. “But ours will stay.”
You smiled faintly, too absorbed in the movie to notice the sharp edge of possession in his tone. You didn’t see the way his jaw flexed, the way his shoulders eased with pride.
From the other end of the couch, Mystery’s eyes burned with the same quiet fire. He stretched out languidly, looking every bit relaxed, but beneath the surface his chest ached with hunger just watching you nestled there, so close and yet so unaware. He tilted his head, catching Abby’s gaze.
“Good. That means we’ve been doing our job.” Mystery’s voice threaded into Abby’s mind, silky and amused.
Abby didn’t answer out loud. Instead, he stroked your hair, letting the strands slide between his fingers before lowering his mouth to kiss the crown of your head. His reply came silently, carried on their bond. “She doesn’t know how much she’s changed, she clings to us now. I won’t let her slip away again.”
Baby’s laugh came from somewhere behind the couch, but there was no humor in it—only relief. “She doesn’t even realize,” he muttered, not bothering to hide the pride lacing his words.
You tilted your head, curious, but before you could ask, Romance was suddenly at your feet, kneeling like you were royalty. He brushed the hem of your blanket over your legs, his smile deceptively soft. “Focus on your movie, angel,” he said. “Let us worry about everything else.”
Jinu, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, caught the exchange and smirked faintly. His voice cut into their minds, steady, almost smug. “After what happened, she trusts us. We can’t lose that.”
Onscreen, laughter echoed from the movie. You chuckled lightly, the sound pulling a chorus of reactions from them. Abby’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly at your hip. Mystery’s lips curved, but his eyes were molten with something darker. Baby shifted at the far end of the couch, restless energy pulsing off him, and Romance’s gaze softened in that hypnotic way that always promised more than tenderness.
Every time you shifted, you felt the ripple of their attention. Every laugh you gave them only deepened the hunger in their eyes.
They were obsessed. Utterly, helplessly, gloriously obsessed.
And you—sweetly oblivious, clinging to them without realizing how much that did to their hearts—were only feeding the fire.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The morning light was soft, barely brushing over the edge of the curtains when you stirred awake. The world outside still felt half-asleep, that tender hour where warmth lingered between breaths and dreams refused to let go.
The boys had been awake longer—moving around you like a silent constellation, each one tending to you in their own quiet way. Abby sat closest, his large hand cradling your chin as he spooned another bite of fruit toward your lips, his touch so steady and gentle it almost lulled you back into sleep.
The faint hum of the television filled the background, its glow flickering against the dimly lit walls. You weren’t really listening—your focus hazy, still wrapped in the soft domesticity of the moment.
Romance was brushing the tangles from your hair with slow, rhythmic movements. Mystery leaned against the wall nearby, watching over you like a shadow draped in calm. Jinu was fiddling with a mug, stirring your drink until it steamed just right. Baby, sprawled lazily on the couch, had one arm slung behind his head, his eyes half-lidded but alert.
It was peaceful. Intimate. The kind of quiet that made you feel safe without knowing why.
You barely noticed the television murmuring in the background. The newscaster’s tone was steady but grave, narrating over shaky footage of flashing police lights and yellow tape fluttering in a narrow alley. Rain had fallen overnight; puddles mirrored the chaos of blue and red lights, painting the asphalt in fractured color. The camera panned closer—to the shape of a body, faceless under a white sheet.
“The victim, a male in his early twenties, was found in a secluded alley behind the nightclub district,” the reporter’s voice carried faintly. “Authorities have confirmed signs of struggle… claw-like lacerations across the chest and arms…”
But you didn’t hear. You were watching the way Abby’s hand dwarfed the teacup as he lifted it to your lips next, how careful he was not to let it touch too hot against your skin.
The air smelled faintly of coffee, citrus, and something else—something that was them. That warm, intoxicating scent that made you dizzy if you breathed too deeply.
The report continued, the words growing heavier. “The identity of the victim has just been released. The man has been identified as—”
You yawned softly, and Abby’s lips curved faintly. “Still sleepy?” he asked.
“Mhm,” you hummed, unaware of the way his eyes softened—how that simple sound wrapped around him like a chain.
And then the photograph appeared on the screen. A smiling face frozen in time—the waiter who had insulted you that night. The one whose voice had dripped with arrogance and something ugly.
Baby was the one who moved first. His gaze flicked toward the TV, and the lazy smirk that tugged at his lips sharpened into something colder, darker. Without a word, he reached for the remote and pressed the power button. The television blinked to black, cutting the reporter mid-sentence.
For a heartbeat, the room fell utterly silent.
Then—all five of them looked at each other.
It was an unspoken language, a communion of knowing that passed through their eyes like lightning.
Abby’s hand lingered near your face, but his gaze met Jinu’s—steady, commanding, filled with the kind of satisfaction that needed no words. Jinu’s lips curved faintly, that rare, dangerous smirk that always made your stomach twist with a feeling you couldn’t name. Mystery’s fingers drummed once against his mug, his eyes hooded with a glimmer of pride. Romance tilted his head slightly, eyes darkening in silent agreement. Baby’s tongue darted over his bottom lip, and the faintest laugh rumbled from his throat.
Their eyes gleamed gold in the muted light—just for a moment. A flicker of their true nature, beautiful and terrifying all at once.
You shifted slightly, still half-asleep, your head lolling to the side against Abby’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” you mumbled.
“Nothing, angel,” Abby said softly, his voice velvety, too calm. “Just eat, yeah?”
You blinked up at him, drowsy and trusting, and nodded. “M’kay…”
Baby chuckled under his breath, eyes still glinting faint gold before he blinked it away. “You really shouldn’t watch those things,” he said, tone lazy but laced with something that made Jinu smirk. “Ruins the appetite.”
Mystery tilted his head, voice low and amused. “Besides, mornings like this are better quiet.”
Romance lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles—soft, reverent, yet possessive in the way his thumb lingered just below your pulse. “Don’t worry about anything, love,” he murmured, gaze flicking briefly to the dark screen. “You’re safe here with us.”
You smiled faintly, still half-asleep, letting his words wash over you without realizing how heavy their truth was.
Abby leaned closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “That’s it. Just focus on us.”
You sighed, content, leaning into him.
Behind that tenderness—behind the warmth of their hands and the sweetness of their voices—was something primal. A devotion that burned too deep, too wild, too possessive to ever be gentle if tested.
Outside, the world would wake to rumors and horror. But here, wrapped in their quiet care, you remained blissfully unaware—cradled between demons with golden eyes and hearts that beat like wolves.
And as Abby fed you another bite, the faintest curl of a smirk passed through the group again. Not one of guilt, but of satisfaction.
Because anyone who hurt what was theirs would always meet the same fate.
Hey loves 💕 I know I’ve been a little inactive this month 🥲 Being a BSA student keeps me super busy, and school has to come first right now. I promise I’ll share more as soon as I get some free time 🤍 Thank you guys so much for checking up on me!
It hit Jinu like a blade to the spine—cold, sharp, and sudden.
The playful chaos of their banter with HUNTR/X vanished from his ears, drowned out by a high-pitched whine only he could hear. His breath hitched. His smile dropped. His heart—no, something older and more primal inside him—lurched violently.
“…Where is she?” he muttered, his voice hollow and disbelieving. The banter between Baby and Zoey died instantly.
Romance blinked, confused. “What?”
The bond. It was screaming.
Jinu didn’t answer. He was already turning, already moving, his demon eyes flaring gold in a blink beneath the illusion. His chest felt tight, the bond wrong, like a red thread between him and you had just been snapped in two and was now curling back on itself, bleeding panic.
Romance froze for a split second before the same cold shock slammed into him, like steel through his lungs. His skin rippled under his human disguise, power surging up his spine, crackling in his jaw. “Something’s wrong.”
Mystery swayed, grabbing Abby’s arm in a grip that left white dents in the muscle. “I can’t feel her,” he rasped. “She’s not— She’s not—””
“MOVE.” Jinu’s voice was a growl, his feet already pounding the floor. His vision tunneled, your name echoing like a drumbeat through every cell. The others followed, abandoning their smiles, their disguises, everything.
The girls looked up in alarm as the boys tore past them without a word, eyes glowing, steps thundering. Mira blinked, then grabbed Rumi and Zoey.
“Follow them.”
“What?” Rumi asked, confused. “What’s happening—”
“I think…” Mira’s gaze hardened. “She’s in trouble.”
Jinu stormed down the corridor, every stride a threat, the air behind him curling with the heat of their collective rage. The girls had followed them—feeling the shift in the atmosphere.
The scent hit first.
Fear. Her scent—their mate—tainted with danger.
The changing room door was locked.
Then it wasn’t.
The force of Abby’s shoulder hit like a thunderclap, splitting the hinges clean.
And what they saw—
You were on the floor. Limp. Skin too pale. Bruises blooming dark and violent around your throat. A demon crouched over you, clawed hand still clamped on your neck, its grin sharp and sick with hunger, yellow eyes glinting in the fractured light.
And the boys broke.
For one breathless second, they were statues—frozen, unblinking, their hearts trapped in their throats.
Then the air split.
They snapped.
“GET. OFF. HER!” Jinu’s roar was jagged, guttural, stripped of anything human.
Marks burned to life along their skin, claws tearing through fingertips, fangs breaking their lips. The illusion of humanity peeled away bone by bone, sinew by sinew—until the demons they’d been before you stood in full, terrible truth.
Demons you’d tamed.
Monsters you’d made better.
But not now. Now, they were fury incarnate.
Abby moved first, seizing the demon by the spine and hurling it into the mirrored wall hard enough to shatter the glass in a glittering explosion. Romance and Baby were on it a breath later—claws ripping, teeth snapping. Mystery’s shadows writhed and swallowed the light.
They didn’t care that the walls cracked. That their eyes glowed like hellfire. That their snarls were in languages older than sin.
They had one goal. One thought.
Destroy. Rip. Erase.
Because you hadn’t moved.
Because you looked—
Too still.
Too pale.
Dead.
And none of them—none—could feel the bond.
The demon howled, but the sound was swallowed in a clash of steel and magic as the girls surged forward—Mira’s blade singing through the air, Zoey’s magic sparking across corrupted flesh.
Rumi didn’t hesitate. She caught sight of you and dropped to her knees halfway across the room—but Zoey’s arm locked around her waist, dragging her back just in time.
"Let them—just let them finish it," Zoey whispered.
But the boys didn’t finish it.
They stopped.
Not because the rage had burned out.
Because every ounce of it was now fixed on you.
Their eyes—still glowing, still demonic—were locked on you.
Limp. Bruised. Unmoving.
Jinu dropped to his knees with a desperate thud, his forehead pressing hard against yours, as if sheer pressure could pull you back from the edge. “Come on, come on—don’t do this to me, baby.” his voice cracked, raw and breaking under the weight of fear.
Baby slid down beside him, blood smeared across his cheek, voice trembling, barely steady. “Hyung—” The word shattered on a sob. “I can’t feel her. I can’t feel her! Why can’t I feel her?”
Mystery’s hands curled into tight fists at his sides, his whole body trembling like he was fighting to hold himself together. “She’s supposed to be ours,” he whispered, “We’re supposed to protect her.”
“Don’t say it,” Abby growled, the sound more beast than man. “Don’t say she’s gone.”
“She’s not.” Romance’s breath was ragged. “She can’t be.”
He caught your hand—weak, trembling—and pressed it fiercely against his chest, as if staking a claim against the cruel silence.
“Feel that, sweetheart? That’s me. I’m right here. Please…” His voice was raw, a desperate plea, the unspoken fear clawing through every syllable.
You didn’t move.
They couldn’t feel the bond anymore—not the way they did before.
It flickered—like a dying ember buried beneath ash—faint, fragile, almost gone.
Then—
A croak.
A sound.
From the demon.
Still alive.
Still speaking.
“Gwima will rip her soul to pieces,” it hissed, gurgling through broken fangs and blood.
The boys twisted toward the threat as one, feral snarls tearing from their throats, claws flexing like iron traps ready to shred, power surging and threatening to break loose like a tidal wave.
But before that storm could crash—
You moved.
A sharp gasp tore from your lips as you coughed and choked, finally pulling air into bruised lungs. Your hand twitched in Romance’s grip first, then Jinu’s.
The sound Jinu made was raw, cracked, and unrestrained—half sob, half prayer.
“Shh… you’re okay now,” Romance breathed, voice thick and urgent, cupping your cheeks with trembling hands that looked as if they might break from the effort of holding you still.
His tears spilled silently, warm and relentless, tracing paths down your skin like vows no words could carry.
“You’re safe. We’ve got you. We’ve got you,” Baby murmured, wrapping his arms around your fragile, trembling form, his body a shield against a world that had tried to tear you apart—against every breath, every shadow.
The demon tried to speak again—
But this time, it didn’t get the chance.
Mira’s blade sliced through the air, swift and merciless, driving clean through the demon’s skull in one brutal strike that echoed in the sudden silence.
Rumi stood frozen, hands trembling at her sides, eyes glassy and wide, unshed tears threatening to spill free. Every instinct screamed at her to run to you, to gather you in her arms and check every breath.
But she didn’t move.
“Let them have her right now,” Zoey said softly, her gaze flicking to where the boys had you caged in a desperate, protective circle. “She needs them.”
“But she’s not okay,” Rumi whispered, the words breaking apart on her tongue.
“I know.” Mira’s arm slipped around her shoulders, steady but heavy with its own grief. Her voice dropped, quiet and certain. “But neither are they.”
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
You felt the snap long before you understood it.
The demon’s grip around your throat was brutal, a coil of cold steel and corrupted power. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t breathe. Its hands were claws, and its voice—its voice was venom.
“You made them weak.”
Your vision blurred. The fluorescent lights above you fractured into smears of silver. Your fingertips went numb.
“You made them soft. Sentimental. Foolish. Gwima will tear you from them.”
Tears burned hot down your cheeks as you clawed desperately at its arm, legs kicking weakly against the weight pressing you under.
You thought of them—your boys.
Jinu’s calm, steady voice whispering safety.
Abby’s warm, solid body folding around you in sleep, the way he held you like a promise.
Baby’s laughter, bright and reckless in your memory.
Mystery’s brooding silence, softening when he thought no one was watching.
Romance’s hand cradling the back of your neck, lips lingering longer than they should.
Would they feel it?
Would they come?
Then—
Darkness swallowed you whole.
You didn’t hear the door explode open.
You didn’t see claws, fangs, and unrestrained fury slash through the stale air.
But you felt them.
The bond didn’t just return—it exploded.
Their rage seared through the fog, a burning light slicing whatever veil had begun to drag you under. Their grief slammed into you like a second heartbeat, raw and unfiltered. They were fighting. They were feral. And every strike, every snarl, was for you.
And then—
Nothing.
Stillness.
Silence.
And then...
A voice.
“Wake up, angel.”
A sob cracked the air.
“Please, baby. Come back.”
Another voice, frantic, breaking.
“She’s not breathing—fuck, she’s not—”
You gasped. Air tore into your lungs like fire, and you choked.
Everything hurts.
Your throat raw, your chest tight, your soul trembling in the fragile space between waking and losing.
Hands were on you. Familiar. Warm. Trembling.
“Hey—hey, baby,” Jinu whispered, his forehead pressing hard against yours, voice ragged and breaking with relief and fear. “It’s okay. We’re here. We’re right here.”
You couldn’t stop crying. Your body shook as all of them crowded around, a wall of heat and scent and trembling fury. Arms wrapped around you—everywhere. Jinu’s hand cupped your cheek with trembling tenderness. Abby was kneeling in front of you, trying to check you over despite his shaking fury. Romance was behind you, arms protectively circling your waist, chin pressed to your shoulder. Mystery stood guard at the door, but his eyes were locked on you, unreadable and terrifyingly still. And Baby… Baby was clinging to your hand like he needed it to breathe.
They weren’t letting go.
Ever.
“I-It… it said—” you hiccupped, voice cracking under the weight of what you’d just endured. “It said I made you weak…”
The silence that followed was volcanic.
“What?” Abby’s voice was low. Deadly. His jaw flexed, muscles tight with the effort not to shatter everything in the room. “What did it say?”
“The demon said... I made you weak,” you whispered, trembling. “That because of me, you weren’t following Gwi-Ma anymore. That I ruined you. That killing me would bring you back under control.”
Romance’s lips brushed your temple, lingering there as his breath came hot and uneven. “That thing doesn’t understand a damn thing about us.”
“You don’t make us weak,” Jinu said slowly, cupping your cheeks, forcing you to look at him even through your tears. “You make us stronger. You’re the only thing that keeps us from falling apart.”
“You’re not our weakness,” Baby whispered, his grip tightening on your hand until his own eyes shone. “You’re our reason.”
“That demon was wrong,” Mystery said, his voice low and quiet but terrifying in its finality. “If anything touches you again, I’ll rip reality apart.”
The girls stood at the edge of the room, silent witnesses. This time, their eyes weren’t wary. They weren’t suspicious.
They were wide.
Awestruck.
In the corner, Mira leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, brows furrowed in disbelief. Her gaze shifted between the five demons and your fragile body cradled in their arms.
“Are we really seeing this?” she whispered.
“I think they can help with sealing the Honmoon,” Rumi breathed, her voice tinged with reverence. “She’s their fated one.”
Mira’s head snapped toward her. “Their what?”
Rumi stepped forward, eyes never leaving the way the boys hovered over you like you were something holy and breakable. “It’s an old demon term. I read about it once… in a hunter’s journal that got buried in the archives. Demons… they’re not supposed to have soulmates. Not officially. But sometimes… there’s one person, one soul, that doesn’t just anchor them—it changes them.”
She exhaled, her voice laced with awe. “They don’t need to steal anymore. Not if they find their fated. Her soul feeds them. Calms them. It makes them feel again. Like they used to before the hunger. Before the shame.”
Zoey blinked. “You’re saying… she makes them human again?”
Rumi gave a small nod. “Not human. But whole.”
And the proof lay bare before them: the five most dangerous demons ever marked on a hunter’s ledger, stripped of every threat—reduced instead to something soft, something trembling with raw need and feral devotion. Not a single one dared to look away from you. Not even the girls’ voices could pull their gaze, their fierce protection sealing them off from everything but you.
Romance’s lips found your temple again, soft, urgent, as if his mouth had forgotten what it was like to be apart from you. His breath was ragged, trembling with a fear he could barely voice. “You scared me, sweetheart,” he whispered, low and sacred, voice cracked like a prayer. “You can’t do that. Not to us. Not to you. Not even death has that right.”
Baby’s fingers hovered over the bruise at your neck, tracing invisible circles as though he could erase every mark just by will—by touch alone. His jaw clenched tight, a tremor of something fierce and almost terrifying beneath his calm exterior. “You’re not allowed to get hurt,” he said, voice a dark growl threaded with danger and devotion. “Not even the slightest scratch.”
“Ever,” Mystery breathed, his thumb sliding over your knuckles like he needed to lock your pulse inside him, to keep you tethered to this moment and nowhere else.
Abby’s voice was rougher, colder, but no less tender—brushing his thumb across your cheekbone with a touch that could either heal or wound. “Next time you vanish,” he said quietly, “I will tear through every shadow, burn every corner of this world, and find you. Faster. No exceptions.”
The words sank into your skin like heat, like a fever you couldn’t fight. Their voices vibrated against your ribs, and even in your exhausted haze, the bond pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath your own. It hurt. It soothed. It consumed.
You shifted weakly, barely lifting your arms, and Abby caught you instantly, pulling you flush against his chest, holding you so tight it was as if he feared you might slip away like smoke through his fingers. Your soft whimper broke free, and in response, their lips descended—quick, worshipful kisses scattered across your face, your forehead, your cheeks. Each one was a vow carved from dark devotion, sacred and desperate.
None of them cared that the girls were watching. Not even a little.
To them, this moment wasn’t a secret to hide. It was a fierce declaration meant to be seen, witnessed—and feared.
Jinu cupped your cheek gently, his thumb stroking your lower lip as he stared down at you like you were the only thing he’d ever loved in his endless, cursed existence. “You can sleep now, jagi.” he murmured. ”We’ve got you. We’re here.”
But you didn’t close your eyes.
You couldn’t.
The fear in your gaze flickered like a candle on the verge of being blown out, and it pierced straight through their chests.
“I know you're scared princess,” Abby whispered, seeing it—feeling it. He kissed your shoulder, slow and grounding. “But you don’t have to be.”
“They won’t come near you again,” Baby promised, his eyes suddenly glowing a fierce, molten gold as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. His voice dropped to a dark, dangerous rumble. “We’ll kill every last one of them.”
Then, without warning, his lips brushed yours—a kiss both possessive and gentle, claiming and worshipping all at once.
You couldn’t help but respond, your body instinctively folding into his touch.
A deep, satisfied purr rolled from his throat as he pulled back just enough to murmur, “Good girl.”
Tears spilled freely down your cheeks then—hot, unguarded, the flood of relief and safety crashing through you. None of them moved away. They kissed every drop away, slow and reverent, like a ritual binding you all tighter.
Whispers followed, soft and intimate, barely more than a caress against your ear. Abby murmured promises laced with possessiveness and devotion, Romance’s breath was warm and teasing, Mystery’s touch gentle yet claiming. Jinu’s voice steadied you, firm but full of quiet worship.
The bond between you burned hotter than ever—tangled, unbreakable, alive. Their presence curled around your soul, threading through every crack you didn’t know was there. You felt their need as if it were your own—fear, devotion, relentless obsession pulsing beneath the surface.
“I don’t want to sleep,” you breathed, fragile but resolute.
“We know, jagi,” Jinu murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with the tenderness of a man touching something he could never replace. “But you need rest. And when you wake up…” His gaze locked on yours, heavy and absolute. “We’ll be right here.”
“We’ll always be here,” Mystery said quietly, his hand covering yours like he could anchor you in place.
“Right beside you,” Romance whispered, his lips brushing your temple.
“No matter what,” Abby vowed, eyes dark and shining like polished obsidian.
Baby’s smirk was faint, but the raw edge beneath his voice cut clear as a blade. “Even if you run,” he said, voice dark and certain, “we’ll always find you, angel.”
You didn’t have the strength to argue, and the truth was, you didn’t want to.
You buried your face in Abby’s chest, your fingers curling weakly into his shirt as their warmth closed around you—limbs, arms, breath, scent. They wrapped you in themselves, sealing you in with their touch, claiming you with every slow, deliberate kiss pressed to your skin.
