The Table

ROMANCE-

Dear y/n,

I think I’ve written about a thousand letters at this point and even though it’s useless, I still feel like it helps a little. It helps lessen that constant ache in my chest that hasn’t gone away since you left. Nothing seems as bright anymore…not when your light is gone from my life. 

The bouquet of roses I last gave you is still on the kitchen counter. They’re dead now but I haven’t had the courage to throw them out yet. 

I don’t sleep much anymore so I’m usually up for sunrise. I miss our mornings together…especially when we’d go out to watch the sunrise. I still do that even though you’re gone because something in the orange tells me that you’re still there with me in some way. 

I’d stay awake every night if it meant that I could go out and watch every sunrise and that’s exactly what I plan on doing. I miss you more than anything, my love and I love you so much. 

Yours truly,

Romance

———————————————-

MYSTERY-

Dear y/n,

Please come back. I know it’s pointless to say that but I still say it everyday in hopes that you’d still just show up. I look for you in every room I enter, wishing to find you in there like normal. When you aren’t…it’s like a part of me shatters even more. 

It still feels like yesterday…when we met. It was too soon. You left me too soon. We were supposed to be forever. 

The boys worry about me. I’ve hidden myself away even more than I had before. I’ve stopped performing, stopped showing up at rehearsals. I just can’t bring myself to do it, not when you’re gone. 

So I spend all my time inside until sunset. Then I go outside and I just stare at the sky. The bright orange reminds me of you…reminds me of us. How many nights we’d spend watching the sunset and talking about random things. 

I need you back, sweetheart. I miss you and love you so much, and I always will. 

Your love,

Mystery

———————————————

BABY- 

Dear y/n,

How could you do this to me? I know it’s not your fault but it makes me so mad, I can’t control it. I yelled at the guys the other day and haven’t gone back to see them since. I can’t handle being around them right now, not when I’m constantly reminded that you aren’t here anymore. 

Worse yet, I lost control in public. I yelled at fans for getting too close to me. I haven’t been out of the apartment since that day. I’ve stayed on the couch, unable to move. 

I watched the sunrise this morning and I swore it was a sign from you. It was so bright and vibrant…just like you. I took a picture of it and sent it to you…only to remember that you’d never receive it. 

I don’t know what I’m going to do without you here but I will always love you. Always. 

I just need you back…

Baby

—————————————

JINU- 

Dear y/n,

I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse pain. I’d rather have Gwi-ma’s voice in my head constantly than have to leave with you not being here by my side. 

People keep trying to check in on me but I haven’t been able to respond to any of them. I’ve locked myself in the apartment, all of your things still exactly where they were before. I don’t have the strength to even touch any of them. 

I watched the sunset tonight…and I think it was you making that bright orange sky. Something about it told me that we weren’t done just yet and I’m hanging on to that. 

I’ll find you again, my love. That’s a promise. I love you more than words could even describe and I miss you with every fiber of my being. 

See you again,

Abby sat on the armchair like a throne—legs spread, golden eyes burning through you like they owned you.

His hanbok clung to him in rich, dark silk, black and rippling like shadow itself. One leg was bare—just for you—exposed from mid-thigh down, all carved muscle and glowing violet stripes that pulsed slowly on his pale, purplish-grey skin. His claws flexed lazily on the armrests. Fangs peeked behind the curl of a knowing smirk.

Gods.

You could barely breathe looking at him.

He was… obscene. Beautiful. Built. Thick muscle stretched over an impossibly wide frame—every inch of him defined, tight, perfect. Like he’d been sculpted for the sole purpose of ruining your body and teasing your brain into a puddle of need.

And you were already soaked just from being near him.

Your thighs were bare across his—the sundress you wore clinging to your skin like a second thought, soft and loose, thin enough that he could feel every inch of you pressing down onto his thigh. No panties. Just the dress. Just like he liked it.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and deep, claws tapping once on the chair.

