Bound to Them
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 5: 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬
𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Masterlist
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔.𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒔.
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒍/𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅, 𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔), 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 (18+)
—𝑬𝒎𝒓𝒚𝒔 🩷
w/c: 10.4k+ not proof read
comments and reblogs would be appreciated!
You stirred slowly, mind still clinging to sleep, body tucked in a cocoon of warmth too perfect to let go. The sheets were soft, tangled around your legs, but the real heat came from the man behind you—Abby.
He was wrapped around you like a second skin.
His body pressed snug against your back, legs tangled with yours, chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. One of his thick arms was draped over your waist, the other curled beneath you. But it was his hand under your hoodie—the one splayed low across your stomach—that made you stir again.
He was touching you.
Fingers dragging in slow, lazy circles across the bare skin beneath the hoodie, skimming over your waist, brushing the edge of your ribs. Just soft, gentle strokes meant for no one but you. His warmth sank into your skin, dizzying, addictive.
When you shifted slightly, pressing back into him, his grip tightened.
“Shh…” His voice was low, rough from sleep, spoken right into the shell of your ear. “You’re okay baby. I’ve got you.”
You let out a quiet breath and felt his lips graze your shoulder. Another kiss followed, then another, slower, firmer. Still half-asleep, your hand reached back, searching blindly until your fingers found his wrist under the hoodie. You curled your grip around it, holding him there. Right against your skin. Right where you wanted him.
That made him groan softly, nuzzling behind your ear. “Yeah… just like that. Don’t let me go.”
You whimpered faintly, and he smiled against your skin.
“I know, darling. Still sleepy?” His hand slipped a little higher beneath the hoodie, fingertips brushing just beneath your chest now. “You don’t have to wake up yet. Just let me hold you like this... a little longer.”
You didn’t speak.
Instead, you shifted again, your body instinctively chasing more contact. Your thighs squeezed together, toes curling beneath the sheets as his hand moved with a patience that made your head spin.
“Mmh,” you finally murmured, a sound caught between need and comfort.
Abby pressed a long kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck, slower, lips parting against your pulse. “You’re so warm,” he whispered. “I could stay like this forever.”
His fingers slid lower again, back to your waist, tracing the line of your hip. He wasn’t rushing, wasn't even teasing. Just touching. Worshipping. Making sure you felt him in every inch of your skin.
“I love touching you,” he said, brushing his lips along your jaw now, nuzzling into the space behind your ear. “Like this. Slow. Quiet. Before anyone else tries to take your attention.”
You melted into him completely, breath catching as your limbs relaxed and your body surrendered.
And he felt it. The way you softened in his arms, the way your fingers still clutched his wrist beneath the hoodie like you couldn’t bear to let go. He smiled against your cheek and pressed a kiss there, letting it linger. Anchoring you both.
“My pretty girl,” he murmured, the words hushed and tender. “Always so sweet in the morning.”
He didn’t need to say more. His hand slipped higher again, returning to that slow, lazy rhythm across your bare waist, stroking your skin like he had all the time in the world and no intention of ever stopping.
You didn’t want to move.
Your cheek remained nestled against the thick curve of his bicep, wrapped in his scent, surrounded by his warmth and steadiness. His heartbeat thudded against your back—slow, deep, steady—almost as if your body had synced to it without trying.
Then something shifted.
A new warmth settled at the edge of the bed.
Familiar. Gentle. Pulling at something inside your chest.
A pulse you recognized without needing to open your eyes. Something tugged at your chest, and even in your half-conscious haze, your hand reached toward the presence. Reaching, searching.
Romance crouched at your bedside, his eyes dark and soft, lips parted in something between awe and longing. He leaned in like he’d been waiting for you to reach, letting his face melt into your palm. His own hand covered yours gently, and for a second he just stayed there, breathing you in like your touch alone could settle the ache in him.
Then, softly, his lips pressed into the center of your palm.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
Each kiss lingered a little more than the last, his breath hitting your skin in warm waves. It made your spine arch faintly, a soft sound slipping from your throat, breathy and helpless. Still tucked against Abby. Still dizzy.
But Romance smiled, and he spoke to you so softly it made your eyes sting.
“Still sleepy, sweetheart?” His voice was a tender hum. “That’s okay… You don’t have to wake up. I’ll come to you.”
He leaned closer, his face inches from yours. Your palm was still resting on his cheek, and he brought his hand up to cover yours, holding it against him like he didn’t want you to let go.
You turned your head slightly toward him, cheek brushing against Abby’s forearm behind you. Abby responded with a low, contented hum, his nose brushing your shoulder, his hand still caressing you under your clothes.
Romance watched you melt between them, his thumb brushing gentle circles into the back of your hand. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your heavy-lidded eyes.
“Can I…” he breathed, voice rougher now, more frayed at the edges, “Can I have a kiss, baby? Just one.”
His forehead nearly touched yours now, his nose brushing lightly against yours. His hand squeezed yours gently, grounding himself in your warmth.
“I promise I’ll behave,” he whispered, though the look in his eyes betrayed him completely. They were dark, blown wide with need, full of everything he wouldn’t say aloud. That he wanted to lose himself in you. That one kiss wouldn’t be enough.
Your fingers curled softly against his cheek, pulling him in with a sleep-heavy kind of longing. He leaned in the moment you gave him permission, lips meeting yours in a kiss that was all breath and yearning.
You didn’t resist the kiss.
You answered it slowly, soft lips meeting his with a dreamy kind of surrender. You were still half-asleep, your limbs too heavy to do anything but cling, but your mouth moved with his like it had a memory of its own. Romance sighed, lips parting to deepen the kiss, and you let him. His hand cradled your jaw, gentle but needy, guiding you as if he didn’t want to take—he wanted to savor.
Behind you, Abby stirred.
You felt his hand slide lower on your waist beneath the hoodie, palm warm against your skin as he murmured low against your ear, voice still thick from sleep.
“Look at her,” Abby murmured against your ear, his voice thick from sleep, heavy with adoration. “So spoiled already…”
Romance pulled back only slightly, lips grazing yours as he spoke. “One more, baby. Please.”
You barely nodded, but it was enough.
Abby exhaled softly behind you, his breath ghosting over your jaw as he watched your lips part again, open and eager.
Romance kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. Not rushed, not messy. Just endless. Your fingers fisted into the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer, and he groaned low into your mouth, the sound sending sparks down your spine. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as his tongue slid against yours, smooth and coaxing, reverent. One of his hands threaded into your hair, the other resting lightly against your throat.
Abby shifted behind you.
His lips brushed the back of your neck, slow and unhurried, and his hand slid across your stomach, pulling you tighter into him. “You’re ours,” he murmured, voice low and firm. “And you’re gonna be so, so spoiled.”