Just before sleep pulled you under, your lips parted around a trembling whisper, barely audible.
“Don’t let go.”
And they didn’t.
They wouldn’t.
Not now.
Not ever.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
You didn’t realize when your breathing evened out. You didn’t even notice when your trembling stopped—only that Abby’s heartbeat was loud against your ear and his arms had never loosened. His warmth, his scent, the quiet purr of comfort he hummed into your hair—it lulled you like a trance. Safe. Just for a moment. Just long enough to drift off with your cheek against his chest, lashes fluttering as sleep took you.
The boys stilled the moment they realized.
The moment your breathing deepened, the warm affection in the boys’ gazes dimmed into something else entirely—an eerie shift like the dimming of lights before a storm.The tender looks, the soft smiles meant only for you, bled away until nothing remained but masks. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
Gone was the playfulness.
Gone was the easy charm that made them look human.
What remained were demons.
Demons with a mate to protect.
And they would burn the world to ash before letting it happen again.
Abby didn’t move except to adjust you, cradling your head as if even the weight of sleep could pull you too far from him. His gaze never left your face, the muscle in his jaw flexing with a restrained fury he didn’t voice.
Romance was the first to stand, his shoulders squaring like a prince preparing for war. The vow in his eyes was lethal. Baby didn’t bother to hide the heat simmering beneath his skin, his hands curling into fists until his knuckles whitened. Mystery’s normally lazy stare was stripped bare — sharp, predatory, unblinking. Even Jinu, who had not looked away from you for a single heartbeat, was utterly still, the darkness in his eyes so deep it felt like falling.
They moved together, silent and sure, leaving the dressing room without a word. The scent of your fear still clung to them like smoke, sharp and unforgettable. They didn’t bother cleaning the mess — the toppled chair, the ripped curtain, the faint trace of blood still staining the air.
The girls followed in stunned silence, their breath caught somewhere between awe and fear.
Zoey had seen it all—fought demons, severed heads, watched her girls bleed and survive, again and again. But even she couldn’t shake the cold hush crawling down her spine as the boys moved ahead—shadows wrapped in fury, a storm barely contained.
Outside, the van was waiting, the engine low and rumbling.
"Jinu," Rumi called softly, stepping forward.
Jinu didn’t even look at it. His eyes were still on you, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the wrinkle between your brows as you whimpered in your sleep.
Still, she pressed the letter into his hand. “Please… take care of her,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
The girls watched, breath shallow, as the boys slipped into the van—Abby last, still cradling you like a treasure too precious to ever let go. You murmured something fragile in your sleep, a whisper of sound that pulled three heads toward you instantly. Abby hushed you, soft and sure, his voice threading comfort into your hair until your sigh was smooth again.
Only then did Jinu lift his gaze to meet Rumi’s.
Not with challenge. Not with cold dismissal.
But with something deeper. Something heavy—an unspoken truth exchanged in a glance sharp and clear.
He nodded once.
“We always do,” his voice steady.
Rumi stepped back, throat tight, watching them file into the van
Abby hands never loosened around you, brushing your hair from your face with a tenderness that twisted something deep in her gut.
“She’s the only thing keeping them tethered,” Rumi said quietly.
Zoey and Mira flanked her, each laying a hand on her arm.
“She’ll be okay,” Mira murmured, though even she didn’t sound certain.
Inside, the van’s silence was suffocating.
Jinu sat at the far end, the letter unopened in his lap, his eyes never leaving your face. His legs were tense, boots braced so the ride stayed smooth for you no matter how sharp the turns.
Romance sat beside you, his hand ghosting down your arm, touch so light it was almost imagined. They weren’t trying to wake you. They wanted you to sleep. You needed it. And for now, that was enough to keep their hunger at bay.
But when you whimpered softly in your dreams—just a whisper of fear, a flinch that made your lip tremble—every last one of them went still.
“Shh,” Abby whispered against your forehead, kissing it softly. “You don’t have to run anymore. We’ve got you. We’ll always have you.”
Romance reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering too long, too reverently against your skin. “She’s burning up,” he said, brows knitting in fierce concern. “Still shaking.”
“Let me—” Mystery’s voice was low, coaxing, barely above a breath. “Let me touch her. Just a moment.”
His fingertips pressed gently to your cheek, then slid to your neck, finally resting over the hollow of your collarbone. His touch was worshipful, like tracing the lines of some ancient magic only he could understand. His eyes fluttered closed as if to drink it in.
Baby couldn’t hold back any longer. He edged closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then another soft press to your cheek. A shaky breath escaped him. “You should’ve let us kill him slower,” he muttered, voice rough and raw, meant for no one but the shadows. “He touched her. Made her cry. I should’ve torn him apart—piece by piece.”
“You would’ve,” Jinu said finally, voice ice sharp. “If we hadn’t been there, you’d have brought the whole damn building down hunting him.”
“I still might,” Baby growled, dark and low.
Another soft whimper slipped from your lips.
Jinu’s restraint snapped. His hand closed over your wrist, warm and steady, thumb stroking slow, grounding circles into your skin. His voice dropped to something dangerously gentle.
“Shhh, angel,” he murmured, voice lower than ever. “We’re here now. You’re safe. Nothing—nothing—will get to you anymore. Not without going through us first.”
You stirred, lips parting slightly, brows twitching like you could sense the shift in the air. The way it hummed with obsession. With fear turned to fury. With a love so consuming it bordered on ruin.
Romance leaned forward, his voice velvet-wrapped steel. “We’ll keep whispering it until your soul believes it.”
Abby shifted you slightly, so your head rested more firmly against his heart.
Then, you stirred.
Not enough to wake, but your body instinctively reached toward the warmth. A soft whimper, again. Your face buried against Abby’s neck. The sight made Baby exhale something unsteady and broken.
One by one, they kissed you. Your temple. Your cheek. Your knuckles. Each kiss deliberate, reverent, like they were sealing a vow in silence.
It should’ve been a sweet moment. It would’ve been, if not for the fire beneath their eyes. If not for the way their bodies thrummed with restrained violence, like a symphony held back from its final, devastating crescendo.
They were quiet now, yes. But not calm.
Because this wasn’t over.
The demon may be dead, but the wound remained.
And the thought of you flinching ever again was enough to make them want to tear the world apart.
Abby looked down at you, his voice like a low growl softened only by tenderness. “Sleep. Just sleep, princess. We’ll be here when you wake up. Right here. Always.”
“We’re never letting you out of our sight again,” Jinu said, his voice flat. Final. “Not even for a second.”
“Even if the world burns down around us,” Romance added, brushing a final kiss against your brow, “We’ll still be here.”
And still, the boys leaned closer. Kisses pressed to your hair. Fingers trailing down your arms. Breath whispered against your skin. They murmured things too soft to catch. Pet names and promises. Threats to the world. Vows to each other.
Outside the van, the city kept moving—neon flashing, tires hissing against wet asphalt. But inside… time bent, stilled, and belonged only to you.
To the girl sleeping in the arms of monsters who would rip the stars from the sky if it meant keeping you breathing.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The elevator chimed softly as it reached the penthouse, the weight of silence more deafening than any sound.
Jinu walked ahead, his expression tight with worry, the lines between his brows etched deep. Abby carried you—one arm under your knees, the other curled securely behind your back, your cheek resting over his steady heart. Every breath you took was felt against him. Even asleep, you whimpered softly now and then, a sound that made each of them tense.
“Put her on the couch. Gently,” Romance said, his voice low, fraying at the edges.
Baby was the one who moved ahead and swept aside the blankets on the oversized couch. “Here,” he said softly, voice cracking a little. “Let’s let her rest.”
Romance hovered near your side, eyes never leaving your face. “Wait, I’ll grab the pillow,” he murmured, already vanishing down the hall before the others could speak.
Mystery knelt on the couch, helping ease your body down as Abby laid you onto the cushions. You curled instinctively, seeking warmth. Jinu was already adjusting the room’s temperature with a flick of his fingers, the glass walls dimming around you to shield the light.
They didn’t speak much. Everything between them was instinct now.
Jinu leaned down and pushed back your collar.
Dark. Ugly. Angry against the soft line of your throat. The place where they often kissed you when you yawned. The spot you tilted your head to the side to expose when you were feeling playful. The place they adored. Marred.
For a beat, no one spoke.
Then Abby exhaled slowly through his nose, like a dragon holding back fire.
“I’ll kill him again,” he muttered.
“No,” Jinu said, voice quieter, but colder. “We’ll do worse than that.”
Mystery touched the bruise with the back of his knuckles, barely grazing it. You flinched even in sleep, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you instinctively turned your face away, brows pinching in pain.
All of them froze.
Baby froze, halfway through tucking a blanket around your legs. Mystery’s hand stopped midair, his chest tightening until it hurt.
From behind, the soft rustle of fabric announced Romance’s return. He crouched beside you, sliding a pillow beneath your head with slow, deliberate care, his eyes lingering on your face as though willing the tension from your features.
“No, no, sweetheart,” he murmured immediately, his voice a velvet whisper that curled through the quiet. His palm cupped your cheek, thumb tracing soothing arcs along your skin. “Shhh… it’s okay. We won’t touch it again. You’re alright.”
Jinu reached for a small jar of salve—a healing balm made for bruises like this. The lid twisted open with a faint pop, releasing the warm, calming blend of lavender and mint into the room.
Abby’s jaw flexed, his hands curling against his thighs as Jinu dipped a finger into the salve.
“Let me,” Jinu said softly, a command disguised as a request.
The bond between you hummed—warm, protective, laced with something deeper that had nothing to do with the wound. Even in sleep, you didn’t retreat from them. You weren’t afraid. Never afraid of them.
Jinu brushed your hair back, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost over your skin. But before he could touch the balm to the bruise, a low, deliberate thump echoed from the hallway.
A flash of electric blue slid into the room, and Derpy padded in, his coat glinting like frost in moonlight. His glowing yellow eyes immediately locked onto the couch. Sussy fluttered close behind, a magpie with six eerie, intelligent eyes and a tiny black top hat perched smartly atop her head, wings giving a faint shimmer of magic.
Derpy approached cautiously, his large form strangely quiet for his size. Then he paused in front of the couch, nose twitching. A low, curious hum sounded from his chest as he leaned down to sniff you—eyes narrowing, ears twitching. He recognized you.
Derpy gently nuzzled the edge of the blanket Baby had tucked around you, then whined softly, head tilting as if to check the bruised part of your neck.
“Derpy,” Jinu murmured, stepping in to gently block his path, “Be careful. She’s resting.”
The tiger didn’t retreat. Instead, he pressed his snout briefly to your shoulder before settling beside the couch, a silent guardian, his eyes never straying from you.
Sussy, on the other hand, had landed directly on Jinu’s shoulder. All six of her eyes blinked as she tilted her head dramatically at your form. With a high-pitched chirp, she hopped down to the arm of the couch and cooed at you, puffing her feathers before curling her wings over her own head, mimicking sleep. A silent show of solidarity.
The moment you unconsciously nestled into them, cheek pressing against Derpy’s fur, a subtle shift rippled through the room. The boys, who had been tense shadows moving across the penthouse, stilled all at once. As if the sight of you resting—finally, peacefully, trusting even in your sleep—tugged loose the knot of worry inside their chests. One by one, their shoulders sagged with relief. The air was still heavy with quiet fury at what had been done to you… but now it was wrapped in something softer. Reverence. Relief.
Jinu was the first to move again, breath shallow as he approached your side. The quiet pad of his socks on the polished floor made barely a sound, but Derpy lifted his head slightly. Jinu gave a gentle signal with two fingers, and the great tiger’s head lowered again, a deep, rumbling purr settling in his chest.
Kneeling beside you, Jinu’s expression was unreadable for a long moment—except in his eyes. They shimmered like molten silver, the reflection of the soft lighting catching the grief and adoration pooling inside him. He reached out with hands steadier than he felt, careful not to startle you again.
Your neck was tilted just enough in sleep that the bruise peeked out from the collar of your shirt. His throat worked tightly. He could still hear the sound of your whimper from earlier, the way you’d flinched even in unconsciousness. It gutted him.
“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.
With the lightest touch, he pressed the balm to your skin. This time, you didn’t flinch. You didn’t whimper. A small exhale left your lips as you nestled deeper into the space between Derpy and the cushions, the bond humming faintly between all of you. Safe. Loved. Home.
Jinu’s breath faltered, slow and trembling. The smallest curve of relief softened his lips. He lowered his mouth to your forehead, pressing a kiss that lingered long, as if trying to imprint his love directly onto your skin. You shifted slightly, leaning into him, releasing a soft sigh.
His fingers came up to caress your face—slow, reverent strokes that carried every ounce of his fierce devotion. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, low and intimate, meant only for you and the demons guarding you.
“I love you…,” he murmured, each word heavy with unspoken promises and a raw ache you felt deep in your bones. “...so much.”
Jinu’s jaw flexed, eyes burning gold for a moment with suppressed rage. Not at you. Never at you. But at the memory of who had dared to lay a hand on you. The urge to go back and rip through realms to find whoever had hurt you gnawed at his bones.
But he held himself back, focused only on you.
Jinu finished tending your neck, brushing his thumb over your jaw in a fleeting stroke before pulling the blanket higher around your shoulders, tucking you in like something precious.
Across from him, Mystery stood rigid, fists clenched tightly inside the pocket of his hoodie. His voice was low, rough with regret. “We should’ve protected her better.”
“You’re not wrong,” Jinu said quietly, smoothing the last of the balm into your skin before leaning back on his heels, eyes never leaving your peaceful face. “But she came back to us. That’s what matters.”
Sussy fluttered her wings gently at that, letting out a melodic chirp as if to agree. Derpy’s tail flicked and curled tighter around your ankles, keeping you tucked safely against him.
Only then did Jinu remember the letter. That odd envelope Rumi had slipped into his hand earlier.
He padded back to the kitchen island where he’d tossed it earlier, still half distracted by worry over your condition. Now, picking it up, his brow furrowed. The thick parchment was smooth under his fingertips, the gilded front glinting faintly under the soft light. The looping calligraphy looked far too elegant for something casual.
Save the Date.
The words felt out of place, heavy with intention.
Jinu walked back into the living room, the quiet weight in the air broken only by the soft rustle of blankets as you shifted in your sleep. The boys sat scattered, each glancing toward you every few moments, the two spirit animals stationed like sentries at your side.
Their faces eased when they saw him return—until they caught the subtle stiffness in his shoulders and the paper between his fingers.
“Save the Date,” Jinu read aloud, his voice stripped of warmth.
Romance straightened from where he lounged curled up on the other couch, one long leg drawn up. “What’s that?”
Without a word, Jinu held the letter up.
Abby’s frown was immediate. “That from earlier? The hunter girl?”
Jinu’s jaw tightened. “Rumi gave it to me before we left. Said it was for me.”
Romance’s lips curved into a humorless smirk, eyes flicking pointedly toward where you slept. “Only for you? Does she not know you’re already in love with someone?”
“She knows,” Jinu said evenly, though there was a quiet, unshakable claim in the way he said it. “She’s known for a while.”
“Then why the hell would she…” Baby started, then stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Wait—you think this is romantic? Like a date-date?”
“Could be a meeting,” Mystery’s tone was flat, unreadable. “Could be a trap. Could be something else entirely.”
“She’s with the girls,” Jinu muttered, gaze sinking back to the gilded words. “That hasn’t changed. I don’t think this is about… that. But I don’t like how vague it is.”
His eyes darkened, the gold in them flaring faintly. “She’s ours. And if Rumi’s smart, she’s not trying to take anything from that. Maybe she wants to talk about the Honmoon… maybe she’s thinking of sealing it officially.”
Romance’s tone softened, but the claim in his voice was sharp enough to draw blood. “Then she better understand—any deal includes her. Our mate. Our everything.”
Every pair of eyes shifted to you again.
Peaceful. Asleep. Pressed into the warmth of their world like you were the sun they orbited around.
Jinu finally set the letter down on the table with deliberate care before walking back to you. He sank to one knee beside the couch, leaning in until his head rested against the armrest, so close his breath nearly mingled with yours. Close enough to feel the soft rise and fall of your chest.
“Whatever she wants,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over your hand in a fleeting touch, “she’s going to have to understand… I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Derpy gave a quiet huff, tail thumping once in agreement. Susie ruffled her feathers, tucking herself closer to your hair as if staking her own claim.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
Jinu stood with his hands stuffed into his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stared out at the quiet park Rumi had picked for their secret meeting. The sun hung low, staining the clouds with soft gold and blush, the breeze warm and lazily threading through the trees. It should’ve been beautiful—romantic, even—but he was stuck here, waiting, and every second away from you felt like a slow burn.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyes flicking to his phone. “Tch. She’s late.” His head tilted back with a groan, the frustration tightening his jaw. “I could be with her right now.”
Shoving his hands deeper into his jacket, he began to pace, steps restless.
“Still whining like a lovesick pup, lover boy?”
The voice cut through the stillness like a blade, and Jinu whipped around, hand halfway raised, claws flexing, instincts sharp.
Rumi’s smirk was waiting for him. She strolled forward with unhurried steps, hands tucked into her coat, eyes glinting with amusement.
“Still jumpy, I see,” she said lightly. “Must be love.”
“I swear to hell,” he muttered, visibly rattled. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“You get more dramatic every time I see you,” she teased. “That girl of yours really has you wrapped.”
Jinu rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “If you came here just to flirt, you’re wasting your time. I get the theatrics and the cryptic letter thing, okay? But you’re not my type.”
Rumi raised a brow.
He crossed his arms, mood already soured. “I’m taken. Taken-taken. Like, soulbound, heart-on-my-sleeve, willing-to-walk-into-hell-for-her taken. So unless you’ve called me here to tell me how to keep her safe for the next thousand years, make it quick.”
That soft, hypnotic edge entered his voice, the kind that always seemed to thrum with something deeper—like velvet hiding steel. Even as he spoke with disdain, his thoughts had already returned to you. Your scent. Your smile. The way your eyes softened when he cupped your face in the mornings, whispering how badly he wanted to devour every second of your day just to be near you.
“You’re really down bad,” Rumi observed dryly.
“You have no idea,” Jinu murmured, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth as if savoring the memory of you.
Her teasing expression softened into something quieter, almost reluctant. She took a step forward, eyes sharpening with focus. “What if I told you there’s a way to seal the Honmoon for good?”
He stilled, gaze narrowing. “What?”
“I mean,” she said, eyes fixed on the horizon, “what if there’s a way for all of you to be free… permanently. To keep you on this side. To erase the marks. The shame. The tether to hell. You wouldn’t be fully demon anymore… but not fully human either. Just like me.”
His brows pinched. “Why would you want to help us? You’re a hunter.”
“I was born one,” Rumi said quietly, “but I’m not just that anymore.” She finally looked at him. “You know that. You must know what it means to be in-between.”
Jinu’s arms folded across his chest, his jaw locking tight. “Still doesn’t explain why you think we’d ever help you. You don’t understand what’s at stake.” His voice dropped lower, harder. “If we screw this up—if we take the wrong risk—we’ll be dragged back underground. Locked away forever. Torn from her. I’m not letting that happen. Not when she’s finally within reach.”
Rumi held his stare, unflinching. “I do understand. That’s why I came to you. Because I know how deeply you love her.”
He stared at her, a flicker of hope sparking against his will. “How?”
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, holding it out. “Help us win the Idol Awards.”
Jinu blinked. “That’s it?”
“If we win,” Rumi said, her voice softening, “we get the exact celestial convergence needed to close the Honmoon. You’ll have the perfect window to perform the ritual. If it works, you and the boys will be tied to her forever. No more marks. No more shame. No more Gwima. No more wondering when the ground will open under your feet. You’ll be able to stay. You’ll be hers, wholly. In every plane.”
Silence stretched between them.
“…You think we care about our shame?” Jinu scoffed, but the sound lacked bite. His voice betrayed the faintest tremor.
“No,” Rumi said simply. “But you care about your freedom. About her safety. About waking up beside her without fearing it’ll all be ripped away.”
Something in him flinched. His gaze dropped, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
He swallowed hard, turning his back to her for a moment as if to collect himself. The thought of losing you—even as a shadow in his mind—split something raw and unhealed wide open.
He thought about the first time you whispered I love you, all sleepy and defenseless, and how his world had never been the same.
“But what if something goes wrong?” he whispered. “What if… what if we fail? I can’t risk her safety like that. I can’t risk going back and leaving her behind.”
“You already risk everything just by loving her,” Rumi said softly, her tone gentle but unyielding. “This just gives you a way to win.”
Before he could answer, a sudden, airy voice cut through the weight in the air.
“Oh, young lovers! How cute!”
Jinu whipped around, startled, to find a cheerful older woman setting up a necklace stall just across from them. She squinted at the two of them, clearly delighted. “What a beautiful couple! Are you looking for something special? I’ve got charms for loyalty, passion, even fertility if you’re feeling ambitious—”
“No!” Jinu and Rumi said in unison, stepping apart like magnets reversed.
“We’re not a couple,” Jinu said quickly, waving his hands. “At all. Not even a little.”
“Truly,” Rumi added, deadpan. “He’s tragically in love with someone else.”
The aunt cackled, clearly unfazed. “Ah, even better. The best gifts are for the ones who ache the hardest.”
She rummaged through a tray, then pulled out a delicate silver chain with a small, bell-shaped charm dangling at the center. “Here. For her. Free of charge. I like your heart.”
Jinu stared at it, heat rising in his face. “I—uh—you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” She pressed it into his palm, closing his fingers around it with surprising strength. “Tell her someone saw how much you love her.”
And just like that, she turned back to her display, leaving him rooted in place, clutching the necklace like it was a piece of the universe he’d been entrusted with.
Rumi tilted her head, her mouth curving faintly. “You should give it to her.”
He stared down at the charm. It was small. Simple. But the sound it made—soft, melodic—reminded him of you. Of your laugh when he kissed your neck. Of the way your breath caught when he whispered your name against your skin. Of the delicate things he didn’t think he deserved but was selfish enough to hold anyway.
He didn’t say anything.
But his hand curled around it tightly.
“I’ll think about your plan,” he murmured. “But only for her.”
Rumi smiled faintly. “That’s all I ever expected.”