"You’re sitting on my thigh," he said, voice low, deep, and curling around your ribs like smoke. "So damn sweet. So soft.”

His hand moved, lazy, dragging claws lightly up your side until the fabric of the dress lifted slightly, revealing more of your skin.

You trembled.

“Wearing this little thing,” he murmured, tugging the hem higher. “Just for me. No panties, no shame. Lookin’ like a fuckin’ offering.”

You swallowed hard, trying to stay still—but your hips were already rocking against the thick muscle of his thigh, grinding slow and helpless.

God, his leg was huge.

You loved how big he was.

Every part of him was overwhelming. The width of his chest, the spread of his shoulders, the heavy press of his thigh between your legs. Sitting on him like this made you feel tiny—smaller than you were, helpless, surrounded. It made you ache. You loved how easily he could break you. How much space he took up. How your body looked swallowed by his. It was maddening.

You whimpered softly, grinding harder.

That smirk of his deepened.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice dipping into something dangerous. “So worked up, and I haven’t even touched you.”

You bit your lip, hips rolling against the firm, flexed muscle of his thigh.

“Keep grinding, baby,” he murmured, eyes glowing brighter now. “Make a mess on me. I wanna feel it. Wanna see how desperate this tight little pussy gets when she’s on her favorite leg.”

You moaned, head dropping forward, forehead brushing his collarbone.

“F-fuck, Abby…”

His hand tangled in your hair, gently tugging your head back so you had to look at him—his golden eyes glowing, sharp and hungry.

“You love how big I am, don’t you?” he whispered, fangs bared in a grin. “Love sittin’ on a demon’s thigh, grinding that soaked cunt like it’s a fuckin’ toy. Like you were made to ride me.”

You nodded, eyes glassy, panting.

He let out a low chuckle, dragging his claws slowly over your lower back.

“That’s it, baby. Use me. Be my good little size-drunk girl.”

You rocked harder now—desperate, needy, the slick sound of your arousal against his skin utterly shameless.

He leaned in, voice hot against your ear.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he growled. “Look at you—shakin’, whimpering like a good girl. All that from just my thigh. And you think you can handle my cock after this?”

You moaned, clinging to him, legs trembling.

He grabbed your hips suddenly—firm, controlling—and flexed his thigh beneath you.

You shattered.

Came with a cry, body twitching against his leg, the dress hiked up around your waist, your arousal soaking into his skin, his hanbok, everything.

He watched you fall apart with a look of pure, satisfied hunger.

“Fuck, you’re pretty when you break on me,” he whispered, kissing your temple as you shuddered in his lap. “That’s my girl.”

Your thighs were still trembling when you felt his clawed hand move—slow, deliberate, dangerous.

He shifted in the chair, his golden eyes locked on you as one clawed hand tugged at the knot of his silk pants, loosening them with the kind of casual grace that made your breath catch. The fabric parted just enough to reveal the thick base of his cock—hard, flushed, leaking against his skin.

And then he pushed the fabric lower.

You whimpered.

Gods.

He was huge.

Every time, it shocked you—how massive he was, even compared to the rest of him. Thick, long, curved just enough to make your stomach flutter in both fear and desire. Veins pulsing, the tip already glistening for you.

Your thighs clenched automatically.

He smirked like he knew.

“Already twitchin’, huh?” he murmured, voice low and filled with that lazy kind of filth that made your core throb. “Just saw my cock and started squeezin’.”

You tried to respond—but before you could even breathe, he grabbed you with one arm.

One.

And lifted you clean off his thigh.

You squeaked—high and helpless—as he positioned you over him, your knees bracketing his hips now, your bare core hovering just above the heavy weight of his cock.

“I love when you make those pretty little sounds,” he rasped, voice hot against your neck. “You sound like a fuckin’ doll when I move you. My little toy.”

You whimpered as he set you down—your soaked slit sliding over the thick length of his cock, not even inside yet, just grinding over the head, down the shaft, slicking him up with your arousal. You could feel every inch of him, and it still wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

His voice dropped darker now, lips brushing your jaw.