His lips dragged a slow, lazy trail along your shoulder, each kiss lingering just a second too long—like he needed you to feel every inch of his mouth. He kissed up the slope of your neck, breathing you in, and when he reached your jaw, he paused, teeth grazing the delicate skin there with a quiet groan.
“Move over,” Abby muttered into your skin, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck. “Let me have her too.”
Romance chuckled against your lips, voice soft and sinful. “Didn’t even get my fill yet…” But he pulled back with a slow, teasing sigh, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “She’s all yours—for now.”
You barely had time to breathe before Abby’s hand cradled your jaw, fingers warm and sure, guiding you to face him. Your eyes fluttered open, only half-lidded, dazed from affection and heat. Your lips, already tingling, parted without thought.
And Abby kissed you.
Slow.
Deep.
Like a man starved of something he already owned.
You whimpered into his mouth, your body instinctively arching into him before melting once again under his touch. His kiss was different—hungrier, rougher around the edges. It made your toes curl beneath the sheets. He sucked gently on your bottom lip before letting it go with a satisfied hum, then leaned in to steal another, deeper, hotter, dragging you under again.
His hand slid higher beneath the hoodie, brushing up your ribs in slow, coaxing strokes that made your spine arch. Not to tease. Not to take. Just to feel. Just to make sure you knew you were his.
Behind him, Romance hadn’t moved far. He leaned in once more, feathering soft kisses across your shoulder, your collarbone, up along your throat. Not greedy, just present. Devoted. The constant hum of attention that made your skin feel like it was glowing.
“What a pretty little thing,” he murmured against your jaw. “So damn good for us.”
Abby didn’t stop.
He kissed you again, then again. Each kiss messier than the last. Your breath hitched every time, your hands clutching his hoodie like a lifeline. You could feel the tremble in your own body as the warmth of his touch began to overwhelm your senses.
You clung to him helplessly, kissing him back even when your body trembled from the overwhelming closeness.
Just as Abby’s hand slid lower beneath your hoodie, his palm grazing the curve of your hip in a way that made your breath catch, and Romance kissed the corner of your mouth with maddening softness, the door slammed open.
“Morning, lovebirds,” Baby drawled, his voice laced with mock innocence and wicked delight. He leaned against the doorframe with that infuriatingly smug smile, arms crossed, hair still tousled from sleep like he didn’t give a damn. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything sacred.”
You froze instantly. Abby stiffened behind you, jaw tensing as his hand paused under your hoodie. Romance didn’t even bother reacting. He simply leaned back, dragging a hand down his face with a groan.
“Good morning to you too,” Romance muttered flatly, already exhausted.
You blinked up at Baby, too dazed from the kisses and skin-on-skin warmth to properly respond. Your hair was a tousled mess, your lips tender and swollen, your hoodie rumpled and riding up. You barely managed to bury your burning face into Abby’s bicep as Baby sauntered in like the room belonged to him.
“Baby,” Abby growled, his voice a warning rumble.
But Baby only whistled low, his eyes gleaming as he took in the scene—your flushed face tucked into Abby’s arm, Abby shirtless and possessively curled around you, Romance crouched nearby, his own lips pink from kissing you senseless.
“Wow,” Baby said, eyes gleaming. “You guys work fast.”
“Baby,” Romance gritted out without moving. “Go. Away.”
“But I missed her,” Baby pouted, completely ignoring the heat in the room. He strolled forward, slow and deliberate, stopping just beside the bed. His gaze dropped to you, peeking out with wide, mortified eyes from the safety of Abby’s arms. “Ohhh, look at you,” he crooned, voice velvet sweet. “All flushed and dazed. Did they wear you out already, princess?”
You immediately buried your face deeper into Abby’s arm, wanting to disappear entirely. Your fingers curled tightly into his like he could shield you from Baby’s wicked grin.
But Baby wasn’t done.
He stopped right beside the bed, crouching until he was eye level with you. His voice softened, threading into something darker, something dangerously tender. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing your hair back from your face with a care that didn’t match the glint in his eyes.
“You look…” His thumb dragged slowly along your bottom lip, featherlight but devastating. His eyes darkened, flicking down to your mouth like it was the only thing that mattered.
“Kissed senseless,” he finished with a murmur.
You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Your lungs had forgotten how to work, and your entire body trembled beneath his gaze.
Baby clicked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Poor thing.”
And then he moved.
Before anyone could stop him, before a word could be said, he leaned in and kissed you.
Not a teasing peck. Not something playful and harmless.
It was slow, deep, and unapologetically possessive.
His hand cradled your face, thumb tilting your chin just so as his lips pressed against yours. He kissed you like he meant to ruin you, like he needed to leave a taste of himself behind. His mouth moved with sinful confidence, coaxing yours open. When his tongue brushed against yours, lazy and practiced, hungry, you whimpered softly into him, and he responded with a low, satisfied hum that vibrated against your lips.
Your fingers twitched, gripping Abby’s arm tighter, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Baby kissed you like he’d been waiting his turn for far too long, like every second he wasn’t touching you had driven him half mad.
And it showed.
He finally pulled back after a long, dizzying moment, but not by much. His breath fanned against your cheek as he lingered, eyes half-lidded and greedy.
“Mmh,” he whispered, licking his lips like he was tasting you again. “Morning, pretty.”
Then his voice dropped lower, filthier, smug.
“Your lips taste like both of them.”
From across the bed, Romance didn’t even lift his head. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, voice flat with exhaustion and secondhand embarrassment.
You blinked at Baby, still dazed, your lips tingling, lungs struggling to remember how to function. Your heart was racing, and the room felt far too warm.
Romance let out a groan and tossed a pillow blindly in Baby’s direction. It hit him square in the chest.
“That’s it,” he announced, still not looking. “No more mornings with you. You’re banned.”
Abby, behind you, didn’t bother with words. He just pulled you tighter against him, his palm spreading across your stomach possessively as he nuzzled the side of your neck. The low growl in his throat was subtle but unmistakable. A silent warning.
Baby only grinned, utterly unfazed. “Relax,” he said with a wink. “I’ll save my tongue for dinner.”
You gasped—scandalized—and smacked his arm without thinking.
“Baby!” you hissed, cheeks flushing.
He laughed, dodging easily, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief. “Worth it,” he whispered, backing toward the door with the swagger of someone who knew he was about to live rent-free in your head.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” he called out, voice sing-song. “Try not to eat her before breakfast.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click before anyone could think of a response.
Silence fell. You lay there, still wrapped in Abby’s arms, still tasting Baby on your lips, still feeling the heat of Romance’s earlier kiss. Your whole body buzzed.