She turned, steps light, but he stayed where he was—rooted, caught between the weight of his fears and the pull of something brighter. His gaze fell to the necklace again. His pulse kicked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
Baby: Hyung, she’s awake.
Mystery: She’s crying. She’s looking for you.
Abby: She thinks you left her.
The blood drained from Jinu’s face.
He didn’t say a word.
He took off.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
You sat at the vanity, haloed in the golden light of the overhead bulbs, fingers delicately tracing a fresh coat of gloss over your lips. The mirror framed your reflection like a portrait—your eyes lined in soft bronze, lashes fluttering as you tilted your head slightly, studying the fading bruises along your neck. They were nearly gone now, mere shadows of what they once were. The echoes of fear. Of survival. Of how fiercely the boys had fought for you.
And how they still hadn’t let you out of their sight since.
Today would be the first time in weeks you’d be stepping outside with all five of them in tow.
The plan was simple—head to the stylist’s studio to check their costumes for the Idol Awards—but you knew it would turn into something else entirely.
Ever since the attack, the boys had become even more unreasonably attached—not that you minded. Their possessiveness had morphed into something equal parts frustrating and heart-melting: constant neck kisses that lingered too long, clingy morning snuggles you couldn’t escape from, and ridiculous arguments over who got to carry you from the couch to the kitchen.
This morning, Abby had even tried to feed you breakfast like you were recovering from a coma. You’d had to wrestle the spoon out of his hands.
Your gaze dropped, catching the glint of silver resting at the base of your throat—a delicate chain, the small bell-shaped charm swaying with your breath. Jinu had fastened it there himself, fingers lingering against your skin as if reluctant to let go. The sound it made was barely audible, but the boys always seemed to hear it. A quiet reminder of who you belonged to. A promise that even if you strayed too far, they’d find you.
You shifted your gaze to the soft patch of skin where Mystery had pressed his mouth last night, murmuring something low and unrepeatable, something that made your breath hitch and your core tighten. You could still feel the ghosts of their kisses—Abby’s rough lips grazing your collarbone, Baby’s possessive nips, Jinu’s steady breath against your pulse, and Romance’s sigh of relief as he whispered that you were safe now. Always. With them.
The charm’s bell chimed softly when you exhaled, almost as if agreeing. You tried not to let the intensity of their love drown you again.
A faint smile tugged at your lips as you remembered their earlier argument, the one that had ended with you standing your ground.
“You still need to rest. Your leave’s indefinite,” Jinu had said, crossing his arms like the leader he was.
“You step into that building and I swear I’ll l throw you over my shoulder,” Abby warned, dead serious.
“I’ll teleport us to a private island,” Mystery said, sipping tea like he’d already booked the tickets.
But you had stood your ground, voice steady and sharp as a blade. “The Idol Awards are next week, and if you don’t let me prep your schedules, I will ignore all five of you for the rest of the year.”
Now, smoothing the soft fabric of your dress, tugging gently at the hem, you ran trembling fingers through your hair. The silence around you felt alien—wrong in a way that made the fine hairs along your arms rise, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
You blinked again at your reflection, heart pounding in the quiet room.
Then, something shifted behind you.
A cold breath traced the curve of your neck. Your fingers clenched instinctively around the charm at your throat.
Your body froze.
Then—claws.
A hand.
You spun around, but it was too late.
And you screamed.
The scream tore out of you before your brain could even register the panic. A raw, desperate soundas you bolted from the chair, the crash of it skidding across the floor behind you. You ran without thinking, without stopping to catch your breath or glance back. You knew exactly what you’d seen.
You threw the door open and slammed right into a broad chest.
Strong arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you firm. “Whoa, babe. Breathe. Breathe. It’s just me.” Abby’s deep voice was steady, grounding, the rumble of it vibrating against your cheek. His arms didn’t loosen, even as you gripped fistfuls of his shirt.
Your voice came out in a gasp, shaky. “A demon—in the room—he was right behind me—!”
Jinu was there in a heartbeat, sharp as a blade. His eyes glowed like twin moons, cold and piercing. “Where?” His voice cut through the panic like ice.
The others weren’t far behind.
Romance teleported beside him, every muscle taut and ready. Baby looked ready to gut someone, while Mystery’s eyes had gone eerily blank—the look he wore when he was one step from breaking something beyond repair.
“Get behind me,” Abby growled, sliding you carefully behind his broad back, his body shielding you like armor.
The five of them surged forward, a deadly storm of sharp power, growls, and glowing eyes.
And then—a sudden stillness.
A voice snapped out, disbelief and fury tangled in one word.
“JELLY?!?!”
To be continued...
That's Jelly guys, He’s a fan of the boys in the movie, and the fandom ended up naming him Jelly.
I have a question, what would the Saja Boys' reaction be like with their drunk partner who is super affectionate and needy with them? I'm talking about affectionate hugs and kisses and always wanting to be hugged, but if you want to be needy in another way 👀I love your writing 🫶🫶🫶
“Sweetheart,” Romance cooed, voice deep and soft like velvet dipped in wine. His palm slid gently over your wrist, halting the slow, stubborn rise of your cup. “That’s enough.”
His fingers ghosted around your wrist, light and reverent, before plucking the cup from your grasp with a calm precision. It was so swift, so disarmingly gentle, that it took you a second to register the loss.
Your lips parted in disbelief. A soft mewl left your throat, more petulant than composed, small and helpless and wounded in the prettiest way. “Nooo,” you whined, already sliding into a dangerous pout. “I wasn’t done…”
Romance only smiled. That maddening, knowing smile that made you want to fight him and kiss him at the same time. He dangled the cup just out of reach, arm stretching behind him as he leaned into the couch with all the arrogant ease of someone who knew exactly what kind of chaos he was causing.
Around you, the boys had gone quiet. They watched you like predators watching their favorite plaything, heat simmering beneath their amusement, their stares sharp and possessive.
You huffed softly, brows furrowing as your lips jutted forward in the kind of pout that could start wars. “Gimme,” you whispered again, breathless and insistent, like a mantra you’d die repeating. Your eyes were glassy, locked onto his with that dazed, needy look that made his throat tighten.
Slowly, you climbed onto your knees and leaned into him, your forehead thudding softly against his collarbone. You let your weight rest there for a beat, heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Your fingers curled into his sleeve like you didn’t even realize you were clinging. Your other hand reached blindly, still trying.
But Romance was too tall. Too smug. And his arm was still stretched behind him with infuriating calm.
A quiet laugh rumbled from his chest—low, velvety—and you felt the sound vibrate against your cheek where it rested against him. Your brow furrowed. You glared at his chest like it had wronged you personally.
Then something tipped inside you—some primal little switch. In one fluid, reckless movement, you straddled his lap with all the elegance of someone driven entirely by want. Your body pressed flush to his, skirt riding up scandalously as your thighs bracketed his hips. Your hands found his chest again, palms splayed over his heart like they belonged there.
His breath hitched. His smile faltered just a second.
And Romance—still holding your drink just out of reach—looked up at you like you’d just stolen the stars and set them in his lap. His tail flicked once behind him, slow and deliberate.
From across the room, Abby let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Oh, she’s gone,” he murmured, far too pleased.
Jinu, seated nearby, didn’t say a word. He just leaned back against the couch with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
“Angel…” Romance rasped, his voice low and scraped raw. You shifted slightly—just enough to send another dizzy shiver up his spine—and his tail moved on instinct, curling around your waist in one smooth, possessive motion to keep you steady. “What… are you doing?”
He tried to sound stern. In control. But his voice cracked at the edges.
Your dazed eyes flicked up to him, gaze unfocused and full of drunken heat, but you said nothing. Just blinked. Tilted your head. Stayed in his lap like you hadn’t just hijacked his soul.
He swallowed hard, then slowly extended the cup out to the side without breaking eye contact. His expression stayed carefully blank, but his tail cinched tighter around you, anchoring you to him like you were something he didn’t want drifting too far.
Jinu plucked the drink from his hand with a low snort, clearly amused. You followed it with your eyes like prey, your shoulders sagging the second it left your sightline. The boys didn’t miss it. Their smirks deepened in sync, quiet laughter pulsing through the room like a shared current.
You shifted in Romance’s lap, the alcohol making your body loose, floaty. Your weight tilted to one side, legs preparing to slip off and make a beeline for your next obvious target—Jinu, your composed, dangerous leader, who might just melt if you pouted the right way.
With a breathy, exaggerated sigh, you began to climb down. But just as your palm met Romance’s chest to push off, his hands suddenly caught your waist.
He didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate.
He pulled you back into his lap, firmer this time. His grip was strong, grounding, undeniably his. And then his tail—coiled so deceptively gently—tightened around your waist again and pulled, slotting you flush against his chest.
You gasped softly, the sudden pull knocking the breath right out of your lungs. The wind slipped from you in a surprised little exhale, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“Sit still.”
It made your spine straighten, your breath catch.
“But Ro—” you whined softly, twisting to look up at him with a watery pout, your lip trembling. “I just wanted—”
“I know what you wanted,” he cut in, his voice pitched lower now, threaded with something dark and unshakable. His tail held fast, snug against your waist, locking you against him like his body had already decided for you. “That doesn’t mean you’re getting it.”
The look he gave you made your breath stick in your throat.
It saw through everything—the pout, the slurred charm, the slow roll of alcohol in your system. His gaze pinned you in place, like he could read the heat simmering beneath your skin, every need you hadn’t voiced, every game you thought you were playing.
And gods, he nearly folded. Nearly let himself give in—to pull you close, coo soft reassurances in your ear, kiss the pout from your lips and spoil you senseless until your whines turned to moans and your hands stopped trembling. You were so soft like this. So easy to adore.
But he didn’t.
Because he knew better.
Sometimes spoiling you too much isn't good for you. And you needed him to hold the line, even when you didn’t know it.
You blinked up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and still your body tried to move, to tempt. Your hips shifted instinctively, restless and needful, but his tail only tightened in response, a silent command wrapped in velvet restraint.
Romance’s hand lifted slowly to your hair, fingers brushing it back with a gentleness that contrasted the tension coiled through him. But there was an edge in his voice that cut right through you.
“You’re not listening,” he murmured. “I told you—you’re already drunk.”
And maybe you had said you weren’t. Once. Maybe three times. But the way your body leaned into him, warm and weightless and barely holding itself together, betrayed you far more than words ever could.
He should’ve let you go. Should’ve watched you crawl toward Jinu, all soft and tipsy and begging for attention—just to see how fast the others would move. Let them deal with your mischief. Let them unravel over your sweetness, your need.
But Romance was a selfish demon.
When it came to you, he always had been.
So instead of letting you slip through his fingers again, he did the one thing he knew would work.
He kissed you.
His mouth found yours before you could think—before you could pout again, or whisper something ridiculous, or slide off in search of more mischief. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t rushed. Just a slow, anchoring press of lips, meant to quiet everything spinning inside you.
And it worked.
Your breath hitched, body going still against him. You sighed into the kiss, soft and shaky, and your hands trembled where they rested on his chest.
That was all the permission he needed.
He deepened it with quiet precision, his lips parting yours like they’d done it a thousand times in dreams. He swallowed the tiny gasp you gave, the little whimper caught in your throat, like it belonged to him. Like you did.
Your body melted—instantly, instinctively—curling into his with the helpless affection of a sleepy kitten, every muscle gone pliant under his touch.
And still, his tail stayed wrapped around you, not just to steady you… but to keep you exactly where he wanted you.
And just like that… something inside you flipped.
You whimpered into his mouth, high and needy, before pulling back just far enough to nuzzle along his jaw. You peppered kisses there like you couldn’t help yourself—cheek, chin, the underside of his throat. Closer. Closer. Your arms looped around his neck as you leaned in fully, straddling his thighs again without a second thought.
Your chest pressed tightly against his as you clung, breath shallow and dreamy.
“You’re so warm,” you murmured, voice small and dreamy, like the words barely made it past your lips. You buried your face in his neck, inhaling deeply, like he was your oxygen. “I wanna stay right here…”
Romance’s lips twitched into a helpless smile, the kind that made his eyes crinkle—fond and pained all at once. Because you didn’t realize what you were doing to him. Not really.
You kissed along the line of his throat with soft, desperate sounds. Little moans. Little sighs. You nuzzled closer like your whole body was starved for touch. Your thighs shifted restlessly around him, hips rolling the slightest bit as your lips trailed from his collarbone back up to his mouth.
You kissed him again.
And again.
Each kiss deeper than the last. Slower. Hungrier. You whimpered when you couldn’t get enough, like the taste of him wasn’t quite filling the ache. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging, stroking. Your nails scraped softly down his back. You pulled at him with an urgency that wasn’t fully in your control, like your body already knew what it needed.
You were soft everywhere except for the intensity of your want—radiating off you like heat.
You couldn’t stop.
And he wasn’t asking you to.
Not until your hands slipped lower.
Fumbling. Searching.
They slid down his back, then around, lower still—brushing the waistband of his pants, then the buckle of his belt. You tugged at it with clumsy determination. Frustrated when it didn’t give right away. You whined softly, bottom lip trembling, fingers pulling with a desperation that made your eyes shine glassy.
That’s when his hands caught yours.
“No,” Romance said quietly, almost gently. “Angel… no.”
His grip was not harsh, but firm. He held them between your bodies like he was afraid you’d burn both of you alive if you kept going. His breath hitched sharply, and this time, the groan that left his chest was real—raw, ragged, almost desperate. His head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, trying to steady himself.
You blinked up at him, dazed and flushed, lips kiss-swollen and parted with breathless confusion.
“Don’t you want me…?” you whispered, voice so soft it nearly broke.
“Oh, angel,” Romance groaned, hauling you closer until your forehead rested against his. “That’s not it. I want you. God, every part of me wants you.”
He held your wrists gently against his chest, fingers warm and steady even as his breath hitched. His lips hovered just over yours, aching with restraint.
“I want you,” he whispered, voice falling into that velvet rasp that always turned your bones to liquid. “But not like this. Not when you’re like this. I don’t wanna take advantage of you. You’re not steady right now.”
Tears pricked behind your eyes before you could stop them. Hot, stubborn, blurring your vision as your bottom lip wobbled. He felt it instantly—of course he did. The bond throbbed between you, pulsing raw and open, and your pain sank into him like ink in water.
You gave the tiniest hiccup and turned your face away, collapsing into his shoulder like your heart had just been broken in half.
“You’re being mean,” you sniffled, voice muffled in the warm curve of his neck. “I just wanted to kiss you…”
From across the couch, Baby let out a soft, horrified laugh—like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Hyung, you made her cry.”
“She’s so cute I’m going insane,” Abby muttered, dragging a hand down his face like he was physically restraining himself from lunging.
Mystery, lounging behind the couch with his chin propped on folded arms, smirked like a devil. “And this is why we don’t let her drink more than one glass.”
You whimpered again, clinging tighter to Romance like the entire universe was conspiring against you. “Stop laughing… all of you are so mean…”
Romance hushed you gently, lips brushing the crown of your head, one hand stroking slow and steady through your hair while the other slipped low on your back to keep you close. His voice dropped, velvet-warm and thick with emotion.
“No one’s laughing at you, sweetheart. Promise. They just don’t know what to do with themselves when you’re like this…” His breath ghosted over your temple as he pressed a kiss there, soft and lingering. “You’re too precious right now. It’s not fair.”
His arms tightened around you, grounding you with the warmth of him, the steadiness of his pulse where your cheek rested against his chest.
“I just wanna take care of you,” he whispered, every word laced with restraint and longing. “You deserve to be spoiled properly. Worshipped. Not when your head’s all foggy like this.”
You hiccupped again, pulling back just enough to look up at him with glassy eyes and a pout that could kill demons, your demons. Your cheeks were tear-streaked, but you still tried to smile—brave and stubborn, the picture of drunken defiance.
You sniffled, then gave a stubborn little smile, trying to be brave.
“But I feel better now… see?” you said, wiggling on his lap like an innocent little thing who didn’t know she was driving him mad. “Not foggy anymore…”
Romance let out a broken laugh, burying his face in your hair as he shook his head. “Mm. That’s the fog talking,” he murmured, voice heavy with affection.
Then he pulled back just enough to press a tender kiss to your forehead, thumb brushing away the tear tracks on your cheek..
“You can have anything you want in the morning,” he promised, the weight of it sinking into your chest like a vow. “Anything at all. Just not right now, love.”
“…Even the one under your pants?” you whispered, wide-eyed, lips parted in naive hope.
Romance inhaled so sharply he choked.
The entire room burst out laughing.
“He’s losing it,” Jinu whispered, wide-eyed and delighted.
“She’s going to kill him with that little voice,” Abby said, clearly both impressed and devastated.
“And she has no idea she’s doing it,” Baby added with a devilish grin. “Poor, poor hyung…”
You whimpered in embarrassment, grabbing Romance’s arms and dragging them tighter around yourself like a blanket. His scent surrounded you, and you sank into his chest with a dramatic little sob, hiding like a sulky kitten.
“Nooo, don’t laugh at meee,” you cried, voice high and wobbly and so heartbreakingly adorable that it hit all of them like a punch to the chest.
Romance instinctively tightened his grip, shielding you from the others, but your whine only grew more pitiful. You curled in tighter, pressing every inch of yourself against him like you were trying to merge into his skin, like being this close still wasn’t enough.
“You’re being mean,” you sniffled into his throat, the words muffled and breathy, dissolving into the warm skin of his neck. “All of you. So mean…”
Baby choked out a laugh again—then immediately winced when you flinched.
“She’s so sensitive,” Mystery murmured, not unkindly. There was a crooked smirk tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not when you looked like that.
“Or maybe she’s just extra needy tonight,” Abby added from somewhere nearby, his deep voice tinged with amusement.
That only made you whimper louder, your face disappearing further into the curve of Romance’s neck. Lips brushed against his collarbone with every shaky inhale, your tears soaking into his skin like spilled starlight. But you weren’t just sniffling anymore.
You were crying. Quiet, heartbreaking sobs that made the room still. The kind of sobs that turned desire into a deep, aching instinct to protect. Big, warm tears slid down your cheeks as you clung tighter to Romance’s shirt—like if you let go, you’d fall through the floor and never stop falling.
Romance held you like he could feel that too, arms tightening with a quiet, desperate gentleness. He rocked you slowly in his lap, his hand stroking your back in soothing circles as he whispered into your hair, each word weighted with guilt and devotion. “Shh, it’s okay, love. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”
But his voice only made your lip wobble harder. Made your shoulders shake like your heartbreak was too big for your body.
From beside you, Baby leaned closer, his teasing long gone. “Is it something we said?” he asked, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “I didn’t mean to laugh, sweetheart. You’re just… really cute when you’re drunk and pouty.”
You didn’t answer. Just hiccupped and clung harder to Romance’s chest, muffling something into his skin that sounded vaguely like “meanie.”
Mystery's voice joined next, smooth and coaxing as he crouched closer. “You’re not mad at us, are you?” he asked, fingers brushing gently through your hair to tuck it behind your ear. “You know we didn’t mean it like that. You’re breaking our hearts, angel. Talk to us.”
Still no answer.
Only more trembling. More silent tears. The kind that made even Abby shift forward, concern beginning to creep past his teasing.
And then—after a long, aching pause—your voice broke through, wobbly and thick with tears. “Why are you all being so mean…? I just—I just wanted…”
“What did you want, sweetheart?” Romance asked softly, lips pressing to your hairline with reverent care. “Tell us.”
“Yeah, what’s wrong, angel?” Jinu leaned in, his gaze sweeping slowly over your crumpled form curled in Romance’s lap like something heartbreakingly fragile. “Tell us what you need.”
Your eyes lifted, watery and glassy, lashes clumped with tears. You looked at them with that same devastating expression—the one that always made them unravel. Wide, luminous eyes like shattered stars, lower lip trembling, breath hitching in your throat as you tried to form the words. It wasn’t calculated, but it didn’t have to be.
Drunk you was a menace. A needy, sensitive, heartbreakingly honest little menace.
You weren’t shy about what you wanted tonight—and it showed in the way your fingers curled tighter into Romance’s shirt like you never wanted to let go, in the little whimper at the back of your throat when they didn’t answer right away.
God, you were pretty like this.
Glowing with longing. A pouty little dream with flushed cheeks, glossy lips, and hands that clung like you were afraid they’d disappear if you let go.
You hiccupped again, voice small and soaked in feeling. “I just… wanted to be close. You’re all warm, and you smell nice, and—and you keep pushing me away.”
Romance exhaled hard, his hold around you tightening.
Jinu swore softly under his breath. “Shit. Baby, you hearing this?”
“She’s breaking my heart, hyung,” Baby whispered, eyes wide, lips parted. “Look at her.”
Mystery leaned in, brushing his knuckles under your tear-damp chin. “No one's pushing you away, pretty girl,” he murmured, voice low and smooth as silk. “We’re trying not to take advantage of you. That’s what this is. Because you mean too much.”
Your eyes lit up.
The shift was instant. Dizzying. One second you were sniffling and shattered, the next—glowing. That soft, radiant light you always gave off when you felt wanted, when you knew you were loved. All five of them stilled, stunned. A laugh nearly broke through from the shock of it.
You blinked up at them innocently, still curled in Romance’s lap like you belonged there. Like you’d never considered being anywhere else.
“What?” you asked, voice featherlight, but with that teasing lilt creeping back in. Just the edge of a pout in your smile.
Jinu tilted his head, brow raised, arms crossed loosely as he fought a losing battle with his smile. “Well? he drawled. “Figured out what you want, baby?”
Your gaze slid across them, slow and unhurried, that sleepy little smile blooming like something dangerous. And then—back to Romance. Back to the one whose heartbeat you could feel through his chest, steady and hot beneath your palm.
“Mhm.” You nodded, lips curling higher. “You. I want all of you.”
The groan that followed wasn’t just from one of them—it was all five. Rough. Helpless. In perfect, tortured unison.
“Oh my god—” Baby groaned, collapsing onto the rug dramatically and flinging an arm over his eyes like he couldn’t stand to look at you right now.
“Oh, baby…” Mystery muttered, dragging a hand through his hair, eyes dark and glittering.
Romance didn’t say a word. He just buried his face in your neck for a beat, breathing deep like he needed to ground himself before he did something reckless.
Still, his arms stayed firm around you—like letting go wasn’t an option anymore.