“You came already. And you’re still drippin’ on me.”

You nodded, desperate, grinding against him shamelessly, letting your clit catch on the head of his cock with every slow shift of your hips.

“I can’t help it,” you gasped. “You feel—fuck—you feel so big, Abs…”

He groaned, dragging his claws down your back.

“I am big, baby,” he growled. “You love that shit, don’t you? Love how I make you feel small—tiny little thing gettin’ split open by a demon.”

You moaned, nodding frantically, breath catching as you felt him twitch against you.

“Say it,” he commanded, voice thicker now. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” you cried, rolling your hips again. “Please—please, Abby—I want your cock. I want you inside.”

He leaned back in the chair, cock gleaming, ready, his muscles hard under your touch.

“Then take it,” he said, golden eyes burning. “Be my good girl. Ride your demon.”

And with shaking thighs, soaked and desperate despite already coming once, you lowered yourself onto him—slow, trembling, stretching wide as that thick head pushed inside, inch by inch.

And gods, it still wasn’t enough.

Not until he was buried so deep it felt like he was carved into your soul.

Your head dropped forward, mouth open, hands braced on his chest.

And Abby?

He just smirked and whispered:

“That’s it, pretty girl. Look at you—so fucking full.”

Abby leaned back in the chair, his clawed hands gripping your waist as you slid down onto him—all the way—until your thighs were trembling, your walls stretched impossibly wide around the thick, pulsing heat of his cock.

He watched you.

Watched your face twist with pleasure and need, watched your body shake as you adjusted to his size. His golden eyes burned like wildfire, glowing beneath heavy lashes, his fangs peeking as he smirked.

“Fuck, baby…” he growled, voice low and molten. “You’re takin’ all of me. Every fuckin’ inch. Look at you.”

You whimpered, rolling your hips in small, shaky circles, feeling the way he filled you to the edge—the stretch almost too much, but so right. Your hands pressed to his chest, fingers digging into his hard muscle, as if grounding yourself could save you from the sensation of being ruined by him.

“I love watching you like this,” he rasped, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, then lower, gripping your ass to help you move—slow, deep, all-consuming strokes. “My pretty girl… stuffed so full. Bouncin’ on me like you were made for this.”

You leaned forward, lips trembling against his.

“I am,” you breathed. “I’m yours.”

And you kissed him.

Hard. Needy.

He growled into your mouth, kissing you back like he wanted to swallow your moans. His fangs caught your lower lip—bit hard—just enough to make you cry out.

Pain flared—sharp.

But it melted into the pleasure blooming between your legs, the way his cock dragged inside you, slow and deep, pressing against everything that made your vision blur.

You gasped, the sting tingling sweet against your tongue as his grip on you tightened.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Feel that? That mix? That’s how you know it’s real.”

You nodded desperately, riding him faster now, hips snapping against his with every wet, sloppy thrust. You couldn’t stop. Couldn’t think.

The heat was building—rising fast.

You felt it coiling, sparking, twisting low in your belly with every stretch, every grind, every groan that rumbled from his chest and through your body like thunder.

“Abby—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He grabbed your face with one large, clawed hand, pulling you into another messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Do it,” he growled against your lips. “Come on my cock, baby. Show me how tight this pretty cunt can get.”

That was it.

You shattered—hard—crying out into his mouth as your orgasm slammed through you like lightning. Your walls clenched around him, fluttering, pulsing, squeezing his cock so tight it forced a guttural growl from deep in his chest.

“Shit—fuck—you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight—”

His hips bucked once, twice—

And then he was groaning into your neck, clutching you down onto him as he buried himself to the hilt and came—thick, hot spurts filling you, leaking down between your thighs, soaking the tops of his own as his head dropped back against the chair.

You both trembled, clinging to each other, breathless and wrecked.

And he laughed—low, dark, and satisfied—as he brushed his thumb over the bite he’d left on your lip.