You let out a shaky exhale.
Abby pressed his face into your neck again, muttering darkly. “Next time, I’m locking the damn door.”
Romance finally pulled the pillow off his face and looked at you, his tone gentler. “You okay?”
You nodded slowly. “I don’t think my heart is.”
He smiled. “You’ll survive, sweetheart.”
Then he leaned over again, brushing your temple with a kiss, whispering like a promise, “Barely.”
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You padded softly into the kitchen, wearing Jinu’s oversized hoodie and the faint scent of the boys still clinging to your skin. The warmth of earlier still pulsed beneath the surface, but the moment you stepped in, it flared again.
Jinu was the first to see you. His head turned, eyes trailing down your figure in the dim morning light before a slow, knowing smile curved across his lips. He moved toward you without hesitation.
"Morning, baby," he murmured, voice low as silk.
His palm came up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone before he leaned in and kissed you. Soft, warm, but full of intent. It lingered longer than a greeting, his lips coaxing yours to part just enough to deepen it. Your knees weakened, and your hand reached blindly for his wrist to steady yourself.
"Sleep okay?" he asked, lips still ghosting against yours.
You managed a nod, still dazed, but before you could answer properly, another presence closed in. Mystery.
He appeared beside Jinu like a shadow, silent and watchful. His hand reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, fingers trailing over your skin with aching tenderness. He didn’t speak. Just tilted his head and looked at you like you were a miracle he still couldn’t believe was real.
Then he kissed you.
His mouth pressed to yours without hesitation, slower, deeper than Jinu’s. His lips moved like he was tasting something rare, like he’d been starving for this exact moment. One hand slid to the nape of your neck, holding you steady as he kissed you again, deeper still, until you made a soft, involuntary sound against him.
When he finally pulled back, your eyes fluttered open, and both of them were staring at you. Quiet. Hungry. Possessive.
"You’re so quiet this morning," Jinu said, voice laced with teasing but gentled by the softness in his eyes. His hand slid down your waist, fingertips tracing lazy circles against the curve of your hip. "We wear you out that much?"
You opened your mouth to answer, but before anything came out, footsteps padded into the kitchen behind you.
Abby was first, towering and warm, still shirtless with his hair a mess and sleep clinging to his shoulders. He walked straight past the others and leaned down to kiss your temple, his lips lingering just a second too long.
"There you are," he murmured.
Baby sauntered in next, loose-limbed and smirking. His eyes found yours instantly, and they sparkled with mischief as they dropped to your flushed face.
“Well damn,” he said, voice full of teasing heat. “Morning, princess. You look delicious.”
You rolled your eyes, trying not to melt all over again, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you. He chuckled and gave you a cocky wink before walking past, deliberately brushing your shoulder with his fingers as he reached for a glass.
Romance was last, quieter than the rest, but no less intense. He didn’t say anything. Just walked by close, brushing his hand along the small of your back. The touch was fleeting, but the warmth lingered like a whisper against your spine.
Jinu pulled out a chair, guiding you into it with a hand on the small of your back, while Mystery already had a plate in hand, setting it down gently in front of you.
“Sit, baby,” Jinu murmured, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Let us take care of you.”
Your cheeks were already warm, pulse fluttering beneath your skin, but the moment Mystery sat beside you—closer than necessary—you knew you weren’t going to get through breakfast unscathed.
He picked up a piece of fruit, eyes never leaving yours. The corner of his lips twitched as he lifted it to your mouth.
“Open,” he said softly, his voice a warm murmur just for you.
You hesitated, eyes flicking up to meet his. His gaze was already on you—dark, lazy, and far too focused for this early in the day. He tilted his head slightly, fingers brushing your bottom lip with the next piece.
“Be good baby,” he whispered. “Let me feed you.”
Your lips parted instinctively, and he slipped the fruit in, watching you chew with a slow smile playing at the edge of his mouth. His other hand came to rest on your thigh beneath the table, his thumb drawing slow, idle circles there as he reached for more food with the other.
“Good girl,” Mystery whispered as you took another bite. His voice was barely audible beneath the low conversation, but it curled low in your belly.
Jinu slid a drink in front of you and leaned in close. “Make sure she eats all of it,” he murmured to Mystery, brushing your hair back. “She needs her strength.”
That made Baby snort as he leaned across the table, his grin lazy and knowing.
“Oh?” he murmured, tilting his head. “Didn’t know we were prepping her for something... intense.”
You flushed immediately, shifting in your seat, but Mystery only lifted another bite to your lips with a soft chuckle.
“Don’t tease her,” he murmured. “She’s doing so well.”
Romance, lounging nearby with his elbow propped on the table, lifted a brow. “What’s happening that needs extra energy?”
“Relax,” Jinu replied smoothly. “She starts her official duties today. She’s our manager now.”
There was a beat of silence.
Abby looked up from his plate. “Her first official day?”
Baby leaned across the table. “You sure she can handle it? I mean, with us constantly—”
You didn’t even wait for the end of that sentence. Your foot found his shin under the table and kicked. Hard.
He yelped, then laughed, leaning back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Damn. Feisty little manager.”
That earned a low chuckle from the others, the atmosphere light and teasing as forks clinked against plates, the scent of warm food mixing with something else—something thicker, heavier. The air between you and them never really cooled, not even when they laughed.
You hadn’t realized when the room started to fade around you.
The teasing voices blurred at the edges. The sounds softened into a gentle hum. Plates were only half-touched. Forks stilled mid-air. Your fingers loosened around the handle of your spoon.
Jinu noticed it first.
He’d been watching the way your expression dimmed. The soft cloud in your gaze. The silence settling around you like armor.
Your lips were parted, breath shallow. Your spoon hovered over the plate but didn’t move. You hadn’t touched the bite Mystery offered, even though his hand rested steadily on your thigh beneath the table. Baby was still humming some lazy tune, leaning back in his chair like nothing had shifted.
But Jinu saw it. Felt it.
“Hey.”
“Where’d you go, sweetheart?” he asked gently, eyes locked on yours, tone coaxing but edged in concern.
You blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly. The spoon dropped softly onto the plate. The world tilted back into focus, one face at a time—Mystery, already studying you; Abby, who’d turned his full body to face you, brows drawn; Romance, leaning forward with a small frown forming between his brows.
And Jinu, still watching you like you were the center of gravity.
“Talk to me,” he said again, voice lower now. “Don’t shut us out.”
Mystery’s hand slipped higher on your thigh, squeezing lightly in comfort. “You disappeared on us,” he murmured. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”
You tried to answer, but your throat felt dry. You didn’t know how to explain the thoughts running wild—how fast everything had shifted. The kisses. The closeness. The way they touched you like you were already theirs.