“What do you wanna do, then?” he asked eventually, his voice quieter now, more careful. Like he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His fingers traced lazy, distracted patterns along your spine, gentle and grounding, like he needed to keep touching you just to stay present. You were warm and heavy in his lap. Perfect. Too perfect.
“Well…” Your voice trailed off, the boldness from before slipping away like silk off skin. In its place came something softer. Shyer.
Your confidence faltered then, like a flame flickering low. That bold, playful pout softened into something more vulnerable, raw. The smile slipped from your lips, replaced by the hint of hesitation. Shyness. Something small and aching.
Your eyes dropped to the floor. “I want…” you began, fingers curling tighter into his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath your grip. Your thighs flexed around his waist, small and unconscious, like your body didn’t want to let go even if your brain hesitated.
Abby shifted, brows drawing tight. Romance tilted forward too, eyes narrowing, his voice laced with tension. “Come again?”
You looked up at him through your lashes, breath shallow. “I said…” You swallowed, cheeks flushed and voice trembling. “Can I kiss you?”
Romance blinked, startled. “Huh?”
You winced, flustered, and shrank into yourself, cheeks now flushed deep and hot. You tugged your sleeves down like you wanted to disappear. “Can I… can I kiss you?” you repeated, softer this time, the question barely louder than a breath.
Gone was the mischief from before. This was different. Raw. Vulnerable. Honest in a way that made their chests tighten.
Romance just stared at you for a moment. Taking you in.
The way you squirmed slightly in his lap—not out of seduction, but out of nervousness. The way your lips trembled with the effort of asking. The way his name still clung to your voice even when you weren’t saying it.
He exhaled slowly, like letting go of something he’d been holding for too long.
“Go on,” he murmured, the words a gentle invitation
Romance’s tail curled tighter around your waist, keeping you perched securely on his lap as you shifted, just slightly, your weight dipping into the warmth of his body. The low flick of his tail tip against your thigh made your breath catch.
He felt it. Knew what it did to you. Of course he did.
But he didn’t push. Didn’t pull you in, even if everything about the tension in his grip screamed that he wanted to. His hands rested on your hips, fingers firm and possessive, the pads flexing rhythmically like a man barely leashed. Like he was holding back everything in him that begged to devour you whole.
Your eyes lifted to meet his again, still glossy from your earlier crying, but now veiled in something else. That bashful innocence still lingered, sure, but there was a glint behind it—heavy, a little drunk, and a little dangerous. A slow hunger that neither of you were fully ready to name.
Romance’s throat bobbed as he swallowed a groan. His jaw tightened, like he could feel himself slipping.
You leaned in, inch by agonizing inch. Your hands braced gently on his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the thin fabric of his shirt like you were holding on for dear life.
The pace of your approach was enough to unravel any man, and Romance—patient, poised Romance—looked like he was holding himself together by the threads of his self-control.
His tail twitched, wrapping tighter. One more second and he might’ve snapped.
But he didn’t. He only watched, reverent. Eyes locked on your mouth like it was sacred. Because you had asked. You had wanted this. And he wanted you to take it.
“Romance…” you whispered, voice barely there.
“Mhm?” he hummed, tone soft, coaxing.
Your nose brushed his cheek. “I love you.”
His breath hitched. He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But then his hand rose, cupping the side of your face with infinite tenderness, and his thumb stroked beneath your eye, soft, reverent. Like he was memorizing you.
“I know,” he whispered, forehead nudging yours. “I love you too, angel. So much.”
That was all it took.
You tilted your chin and closed the distance, your lips pressing into his with all the bravery you could summon. It was soft, tentative—warm and trembling with your nervous excitement. But Romance kissed you back almost immediately, with a slow exhale, like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he dared to admit.
His hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head, pulling you in until your noses bumped gently between breaths.
Then—he started to purr.
The sound was low and velvety, rumbling through his chest and into yours, like your kiss had cracked something primal open inside him. You felt it more than heard it—felt it in the way his tail curled tighter around your waist, in the way his hand trembled ever so slightly against your spine.
You whimpered softly—just once—and it broke him. A helpless, wanting little mewl that slipped past your lips and straight into his.
Romance groaned into your mouth, deep and guttural, his fingers flexing against your hip like he was fighting every urge in his body. He kissed you deeper then, the heat building—messier, hungrier. Still slow, but now it had teeth.
And when you felt yourself sway forward, overcome by the heat, you reached for him—instinctive. Your hands slid up to his horns, curling around them like handles, anchoring yourself against the rising wave of sensation.
The moment your fingers curled around them, his entire body twitched.
His tail flicked sharply behind you. His breath caught. He let out another groan, this one even deeper, like your touch had struck some hidden, sacred place in him. His purring faltered into something ragged, stuttering with restraint.
“baby…” he rasped against your lips, voice shaking with too much feeling. “You—ngh, you can’t just—”
But you didn’t stop.
You kissed him harder, pouring everything into it—longing, defiance, need. Your lips pressed hot and hungry against his, and he shattered.
The kiss turned molten—no longer soft but hungry, aching. He kissed you like he needed it, like your lips were the only thing keeping him sane.
You clung to him, gripping his horns tighter, not even realizing you were mewling again—high, breathless, needy. His purr grew louder, vibrated against your ribs. His claws tightened on your hip, just enough to make you gasp.
Across the room, the boys sat in tortured silence. Watching. Burning.
That sound—the soft, helpless little mewl you gave when he kissed you just right—it echoed in their minds, branded into their skulls.
Their babygirl. In Romance’s lap. Kissing him, flushed and needy, her fingers tangled in his horns like they belonged there. Lips parted, eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling as his thumb caressed her hip and his tail coiled tighter beneath her.
They were suffering.
But then it happened.
Romance’s hand slid up the back of your neck, possessive and reverent. He tilted your face to kiss you deeper, ready to ruin you slow. His tongue brushed your bottom lip, asking, savoring. Your body melted in his arms.
And one by one, the others started to move.
They were going to join. All of them. They couldn’t help it. You’d triggered something they couldn’t stuff back down.
But just as Romance angled in to devour your mouth, to finally take what he’d been starving for—
You slumped.
Your fingers slipped from his horns. Your lips broke away from his. Your body sagged with the weight of surrender, boneless and trusting.
And then—
Plop
Your cheek hit Romance’s chest.
The entire room froze.
Romance blinked. Once. Twice.
He looked down.
Your breathing was soft now. Long. Even. Gentle.
You were asleep.
For a full three seconds, no one moved. Then, with the slow agony of a man on the brink of madness, Romance tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling like it had just personally betrayed him. His arms tightened instinctively around your form, but his expression crumbled with a quiet exhale that was equal parts love and torment.
His tail uncoiled in defeat, flopping to the side like it, too, had given up.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whispered, voice wrecked—low and raw with disbelief. And maybe just a little bit of heartbreak.
A stunned silence followed.
And then—
The boys lost it.
Abby burst out laughing first, slapping a hand over his mouth as he doubled over. Baby fell backward dramatically onto the couch with a thud, wheezing. Jinu covered his mouth with a hand but didn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. Even Mystery chuckled under his breath, shaking his head with fond amusement.
“She fell asleep?” Abby wheezed. “Mid-kiss?”
“With a hard-on!” Baby cackled, pointing. “Look at him—he’s ruined!”
Romance groaned, burying his face in your hair. His arms tightened around you like he might never let go.
“She played you so bad, hyung,” Mystery smirked, even as he stood and made his way over.
“I didn’t mean to—” Romance started.
“Oh, but she did,” Baby declared. “She climbed on your lap, kissed you like a dream, grabbed your horns—”
Romance made a strangled noise, face burning as he turned away.
“—and knocked herself out like a Disney princess!” Baby howled.
“She didn’t mean to,” Jinu said through his laughter, but even he looked impressed. “But… damn.”
“Get him a cold shower,” Abby snorted, nudging Baby.
“Oh, I will,” Baby said, stepping in to gently scoop you from Romance’s lap. “Come on, sleeping beauty. Let’s get you to bed before you kill him.”
Romance finally loosened his grip, fingers trailing down your back like he hated letting go. He stood with stiff movements, adjusting the front of his pants as discreetly as possible, his expression a mix of reverence, frustration, and the rawest kind of longing.
“Don’t say it,” he warned without looking at them.
But Baby grinned like the devil himself and said it anyway. “Poor hyung. Got a kiss and a boner—but no closure.”
“Shut up!”
The room burst into laughter again.
And yet, even through the teasing and torment, he couldn’t stop the quiet smile pulling at his lips as he watched you instinctively curl against Baby’s chest, sighing softly in your sleep like you belonged there.
“Cheeky little thing,” he murmured. “You have no idea what you do to us.”
Or maybe… just maybe… you did.
And that made you the most dangerous creature in the room.
Outtakes:
You: “Can I… kiss you?”
Romance: *visibly short-circuiting*
Jinu: “Say yes before she takes it back.”
Romance: “I—I will, I just—is this a trap?”
Abby: “You’ve fought hunters but can’t handle one drunk girl?”
......
You: “I want to feel loved. I want to feel like I matter. Like I’m yours.”
Mystery: *melts visibly*
Romance: *voice trembling* “God, yes—”
You: *hiccups loudly* “I just—hic!—*just wanna be petted like a—hic!—like a cat…”
Jinu: “Romance, don’t you dare laugh.”
Romance: *already choking on laughter*
.....
You: “Can I kiss you?”
Romance: “...”
You: “Can I kiss you?”
Romance: *still stunned*
Baby: *checks watch* “Do we need to set up an alarm?”
Mystery: “Speed it up before she sobers up and takes it back.”
.....
Baby: *smirking* “I renamed our group chat to ‘Blue Balled Brotherhood.’ You’re the president.”
Abby: “Should we send you a condolence card?”
Jinu: “No, no. A cooling pack. For both his pride and his…”
Romance: *glares* “Say it and I’ll kill you.”
Sooo I got a message the other day pointing out something I’ve honestly been wondering about too: Is it weird that I call the reader “Baby”... when one of the Saja Boys is literally named Baby? 😅
Totally fair observation—and I’m really sorry if that’s thrown anyone off or made certain scenes a little confusing. My intention was never to cause any mix-up! I just always loved “Baby” as an endearment—it’s soft, sweet, and affectionate, and felt like the kind of thing the boys especially Jinu would naturally call someone they adored. Plus, in my head, each of them uses their own personal nickname for her depending on the moment, so “Baby” just worked as a default.
That said, I’ve been thinking about solutions. One idea was to change the boys’ names entirely—but to be honest, that made me feel like I’d be writing completely different characters. Their names, even if simple, are part of their identities in this story. Taking those away made it feel like they weren’t them anymore.
So the best option, I think, is to give the reader a new pet name—something unique and still soft, but different enough that it doesn’t overlap with any of the boys’ names.
But before I start editing everything, I want to hear from you.
Would you like me to remove the use of “Baby” for the reader? Or are you fine with keeping it?
Let me know your thoughts below so I can make the best choice moving forward—and edit all the previous parts accordingly if needed 💕
Hi everyone! I recently celebrated my birthday this year, and took a bit of time offline to rest and enjoy the quiet. But now that I’ve returned… my inbox is absolutely overflowing. I’ve received so many sweet messages, thoughtful questions, and story requests. I’ll be reading through all of them one by one, so it might take a little time.
📌 As for requests:
I won’t be replying to any directly at the moment, but rest assured I do see them and I’m taking notes. It helps me know what you’re excited about and what to maybe write next!
You’re welcome to keep sending requests, but just a heads-up: I’ll only be doing the ones that feel like they align with my current series or ones that I personally feel inspired to turn into a one-shot. I want to keep things flowing naturally!
Thank you for your understanding—and I do apologize if anyone’s been waiting for a specific reply. I’ll be posting some request guidelines soon so it’s easier for everyone moving forward 💌
Zoey leaned over the soundboard with a gleam in her eye, half-bouncing on her heels.
“Okay, okay,” she said, grinning. “What about ‘So sweet, so easy on the eyes, but hideous on the inside’ Ooooh. That’s a throat punch.”
Mira cackled from the velvet couch, notebook balanced on her knee. “Niceee. And then follow it with ‘Whole life spreading lies, but you can't hide’” She tapped her pen like a conductor about to strike gold. “Boom. Roasted.”
Zoey shrieked with laughter, slapping the armrest. “Write that down. Write that down!”
But Rumi… said nothing.
She sat in the corner chair, arms limp at her sides, pencil balanced loosely behind her ear and eyes glassy like she wasn’t even in the studio. Just… somewhere else.
“…Rumi?”
Zoey narrowed her eyes. “Rumi. Hello? Did you die mid-session orrrr—?”
“I saw her do this once during our second raid,” Mira muttered. “It’s the Face of a Woman Who’s Seen Some Sh*t.”
Mira threw a gummy at her forehead. “Earth to demon-hater number one. You haven’t even insulted anyone in the last fifteen minutes. That’s suspicious behavior.”
Rumi blinked slowly, then tilted her head. “...Huh?”
Both of them squinted. Hard.
Zoey stood, walked over. “Ruuuumi. Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about—”
“The bathhouse,” Mira finished for her, rolling upright with a groan. “Damn. You’re haunted.”
Rumi finally spoke again—quieter this time. “You guys didn’t see what I saw.”
Zoey tilted her head. “We were literally right there. We saw every drop of sweat.”
“No, I mean—” Rumi hesitated. Her voice thickened with something she didn’t want to name. “I know her. We used to sneak food into the temples, remember? She was kind. Brave. She was one of us.”
Mira blinked softly. “You still care about her.”
“She was like family.” Rumi swallowed. “And when I saw her… walking with them—”
“Let me guess,” Zoey said gently. “She didn’t look scared.”
Rumi nodded. “No. She looked held. Like they’d carved the path around her feet just to keep her safe. Like her body belonged there, like they were drawn to her in some ancient way that didn’t make sense. And the worst part?” Her voice dropped lower. “She didn’t resist it.”
Mira’s face softened. “And you’re scared she’s not the same girl you grew up with.”
“I’m scared she is.” Rumi let out a breathy laugh. “I saw the way they looked at her. And the way she let them. Like she trusted them more than she ever trusted us.”
Zoey nudged her gently. “That’s not on you.”
“But it still hurts,” Rumi admitted.“...I think I agree with you now.”
That made Zoey sit up. “Wait. Me? About what?”
“That maybe…” Rumi inhaled deeply. “They’re not evil. Maybe they’re just… demonically down bad.”
Zoey’s brows flew up. “Say that again? Louder for the mic?”
Rumi threw a pillow at her head. “Shut up.”
Mira, meanwhile, had one leg thrown over the mic stand, chewing her pen cap thoughtfully. “Okay. But real talk? If they weren’t insanely into her, they would’ve eaten her soul by now.”
Rumi groaned again and curled into a ball. “... I think she likes it. The way she looked at them. Like she knows they’d destroy kingdoms for her and she’s just deciding who gets to do it first.”
Mira slipped behind the two of them and wrapped her arms around Rumi’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You know what I saw in that hallway?” she whispered. “The way she stood taller when they were close. Like she wanted to be surrounded. Like she was commanding it. They didn’t brainwash her. That was her choosing.”
Zoey kissed the top of Rumi’s head. “And if she’s choosing demons who worship the ground she walks on, maybe she’s smarter than all of us.”
Rumi leaned into their warmth, tension slowly bleeding out of her bones.
“…You still worried?” Mira asked gently.
“Yeah,” Rumi murmured. “But not in the same way.”
Zoey hummed against Rumi’s temple. “Good, I’m still gonna roast their ass off, though.”
“Obviously,” Mira grinned. “It’s tradition.”
A few minutes later…
Zoey was curled up between Rumi’s legs, her head resting comfortably on her stomach, thumb lazily swiping through rhymes on her phone. Mira lay beside them, half-draped across Rumi’s back, humming low and sultry in her throat as her fingers played with the hem of Zoey’s crop top. Rumi, trying and failing to focus, was mostly just sighing through the heat pooling between the three of them.
Click.
“Knock knock~” came a familiar voice.
They all startled upright, a tangled pile of limbs and half-choked giggles.
“Bobby!” they shouted in unison.
Bobby stood framed in the doorway, clipboard tucked under one arm, coffee in the other, utterly unfazed by the fact that his idols looked like they were halfway into either a sleepover or a threesome.
“Am I interrupting?” he deadpanned.
“Yes,” Zoey said brightly. “But in a good way.”
Mira flashed him a sweet grin. “Did you bring us gossip or grief?”
“A little of both,” Bobby replied, stepping in. “I came to deliver your next schedule update—and congratulations, ladies. You’ve been booked for a joint variety show.”
Zoey blinked. “With who?”
Bobby flipped his clipboard. “The Saja Boys.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
Rumi snorted.
Mira gasped dramatically.
Zoey howled with laughter, kicking her feet in the air like a gremlin queen. “Oh my god, this is a gift from the universe!”
Bobby blinked. “...You girls excited?”
“Thrilled,” Mira purred, sharing a look with Rumi.
“Ecstatic,” Rumi echoed, her tone all teeth and silk. “It’ll be… enlightening.”
Zoey wiggled her brows. “We’ve been meaning to test something.”
“Test what?” Bobby frowned.
“Nothing,” all three girls said in unison, far too fast.
Bobby raised a brow, unconvinced, but chose not to pry. “Anyway. Full day. Interviews, games, fan segments.”
As soon as Bobby turned his back to start mumbling about logistics, Mira leaned in.
“They won’t know what hit them,” she whispered, eyes gleaming.
Zoey murmured, “Let’s see how far they’ll go before they snap. You saw how they looked at her last time she held someone else's hand.”
They all giggled, eyes alight with shared mischief.
Rumi, half-sighing but unable to hide her smirk, murmured, “We tolerate them, sure… but we’re not about to let five overgrown demons play house with her without proving they can handle the fire.”
“Exactly,” Mira said. “They want her? Let’s see how they act when we’re close. Closer than close.”
Bobby turned back around. “You’ll be meeting the boys at the broadcast building at 10 AM next week. Play nice, okay?.”
“Of course, Bobby,” Zoey said, the picture of innocence.
Rumi offered a tight, almost angelic smile. “As long as they are.”
Bobby paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You’re not planning anything, are you?”
“Nooo,” they said in eerie unison.
He sighed. “Every time you three say that, I grow a new gray hair.”
Zoey blew him a kiss. “At least it’s stylish.”
As soon as he left, the girls collapsed into each other again—this time practically vibrating with energy.
“Okay,” Mira said, breathless. “Operation: Drive 5 Demons Crazy With Casual Touching now begins.”
They all giggled, low and wicked and deeply, deeply fond.
Because sure—maybe the Saja Boys weren’t so bad. Maybe even sweet, in their terrifyingly possessive way. But you were still theirs to protect, still the one thing they’d all sworn to never let fall.
And these demons?
They were about to be tested.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The walls trembled from the bass thudding behind the door, rattling straight down to your spine. You pushed it open slowly, and instantly, a wall of humid heat kissed your cheeks. The room reeked of sweat and testosterone. Mirrors fogged. Water bottles abandoned. And in the center, the five of them—your demons—half-naked and gleaming under studio lights.
They didn’t see you at first. They were mid-formation, locked into choreography with the kind of raw, animalistic focus that made your mouth go dry. Abby’s muscles flexed with every step, sweat running down his back. Jinu’s shirt was half-off, clinging to one shoulder, jaw set as he hit a turn with perfect precision. Romance’s hair was damp and wild, plastered to his neck as he mouthed the lyrics under his breath. Baby bounced lightly, full of energy even while glistening, and Mystery—well, Mystery just moved like he was seducing the beat itself.
You cleared your throat, gripping the clipboard a little tighter as you stepped fully into the studio.
All five of them turned the second they heard your voice.
"Alright, break time. I’ve got your schedule for the week."
Jinu grinned first. “Baby,” he said, voice low and unhurried, already walking toward you like he hadn’t just been dancing for hours. His shirt clung to him, collar dark with sweat.
Across the room, Romance dragged a towel across the back of his neck, chest still heaving. His lips curled lazily. “You’re early,” he murmured. “Missed us that bad?”
“Keep dreaming,” you muttered, taking a cautious step back—only to bump into something solid.
A warm breath tickled your neck a second before a muscled arm slipped around your waist from behind, locking you gently but firmly in place.
His voice brushed your ear, dark and rich. “You smell good, princess.”
Your breath hitched. Abby’s chest was firm against your back, radiating heat. You could feel the damp line of his shirt sticking to your spine
You cleared your throat, struggling to sound composed. “Anyways…”
You squirmed—but not enough to actually escape.
“…you have a full week,” you continued. “Two music show recordings, one fan meeting… and next Friday—” you paused, pretending to read from the clipboard, even though the words had branded themselves into your brain hours ago, “—you’re scheduled to appear on a variety show.”
You paused just a beat.
Five groans. Different pitches. Same displeasure.
"And," you added, watching their reactions carefully, "it’s a joint show."
“With who?” Jinu asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.
You licked your lips and looked down at the clipboard, though you already knew the answer.
"HUNTR/X."
The air dropped ten degrees.
Abby’s smile disappeared. His brows lowered. “Again?”
You nodded. “The fans specifically requested you guys,” you offered quickly. “After how fun the fan signing was—”
“Fun?” Mystery cut in sharply from the corner.
You blinked. “What? It was fun—”
“For them, maybe,” Baby muttered, collapsing into a chair with a dramatic sigh, throwing his towel over his head like a shroud. “For us, it was a nightmare.”
“Come on, it wasn't that bad,” you protested, eyes darting between them.
“You smiled at Bobby,” Romance said, slow and deliberate, pushing off the mirror. “Twice.”
You blinked. “What—?”
“He touched your arm,” Jinu added, expression unreadable.
Your mouth opened, stunned. “Are you seriously—Is this even about the girls?”
“Oh, we’re coming for them too,” Baby grumbled under his towel, “but Bobby's top of the hit list.”
“You laughed when he made a joke,” Romance added, closing the space between you. “I was right there. And you tilted your head—like this.”
He mimicked your expression with a ridiculous level of detail, right down to the subtle blink and smile.
“You never tilt your head like that for me,” he added, low, eyes dipping to your mouth. “Unless I’m inside—”
“Stop!” you hissed, shoving him half-heartedly.
Romance just laughed and tilted his own head. “See? It was flirty.”
“It was not,” you huffed.
You stiffened—then immediately rolled your eyes, deflecting. “Okay—first of all, I was trying to be nice—”
“That smile wasn’t ‘nice,’” Romance muttered, stepping forward, shadows flickering in his eyes. “You should only laugh at us like that.”
He leaned in, close enough to steal your breath. “And now joker boy thinks it’s for everyone?”
“It’s not like I kissed anyone—!”
“BUT YOU SMILED!” all five shouted at once.
You stood there, dumbfounded, as they collectively lost their minds.
Jinu grabbed your chin, tilting it up so you had no choice but to look into those dark, golden eyes. “Do you even realize what it does to us? When you treat other people the way you treat us?”
Your mouth opened. Closed.
Because okay—yes, maybe your laugh had been a little extra. You smile a little soft. But it wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t meant to mean anything.
You were just being... cordial.
But apparently, for your boys, “cordial” translated to “threat”
Romance was beside you now, arms slipping loosely around your waist, voice hot against your ear. “We’re going to be professionals, sure. But just so you know…”
“We’re not going to share,” Jinu whispered, his thumb brushing your lower lip, almost absentmindedly.
“Or pretend we like them,” Mystery added.
Abby’s nose brushed your neck. “And if that guy touches you again—”
You sighed, tilting your head back, letting it thunk softly against Abby’s chest. “You’re all being ridiculous.”
There was a pause.
Then Romance’s lips ghosted the shell of your ear. “And yet you’re smiling now.”
You were. Damn it.
“Because this is the dumbest argument I’ve ever had,” you muttered.
“Dumb?” Jinu echoed, incredulous. “Dumb is letting our mate walk into enemy territory without our marks on her neck.”
Romance nuzzled your hair, growling low. “Next time you smile at Bobby, we’re biting you.”
Your knees buckled slightly.
“That’s a threat,” Baby added, grinning like a devil. “...and a promise.”
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The studio changing room was alive with mutters and groans, echoing off the sleek walls as the five demon idols sulked in various corners—each clad in blinding shades of pink.
"I look like a damn cotton candy,” Abby growled, muscles straining against his soft pink button-down as he tried and failed to fix the overly delicate collar.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Baby whined, tugging on the soft bubblegum sweater like it might strangle him.
“I look like a cursed valentine,” Mystery muttered, arms crossed over his chest, silver hair falling over one eye. His violet shirt shimmered just a bit too prettily in the light.
“Don’t talk to me,” Jinu muttered, already dressed in a full matching ensemble. “I’m dissociating.”
Romance, of course, was the only one who didn’t seem particularly fazed. He leaned against the vanity, long, silky hair matching the pastel heart embroidered on his shirt, a glossy pink lip tugged up in amusement. But even he wasn’t immune—his tail was twitching, and you could feel his restraint crackling beneath that smug surface.
You bit your lip hard, barely holding in the laugh rising up your throat.
Gods, they were gorgeous.
And grumpy. So, so grumpy.
“Alright,” you finally said, stepping inside, letting the door shut behind you with a soft click. “You’re all being so dramatic.”
Five pairs of glowing, irritated demon eyes locked on you.
You just smiled sweetly, slow and knowing, the kind of smile that made their pupils dilate.
You bit your lip to hide your grin as you stepped between them, adjusting collars, fixing hems, brushing your fingers across warm skin as you straightened lapels and smoothed sleeves.
“Don’t pout,” you cooed as you walked straight up to Abby. “You know pink brings out your eyes.”
He scoffed, but didn’t move as you reached up, smoothing his collar, tugging the hem of his shirt gently. Your fingers brushed over his warm skin as you adjusted the top button. He held still like a soldier under inspection, tension humming beneath his skin.
“Stop fussing,” you murmured, lips brushing the corner of his mouth before he could argue. “You look perfect.”
His breath caught. The scowl faded into something softer, shoulders loosening just enough to give you his weight.
“...Don’t,” you whispered.
Golden eyes flickered, then melted.
“Hyung’s down,” Baby whispered from behind you, horrified and impressed. “We’re losing soldiers.”
You turned to him next, walking slowly, each step deliberate. His mouth opened, probably to deliver another complaint—but whatever words he had died on his tongue the second you stepped between his knees. Your thighs brushed his as you leaned in, fingers fiddling with the oversized sleeves of his knit.
He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. His tail snapped once behind him, then started curling madly.
You placed your hands lightly on his shoulders and leaned in until your noses almost brushed. “Fuzzy sweater and all,” you whispered, “you’re still my cute little devil.”
His cheeks flushed. Bright and sweet and helpless.
You kissed his cheek gently, and he made a tiny noise that could only be described as a squeak. His tail thumped the couch like it had a mind of its own.
“I hate how good that felt,” he mumbled, flushed and panting.
“Dangerous,” Jinu muttered under his breath. He was watching you like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull you away or push you against the wall and mark you in front of everyone.
“That’s not fair,” Mystery growled, low and simmering—but his voice lost its bite when you turned to him next.
You moved toward him slowly, eyes dragging down his tall frame, deliberately taking in the lilac vest, the crisp white undershirt, the subtle silver detailing that brought out the gleam in his tusks. You reached for the silver button at his chest and tugged just enough to make him tilt forward.
Your knuckles brushed down the line of his abdomen—light, lingering.
“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, voice low, hypnotic, magnetic. “All of you. I don’t care if the shirts are pink or lime or covered in glitter. I look at you and see everything that’s mine.”
His pupils blew wide. His tail slid behind you, curling against your hip, like it couldn’t not touch you.
Behind you, Romance had already started purring.
The sound started low and unbothered, like a lazy cat in the sun—but it deepened as you stepped between his knees, cupped the sides of his face, and kissed the edge of his jaw. He tilted immediately, offering you his throat with no hesitation. His arms came around your waist like they had a mind of their own, hands clutching your hips possessively.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, baby,” he murmured, voice thick and hoarse.
“And yet,” you whispered against his pulse, “all of you keep letting me win.”
That broke something.
The sound of purring started as a low hum, subtle at first—like a storm rumbling somewhere just beneath the skin. You were already nestled between Romance’s legs at the vanity, his thighs bracketing you tightly, his hands ghosting over your hips with a touch that was far too innocent to be accidental. His eyes stayed locked on you, but it was the way his jaw clenched—barely holding himself together—that made your pulse stutter. His restraint was unraveling like thread between your fingers.
You shifted, rising slowly to your feet. The moment you stepped away from him, his purr faltered like a crack in his armor. With deliberate grace, you walked across the room, hips swaying just enough to tease, and sank into the couch.
That’s when the purring grew louder, deeper. One by one, the others responded. The sound rippled from boy to boy like a wave, vibrating in the air, ancient and primal. They began to circle you in the changing room like moths drawn to flame—silent, hungry, feral. Their soft, pastel outfits did nothing to temper the wild heat glowing in their eyes. Not when their instincts were frayed. Not when you were sitting there, drenched in their scent, meeting their stares with that quiet, devastating confidence.
Your gaze found Jinu first. His dark eyes locked onto yours, hungry and simmering beneath the sharp line of his lashes. He was usually the last to move. The most composed. But right now, his restraint was unraveling like thread between your fingers.
"Come here, bub," you murmured, curling a finger at him.
Jinu didn’t hesitate. He prowled forward, quiet and fluid, dropping to his knees in front of you with reverence as his hands slid around your waist. He tucked his head against your stomach, inhaling deep as he pressed a kiss just above your navel.
The others followed—Mystery’s tail brushed your leg as he melted against your side, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder with a shaky exhale. Abby settled behind you, broad arms wrapping around your hips like he was anchoring you in place. Baby didn’t even ask, he flopped across your lap with a pleased, greedy sigh, his cheek smushed against your thigh. Romance curled beside you, dragging his knuckles down your arm with a touch so soft, it made you shiver.
You laughed breathlessly, one hand cradling the back of Jinu’s head as you tilted your face up toward the ceiling. "My poor boys. All growly and purring in pink."
“We hate this,” Mystery muttered into your neck, though his fingers were clenching the fabric of your top like he didn’t want to let go. “It’s humiliating.”
You kissed his cheek. “You’re lucky I love how pretty you look when you’re scowling.”
Romance grinned lazily, eyes lidded as he traced circles on your arm. “You love how we look all the time.”
"Damn right I do." You smiled, possessive and unrepentant. “You’re mine. Every inch of you. I don’t care what color they put on you. I could dress you in garbage bags and you’d still make people jealous.”
That earned a pleased little flick of Abby’s tail against your calf.
The purring deepened.
They started pressing closer, warm lips and warm hands now becoming impossible to separate from one another. Jinu turned his face and kissed your hip—then your belly. Baby nuzzled against your inner thigh before biting it softly, grinning up at you with that infuriating sparkle in his eyes.
“I swear—” you breathed, flustered but completely helpless against it.
Mystery tilted your face and kissed you full on the mouth, possessive and slow, like he’d waited too long. When you broke apart, dazed, Romance immediately claimed your lips next. Then Baby kissed your jaw. Then Jinu. Abby’s mouth brushed your shoulder like a vow.
“Boys—” you whispered between kisses, gasping as one of them nipped at your collarbone. “Your makeup—!”
“Don’t care,” Jinu whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’d rather wear you.”
“Mmm,” Romance added, mouthing along your jaw, “you can smudge me all you want.”
“Or just make a mess of us,” Baby murmured, eyes dark and glowing.
You could barely breathe from the pressure, the affection, the need.
You melted into it anyway.
For those few stolen minutes, you let them cover you in soft kisses, let their hands slide around your waist and over your hips, let their claws ghost over your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. You let them tangle around you until their breathing evened out, their shoulders loosened, their purring softened into something steady.
You ran your fingers through their hair, kissed their cheeks, their temples, anywhere your lips could reach. You let them mark you in quiet ways—with lips and claws and the heat of their bodies pressed so tightly to yours that it felt like they were trying to fuse with you. Let them claim what had always been theirs.
Your boys.
The world outside the changing room faded.
knock knock.
“Five minutes to camera, guys! Let’s get moving!”
The voice was bright, clueless.
The growls weren’t.
Growls rolled across the room like thunder. Abby’s arms tightened around you possessively, his head still tucked into your neck. Mystery let out a long, irritated hiss as his tail slapped the floor. Romance bared his teeth at the door like he might leap over you and rip it off its hinges. Baby groaned and shoved his face into your chest.
Jinu?
He was still clinging to your waist like someone might try to steal you.
“Why do they always ruin everything?” he muttered darkly, nuzzling lower.
“Whoever that was should thank every god in existence that this door is locked,” Abby muttered, voice a dangerous rumble. “Because I am one second from throwing them through a wall.”
“They can wait,” Mystery added, eyes glowing faintly. “We’re not done here.”
You exhaled a soft laugh and smoothed a hand over Jinu’s back. “Let me go answer before one of you bursts into flame.”
Grudgingly, they let you up—tails uncoiling, fingers releasing with clear reluctance. You fixed your shirt, ran your fingers through your hair, and padded over to the door. You cracked it open just enough to peek out, keeping your body angled so they couldn’t see the pack of demons lounging behind you with swollen lips and barely contained bloodlust.
“We’ll be right there,” you said sweetly to the staff member, smiling just enough to pass as innocent.
The poor staff member blinked at you like you were descending from heaven. “A-Ah! Of course, manager-nim!”
You closed the door gently.
Turned.
And were met with five pairs of very grumpy, very gorgeous eyes.
“That ruined everything,” Abby muttered darkly.
Romance sighed dramatically. “Can we burn their cameras?”
“No,” you said firmly, biting back a smile. “You can’t destroy studio property. Again.”
They groaned in unison, tails flicking in irritation, fingers still clinging to whatever parts of you they could reach—hem of your shirt, your wrists, your waist, your hair.
You smiled, brushing your fingers under Jinu’s chin until he looked up at you. Then you tilted your head and said in a soft, singsong tone.
“Well. If you behave…”
Five heads snapped to attention.
“…and you finish filming like the good boys I know you are…” You trailed your fingers down Abby’s arm, feeling the way he shivered from the contact.
“…I’ll give you a reward.”
The room stilled.
Romance’s eyes darkened instantly. “How good are we talking?”
“You’ll have to earn it,” You tilted your head, fingers teasing along the buttons of Mystery’s vest as you passed him.
Mystery’s voice came low, sharp. “Define ‘reward.’”
You grinned, lips wicked. “That depends. I’ll let your imagination run wild.”
They groaned.
Abby stepped closer, close enough that your shoulder brushed his chest. He looked down at you like he was trying not to pin you against the nearest wall. “You promise?”
You kissed your finger and held it to your lips. “Promise. But only if you’re good.”
Five men in pastel pink, flushed and still vibrating from moments ago, now fully prepared to walk into an entire shoot and charm or destroy anything in their path—all for a single reward from their manager.
You turned, walking to the door with that same calm grace that had unspooled them minutes ago. Your voice came soft and commanding over your shoulder.
“Let’s go, boys.”
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The door to the changing room clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the boys’ energy shifted—calm, focused, tethered. You could feel it in the way their steps fell into sync with yours. Five pairs of eyes clung to you like gravity.
From a distance, anyone watching might've thought it sweet—idols trailing behind their manager like loyal puppies. But you knew better. You could feel their heat at your back, their intensity rippling off them like rolling waves. Possessive. Watchful. Claimed.
They had shifted into their human disguises flawlessly—hair styled, demon marks hidden, horns and tails tucked away. Still, their energy gave them away. The aura of restrained hunger, of constant awareness centered only on you, was unmistakable.
You led them through the studio corridors like you were born to command them—and maybe you were. That quiet power thrummed in your bones, especially when you felt the way people’s gazes slid toward you, then quickly away again, like they knew not to look too long. Like they could sense the boys would bare fangs if anyone even thought about trying.
As you all walked toward the main studio setup, the energy shifted. The lights were already on, cameras idle, mics being tested. In the middle of it all stood the girls—Mira with her arms crossed, Zoey adjusting her mic pack, and Rumi clutching her water bottle like it might shield her from social interaction.
Zoey spotted you first and lit up. “Unnie!” she called, already striding over in those glittery boots. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around your shoulders and hugged you tight, pressing a kiss to your cheeks. “You look so pretty today!”
You returned the hug with a soft laugh, though you immediately felt the heat from behind you spike.
Jinu’s jaw ticked.
Abby let out a slow, audible exhale through his nose.
Romance tilted his head like a predator watching competition enter its territory.
“Hi,” Rumi gave you a small, awkward wave—one that didn’t go unnoticed by Mystery, whose narrowed eyes followed the movement like a shadow curling tighter.
Mira sauntered up last, smirk curling her lips. “Wassup, superstar,” she drawled, flicking her eyes from you to the line of smoldering men behind you. “Still collecting strays?”
You laughed softly, “More like they’re collecting me.”
Romance laughed under his breath, but there was no real humor in it. “You’re awfully handsy today, Miss Hunter.”
Zoey blinked innocently. “What? Can’t I show a little love to my favorite unnie?”
Mystery’s voice slides out next, low and cold, sharp enough to draw blood. “Is this how your team greets our manager now?”
There’s nothing playful in his tone.
Baby’s voice, in contrast, is syrupy sweet as he steps forward, tilting his head in faux innocence. “Or are you just that bad at hiding you’re flirting with someone who’s already taken?”
Mira, the only one bold enough to meet all five stares, shrugs lazily. “Oh taken?" She looks at you. “Funny. I didn’t hear her say that.”
Your heart drops straight into your stomach.
Oh no.
You gently pressed a hand to Abby’s chest before he could respond. “They’re just teasing.”
“But they’re doing it in front of us,” Jinu said quietly, his voice a low, dangerous hum like a growl masked in velvet. “Trying to provoke something.”
The girls led you to the seating area. Rumi handed you a water bottle—her fingers brushing yours on purpose. That was the final straw.
Mystery stepped between you and Rumi without a word, his presence like a wall of heat. You didn’t see his eyes, but you knew they glowed beneath that disguise, flaring like embers on the edge of losing control.
“They’re gonna snap,” Zoey whispered behind her hand to Mira.
The tension crackled like fire in dry leaves. Your boys were close to snapping.
What the Saja Boys don’t know—yet—is that HUNTR/X came in with a mission today.
And that innocent little hug? That kiss? That comment?
Is all part of Operation: Drive 5 Demons Crazy With Casual Touching.
“Alright, alright,” you said, squeezing Zoey’s hand gently and stepping back. “Enough poking the wolves, yeah?”
You turned to face your boys properly, noting the tension in their shoulders, the flicker of heat barely concealed behind their perfect disguises. Jinu’s jaw was locked. Mystery looked seconds away from yanking you into a dark corner. Baby’s fingers twitched like he was restraining himself from reaching for your throat—or your waist. Probably both.
Romance exhaled slowly. “They did that on purpose.”
Baby leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear. “I hate how they touch you.”
“Five minutes to filming! Everyone, let’s move!”
A staff member, oblivious to the icy glares and quiet stand-offs, clapped his hands and rushed past with a clipboard in hand. The sound of movement followed—tech crews shuffling wires, PDs calling last-minute instructions, and makeup artists dashing toward the stage.
The boys growled. Literally.
A soft chorus of purring mixed with low snarls rumbled around you as they buried their faces against your hair, your shoulder, your neck—anywhere they could cling to you without crossing that final line. You were theirs. And they hated interruptions.
You sighed and gave them a quick kiss each. “Go be good demons. Show everyone you can play nice on camera.”
Jinu pulled you gently against his chest, his palm splayed over your lower back. “We’ll behave… but only because you said that.”
Abby didn’t answer—just cracked his neck like a man trying to keep something dangerous leashed. Romance was still too close, his fingers brushing yours when he stepped past like he hadn’t heard a word you said. Mystery merely raised one brow, gaze trailing lazily over the girls’ backs as they walked ahead.
But Baby… Baby just smiled.
That crooked, mischievous smile he wore when he was planning chaos.
“For the cameras,” Baby added sweetly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back something much more wicked.
The moment the director called, “Alright, boys, take your positions!” the five of them moved in sync, slipping seamlessly into their stage personas. It was almost unreal how quickly the change came—like flipping a switch. Gone were the sulky, clingy demons who had practically growled when the staff knocked earlier. In their place stood dazzling idols, all smiles, confidence, and polish. The transformation never ceased to amaze you.
Still, no matter how bright the lights or how many cameras surrounded them, their eyes kept finding you.
Every time the director shouted “Cut!” or “Break!”, it was like the leash snapped. Their human facades flickered—just enough for you to see the longing in their eyes. Jinu was always the first to find you, smooth as ever, a glint of something dangerous behind his boyish smile.
“Thirsty baby?” he asked sweetly, holding out a bottle.
“Need a break?” Abby added, looming behind you, resting his hand casually on the back of your chair—but the warmth of it bled through the layers of your jacket and straight into your spine.
Mystery crouched beside you on the floor, chin in his palm as he stared up at you, voice low. “You’ve been working hard today. Want to sit in my lap next break?”
Romance didn’t say much, but he slipped behind you, looping his arms loosely around your waist as if he was just casually leaning. Except his fingers stroked the inside of your wrist, featherlight.
And Baby, of course, plopped himself down beside you with an exaggerated sigh and muttered, “We’re dying up there without you, y’know. I think I need manager kisses to survive the next take.”
They weren’t even subtle about it anymore. Touch-starved demons masquerading as idols, absolutely shameless in how they vied for your attention between takes.
You tried to maintain being professional—you really did. Clipboard in hand, headset still half-on, tapping away at your phone to check the next rehearsal schedule. But every time you opened your mouth to say something managerial, one of them would lean in closer, or brush your hair behind your ear, or murmur “Say that again, but softer…” like they were trying to short-circuit you.
And just when things started to heat up—Zoey would sashay over with a perfectly timed interruption.
“Unnie, there you are!” she chirped sweetly, looping her arm through yours. “Come help us with the adjustments of the props? The lighting is totally off in our corner.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh—sure.”
Jinu gave her a polite smile, but his hand on your lower back tightened. Abby’s brow twitched. Baby scowled. Mystery stared at Zoey like she’d personally insulted his soul.
“Thanks!” Zoey sang, pulling you away before they could object. “You’re a lifesaver.”
And that was how the next several breaks went.
Every time one of your boys tried to have a moment with you, one of the girls found a reason to whisk you away—prop mishaps, mic issues, missing script notes. At first, you thought it was coincidence. But then you caught Mira smirking behind her hand while Zoey “adjusted” your collar for the third time in a row, fingers trailing just a bit too slow along your neck.
Your boys noticed. Oh, they noticed.
Romance’s eyes darkened every time someone so much as brushed your arm. Abby’s jaw was locked. Jinu’s smile started to look less boyish and more like a warning. Mystery stopped blinking. Baby had resorted to muttering “I’m gonna set something on fire” under his breath.
During one break, as you adjusted a schedule clipboard, Rumi quietly approached you and tugged you aside.
“Hey,” she whispered, eyes guilty, glancing over at the boys who were watching from across the stage like hounds on a leash. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
You tilted your head. “For?”
“That fight we had a few months ago. When I said—” She grimaced. “When I said you weren’t cut out for this. That they were just using you. That was low. I didn’t get it back then. But now…”
Her eyes drifted to the stage, where the boys were still watching you even mid-rehearsal.
“I get it now. You’re not just their manager,” she said quietly. “They… really love you, don’t they?”
Your heart fluttered. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “They do.”
Rumi gave a small, sheepish smile. “Then I won’t get in the way again. I promise.”
You were about to say something else when the hair on the back of your neck prickled. You turned—and saw all five boys watching from across the set, unmoving. Their expressions were unreadable. But you could feel it—heat simmering just beneath their polite idol masks. Every instinct in you said territorial.
The second the director called for a short break, they moved in like a coordinated unit.
Mystery got to you first, his fingers brushing yours before lacing them together. “You okay?” His voice was soft, but his eyes flicked briefly toward Rumi. A warning, even if he didn’t say it.
You nodded.
Abby appeared behind you again, his broad chest pressing against your back as his hand flattened against your stomach. “Thought you’d run off,” he murmured near your ear. “Didn’t like that.”
Romance reached over and tugged you closer by the wrist, nuzzling into your neck. “Can we have our manager back now?” he said sweetly. “Or does someone else want to borrow her for another bonding session?”