“I…” You swallowed hard, throat tightening. “I was just thinking.”
“Too hard,” Jinu murmured.
He was already moving, circling the table with measured steps. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, slow and deliberate, before finding your chin and gently lifting your face toward him.
“Tell me,” he whispered, voice dipped in velvet and smoke. “What’s spinning in that head of yours?”
You hesitated. Your eyes fluttered shut, then opened again.
Then it slipped out in a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
“It’s just… it’s all happening so fast. We…” Your voice faltered. “We slept together, and now all of you are kissing me like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Like I belong to all of you. Like I’m already—”
“Ours?” Jinu finished softly, his thumb brushing along your cheek, slow and reverent. “You are.”
Your chest ached at the certainty in his tone.
“I get it,” he continued, his gaze burning into yours. “It’s overwhelming. You didn’t ask for this. And we—” his hand shifted to your jaw, tilting your chin higher, “—we didn’t exactly give you space to breathe. But baby, we can’t pretend we don’t feel it.”
You blinked up at him, breath shaky, heart knocking against your ribs like it wanted to escape.
“That night,” Jinu murmured, “wasn’t just about lust. That was the bond taking root. Claiming space. It’s already inside you. I know you feel it too.”
“I do,” you whispered. The admission fell from your lips like a secret. “But…”
“But you’re human,” he finished gently for you.
You nodded.
“And we’re not.”
Another nod. Barely.
“My aunt…” you began, voice trembling. “Celine. She raised me. She used to say demons couldn’t feel. That you only pretend. That love doesn’t exist for your kind.”
The silence that followed was thick with heat. Not anger. Not denial.
But something heavier.
“She was wrong.” Jinu’s voice dropped to a whisper, raw and low. “So wrong.”
Behind you, you heard soft footsteps. Mystery stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. Romance lingered near the doorway. Baby, uncharacteristically quiet, leaned against the counter, watching.
Jinu tilted your chin higher, leaning in until his lips hovered just over yours. Close enough to feel his breath.
“You were taught to fear what you don’t understand,” he whispered. “But tell me, sweetheart—when we kiss you, when we touch you, do you feel fear?”
You shook your head slowly, breath catching at the sheer closeness of him.
His eyes darkened. “When I held you that night... when you cried my name, trembling under me—did that feel like pretending?”
A soft gasp slipped from your lips.
“No,” you whispered, barely able to speak.
His lips brushed your cheek. “Then trust your body. Trust the bond. It doesn’t lie.”
Mystery’s fingers curled tighter around your waist. “Neither do we.”
You turned slightly, catching the way his eyes lowered to your lips, then flicked back to meet yours.
From across the room, Romance’s voice came soft, smooth, steady. “Let us prove it to you. Every day. Every hour. Until there’s no room left for doubt.”
Baby finally smirked again, but softer now. “And if anyone tries to make you doubt it again, they’ll have to deal with all five of us.”
Jinu’s thumb brushed your bottom lip, his voice dipping lower. “You want to know what’s in our nature?” His eyes burned into yours as he pulled you closer, chest to chest. “This. Needing to hear your voice the second we wake up. Needing your skin under our hands. The way we nearly lose control when someone else so much as glances at you.”
His lips hovered against yours, barely not touching. “The way I’d tear this world apart if it meant keeping you safe.”
“We feel, baby,” Mystery murmured behind you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We love harder than any human ever could. And when we bond, we bond for life. No second thoughts. No escape. No pretending.”
Romance crossed the room and slipped your hand into his. “You were made for us. We feel it in our bones. You don’t have to understand it all yet. You just have to let it happen.”
You looked between them, breath trembling, heart even worse.
“I’m scared,” you admitted.
Jinu kissed you.
Not to hush you. Not to distract you.
He kissed you like he needed your fear too. Like he wanted it. To take it into his mouth and breathe something softer back into you. It was slow. Deep. Painfully tender, like he had all the time in the world to make you feel safe inside his arms.
When he finally pulled back, his lips didn’t move far from yours, breath brushing your skin like a vow.
And his eyes…
They didn’t just glow.
They burned.
Gold. Slitted. Piercing straight through you with that otherworldly intensity, as if the demon inside him was baring his soul—showing you just how real this bond was.
“We’ll take your fear too,” he whispered. “We’ll carry it. All of it. But don’t ever think for a second that what we feel isn’t real.”
Mystery turned you toward him next, both hands cradling your face. His eyes searched yours, slow and dark and full of heat.
“We’re not going to stop touching you,” he said, his thumb tracing your jaw. “Not going to stop kissing you. Loving you. Claiming you every chance we get…not until every part of you knows you’re ours.”
Just then, Abby moved forward silently, stepping between Jinu and Mystery. His presence was heat and gravity, his hand sliding across your lower back and then up to your neck. He leaned down, his lips brushing your temple with a kiss that made your spine arch before he whispered low.
“You’re already mine,” Abby murmured, his voice a deep, possessive growl. “Already ours.”
His fingers tightened ever so slightly around your neck, not enough to hurt—just enough to ground you, claim you.
“The sooner you accept it, the sooner I’ll show you just how deep that bond goes,” he whispered. “How far I’m willing to go to make you feel it. Again. And again.”
Romance’s fingers laced with yours, and Baby finally spoke up with a soft chuckle, his voice gentler than you’d ever heard it.
“Guess it’s too late for you to run, sweetheart.”
♪♫•¨•.¸¸¸¸.•¨•♫♪•¨•.¸¸¸¸.•¨•♫♪
It had been a few weeks since you officially became their manager.
And from the very first morning, you knew—this wasn’t going to be a normal job.
Not when your clients were five dangerously beautiful demons who just so happened to be your fated mates. Whipped. Insatiable. And determined to ruin your ability to function like a normal human being.
A few weeks of chaos. Of whispered promises. Of lingering touches in the middle of schedules, of stolen kisses in the elevator, of fighting to maintain professionalism while five demons plotted to make you forget what the word even meant.
And today was no different.
You tiptoed into the shared bedroom at 7:03 a.m., clutching your planner to your chest, phone in hand. Hoodie too big. Hair half-tamed. Legs bare beneath it.
You told yourself you’d stay focused.
You always told yourself that.
But your resolve crumbled the moment you stepped inside.
The curtains were cracked, letting in soft gold light that kissed across the enormous bed like a spotlight on sin.
They were everywhere.
Tangled limbs. Bare skin. Blankets kicked down to reveal inked backs and sharp hipbones. Abby lay on his back, arm outstretched toward the empty space you used to fill. His chest rose slow and steady, his abs flexing when he shifted with a quiet sigh.