You laughed softly, but your body was heating from how close they all were, how tight the circle around you had become.
“We’re almost done,” Jinu added, his voice velvet-smooth as he brushed a thumb over your jaw. “Then you’re ours again. Completely.”
The unspoken part hung heavy in the air: And no one is taking you away this time.
And just as you opened your mouth to say something—anything to diffuse the rising tension—a harried staff member called out, “Places! We’re starting the last segment!”
The boys pulled back slowly, reluctantly, their gazes still locked on you as they walked toward the stage.
The final segment wrapped with a burst of confetti and tired applause, the stage lights dimming just enough to make the idols look like they were glowing under a soft golden haze. You clapped along with the rest of the staff, clipboard in one hand, the other clutching your earpiece as the director’s voice buzzed with a cheerful, “That’s a wrap! Great work, everyone!”
The girls were already waving and bouncing down the stage stairs. The Saja Boys, flawless even under fatigue, bowed with practiced charm—idols to the last second—but you could already feel their gazes drifting toward you like magnets resetting north.
You barely had time to breathe when Zoey suddenly appeared at your side, beaming with wide, sparkly eyes. “Unnie~!” she cooed, linking her arm through yours before you could even respond. “Come eat ramyeon with us! Pretty please? I’ve been dreaming about jjajang ramyeon all day.” She pouted dramatically, tugging your arm like a child begging her favorite teacher for attention.
Before you could answer, another voice cut in, low and sweet as honey laced with heat.
“Noona~”
Baby’s voice slid behind you like a silk ribbon, lazy and warm but with that subtle, dangerous curl at the end. He appeared at your other side like a shadow, all teasing smirk and boyish charm as his hand slid around your free arm, pulling you gently but insistently away from Zoey.
“You did promise us dinner first. Or are you already forgetting about your favorite boys?”
His eyes flicked toward Zoey without even pretending to hide the gleam of territorial fire.
Zoey gasped dramatically. “Excuse me?”
“You did,” Baby insisted with a bright smile that didn’t reach the sharp glint in his eyes. “You told us you’d come with your boys after the shoot.” His hand slipped down your arm to lace his fingers with yours, and his thumb brushed a slow, possessive circle over your pulse.
“I—” You looked helplessly between them as they began a full-on tug-of-war, your body swaying slightly with every playful pull.
“You’re not seriously fighting me for her, are you?” Zoey said, feigning a pout as she gave another yank. “She’s mine tonight.”
“Noona’s ours,” Baby countered smoothly.
Zoey’s brows twitched as she tightened her grip with faux innocence. “You can have her later. I’m her dongsaeng too, aren’t I?”
Baby's smile faltered into something sharper—more feral. His arm snaked around your waist with sudden boldness, tugging you flush against his chest in a smooth, possessive motion that knocked the breath out of you. The warmth of his body seared through the thin fabric of your clothes as his chin dipped to rest lightly on your shoulder.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his glowing eyes. “She’s mine,” he murmured—not just to Zoey, but for the whole damn room to hear.
His golden irises shimmered briefly, demonic power flickering through his disguise like firelight beneath a silk veil.
Zoey froze for half a second—then gave a little shrug, clearly satisfied. “Okay, okay,” she chirped, stepping back with both hands raised in surrender. “You demons really don’t like sharing, huh?”
She winked dramatically, turning on her heel to saunter off toward the girls, who had been watching the whole thing with amused smirks and curious side-eyes.
Baby didn’t let go.
If anything, he drew you tighter into him, his arms caging you from behind like he had no intention of releasing you ever again. His chin dipped against your shoulder, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he inhaled deeply. You felt it—the low, dangerous purr vibrating from his chest, crawling over your skin like velvet.
He nuzzled deeper into your hair, rubbing his cheek against your temple, breath hot. You could feel him scenting you. There was no mistaking it.
“…Was that necessary?” you whispered, not trusting your voice.
“Mmm.” His hum rumbled through his chest, lazy and low like a satisfied cat, but there was a sharpness just beneath it. “She needed a reminder.”
“Baby—” You tried to twist in his arms, but his hold only shifted, one hand spreading across your waist to anchor you still.
“You told us to behave,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “But they’re making it very hard.”
You exhaled shakily, trying not to melt under the heat of his touch—or the awareness that the rest of the boys were watching from nearby, each of them tense, hungry, and very aware of what just happened.
You shifted in his arms, trying to break the spell. “You know they’re just teasing you, right?”
He nuzzled into you more, completely unbothered. “Don’t care.”
And when you finally managed to look to the side—
You caught Romance smirking darkly.
Jinu’s expression was unreadable, his jaw tense.
Mystery watching Zoey with a glint that promised payback.
And Abby?
Abby was already rolling his sleeves up.
・・・・・⟢・・・・・⟢
The studio had long since wrapped for the night, but the air still hummed with leftover energy—stage lights cooling overhead, distant clatter from staff cleaning up, and the constant bickering between your boys and HUNTR/X echoing through the empty soundstage like a drama on loop. You leaned against a folding chair by the stand, sipping water, watching chaos unfold with barely-suppressed laughter.
“Unnie~,” Zoey sing-songed, batting her lashes as she looked to you. “You’re really not gonna ditch them and eat ramyeon with us? It’s just one bowl.”
"Don't look at her," Baby shot her a dark look, arms folded tightly across his chest. “You already had your turn. She promised us dinner.” His voice was smooth, but his tone had thorns.
Romance clicked his tongue dramatically. “I still can’t believe you thought you could just take her,” he muttered at the girls. “You tugged her like she was a plushie. Not happening.”
“You boys don’t own her,” Mira quipped, twirling her ponytail with a sweet, faux-innocent smile. “Last time we checked, she still has a brain. She can say no.”
“She didn’t say no,” Jinu replied without missing a beat, voice low and smug. “She also didn’t say yes to you.”
That made Mira smirk wider. “So possessive, tiger boy.”
Jinu’s eyes flared golden for a split second before his lips twitched into something sharp. “Only when someone touches what’s ours.”
You almost choked on your own breath.
Abby was standing off to the side. “You know,” he drawled, “I’m all for peace and love and group harmony and whatever. But if you touch her again like that, Hunter, I might accidentally step on something fragile.”
Zoey raised both brows and clutched her chest dramatically. “You’re gonna hurt us now?”
“No,” Abby said, grinning toothily. “I was talking about Baby. He’d be the one trying to hold me back.”
“True,” Baby piped up, looking smug. “And I wouldn’t.”
Romance huffed like a sulking child. “Can we go home now? I’m starving. Emotionally. Physically. And spiritually.”
“You’re spiritually starving?” Rumi asked, clearly amused. “From what, not having her sit on your lap?”
“She didn’t even touch me during lunch break,” he grumbled. “She was too busy talking to you girls.”
“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on demons, you know,” Mira teased. “I thought you all had control.”
Mystery, silent until now, gave a slow smile that didn’t quite reach his glowing eyes. “We do,” he murmured. “Unless you push too far.”
God, they were so petty. And so clearly yours. You could feel it with every stolen glance, every territorial response, every little jab delivered with honeyed venom.
You were so caught up watching the tension unravel between them—entertained, delighted, aroused in the quietest, deepest way—that you didn’t notice the figure approach until a shadow fell across your shoulder.
“Miss Y/N?” he said, his voice strangely empty.
You turned, blinking at the unfamiliar staff member. He looked… off. The way his eyes never quite focused. His skin just a bit too pale beneath the studio lighting. You immediately felt the drop in temperature, like the air around you had thickened.
“One of the hosts requested to speak with you. Privately. I was asked to bring you.”
You nodded slowly, you glanced back at the boys. They were mid-argument with the girls again. You turned back to the staff member. “Okay,” you said, playing along. “Lead the way.”
The man turned and you followed him through the darkened halls. The sound of your footsteps echoed strangely, as if the building had hollowed out the moment you stepped out of their sight.
You frowned slightly. “Which host wanted to see me?”
He didn’t answer.
You slowed a little, unease creeping in. “Is he in the green room?”
The man kept walking.
Not the green room. Not the offices. Not anywhere familiar.
You slowed just slightly. “Hey, which host was it again? I didn’t catch a name—”
He stopped in front of the door. The one labeled with your boys’ stage name, stylized in elegant calligraphy. You recognized it instantly.
“The host is in there?” you asked, frowning.
Still no answer.
He simply pushed the door open and gestured for you to go inside.
You took a cautious step forward. The room was dimly lit, faintly warm. Their scent was still thick in the air—cologne and shampoo and something deeper, darker, unshakably theirs. Your pulse kicked up, caught between comfort and unease.
You turned back to the staff member. “So… where exactly—”
Click.
The sound of the lock echoed like a gunshot in your bones.
You froze.
The staff didn’t move. He just stood there. Watching.
“...Why did you lock the door?” you asked carefully.
No answer.
“Hey,” you said, your voice suddenly tight. “What are you doing?”
Silence.
You took a step forward. “Open it. Now.”
But he didn’t flinch.
Didn’t blink.
That’s when the chill finally registered. The drop in air pressure. The weight settling into your chest like fingers around your ribs. Your stomach coiled.
Something was wrong.
You took a step back, heart pounding.
“I said,” you said firmly, voice edged with warning, “open the door.”
Still, the staff didn’t move.
Instead, his head tilted slightly. Almost curious. The gesture was wrong—mechanical, like a puppet moving out of sync with its strings. His eyes flicked over you slowly, unnervingly calm.
“I knew you’d be pretty,” he murmured, voice shifting into something low and strange, almost admiring. “But I didn’t realize just how much. No wonder they’re so… attached.”
Your heart stuttered.
“They cling to you like animals.” His mouth curved in a grotesque mimicry of a smile. “It makes sense now. Why they defy him. Why they’ve turned their backs on everything.”
You took another step back.
“They never should’ve bonded with you.”
Faster than anything should. His arm lashed out, fingers locking around your neck with brutal precision. You were yanked off your feet and slammed against the mirrored wall so hard the glass trembled. Your breath vanished on impact.
The world blurred.
You gasped, lips parted in panic, fingers clawing at his wrist, legs kicking uselessly in the air.
His body shifted in real time, like watching a mask peel away. The skin of his face quivered and melted, features distorting. His jaw unhinged unnaturally, teeth pushing outward into something sharp and jagged. His eyes—once eerily blank—flared with a sickly yellow light that pulsed with barely-contained violence.
“You’re their mate,” the thing hissed, its breath sour and freezing against your cheek. “The bond is sealed. That’s why they disobey him.”
The word mate rang through your skull like a gunshot.
He knew.
“You’ve made them weak,” it snarled, tightening its grip with bone-cracking pressure. “You made them feel. You made them hope.”
Your fingers dug harder, frantic now, your vision flickering at the edges. Your lungs screamed. Your heart pounded. Still—something stronger than fear burned inside you.
They’ll come. They’ll know. They’ll feel it.
“They were loyal to His Majesty,” the demon spat. “Until you.”
Blackness crowded your vision. Dots of white burst like stars behind your eyes.
“And now?” it purred, leaning in so close its monstrous face eclipsed everything else. “Now, I’ll take you. And they’ll finally remember who they belong to. They’ll crawl back to him once there’s nothing left to protect.”
The last thing you saw before your consciousness slipped was its grin—wide, jagged, triumphant.
I love your saja boys story especially their demon forms with the horns and tails and I was wondering if you have a picture of what they look like with the horns and tails
Hi! I don’t have any official illustrations of the boys with their horns and tails just yet. Since I don't know to draw 😅 however, I did ask my best friend to sketch out their horns and tails based on how I described them in the story, and I also feel super lucky to have an adorable doodle by the talented @lostgirlinthewoodss featuring Romance with his horns and tail out, cuddling with MC 🥹✨
Here are the sketches—hope you enjoy seeing them as much as I did! 💫
Heyy!! I love your manager reader story so so much and I love what you did with giving the guys horns and tails that only come out when they are comfy (are their horns um.. “sensitive” too)
But I wanted to ask if you could do the same thing with mystery’s tusks he has!!
I just think they r so cute and it would be another suprise for reader just to see him rocking up like a woolly mamoth!!
heres photographic persuasion okay ily!!
You had grown used to seeing their true forms now—and somehow, it made everything feel more real.
Romance would lean his head on your shoulder with his spiral heart-shaped horns peeking through his curls, purring as your fingers traced the ridges. Abby’s thick, wing-like horns flared wide whenever you praised him, his muscular tail curling possessively around your thigh when he pulled you into his lap. Baby’s sleek, curved horns glowed faintly when he nuzzled against you, his arrow-tipped tail twitching happily at the sound of your laugh. And Jinu—Jinu’s dark, crescent horns and smooth tail would shimmer into view the moment you touched his chest or whispered his name.
Even when they weren’t paying attention, their bodies betrayed them—horns peeking through hair, tails flicking out when you so much as smiled. Once, Baby’s tail thumped against the back of the couch like an excited dog just because you walked in wearing his hoodie.
Jinu’s tail had coiled around your ankle like a silken ribbon the night you leaned in to whisper a simple “goodnight” against the shell of his ear—then tugged you back gently, like he hadn’t had enough.
Romance’s tail curled into a soft question mark behind him whenever you gave your attention to someone else, his pout barely hidden. “Am I boring you, sweetheart?” he’d ask with a wounded smile, already pulling you closer, his horns brushing against yours.
And Abby? Abby’s tail had once wrapped around your wrist like a cuff the moment you teased him about going out alone, his gaze dark and unreadable.
They didn’t even seem to notice anymore. Like your presence alone slipped them into something more true.
Like their instincts couldn’t help but surface when you were near.
And yet… there was one person who still hadn’t revealed anything.
Mystery.
That night, the two of you were in the living room. The others were scattered around the penthouse, absorbed in their own little worlds. Abby was in the kitchen slicing fruit, his tail lazily swishing near his calves. Romance was sprawled on the floor, headphones in, scribbling lyrics into a worn notebook. Baby curled up asleep on the rug, soft snores puffing out of him like a cat. And Jinu? Folding laundry down the hallway, humming low, lost in his domestic rhythm.
You were on the couch, sunk into soft cushions. Mystery lay between your legs, head in your lap, arms snug around your waist. His face was buried just beneath your ribs, purring faintly like a pleased predator who had caught his prize. You threaded your fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp while your other hand lazily stroked his nape.
“Comfy?” you murmured, brushing your thumb across his temple.
“Mmhmm,” he hummed, eyes closed. “Could stay here forever.”
You smiled, playing with a lock of hair that fell across his forehead. “I think you’ve got a bit of competition. The others might fight you for this seat.”
He didn’t answer. Just pressed his cheek harder against your thigh like he was claiming it. His arms flexed slightly around your waist. That was his answer.
Still… something tugged at you.
You glanced toward the others—tails flicking lazily, horns faintly visible as they moved through their routines. All of them had let you see this side of them. Trusted you with it. Their bodies responded instinctively—to your voice, your touch, your scent.
And yet…
Your eyes drifted back down to Mystery, still nestled against you, still cloaked in the calm of his human disguise. There were no horns. No tail. No glimpse of the demonic form you knew existed just beneath the surface. He looked peaceful—perfect, even—but you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest.
“Myst…”
He gave a sleepy hum. “Mmmm?”
You brushed his bangs away from his face, your thumb tracing the slope of his brow. “How come I’ve never seen your horns?” Your voice was quiet, careful. “Or your tail?”
The moment shifted.
You noticed it instantly, felt it in the shift of his breathing. Your chest tightened.
“I mean… it happens with the others,” you continued, gently. “Sometimes without them even trying. Like their bodies are reacting to me. Doesn’t that happen when you’re bonded...?”
Still, no answer.
“Myst?” you said again, barely above a whisper. “Did I… do something wrong?” Your hand stilled against his scalp. “Are you not comfortable with me?”
His purring had faded to silence.
That silence struck harder than expected. It filled the room like a fog, thick and suffocating. You felt it press against your ribs, coil around your breath. Your hand, still resting on his scalp, trembled slightly. You weren’t trying to accuse him. You just—needed to know. Needed to understand.
Maybe you had gone too far. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.
You almost pulled away.
But then—Mystery moved.
Slowly, he shifted in your lap, his face turning up toward you, cheek brushing your inner thigh. His eyes met yours.
“No, baby,” he whispered, voice fragile as thread. “No, it’s not like... don’t ever think that.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
“I’m not hiding because I don’t trust you,” he murmured, lashes fluttering. “I’m hiding because… because I do. And I didn’t want to ruin this. You make me feel so—” he exhaled shakily, looking away for a second before forcing himself back to your gaze, “—wanted. Like I’m something soft. Safe. You touch me like I won’t break you.”
Your heart clenched.
“Myst…” you breathed.
His hand moved—slow and reverent—slipping up to cup the back of your thigh, holding you there like he needed to ground himself.
“I didn’t want to ruin that illusion,” he said softly. “Because there’s more to me. Things I can’t hide forever. And I was scared that if I show you… you’ll look at me differently. Like I’m wrong. Like I’m disgusting.”
You leaned down, both hands cradling his face now, your thumbs brushing beneath his eyes. “There is nothing about you that could ever disgust me. You hear me?” Your voice trembled, but your words were steel. “I will love every part of you. Even the ones you’re scared of... whatever it is, I want to see it.”
His breath hitched.
For a moment, he just stared at you—like he couldn’t believe you’d said that, like it hurt to even hope. Then he nodded once, slow and deliberate. His lashes fell shut.
And instead of answering—
He showed you.
The transformation was slow, reverent. First, the horns—shorter than the others’, but wickedly curved like crescent moons in his head, obsidian black with faint silver ridges. Then his tail unfurled from his lower back, long and dark, with a sharp black point at the tip twitching nervously like it didn’t know where to settle.
And then… the tusks.
They peeked from his upper jaw as his lips parted in a shallow breath. Smooth and ivory-white, they curled delicately over his bottom lip, sharp but beautiful. Not monstrous. Not wrong.
Just—him.
You stared.
And didn’t move.
Mystery froze under your gaze. His body went tense, tail stiffening behind him like a drawn bowstring. It twitched once, betraying a split-second tremor—like he was already bracing for the worst. For you to flinch. To recoil. To say something.
His gaze dropped, voice tight and whisper-thin. “I knew it,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have—”
That’s when it hit you.
He looked so damn cute.
Your scream made him flinch.
Then you pounced.
One second, you were sitting like a normal person. The next, you were full-on launching yourself at Mystery, tackling him flat onto the cushions with a delighted squeal as if his transformation had just unlocked your final evolution. You straddled his waist, buried his stunned face in your hands, and smothered every inch of his cheeks with kisses.
“Oh my god—Myst—you’re so cute, are you kidding me?!” you gushed, your voice rising with every kiss. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner?! These tusks—they’re adorable. You’re adorable!”
He blinked up at you, stunned speechless, his mouth slightly parted, his tusks brushing against your cheek as you nuzzled him like he was the last warm thing on earth.
Your hands slid down his jaw, thumbs tracing the edge of his new features with breathless reverence. “I love them,” you whispered against the curve of his tusk. “I love you.”
Mystery’s face went scarlet.
He groaned—more like a whimper, really—and let his arms curl tight around your back, burying his face under your chin like he couldn’t take another second of being looked at like that. Like maybe if he held you hard enough, close enough, you’d never leave. Like he was terrified and elated all at once.
He trembled.
Not because he was afraid.
Because, for the first time, he believed you.
SLAM!
A sharp thud cracked through the penthouse, followed by the chaotic sound of stomping footsteps and something heavy hitting tile.
“WHAT WAS THAT?!” Abby’s voice bellowed from the kitchen, unmistakably holding a knife, the blade still glinting as he stormed toward the living room.
“Is she hurt?!” Jinu’s voice followed, sharp with panic. You could hear the sound of his sleeves being rolled up mid-sprint, jaw set like he was seconds from choosing violence.
Romance knocked over his own notebook with a startled yelp, scrambling to his feet so fast he tripped over the corner of the rug.
And Baby—half-asleep, half-feral—growled from the floor like he’d just been woken mid-hibernation. It didn’t sound human. It sounded like something with fangs. “Who touched her?!”
But when they all turned—panting, frantic, ready to fight—they stopped.
And then blinked.
Because there you were, wrapped around Mystery like he was the best gift you’d ever been given. Your legs were curled around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were pressing kisses all over his flushed face while he practically purred in your arms.
And he… he looked absolutely wrecked.
Mystery’s horns shimmered under the overhead light, glinting wickedly as he let you kiss all over him without protest. His tail twitched and coiled in embarrassment, but his arms only pulled you tighter, like he was terrified this was a dream and he might wake up without you. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, and a low, rumbling purr spilled from him without restraint, vibrating through both of your bodies like he couldn’t control it anymore.
His tusks glinted when he smiled—dazed, drunk on affection—and his face was so red he might’ve been glowing.
Abby was the first to speak, eyes wide. “You scared the hell outta me.”
Jinu exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over his heart. “I thought someone was attacking her.”
Romance tilted his head, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Mystery finally showed her, huh?”
Baby had already dropped back onto the rug, curling up like a cat mid-nap. “She’s fine. Hyung’s doomed.”
But you didn’t register any of it at first.
Because all your attention was on the boy in your arms—the boy still trembling beneath your touch.
You pulled back just slightly, enough to cup his jaw in both hands, brushing your thumbs gently along the line of his tusks.
He swallowed, eyes flickering up to meet yours. “You… really like them?” he asked, voice husky, almost broken. So small. So hopeful.
“I love you,” you whispered. The words came raw, unwavering, your voice anchored by the truth of it. “Every single part of you.”
And then you kissed him—slow, deep, reverent.
He whimpered into your mouth.
A low, guttural sound that vibrated against your lips, his tusks nudging gently into your skin as he kissed you back with growing hunger, growing need. His horns brushed your forehead. His tail winding tight around your thigh. One of his hands slid up your back, fingers splayed, holding you like he could finally allow himself to be vulnerable in your arms.
From the side, Romance let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re gonna break him.”
But his voice was warm. Almost proud.
“She already broke all of us,” Jinu murmured, reverent, his eyes fixed on the way you kissed Mystery.
You broke the kiss just enough to rest your forehead against his, both of you breathless and trembling in the charged quiet. Mystery’s cheeks were flushed a deep, damning crimson, his lips kiss-swollen and glistening. His tusks gleamed faintly in the ight, catching the soft glow like moonlight on polished ivory. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide, body trembling—
But not from fear anymore.
From relief. From surrender. From the unbearable sweetness of finally being seen.
You giggled, voice low and dizzy with affection, your fingertips drifting up to stroke along the base of his horns. They were warmer now, pulsing faintly under your touch. Sensitive. His breath hitched.
“So…” you whispered, a smile curling at your lips, “are you gonna let me touch your tail properly now?”
His eyes darkened.
Lashes lowered.
You didn’t need words.
Because the way his tail coiled around your waist—slow and deliberate, like silk ropes winding around prey—told you everything you needed to know. It slid higher, curling just beneath your ribs, then slinking lower to your thigh, where it wrapped snugly and held.
He buried his face into your shoulder with a choked sound, arms locking tight around your back like he needed your weight on top of him to stay grounded. His nose pressed to your throat, breathing you in like oxygen, like scent alone could anchor him. His fingers clutched at your shirt. His tail tightened around your thigh again, twitching with need.
You: “Myst, quick question.”
Mystery: *bracing for anything* “…Yes?”
You: “What happens if I tug your horn and tail at the same time?”
Mystery: *pauses, blinks* “…Are you trying to summon a feral version of me?”
Abby:*from the kitchen* “DON’T LET HER DO IT—!”
Romance: *perking up* “I wanna see what happens. For science.”
Baby: *sitting up abruptly, dead serious* “I volunteer as tribute!”
Jinu: *pulls out phone* “I’m documenting this for historical accuracy.”
You: *grinning* “So you don’t know what happens?”
Mystery: *backing away slowly* “I will evaporate from existence if you test it. Don’t do this to me.”
.....
You: *sitting behind Mystery, hands reaching for his tail* “Can I?”
Mystery: *tense* “…Go ahead.”
*You gently trace down his tail. He visibly shudders.*
Mystery: “—oh.”
All the boys simultaneously: “RIGHT?!”
Mystery: *in visible emotional crisis* “…I’ve been living in a self-imposed hell.”
.....
Baby: *patting the cushion beside him* “Come, hyung. Sit. You must be educated.”
Mystery: “Educated in what?”
Romance: *whispering reverently* “The divine art…of being pet.”
Jinu: *dead serious, eyes glowing faintly* “The first time she touched my tail… I died. Twice. Came back just to feel it again.”
Abby: *smirking, arms crossed* “When she combed her fingers through my horns and praised me, I nearly combusted."
Baby: *giddy* “My tail wags on its own. Like it has free will. I giggled. I giggled, Hyung.”
Mystery: *flatly* “I’ve seen you threaten people with your pinkie toe. You giggled?”
Baby: *grinning proudly* “Like a schoolgirl.”
.....
You: walks in, barefoot, hoodie-swaddled, looking for snacks
You: Pauses in the doorway.
Romance: purring seductively
Abby: purring like thunder
Baby: vibrating like a smug cat
Mystery: red-faced, refusing to join
Jinu: judging with a clipboard
You: *blinks slowly* “…I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see this.”
You: Backs out slowly.
Baby: “Wait—who was winning?!”
You: *still backing out* “Therapy. Therapy is winning.”
Firstly BWUSBSJWIUDHDNSKWISJSH WHY WAS THAT SOO GOOD LIKE 😔😔😜😜✨👀👀 it's really well written like goodness gracious, who's the dive who wrote this toe curling fic. The anticipation that we have been waiting, the teasing not just by the mc but somehow it feels like you are lowkey teasing the readers too😔😔💔💔
And also the rock paper scissors is really accurate lol it's really funny behind the mc's back that they're deciding who's gonna rail her by that game😭😭 Baby is waay too freaky too just no sugar coated words, no hesitation just pure, "Who's gonna rail her" JAHSBZHSNZBSIWUW THIS DEMON IS WAYY TOO UNHINGED
You did a really great job, it's really fun to read your fics I cannot possibly get over this lol the way reader and abby flirting or just seducing each other is just soo yummy like GIRL MOVE IT'S MY TURN 😜😜
Anyways dis is me reminding my fav author to hydrate and rest. Health is important to our lives stay safeee
eagle anonn 🦅🦅
AHHHHH 🥹 Eagle Anon strikes again with the chaotic love and perfect unhinged commentary—thank you so much for this!! 😭😭😭💗💗
First of all, I HOWLED at “Girl move it’s my turn”—because honestly?? That’s the exact energy the boys are dealing with too. Everyone fighting for a slice of that reader attention.
Now let’s talk about Baby…
Originally that line was “Who’s gonna fuck her” and it was so raw, so feral, it nearly lit my laptop on fire. But then I paused and thought, hmm, maybe that’s too blunt. So I downgraded the word but not the energy — because “who’s gonna rail her” still hits like a demonic punch to the gut. 😩🔥
And the rock paper scissors? ICONIC. Because of course these overpowered, otherworldly, centuries-old demon men can’t settle this with strategy or maturity. Nahhh. They’re shirtless in hot water playing a children’s game while plotting who gets to touch mc. I HAD to highlight the fact that no matter how demonically hot and powerful they are, they’re still five chaotic men sharing one brain cell.
As for the teasing—you caught me 😏 That’s a mutual suffering situation.
Thank you so much again for reminding me to take care of myself. I’ll keep writing if you promise to keep screaming in the comments 🥹💜
Okay genuine question… does anyone here read manhwa?? Because listen—I don’t even read it yet, and I’m already fighting for my life not to start a fic inspired by like… five different manhwa male leads. I don’t even know the plots. I just see the art, the energy, the vibes, and I’m like DEYMMM. Why is everyone so hot and emotionally damaged???
I’m this close to spiraling into a whole new fic and dragging all of you down with me. So help a writer out—do y’all know any good apps or websites where I can actually read these stories properly? I wanna understand the tropes, the pacing, the drama, before I go full chaos and write something wild with dangerous, emotionally unwell male leads in love with the reader.
The moment the door clicked open, silence swept over the group like a spell.
Soft, golden light bathed the suite in a sultry glow, shadows pooling across polished wood floors and sleek, obsidian furnishings. To the left, an oversized sectional coiled around a sunken lounge area—a plush nest of velvet cushions and thick throws. It wasn’t just cozy. It was a place made for limbs entangled, for bare skin and lazy kisses, for surrendering to warmth and weight and want.
On the low coffee table, a chilled bottle of wine glistened in its cradle, surrounded by silver trays of indulgence: chocolate-dipped fruits, seared cuts of meat still pink and warm, delicate buttered rolls steaming as if freshly pulled from an oven. Nestled among them was a bowl of strawberries—halved, ruby-red, glistening with juice, each one begging to be bitten, or better yet, fed from someone else’s fingers.
In the far corner, a massage table stood surrounded by candles that flickered low and lazy, their scent a dizzying blend of ylang-ylang, cedar, and heat. Towels were rolled neatly at the foot, and a bowl of warm oil shimmered under the dim light.
But your eyes were pulled to the right.
To the door left slightly ajar.
To the thick steam that curled out like fingers through the crack, beckoning you closer.
Calling you.
Abby moved first, silent as a shadow.
His black shirt clung to the stretch of muscle along his back, each step smooth and measured, predatory in its ease. As he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder with a knowing smirk, eyes dark with something electric.
“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice deep and low. “Take a look.”
Your body moved before you could second-guess it. You stepped forward, heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears, and pushed the door open.
The private bathhouse hit you like a dream.
Hot mist curled over the surface of the pale blue waters like breath over bare skin. Moonlight poured in through the slatted roof above, casting silver ribbons across the pool’s surface. Smooth, dark stones lined the perimeter, and somewhere near the back, water trickled down a miniature rockfall, the sound delicate, rhythmic, almost… hypnotic. Bamboo walls held the heat in close, and the air was saturated with steam and scent—mineral-rich, woody, and something else. Something wilder. Something that smelled like them.
This was no ordinary bath.
This kind of place is meant for skin against skin. For whispered moans swallowed by mist.
Someone’s breath ghosted beside your ear.
“Do you like it?” Jinu’s voice was low, rasped and proud. “We told them to make it perfect for you.”
He paused, letting his next words curl slowly over your skin.
“We didn’t want anyone else in this world touching this water but us… and you.”
Your throat tightened.
The air felt hotter suddenly. Heavier.
You couldn’t tell if it was the steam or him. Or the way the others were approaching behind you, the weight of their presence settling over your shoulders like a velvet net, tightening with every breath you drew.
And still, you couldn’t look away from the water.
Couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like—your body beneath theirs, heat sliding between the steam, mouths tasting the water off your skin.
You swallowed hard, heart racing.
A hand slid around your waist—light, teasing, until fingers dipped into the water just beside your hip.
Mystery.
He didn’t speak right away. Just lifted his hand slowly, letting warm droplets cling to his fingers before pressing them gently to your wrist, directly over your pulse.
“Perfect temperature,” he murmured, voice low and laced with something dangerous. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the look he gave you made your breath catch. “Almost as perfect as you.”
Before you could gather your thoughts, Jinu’s voice slid in low and velvet-smooth behind you. “Go on and change, baby.” His gaze unapologetically traced the lines of your body, slow and reverent.
“We’ll wait.”
You barely had time to turn away before the soft rustle of fabric filled the air. Fingers tugging at zippers. The whisper of shirts sliding off bare shoulders. The sound of breath and heat and temptation unspooling all around you.
Abby was first.
He tugged his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, muscles rippling under golden skin as mist coiled around him like smoke around fire. The shadows caught on the marks sprawled across his chest and waist, teasing at what the rest of it looked like. His abs flexed with each breath, tight and defined, as his fingers moved to the button of his pants.
Your breath caught hard in your chest.
“Go on, baby,” Jinu said again, that quiet command in his voice curling low and sweet around your spine. The kind that made your knees weak and your will weaker. “We’ll be in by the time you’re done.”
“Unless…” Baby drawled, head tilting, his smirk all teeth and mischief. “You’d rather change out here with us. We won’t mind.” His tone made it clear how much they’d enjoy that option.
Your mouth opened, but the words didn’t come.
Romance was shrugging out of his sweater, slow and lazy, like he knew you were watching. His hair stuck to his temples, damp from the heat, framing a smirk that curled slowly when your gaze lingered too long.
Mystery didn’t say anything—he just met your gaze with that unreadable expression and unhurriedly peeled off his jacket, revealing smooth, pale skin and lean muscle underneath.
His eyes dropped to your lips.
And stayed there.
Your heart leapt into your throat.
Baby let out a low chuckle as he peeled off his hoodie, tousling his hair with one hand, not bothering to hide how openly your eyes traced the dip of his waist.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he teased. “Haven’t seen us shirtless before?” He winked, voice playful but thick with heat. “It’s not like you haven’t touched it.”
Your mouth opened but no sound came out. Instead, you watched as muscles, marks, and bare skin came into view one by one, each boy shedding layers like it was the most natural thing in the world—and suddenly the room felt ten degrees hotter.
“I—I’m going to change!” you blurted, voice too high, too fast. You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over your own feet as you bolted toward the bathroom.
Their laughter chased after you, low and fond and sinful.
You slammed the door shut behind you and pressed your back to it, gasping like you’d just run a marathon. “Oh my god,” you whispered, dragging a shaky hand through your hair. You could still hear them faintly through the door, light conversation, water lapping, the occasional soft chuckle that made your thighs press together instinctively.
It didn’t help.
You peeled off your clothes with trembling fingers, every brush of fabric against your skin making you flinch. It felt like every inch of you was on fire, too aware, too exposed. Like their gazes were still clinging to you. Like you could still feel them.
Was it the heat of the bath?
No. It was them. Their energy. Their scent. Their attention.
You reached for the towel neatly folded on the counter, praying, begging, for some kind of dignity.
But the moment you shook it out, you froze.
Your breath left you in a strangled whisper. “Oh hell no.”
It was short. So short. And thin, so thin it might as well have been made of fog. You held it up to the light and stared in horror. It wasn’t a towel. It was an invitation. A setup. A trap.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
You glared at the towel rack like it had betrayed you. Then the walls. Then the whole stupid private bathhouse.
“What kind of luxury place gives out rags instead of towels?” you hissed. “Where’s the robe? The oversized fluff cocoon? This isn’t a towel, it’s a scandal.”
But there was nothing else.
With a groan of defeat, you wrapped the offending cloth around yourself anyway, yanking it as low as you could, though it still barely reached mid-thigh. One wrong move and this whole thing would slip.
“I hate this towel,” you muttered, clutching the ends tightly. “I hate them. I hate how smug they’re gonna look when they see me in this.”
You paused, breath catching.
Swallowed hard.
“And I really hate how hot I feel just thinking about them looking at me in this.”
Your reflection stared back at you from the steamed-up mirror, flushed, flustered, wrapped in a scandalous scrap of fabric and still trembling slightly.
But your skin tingled with anticipation.
A knock sounded. Three gentle taps.
“Sweetheart?” Jinu’s voice drifted through, low and smooth like dark wine. “You alive in there? The others are already in. The water’s perfect.”
Your heart slammed into your ribs.
“I’m fine!” you called out too fast, too loud, your voice nearly cracking. “I’ll be out in a minute!”
A moment of silence followed, and you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “We’ll be waiting.”
You exhaled slowly, willing your hands to stop shaking as you adjusted the towel. It clung to your body like it had a mind of its own, molding to every curve, catching at your hips, your thighs, the swell of your chest.
The fabric soaked in the heat and softened with it, making every movement feel suggestive. You tugged at it again, uselessly, and tried not to imagine their faces when they saw you like this.
With a frustrated breath, you twisted your damp hair into a quick, messy bun. A few strands clung to your collarbones and the curve of your neck, kissed by steam and sweat. The mirror offered no comfort, just a vision of you undone, glowing, practically trembling.
This is fine, you told yourself. You’ve seen them shirtless before. This is just communal bathing. Normal. Cultural. Innocent
…ish.
Then, breath held tight, you cracked it open and stepped out.
The breath you’d taken vanished.
You hadn’t expected them to look like that.
You froze. Your hand instinctively gripped the towel tighter around your chest, breath catching violently as the scene unfolded in front of you.
They hadn’t noticed you yet.
The five of them were gathered near the large onsen-style bath, towels slung low on their hips, backs and chests bare, golden under the soft steam curling around them like sin incarnate. Their voices were low, casual, but the sight was anything but.
Abby stood with one arm draped lazily over Baby’s shoulder, laughing softly about something you couldn’t hear. His muscles flexed slightly with the movement, abs sharp under the water-slicked light, towel sitting dangerously low on his hips.
Baby, perched on the edge of the bath, had his hair tied up messily, a few damp strands sticking to his neck. His long legs stretched out in front of him, one foot tapping gently against the floor as he teased someone mid-sentence. You watched his mouth move—playful, sharp, curved in a smile that could cut glass—and your stomach dropped.
Romance leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, towel wrapped around his head like a loose turban. He looked calm, distant, but every now and then, he’d glance at the others and murmur something quiet that made them smirk. His toned chest rose and fell slowly, and for a second, your eyes fixated on a single bead of water rolling down from his collarbone, past the curve of his chest, and disappearing into the dip of his towel.
Mystery was sprawled lazily on a lounge chair, arms behind his head, one knee bent. His towel clung to his hips like it had been draped there on purpose by the gods themselves, and his hair was still damp—dark lavender strands clinging to his temples. He wasn’t even speaking, just watching the others with a kind of slow, languid focus that made your pulse spike.
Jinu sat at the edge of the bath, long legs submerged up to the calves, elbows resting on his knees. His towel was twisted casually around his waist, revealing far too much thigh and not nearly enough modesty. He was talking—voice low, commanding, almost amused—and gesturing with his hands as he explained something to the group. His wet hair was slicked back from his forehead, sharp jawline on full display, the kind that could ruin your life in one glance.
You took a breath. Then another.
Steady hands, even as your pulse thundered.
You stepped into view, towel still wrapped securely around you, posture composed, chin slightly raised. A soft mist coiled around your ankles from the heated stone floor, your bare feet making quiet contact as you walked toward them like you weren’t falling apart inside.
Their laughter faded.
The conversation fell flat like someone had cut the sound with a knife.
Romance’s mouth parted slowly, like he forgot how to speak. Jinu’s gaze darkened,tracking every subtle sway of your hips. Baby blinked hard and let out a low, helpless laugh under his breath, shaking his head like he was doomed. Mystery tilted his head with quiet wonder, while Abby, half-submerged with steam rising off his shoulders, muttered a curse that sounded almost like a prayer.
"Careful, baby," Abby called out, his voice low and commanding as you stepped toward the water’s edge. His eyes never left you. “The rocks get slippery near the middle.”
"Here," Jinu added, already rising to offer his hand like it was instinct, his tone softer, gentler—something sacred in how he held it out. “Let me help you.”
You took it, your fingers slipping into his grasp. His palm was warm and steady, and the subtle clench of his hand told you he wasn’t ready to let go. Not even close.
On your other side, Romance had moved—quiet as a shadow, just close enough that the heat of his body kissed your skin. His fingers brushed your lower back as you stepped into the steaming water, anchoring you. "Slowly," he murmured near your ear, his voice low and intimate, “don’t want our girl getting hurt now, do we?”
Your heart stuttered.
The moment you slid into the warm pool, a sigh slipped past your lips—soft and unguarded. The heat embraced you, curling around your limbs, settling low in your belly. But it wasn’t just the water that shifted something inside you.
It was them.
The atmosphere changed in an instant—tightening, humming, thick with something unspoken. Like desire had taken form and hung in the air between every ripple.
Romance was the first to speak. His voice dipped low, slow as honey, laced with warmth and reverence as his gaze swept over your face, your shoulders, the way the water kissed along your skin.
“Did we forget to tell you how beautiful you are tonight?”
Jinu gave a soft, humorless laugh from somewhere to your left, though his eyes never left you. “Tonight? You mean always.”
You blinked, breath catching—because suddenly they were all so close. The bath wasn’t small, but with five demons orbiting you like heat-drunk moons, it felt intimately crowded. Pressurized. Like the space had narrowed down to just your body, their bodies, and all the heat between.
Mystery tilted his head, his expression softer than usual—though the sharp gleam in his eyes betrayed the hunger simmering beneath. “You always do this on purpose, darling,” he murmured, voice low and honeyed, threaded with something rough. “Always making us ache… and you don’t even have to try.”
There was no blame in his words. Just longing. And maybe the barest tremble of restraint.
Baby had drifted closer—close enough for your skin to sense him without touch. His arm rested along the edge behind you, his presence a hum along your back. His voice came quiet, reverent.
“She doesn’t have to try,” he said, almost to himself. “She just exists. And here we are already on our knees.”
You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “You’re all being dramatic.”
“No,” Abby said, with quiet conviction. “We’re being honest.”
Romance’s fingers skimmed the surface of the water, slow and deliberate, the ripple brushing your skin like a ghost of a touch. His eyes were half-lidded as they tracked the movement, but his words were all for you.
“You still don’t see it, do you, sweetheart?” His voice was rough silk, curling around your name like smoke. “You walk into a room, and it’s like… we forget how to breathe. How to function. Everything else just disappears.”
Your breath caught, lashes fluttering as you let your eyes drift closed. Their words didn’t just settle into your chest—they soaked through, slow and thick and inescapable.
You sank deeper into the warm pool until the water cradled you just beneath your collarbones, steam curling up your throat, brushing soft and damp along your lashes. With a soft sigh, you cupped your hands and dipped them beneath the surface, letting the water pool in your palms.
Then, slowly, deliberately, you lifted the water and let it spill over your shoulder, fingers trembling just enough for it to cascade in thin, glistening rivulets.
Warmth cascaded down your skin in a glistening trail.
The moment it happened, the air shifted.
You didn’t need to open your eyes to know they were watching.
You could feel it—how the water wasn’t the only thing burning against your skin now.
You dipped your hands again, slower this time, letting the movement draw out. The heat pooled in your palms, and you poured it down the curve of your chest, letting it trail over your arm, painting your skin in liquid light. It felt good. Clean. Quiet. But the longer you lingered in that slow, sensual motion, the heavier their gazes became.
When you finally opened your eyes, they were closer.
Not by much. But enough.
Jinu’s voice broke through the hush, gentle but reverent. “Can we—” He stopped, licked his lips, then offered you a soft, boyish smile that made your heart stumble. “Can we help?”
Your heart skipped.
That one simple sentence made the bathhouse suddenly feel smaller, warmer, heavier.
“Only if you’re comfortable,” he added quickly, but his voice dropped with something deeper.
You blinked at him. “Help?”
“Wash you,” Baby added quickly, cheeks pink, eyes wide and almost pleading. “Only if you want. It’s just… watching you touch yourself like that—damn” He groaned and dropped his head for a second, embarrassed. “That came out wrong.”
Romance bit his lip, clearly holding back a laugh, but his voice was velvet when he spoke. “What he meant was… we want to take care of you. Touch you the way you deserve. If you’ll let us.”
You tilted your head, just slightly. “All of you?”
Abby’s jaw flexed, his gaze unreadable, but his voice was soft. “Of course all of us. You're ours… aren’t you?”
Mystery’s fingers brushed the surface of the water near your thigh, careful not to touch. His voice was barely a whisper. “We’ll be gentle,” he promised. “Or not. Whatever you need. Just… let us. Please.”
The moment you said yes, it was like something ancient uncoiled in the room.
Five demons moved at once—without a word, without needing one. Like they’d rehearsed this in dreams. Like they were following a rhythm only they could hear. And every motion—every stretch of an arm, tilt of a bowl, graze of cloth—was coordinated not for efficiency, but for you.
Only for you.
Warm water trickled down your shoulders first, then the gentle drag of a cloth followed, smoothed down your arm in a slow, sensual sweep. Another hand—bigger, rougher—grazed your thigh beneath the water, washing in long, reverent strokes. Fingers found your nape, massaging in slow, hypnotic circles as someone combed careful fingers through your wet hair.
They never got in each other’s way.
They didn’t speak, not at first. Only soft breaths and the lapping of water filled the space—until your sigh broke through it all, quiet and sweet and utterly unguarded.
A sound like surrender.
A sound like home.
“Just like that,” Romance murmured behind you, voice low and smug as his hands glided down your back. “You sound so good when you relax.”
You hummed again in response, too boneless to form words.
And it made them lean closer.
You didn’t need to look to know they were smiling.