Jinu was turned onto his side, his hand curled into the sheets, mouth parted, still breathing in dreams. Mystery was upright, already awake, head tilted against the headboard, eyes locked on you with that quiet, scorching hunger he never bothered to hide. In the center, Baby and Romance were draped over each other like a fevered dream—Baby’s leg hooked around Romance’s waist, both of them shirtless, flushed, tangled, and humming low with sleep.
They were stunning.
And dangerous.
And yours.
You inhaled, heart racing. “Guys. Wake up.”
No one moved.
You tiptoed closer. “You have rehearsals in three hours and I swear if you make me call your label again—"
“You smell good baby,” Mystery said softly, voice like smoke curling through the morning air.
Your mouth opened. Closed.
Abby stirred, cracking one eye open and groaning. “She’s wearing my hoodie.”
“She likes mine better,” Jinu grumbled, not even lifting his head.
“I can take it off if it’s a problem,” you shot back dryly.
Five pairs of eyes snapped open.
Abby propped himself up on one elbow, a lazy smirk spreading over his face. “Say that again.”
“I was joking,” you said quickly.
“Shame,” Romance muttered, dragging himself across the bed until his arm wrapped around your thigh like a sleepy anchor. “Could’ve made that a team-building exercise.”
You tried to ignore the way your breath hitched. “I’m serious. Get up.”
“No, you’re serious,” Jinu muttered. “Seriously sexy.”
You backed up, already retreating. “Fine. I’ll start without you.”
“You won’t,” came Mystery’s low voice.
He was already moving, peeling the blanket off his lap, the muscles in his torso shifting beneath the morning light. His eyes dipped to your bare thighs—his jaw tightened.
“You wore that on purpose,” he said, voice rougher now.
“It’s comfortable,” you replied, a little too fast.
“You know what else is comfortable? Baby purred, now propped on his elbows.” My lap. Come here and test it out.”
“Baby—”
“Manager,” he said, mocking you softly. “You strut in here in one of our hoodies, legs bare, smelling like the five of us...and you really expect us to care about schedules right now?”
His eyes darkened. “That’s cruel, sweetheart.”
Jinu finally sat up, eyes still heavy, hair a wild mess. “Come here. I can’t think straight unless I kiss you good morning.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
You turned, intending to escape—
But Abby moved faster.
He blocked the door with his full body, one hand braced above your head on the frame, all heat and sleepy muscle. “Baby. Close the curtains.”
A thrill shivered down your spine.
“We’re keeping her.”
“I don’t have time for this,” you said through your teeth, heart thudding.
“Then stop wasting it,” Jinu murmured, suddenly behind you. His arms snaked around your waist, dragging you back against his chest. His mouth brushed your ear. “Five minutes. Let us have you. Then we’ll behave.”
He was lying.
You knew he was lying.
You squeaked when Abby stepped in, one arm curling tightly around you, pressing your front to his bare chest like you were already claimed in sleep and sin.
“Got you,” he whispered, voice thick with hunger, lips grazing the nape of your neck. His body radiated heat, wrapping around you like a cage made of fire. You could feel every muscle beneath your palms, the lazy flex of his chest under your touch. The air felt heavier with him this close, the bond pulsing so fiercely it made your knees falter.
Your resolve melted.
Then came Jinu, one hand sliding beneath your hoodie, dragging a slow path up your spine until his palm rested firmly between your shoulder blades. His thumb moved in small, grounding circles.
“You’re too early,” he rasped, voice raw. “Should’ve stayed. Should always stay.”
You tried to wriggle out—tried being the key word—only to freeze when Baby shifted beside you. He curled in like a cat, all smirk and slow-burning heat, his mouth brushing the curve of your neck. His voice was a low, smug whisper.
“Do you always smell this fucking good in the morning,” he hummed, “or is it just for us?”
His lips brushed your pulse. “Let’s make this a daily meeting.”
“Guys—” you squeaked, laughing and breathless, as you were swallowed by heat and muscle and way too many wandering hands. You clawed at the nearest pillow, desperate. “This is not on the schedule—”
They didn’t care.
At least three noses burrowed into your hair, into your neck, brushing your jaw and cheek. The sensory overload made your eyes flutter.
“So soft,” Abby groaned, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Why is she always this soft?”
“She’s warm,” Jinu murmured against your collarbone, his hand already sliding under your shirt like he belonged there. “And she keeps leaving our bed. That’s the real problem.”
“Pinned,” Baby sing-songed lazily. “Manager mode canceled.”
You squirmed, breathless. “Let me go,”
“Try that again,” Jinu murmured against your shoulder, his lips dragging dangerously slow. “See what happens.”
“She’s blushing,” Romance purred from across the bed. “Should I help her or just keep enjoying the view?”
“If you help her,” Baby warned, his voice darker now, “I’m dragging her back and making her recite our whole schedule—with my mouth on her thighs.”
You let out a strangled, scandalized noise, smacking the nearest pillow.
“You’re demons. Literal demons.”
“And you love it,” Abby growled, pressing a kiss behind your ear.
“Yeah,” Jinu added, voice honey-thick, “You didn’t complain last time I had you under me.”
The silence that followed was hot. Heavy.
“I give up” Your face burned as you groaned into the sheets. “I hate you.”
Laughter rippled around you.
“We love you more,” Jinu whispered into your skin.
Romance leaned in to kiss the corner of your lips, slow and coaxing. “Say it.”
“No.”
“Say it, darling.”
You trembled, completely wrapped in them. “I love you,” you whispered.
“Louder,” Abby said, his palm cradling your throat, firm but gentle. “Like you mean it.”
Your whole body shuddered as the words escaped again.
“I love you.”
Five voices, deep and dripping in satisfaction, rumbled together.
“Good girl.”
“That’s our girl,” Baby whispered, dragging his lips along your jaw.
You didn’t make it out for another thirty minutes.
They watched you leave with matching smirks.
it was a miracle you ever escaped.
But somehow you did.
Only to be met with even more chaos.
Meetings were always the worst.
Because how were you supposed to focus when half of them showed up shirtless?
The living room was quiet except for the faint tapping of your keyboard and the low hum of Abby’s voice in the kitchen. You had your laptop open, planner spread out beside you, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear as you tried to finalize schedules with their stylist.
“Yes, unnie. I have the rehearsal block from four to six confirmed,” you murmured, scribbling quickly. “And we’ll be ready for fittings right after. I just need to make sure they—”
A warm hand slid under your thighs, lifting you clean off the couch.
You yelped as Abby’s arm swept you up like you weighed nothing, your phone nearly slipping from your grip. “Unnie—I’ll call you back,” you said quickly before hanging up.
“Abby,” you hissed, batting at his shoulder, “I was on the phone.”
“And now you’re not,” he murmured, barely glancing over his shoulder as he carried you into the kitchen, the smell of garlic and butter thick in the air. “You need to eat.”
“I need to work—”
“You need to stop thinking we’re going to let you starve just because your planner says ‘busy.’”
He set you gently on the counter beside the stove, his palm dragging slowly down the length of your bare thigh before he let go. The heat from his touch lingered.
You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to squeeze your legs together.
Abby stood in front of you now, shirtless, the golden morning light making his skin glow, his dark hair tousled from sleep, his jaw sharp, lips soft and curved in a small, satisfied smirk.
“Open,” he said, tilting the fork toward your lips.
You obeyed, mostly because your stomach growled and you were too flustered to argue. The moment the food touched your tongue, your eyes fluttered shut with a soft, involuntary moan.
Abby’s breath hitched.
His gaze darkened, locked on your mouth as you chewed.
And then, as soon as you swallowed, he leaned in, brushing a kiss against the corner of your lips. His mouth lingered for a second longer than it needed to.
“You always taste like this in the morning?” he whispered.
You smacked his chest lightly. “Stop flirting. I’m literally trying to get through two schedules.”
“I’m literally feeding you,” he replied, his voice low, teasing. “You don’t have to thank me now. You can repay me later. In bed.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You mean my bed?”
Abby grinned. “Cute. You think it’s still yours.”
You opened your mouth to reply—probably to scold him, maybe to curse—but all that came out was a startled sound when he placed another forkful at your lips, his free hand settling on your bare thigh, thumb slowly stroking over your skin in hypnotic circles.
“Focus,” he murmured. “Eat. Then finish your meeting. Then I’m going to take care of you properly.”
You chewed, slowly. His hand never left your thigh. And when you finally dared to look up, Abby’s eyes were molten.
"You’re the one who makes it impossible to focus,” you muttered.
Your phone buzzed on the couch. You didn’t move to answer it.
And Abby didn’t move away.
There was this time, too. With Mystery.
You were already fraying.
Laptop open. Planner filled with scrawled notes. Your phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder while someone from the label droned endlessly about styling briefs, video shoots, and scheduling conflicts.
"Yes, I’m aware, but if we move the shoot to Thursday, she can... right, but we’ll still need her for the styling brief before..."
"They’re taking too much of your time," Mystery murmured, voice like smoke and silk, brushing hot against your ear.
You nearly dropped the phone.
He was behind you, close. Too close. He's wearing one of those sleeveless tanks that did absolutely nothing to hide the cut of his arms, his bare biceps flexing subtly as he leaned in. His scent curled around you, clean and dark, and his hand settled on the small of your back, fingers spreading wide like he needed to claim that space. Anchor you. Own you.
His thumb found a sliver of bare skin just under the hem of your shirt, grazing it in slow, dangerous strokes that made your entire body tighten.
"Y-Yeah," you stammered into the phone, your mouth suddenly dry. "I’ll... I’ll email the revised schedule after..."
You weren’t listening anymore. Couldn’t. Not when Mystery’s voice dipped lower, velvet-soft and dangerous. “You’re working too hard,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine. “Want me to clear the rest of your day?”
"I... what?" you whispered, heart hammering.
"I’ll handle everything," he said, lips grazing your skin. "One call. One word. They won’t bother you again."
You exhaled a shaky breath. “You can’t just cancel—”
"I can," he interrupted, velvet turning to steel. His hand slid higher, curving around your waist possessively. "And I will. All I need is your word."
"Mystery..."
"You’ve been running around all week," he said, lower now. Rougher. Hungrier. "Taking care of everyone but yourself. Tell me why I shouldn’t pin you to this couch and remind you who you belong to."
“Mystery…”
Your knees wobbled, heat flooding your chest, your spine. His hand caught your waist before you could stumble.
From the phone, the voice on the other end called, "Sorry, what was that? Hello?"
You slammed your laptop shut and grabbed the phone. "Sorry, bad signal," you mumbled, then hung up and tossed it onto the coffee table like it burned.
The second it landed, he moved.
He turned you slowly, deliberately, his hands skimming your hips, your waist, up to your shoulders. His touch never rushed. He wanted you to feel every inch of it.
“I hate watching them steal your attention,” he confessed, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips hovered just above yours. “Every time you smile at someone else. Every time you give them your voice, your focus, your time… I want to pull you back and take it all.”
“You’re being dramatic,” you breathed, already trembling.
His lips ghosted over your cheek, lingering at your jaw. His breath was warm, almost shaking. “No. I’m being honest.”
“Mystery…”
He kissed the corner of your mouth—just once. A brush of reverence. Then another, firmer this time, at the edge of your lips.
“I won’t steal you from your work,” he murmured, pulling back slightly. “Not yet.”
Your heart stuttered. "Not yet?"
His gaze dropped to your mouth, then lower. His voice went darker, raspier, threading through you like velvet and fire. “the second you stop pretending we don’t undo you… the moment you stop holding back, even just a little…I’m going to take you somewhere no one else can touch you.”
His forehead pressed to yours, the words brushing your lips like a vow. “And I won’t let you walk out… until you forget your own name.”
You made a strangled sound, eyes wide.
He smirked. Pressed one last kiss to your temple.
Then turned and walked away without another word.
In the van, things weren’t better.
You tried to sit on your own once.
But before your butt could even touch the seat beside the window, Jinu had already hooked an arm around your waist and tugged you down into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hey—!” you started, startled.
“I need to check the day’s agenda—”
"You can do that right here," he murmured, already shifting you until you were straddling one of his thighs. His arms caged you in, one around your waist, the other slipping beneath the oversized jacket he’d thrown over your legs. He tilted his head to rest against your shoulder, his lips ghosting just above the skin of your neck.
You exhaled shakily, tablet balanced in your hand, stylus trembling between your fingers. “Jinu…”
“Mmh?” His breath fanned over your collarbone, maddeningly warm. “Go on. Keep working.”
The van hit a small bump in the road.
His grip immediately tightened, both hands flexing around your hips as your body jerked slightly in his lap. “Focus, baby,” he whispered, voice low and smooth. “I can’t have you falling out of my arms.”
You rolled your eyes but your breath caught when you felt his fingers move under the oversized jacket he’d draped over both your legs. His touch started innocent. Barely there. Just tracing idle circles on the outside of your thigh.
But slowly… too slowly… they crept higher.
“Jinu.” You said it like a warning, but your voice came out softer than you wanted. Shaky.
“Mmh. Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he replied, nosing gently into the curve of your neck, kissing that sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “I know these rides stress you out.”