Abby had one massive hand on your thigh under the water, kneading gently, the other slowly massaging your shoulder. “You don’t even realize how perfect you are like this, do you?” he whispered near your ear. “Letting us take care of you. Letting us spoil what’s ours.”
Jinu moved, circling in front of you, eyes raking over every softened line in your face. He dipped a cloth in the water, then leaned in, brushing it over your collarbone with a touch so intimate it made your breath hitch. His tone was calm—commanding, even—but his eyes were wild with adoration. “Just relax for us baby. We’ve got you. We always will.”
Behind you, Romance’s lips ghosted along the slope of your shoulder. “Our pretty girl,” he whispered, a hum buried beneath the words. “Letting her mates take care of her… you don’t even know what that does to us.”
You cracked a smile, heart stuttering behind your ribs, caught somewhere between flustered and drunk on the way they loved you.
“You’re getting cocky,” you teased, voice soft, lips curling like you could still pretend you weren’t melting for them.
But then you laughed.
A real, breathless, sun-warm sound, halfway between a sigh and surrender. You reached out –instinctive—and brushed your fingertips along Mystery’s jaw just as he leaned in to kiss your neck.
That did it.
The sound of your laughter bounced off the steamy tile walls, bright and open and completely unguarded.
And they stilled. All of them.
Just for a beat.
And then—they pounced.
Not to claim, but to drown you in affection.
Kisses fell in waves, one after the other. Light and teasing on your cheeks. Warm and slow on your shoulders. Wet and playful along your collarbone. Gentle lips pressing, brushing, nuzzling—all of it ridiculous and overwhelming and so full of affection it made your breath catch in your throat.
You giggled helplessly, twisting just enough to squirm away, but never really trying to escape.
“Okay—okay!” you gasped between bursts of laughter. “You’re going to tickle me—!”
“There it is,” Baby whispered, practically glowing as he tucked a kiss behind your ear. “That laugh. I’d fight gods for that sound.”
“You’re so damn cute,” Abby growled, his voice low and fond as he nipped near your collarbone. “You think we’ll stop just ‘cause you giggle, baby?”
“I’m encouraged, actually,” Mystery said, smirking against your skin as he stole a kiss to your wrist. “Might double it down just to hear it again.”
“You better kiss us back,” Romance added, pulling back only to pout at you with full, glossy lips. His fingers brushed your hip, his voice dipped low. “Or we’ll keep going ‘til you’re breathless.”
You let out a shaky little laugh, breath catching at the edges. “Maybe I want that,” you whispered, teasing—but soft with the truth of it, your pulse already fluttering beneath your skin from how close they were.
Then—just to shut them up—you turned and caught Jinu’s lips in a kiss.
A gentle brush of lips that lingered like a promise. His breath caught, just barely, before he melted into you—his hand twitched against your waist. Then tightened. Then dragged you closer like he couldn’t help it.
The sound that left the others?
Raw. Possessive. Feral.
A chorus of soft growls, groans, and bitten-off sighs that made your pulse jump and your spine curve just a little closer to them
You’d undone them.
And they had you completely surrounded.
“Why did she kissed him first” Baby whined, as if heartbroken, eyes wide and dramatic as he flopped against your side.
“Unfair,” Abby growled, voice lower now, thick with playful jealousy. His hand slid slow along your thigh, fingers curling gently.
“You better earn the next one then,” you purred, a spark of mischief in your voice—breathless, teasing, barely holding back a smile.
And oh, how they responded to that.
Their eyes darkened like smoke. Hungry. Enchanted. Starving to please. The air thickened with want—no longer sharp and desperate, but reverent. Patient. Predatory.
Wrapped in steam and arms and something deeper than desire, you couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the next began. Their touches blurred together—soft caresses along your back, reverent kisses to your shoulder, fingertips tracing your spine as if memorizing it.
Still on you.
Still learning you.
Still worshiping the very sound of your happiness like it was sacred.
And this time—you didn’t hold anything back.
You let them have it all.
Because deep down, you knew: they’d already claimed every part of you.
And you were starting to like it that way.
You were now nestled against a warm, firm chest, the scent of him seeping into your hair like smoke and honey. Abby had you tucked between his spread thighs, your back resting against his torso while the rest of the boys lounged in the far side of the bath, giving space—but not without lingering glances.
His hand reached out casually, holding a crystal bowl piled high with glistening strawberries. The contrast of the fruit’s red against the strength of his hand made your stomach twist—not with hunger, but something needier.
“Open,” he murmured near your ear, his voice dipped low and thick. The pad of his thumb dragged lazily across your lower lip, parting them before sliding a slice of fruit into your mouth. You obeyed, dazed, the sweet-tart burst on your tongue only half as intoxicating as the sensation of Abby watching you with those dark, possessive eyes.
“That’s it,” he breathed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips brushing skin but never settling. “Sweet little thing…”
You swallowed, barely, your body softening under his touch.
“Abby,” you whispered, shifting slightly to face him more, but his arms only wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you flush against him.
“Hmm?” He leaned forward, his breath brushing your cheek. “You need something princess?”
You tried again, this time turning fully in his lap. Warm water slipping along your skin and the soft swell of your breasts brushing his chest, Abby froze like you’d struck him. Your cheek smushed against one of his big pecs, and you felt it rise under you—his breath catching sharply before he let out the smallest, weakest sigh, like all his composure had been punched out of him at once.
Still, his hand moved. Trembling now, fingers slick with water as he reached for another strawberry like it was instinct, like denying you wasn’t an option. He brought it to your lips with reverent precision, but he didn’t say a word. Just stared—entranced—as your mouth wrapped around the fruit.
His pupils were blown wide, lips parted, jaw clenched tight like he was holding himself together with threadbare control. You felt it in the way his arm tightened behind your back, as if anchoring himself with you was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“You’ve been going to the gym too much,” you murmured, voice sultry against his skin. Teasing. Dangerous. Your fingers slid low over his abdomen—slow, deliberate—counting the ridges of muscle with silent awe. One. Two. Three.
Then higher.
Your palms curved boldly over the broad weight of his pecs, thumbs grazing his nipples just to see if he’d flinch.
“Seriously,” you whispered, breath hitching as you looked up at him. “This isn’t fair.”
Abby huffed a low laugh, voice rumbling against your shoulder as he looked down at you curled against his chest. His lips brushed the crown of your head, and you felt his smile even before he spoke.
“You’re being extra clingy today,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and something darker, something low and coiled beneath his tongue.
Then he purred and the sound slithered down your spine like silk-drenched sin.
“You feelin’ needy, princess?”
Your voice came out in a breathy whimper, trembling as you clung to him. “I don’t know—just… just want you so bad…”
Your fingers curled into his skin like you might fall apart without him. “Need you to touch me. Need you to take care of me…"
That did something to him.
You saw it in the way his eyes darkened instantly, heard it in the way he sucked in a breath through his nose like he was scenting your need.
“Good girls don’t beg like that” he said, voice rougher now, deeper.
“Ask properly, baby.”
You didn’t dare glance at the others, though you felt their stares like heat on your skin—unmoving, unblinking. Watching. Letting him have this moment with you, even if their restraint was fraying with every breath you took.
They wanted to see what Abby would do with you first.
Your thighs pressed together under the water, heart thudding. And then, barely above a whisper, you gave him what he wanted.
“Abby… please.” A breath. A gasp. “Need you...”
Abby lifted you out of the water like you weighed nothing, his strength casual and complete. Your slick skin clung to his chest, your breath catching at the sensation of being carried like that—safe, cradled, wanted. He didn’t stumble. Didn’t falter. Just held you against him like you belonged there, like there was no question.
The others still didn’t move. But they were watching, barely breathing.
"Yeah?" Abby’s voice ghosted against your temple as he walked with you, one arm cradling beneath your thighs, the other anchoring you close to his chest. “Then let me take care of you, princess.”
He carried you to the edge of the bath and laid you back on the warm stones like you were something sacred. The towel clung to your body like a second skin. His eyes flicked over it, nostrils flaring, and a sharp growl vibrated low in his chest.
Then he leaned in.
His palms braced on either side of your head, trapping you beneath him, his body radiating heat as his damp hair dripped slowly beside your cheek. His nose brushed yours, lips hovering just above, his breath mixing with yours.
“You sure you want this?” he asked, voice low, roughened with restraint, even though his body was already lowering toward yours, drawn like gravity, helpless to stop.
Instead of answering, you reached up and tangled your fingers in Abby’s damp hair, pulling him to you. The kiss you gave him wasn’t soft—it was needy, full of everything words couldn’t hold.
He met it head-on, mouth crashing over yours with a deep, rough groan that rattled through your chest. His hands sank against the stone on either side of you, but his body pressed into yours like he was seconds from coming undone—like holding back had never been an option.
The towel you wore clung to your body. The fabric hugged every curve and shift of your hips, rising higher with each breath, revealing more than it hid.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were flushed, eyes dark and blown wide with want. His breath fanned across your mouth, chest rising and falling in uneven waves. He didn’t look at the others. Only you.
"You’re not getting out of this now," he murmured darkly, voice dripping with reverence and need.
And then he moved.
You barely had a moment to breathe before he lowered you again onto the warm, wet stone, his hands sliding beneath the towel to adjust it—not to preserve your modesty, but to bare you.
He gathered the damp fabric in both hands, bunching it slowly around your hips. The motion was deliberate, dragging tension out with every inch exposed. His thumbs grazed the softness of your inner thighs as he shifted the towel higher, until it was a useless mess of fabric at your waist.
There was no hiding now.
The soaked towel offered no protection—not from his gaze, and not from the others’.
And they all saw it.
You heard the shift of breath. The faint, involuntary curse under someone's breath. The tension that rippled through the air like a wire pulled tight. They didn't move. They didn't interrupt.
The water lapped gently in the background.
Abby’s broad palms slid up your thighs, parting them with a slow, possessive certainty. He didn’t hide what he was doing. He wanted them to see.
And then he dropped to his knees and devoured you.
Abby didn’t hesitate. His tongue dragged through your folds with unrelenting purpose—slow at first, savored. Then deeper. Harder. Slick, obscene sounds filled the misty air, every wet, hungry stroke amplified in the charged silence. He licked into you like a man who hadn’t eaten in days—like he needed this to breathe. And in a way, he did.
Because he was possessed.
By you.
Your thighs trembled, reacting before your mind could catch up, but his arms—those thick, marked arms—wrapped tighter around them, locking you open for him. His strength kept you spread, helpless beneath his mouth, vulnerable under the weight of their silent hunger.
You could feel the others' eyes on you, the heavy silence of the room only amplifying the wet suction and the soft, helpless sounds you couldn’t stop from spilling. Every flick of his tongue sent your hips jolting forward, chasing him. You whimpered his name like a plea, fingers scrambling into his hair as if you could anchor yourself to him before the pleasure drowned you whole.
Your body wasn’t yours anymore.
You bucked against his face with ragged, helpless rhythm, lost in sensation, and he welcomed it—pulled you closer, pressed deeper, letting you grind against him with no shame. Letting your need soak into his mouth, into his skin. A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest and vibrated straight through you as he sealed his lips around your clit again, then… it slowed.
Tormentingly slow.
His lips trailed downward in aching inches—kisses molten with restraint. From the top of your swollen clit to the tender opening below, he moved with reverence and something darker.
You whimpered, head tilting back against the stone, teeth catching your bottom lip as your hands tightened in his hair.
"Abby... please..."
But he only grinned into your skin like a man who lived to unravel you piece by piece.
And then—without warning—his tongue plunged back into you.
Hot. Deep. Possessive.
Your body jolted like it had been struck by lightning. He angled his head just so, tongue licking up every desperate clench of your cunt while his nose ground mercilessly into your clit with every breath.
He groaned into you—filthy and satisfied—like he was feasting, not pleasuring. Like he wanted to make sure you felt him in your bones.
You moaned again, raw and unrestrained, your fingers scrabbling against slick stone for something, anything, to hold. But he didn’t let you reach for the edge. Instead, he offered you his hand—large, veined, warm—sliding into yours with a grip so tight and grounding it nearly undid you all over again. His fingers laced through yours like a silent command as if to say stay here. With me.
His other arm locked tighter around your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you down like you were trembling prey caught between his teeth.
His tongue moved faster now—deeper. Curling, twisting. Ruthless. Every time his nose bumped your clit, your vision splintered into white. The pressure built like a vice in your belly, unbearable and addictive, until—
“Abby—!” you gasped, breath hitching.
But he only moaned in response, the sound vibrating through your core as he kept you anchored to his mouth, to his heat, to him.
And then it hit.
Your orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave. A scream broke from your throat, strangled and breathless, as your body shook and shook, unraveling in his hands. He held you through it, mouth still locked to your soaked center, pulling every last ripple from your spasming core like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of your surrender.
“Mm,” he groaned darkly, voice frayed and hoarse against your slick skin, lips brushing your tender clit with every syllable. “Tasty.”
You blinked down at him, dazed – only to be caught in a stare that made your heart seize.
His glowing eyes flicked up, half-lidded and burning as they pinned you down. He looked like a beast mid-hunt—feral and in love. His horns curled up through his hair, dark and gleaming in the low light, untamed like the beast wearing his face. And behind him, his tail moved with a lazy, possessive sway—back and forth, back and forth, like a warning to anything that might dare come near.
Before you could gather a single thought… he dove back in.
He’s not done, yet.
[BEHIND THE STEAM: BATHHOUSE]
What were the boys doing while you changed? Plotting. Obviously.
The bathhouse air was heavy with steam, sweet with hinoki and honeyed cedar, glowing soft gold under the warm flicker of overhead lanterns. The boys had claimed their spots in the water, muscles half-submerged.
But no one was relaxing.
Not really.
You were still in the bathroom, the soft sound of fabric rustling and your breath catching faintly behind the door.
They were trying to behave.
Trying.
That lasted… maybe four minutes.
“Okay.” Baby slapped the water with one hand, sending a soft ripple across the pool. His voice cut through the humid air like a blade of mischief. “Who’s going to rail her?”
Romance choked. Jinu sputtered. Mystery opened one eye, blank and unbothered. Even Abby, lounging near the edge with one arm draped over the stone, let out a quiet exhale through his nose.
Jinu groaned, sinking deeper into the water as if trying to drown the sudden rush of images. “Can we just—can we just not do this right now?”
“No,” Mystery replied smoothly, eyes slipping shut again as if meditating. “You smell frustrated already, hyung.”
“I’m fine,” Jinu snapped, shifting uncomfortably.
“I said what I said.” Baby grinned, leaning back against the stone edge like a smug little devil prince. His teal hair clung to his neck, cheeks flushed from the heat. “Look at this setup. Warm water. Soft lighting. The love of our life is in the next room tying up a towel. A . Towel. And you think we’re gonna meditate through it?”
Romance groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we not be feral for five minutes?”
Mystery hummed lazily from the far end. “It is a little unrealistic,” he murmured.“Even I’m struggling. And I have the best self-control here.”
“Lies,” Jinu huffed, flicking water toward him. “You tried to bite her thigh because she giggled too pretty last week.”
“It was pretty,” Mystery muttered.
“She’s always pretty,” Romance added in a dazed sigh, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. “Especially when she’s soft and sleepy. Or needy. Or—”
“Focus!” Baby smacked the surface of the water again, steam puffing up like smoke around him. “This is a logistics problem now. Who’s going to handle her tonight? Like—seriously. One of us needs to step up. Because if everyone tries at once, we’re going to destroy her. And not in the fun way.”
A beat of silence.
Then—
“He’s not wrong,” Jinu muttered, dragging a wet hand through his hair. “We need a plan before she walks out here”
Romance chuckled, low and distracted, the sound curling through the steamy air. His damp hair clung to his temples, skin flushed, jaw tight. His glowing eyes stayed locked on the faint outline of the bathroom door like it might open at any second. “She hasn’t even shown herself yet and you’re all vibrating like feral animals.”
“Speak for yourself,” Abby said, voice a gravelly drawl. He was spread wide across the edge of the bath, thick arms resting along the stone ledge, gold eyes glowing low through the fog. “But if anyone pounces at her before she even sits down…” His voice dropped to something dark and silken. “I’m drowning you.”
“Who said anything about pouncing?” Baby widened his eyes innocently. ““I can be gentle. Sweet. Tender. Slowww.” He stretched out the word, biting down on his bottom lip until his fang dented it. “And then ruin her so bad she forgets her own name.”
Mystery gave a low, amused hum. “You just described four very different strategies in one sentence.”
“Exactly. Versatility.”
“We’re not turning her into a prize,” Romance muttered, even as his fingers flexed against the water like they were already remembering the shape of your hips. His gaze flicked to the bathroom door again. The fifth time.
A thick beat of silence followed.
And then—
“...Rock, paper, scissors,” Mystery said, flatly.
Four heads turned toward him.
“What?”
Romance groaned, floating dramatically on his back, arms spread like a martyr. “We are literal demons, and this is the method we’re going with?”
“You have a better idea for choosing who gets to touch her first?” Baby shot back, voice clipped with need. His teal bangs were dripping down his forehead now, his expression pinched somewhere between lust and panic.
Romance opened his mouth. Closed it. Lifted a finger. Lowered it again.
“…Fair enough.”
“Alright then,” Abby rumbled,as he pushed himself out of the shallows, water dripping off the sharp lines of his chest. His golden eyes glowed faintly in the mist.
“Let’s settle this.”
“You’re way too excited about this,” Mystery muttered as they instinctively shifted into a loose circle, bare shoulders slick and glowing under the haze like a coven of wayward, very horny demons.
“I’m focused,” Abby said, cracking his neck with a satisfying pop.
“More like obsessed,” Jinu muttered, but there was no bite to it. Only resignation.
Baby clapped once. “Let’s go! Best of three. Winner handles our girl tonight. Everyone else keeps their claws to themselves—unless she begs, obviously. Then… we improvise.”
They all rolled their eyes. But no one objected.
They raised their hands.
“Rock… paper… scissors!”
First round.
Baby lost.
“Wait, wait, wait—why would you all choose rock?! You KNOW I go scissors first!”
“Rematch!” Baby barked, already shaking out his hands.
“Rock… paper… scissors!”
Second round.
Romance lost.
He stared down at his open palm like it had betrayed his soul. “…I’m a lover, not a fighter. What do you want from me?”
“Stop throwing paper like it’s romantic,” Mystery said flatly.
“It feels romantic.”
“Rock… paper… scissors!”
Third round.
Mystery threw scissors.
So did Jinu.
Abby, once again, threw rock.
Jinu sighed, watching his fate unravel in real-time. “Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered. “I should’ve switched.”
“I always use rock,” Abby said with a satisfied little shrug, the smirk curling over his lips slow and cruel. “You’ve known me for a century.”
“He’s a brick wall,” Romance sighed.
Abby’s smirk was slow and merciless. “I told you. I never switch. You all overthink it.”
“You’re telling me you won every round with only using rock?!” Baby shouted, pointing at him with full-body offense. “You demon-headed gorilla!”
“Correct.”
Mystery crossed his arms and muttered, “I hate how that worked.”
Baby muttered under his breath, “I’m never playing that stupid game again.”
Then the click of the bathroom door handle turning silenced everything.
They froze.
Steam parted.
“She’s coming—!”
“Act natural!”
Instantly, the five of them dropped into their roles like they hadn’t just been fighting to the death over who got to touch you first.
Abby swung one arm over Baby’s shoulder, body tilted just enough to flex his abs without looking like he was trying. He laughed—too casually—his voice smooth as silk, towel slung so low on his hips it felt like a dare.
Baby, mid-grumble, snapped into smug mode instantly. He stretched his long legs out in a casual sprawl, toes flexing slightly against the warm stone as he tilted his head, twisting his teal hair up into a loose knot with a flick of his fingers. Smirk sharpening as if he’d been lounging for hours and not actively threatening to bite someone’s hand off five seconds ago.
Romance leaned back against the stone wall, arms folded loosely, towel wrapped around his head like he’d been deep in a meditative trance. His chest rose slowly, like he hadn't just lost three rounds of rock-paper-scissors and threatened to scream. His eyes drifted lazily between the others, lips twitching as he murmured something low that made Mystery roll his eyes and Jinu nearly break character.
Mystery flopped onto the lounge chair, draping one arm behind his head and one leg up just enough to be illegal. His eyes were half-closed, chin tilted, the picture of vague disinterest. Like he was floating above them all. Like he didn’t know them. Like he hadn’t just suggested rock-paper-scissors to decide who got to you first.
And Jinu planted himself on the edge of the bath, elbows on knees, eyes half-lidded and jawline gleaming. He gestured lazily mid-story, pretending he wasn’t still seething about Abby’s undefeated streak.
They looked relaxed. Effortless. Hot.
They looked like they hadn’t just turned your arrival into a full-blown mating ritual disguised as spa etiquette.
And you?
You stepped into that room like a lamb.
A very doomed, towel-clad lamb wandering straight into the wolves’ den.
Outtakes:
Abby:*still in between your thighs.*
Baby:*muttering to Jinu* “Hyung, he’s been down there for ten minutes. Should we send a search party?”
Jinu: *pinching the bridge of his nose* “No. He’s in his element. Like a shark with a scent trail.”
Romance: *wistfully* “It’s romantic, really.”
Mystery: “It’s obscene.”
Baby: “It’s efficient.”
.....
Abby: *emerging with a satisfied growl, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand*
You: *barely functioning* “I—my soul just left my body.”
Mystery: *deadpan, blinking slowly* “We noticed. You almost ascended.”
Jinu: *low and rattled* “Holy—fuck. We almost sent her soul straight to Gwima!”
.....
Massage Therapist: “Deep breath... and exhale.”
You:*already sinking into bliss* “Mmm... that feels so good…”
The Boys: *from the lounge, in perfect demonic harmony* *unholy growls that makes the floor vibrate*
Massage Therapist: *hand pausing mid-stroke, eyes wide* “…Did you… did you hear that?”
You: *barely opening your eyes* “Hear what?”
The Boys: *Another growl. Louder this time.*
Massage Therapist: “Oh my god. Is this place haunted?!”
You: *sighing into the table, too relaxed to care* “This is why I can’t have anything nice.”
Massage Therapist: *visibly sweating* “Is that—Latin? Why is it growling in Latin?!”
You: *muffled by the headrest* “Ignore them. They’re just... passionate.”