Your head tilted slightly, unconsciously giving him more access. You hated how easy he could do this to you. How the bond between you flared like a lit match, crackling at your core, too hot, too needy.
“I need to brief the team about tomorrow’s showcase,” you said, voice thinner now, less certain.
“You will,” he said. “Right after you take a breath. You’ve been going nonstop, sweetheart. You’re allowed to lean on us.” His palm splayed wider over your thigh now, pressing possessively into your skin through the thin fabric of your shorts. “On me.”
The bond pulsed.
You felt it. They felt it.
“Exactly when we’re headed to a meeting,” Baby added dramatically. “I’m not walking into the building like this, I swear—”
Romance dragged a hand through his hair, his pupils blown wide. “Hyung, can you not push the bond to meltdown when we’re trapped in a moving box?”
“She’s trembling,” Abby said, voice rough, eyes dark as he looked over. “We can feel it, Jinu. You need to stop or we won’t.”
“I’m barely touching her,” Jinu said smugly, dipping his head lower, his tongue flicking lightly against your jaw. “She’s just sensitive today.”
“This isn’t how professionals behave,” you mumbled weakly.
“No,” Jinu murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your skin like a secret. “This is how we remind our girl she’s not just our manager.”
The stylus slipped from your hand and rolled to the floor.
“Princess,” Mystery said from the back, his voice tight, “if you don’t stop biting your lip, I’m going to lose it.”
You froze.
You hadn’t even realized you were doing it—chewing on your bottom lip to stifle a moan. The need, the pull, the ache was too much.
“You okay?” Jinu asked, tone deceptively sweet.
“I’m going to scream,” you muttered, reaching for the stylus only to be tugged right back into his chest.
He chuckled low against your throat. “Not here, baby,” he purred. “Later.”
You smacked his arm lightly, heat rising in your cheeks. “You're impossible.”
“I’m yours,” he corrected. Then he kissed your jaw. “And you’re mine.”
The van hit another dip, and his thigh flexed beneath you. You gasped softly at the sensation, earning another sinful smile from him.
A collective groan filled the van.
“Damn,” Baby hissed, covering his face with a dramatic hand. “I felt that. I swear, if we get out of this van and I have to walk into the building half-hard one more time, I’m quitting.”
“Liar,” Jinu muttered, smug against your skin. “You’ll just take it out on her later.”
“I’ll help,” Mystert added darkly.
“Fuck’s sake,” Romance bit out, shifting in his seat. “You’re evil.”
“You want us to lose control?” Abby growled lowly. “Because you’re pushing it.”
Jinu just smiled, kissed your temple, then murmured, “Now. Read me the agenda, baby… or I’m going to assume the only thing on today’s list… is you.”
Romance loved mischief.
Especially when you gave him instructions.
He was stretching near the mirrored wall, muscles tense and glistening, shirt clinging to his torso in all the right places. The fabric darkened with sweat at his chest and back, neck slick where it glided down the line of his throat. He looked over his shoulder, smirking faintly, like he already knew you were watching him a little too long.
“We’re moving the shoot to 4 PM, okay?” you called, trying to keep your voice neutral.
He tilted his head, wiping his jaw with the edge of his shirt. “What?”
You huffed and took a few steps closer. “I said—”
But he moved first.
One second, you were lifting your hand to gesture toward the whiteboard. The next, he was right in front of you. Fast. Fluid. Intentionally close. His hand ghosted your waist like a magnet not quite touching metal. You leaned in without realizing. Your noses almost brushed. His lips hovered above yours.
“Still didn’t catch that, baby,” he murmured, low and slow. “Can you whisper it?”
You inhaled sharply, heart skipping. Your breath stuttered across his mouth.
Romance smiled like the devil in disguise.
You took a sharp step back, heart in your throat. “You heard me the first time.”
“Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders slowly, deliberately. “But your voice is prettier up close.”
“I told you not to flirt with me during work hours,” you breathed.
He prowled after you, movements lazy but precise. “And I told you,” he said, voice dipping as he cornered you between the mirrors and the edge of the barre. “you look hotter when you’re trying to stay professional.”
“You’re sweaty,” you pointed out weakly, palm flat against his chest. But your hand didn’t move away. It couldn’t.
He dipped his head, lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. “You say that like it’s a problem.”
You could feel the bond pulsing between you now, hot and molten, clawing under your skin. Like it had teeth. Like it wanted more. Like he wanted more.
He did.
Romance's fingers slid along your waist, not pulling, not pushing. Just… there. “This close, I can hear your heartbeat,” he said softly.
You swallowed hard.
“It’s faster,” he added, dipping his head until his lips nearly brushed your jaw. “Why is that, baby?”
“I have things to do,” you whispered, grasping for sanity, for distance, for the mental list of tasks that had felt so important five minutes ago.
“Name one,” he said, eyes locked on your mouth.
You opened your lips to answer but nothing came out. Your brain short-circuited under the weight of his voice, his scent, his touch.
“That’s what I thought.” His voice darkened to velvet smoke, threading through your spine. “You’re all wound up again. Let me fix that.”
His thumb brushed just beneath your ribs, dragging across the exposed edge of your skin with maddening slowness. The bond surged between you, heat coiling in your stomach like a fuse had been lit.
A loud ahem echoed from the other side of the room.
You jerked your head to the side, cheeks flaming. Mystery stood near the speaker setup, arms crossed, one brow raised in dry judgment. Abby was beside him, shirt half-drenched and towel slung over his neck, a water bottle loosely dangling from his fingers, though he wasn’t drinking it. His gaze was locked on you and Romance like he could feel the heat radiating off your skin.
Romance, naturally, didn’t move an inch.
“You good?” Mystery asked, tone dry as desert air. “Or should we all step out and give you two a moment?”
“You better make it a full hour,” Baby called from the corner without even looking up, still tying his sneakers. “The bond’s flaring like crazy.”
Romance just smirked, his hand still resting on your waist. “Don’t worry. I’m a professional.”
“That’s rich,” Abby muttered under his breath.
You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal despite your pulse still galloping. “Practice starts in five.”
“Perfect,” Romance purred, finally stepping back, but not before his fingers dragged one last lingering stroke over your side. “That’s just enough time for round one.”
Your breath caught.
You were going to kill him. Or kiss him. Or maybe let him ruin you first, then do both.
Baby was relentless. He didn’t need excuses to touch you.
But he made them anyway.
“Got a second?” he’d whisper, brushing past you in the hallway so close his chest grazed your back. His hand would ghost along your hip, fingers brushing like a secret.
“Need help with this zipper?” he added one afternoon, catching you by surprise in the dressing room. His voice was low, sticky-sweet, practically a purr.
You turned your head slightly, blinking. “I’m not even wearing anything with a zipper.”
His lips curved as he leaned in, mouth a breath away from your neck. “Doesn’t mean I can’t unzip you.”
Your breath caught. He didn’t touch you beyond that—not really. Just the heated drag of his voice over your skin and the tension in the space between you. But that tension was a rope pulled taut, threatening to snap.
You spun to glare at him, only to find him already grinning, shameless and beautiful, the kind of smile that said I’m not sorry, and I’ll do it again.
“Baby,” you warned, narrowing your eyes.
“Yes, darling?” he replied, all fake innocence, his hands tucked in his pockets as he leaned against the wall like he hadn’t just whispered sin into your bloodstream.
“Stop flirting.”
“I’m not flirting,” he said, lips twitching.
You stared at him. Pressed a palm to your face, trying to cool the blush creeping up your neck. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told,” he said easily, pushing off the wall to close the distance. You tried to move, but your back hit the opposite wall before you could even think. “You keep saying that. And yet...” He tilted his head, gaze dragging down your body like it was habit. “You’re still here.”
You swallowed hard. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You do.” He reached up, slow and deliberate, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. His fingers lingered near your jaw, warm and confident. “You always make time for me.”
The bond pulsed, thick and molten between you.
It hummed under your skin, made your chest tighten, your lungs forget how to work. His teasing grin faltered—just a little. The light in his eyes darkened, deepened. His whole posture shifted. Less playful. More dangerous.
“You feel that, don’t you?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.
You tried not to. You tried to stay upright. But your knees betrayed you, just slightly.
“I can be good,” he murmured, thumb now brushing your cheek, eyes locked on your lips. “I can walk away. Give you space. But if you keep looking at me like that…” He leaned closer, lips just shy of yours. “I’ll ruin you in this hallway, princess. I swear I will.”
Your breath stuttered. The wall felt too cold behind you, his body too hot in front of you, and your mind? Useless.
“Five minutes,” you whispered. You didn’t know why. You didn’t even know what it meant.
But he did. Oh, he did.
His smirk returned, slow and sinful. “I only need two.”
Then he stepped back, turned, and strolled off like he hadn’t just set your entire world on fire—humming under his breath, hands in his pockets, proud as sin.
You sagged against the wall, trembling, flushed, already ruined—and he hadn’t even touched you.
Even though you handled their chaos on a daily basis—the teasing, the flirting, the lingering touches that danced on the edge of indulgence—you knew it wasn’t just mischief.
It was how they loved.
Fierce, consuming care hidden in every stolen glance and every casually possessive touch. It wasn’t always soft. It wasn’t always sweet. But it was constant. It pressed into your soul, tangled in your hair, curled under your skin like a secret you barely had the strength to hide.
Because that was how they showed it.
Through the heat. Through the hunger. Through the unrelenting way they hovered, touched, teased—claimed.
And somehow, even when it overwhelmed you, it always made you feel... safe. Chosen.
Theirs.
You were trying to focus.
Really.
The planner was open in your lap, phone buzzing with back-to-back notifications from the label, and your pen hovered aimlessly between styling brief and venue confirmation. Your brows were furrowed. Lips pursed. Foot tapping restlessly on the living room floor.
But what you didn’t notice—what you should’ve—was the quiet.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
Still.
Dangerously still.
The kind of still that held breath and heat and intention.
The bond pulsed in the background like a slow heartbeat, thick and syrupy, licking at your spine. You ignored it the first time. Then the second.
By the third...
You should’ve known better.
It started with Jinu.
He slid onto the floor in front of you with feline grace, cheek resting on your knee as he stared up at you like you were sunlight filtering through the water and he was slowly drowning in the glow.
“You haven’t looked at us in thirty-seven minutes,” he murmured, voice soft and sinfully gentle.
You didn’t even realize you were smiling. “I’m working.”
“You’re ignoring us,” Baby added, voice lower than usual. He was lounging beside you now, head tilted lazily, one finger toying with the edge of your sleeve, tugging just enough to make your skin prickle. “We’re starving.”
“I fed you lunch an hour ago—”
“That’s not the kind of hunger I meant,” Baby murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear like a secret.
Abby moved next. You didn’t even hear him approach. One second you were upright, the next you felt the heat of him behind you—his large hands sliding down your arms, anchoring you, wrapping around your middle like he was reclaiming something already his. His breath ghosted warm against your temple.
“We missed you,” he whispered. “You’re here… but you’re not with us.”
Romance draped himself over the armrest beside you, all slow, feline lines. His chin found your shoulder, and his lips—so close—brushed the curve of your neck as he spoke.
“We’ve been patient,” he said, voice wrapped in silk and sin. “So, so good for you. But if you keep ignoring us... we won’t stay good.”
Your pulse skittered.
Your planner trembled in your lap.
“Mystery...” You turned your head, but you already knew.
He didn’t say a word.
He didn’t have to.
He was already there—kneeling beside you, moving like a shadow cast by flame. One hand slipped under your pen, taking it from your grip. The other removed your planner, setting it aside like it offended him.
His fingers didn’t release yours.
Not right away.
"Enough," he murmured, voice low and dark. “You’ve given the world your time all day. It’s our turn now.”
And then they closed in.
Jinu took your hand in both of his, bringing your knuckles to his lips like they were sacred. Baby leaned into your neck, dragging his nose along your skin with an audible inhale, murmuring things that made your stomach flutter and twist. Abby nuzzled into your hair from behind, arms tightening like he wanted to imprint you against his chest. Romance’s fingers ghosted up your bare thigh, slow and decadent, as if he had all the time in the world.
And Mystery watched. Still. Silent. Burning. His eyes traced every flicker of your reaction like he wanted to memorize what ruined you most.
“You’re so warm,” Baby whispered, his voice vibrating against your skin. “You make it hard to behave.”
“You need a break,” Jinu added, kissing your wrist again and again, softer each time.
“You need us,” Abby growled low, voice vibrating through your back.
“I have things to—”
“No,” Mystery said, one hand tilting your chin until your eyes met his. “You have us. Right now.”
Your breath caught.
Every bond flared at once, sharp and alive. Every nerve lit up with the need they’d been stoking all day. Their touches weren’t asking anymore. They were claiming. Surrounding. Owning.
“You’re impossible,” you whispered, barely able to breathe.
Romance smirked against your neck. “You always say that right before you melt.”
And melt you did.
Into their hands. Into their heat. Into the possessive hush of lips brushing your skin, hands stroking over your body like you were precious and theirs.
Your planner fell to the floor.
Your phone was already forgotten.
All that mattered was the way their hearts beat around you.
And the way yours beat for all five of them.
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