DEVIL'S HARLOT

You bit the other end, and the moment your teeth touched it, his eyebrows shot up. "Oh, you’re serious." The distance between you shrank in slow, steady nibbles, the air charged enough to make your stomachs flutter. He kept his gaze locked on yours, lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk.

By the time there was barely half an inch of Pocky left, your faces were way too close, his breath brushing your lips. He didn’t move away, instead leaning in just enough to make you think he was going to close the gap.

"What’s the rule if we meet in the middle?" he asked, voice low. You tried to play it cool, but the Pocky broke unexpectedly, sending the tip into his mouth and you pulling back.

He grinned around the last bite, chewing slowly. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, cheeks flushed but smirk still intact, before leaning in and catching your lips in a soft, deliberate kiss. It was slow, tasting faintly of chocolate, and when he pulled away he chuckled under his breath, brushing his thumb over your jaw like "Guess we’ll have to try again," he said, eyes darting down to your mouth in a way that made it very clear he wasn’t talking about the snack anymore.

✦ ABS

Abs was already smirking before you even explained the rules. "So, basically, I just have to get close enough to make you nervous? Easy." He popped the Pocky between his lips, holding it there like some smug movie bad boy while you bit the other end.

He didn’t start small. No, he went in with big, confident bites, the distance shrinking way faster than you’d expected. Your pulse shot up."Not so tough now, huh?" he teased, voice muffled around the stick as he kept closing in.

His eyes narrowed playfully, and you swore you could feel his intentions. One more bite and your noses were almost touching, your lips separated by the tiniest sliver of cookie. He tilted his head, clearly deciding if he wanted to win the game or win you.

The stick snapped between you and he didn’t pull away. He chewed lazily, still leaning so close that your knees went weak. "Looks like I win" he murmured with a grin before kissing you slowly, savouring the taste of the chocolate on your lips.

✦ ROMANCE

Romance took the Pocky stick like it was the most romantic challenge he’d ever been offered. "I’ll make it memorable for you," he said with a wink, slotting the cookie stick into his mouth and leaning toward you.

You bit the other end and immediately regretted it, because he slowed down dramatically. His every bite was small, deliberate, and his eyes never left yours. The tension wasn’t just thick — it was molten.

"Don’t look away," he whispered, as if daring you. You didn’t. Inch by inch, you felt the pull of something dangerous and sweet. When the stick was almost gone, he leaned in until your lips were so close you could feel his smile.

Instead of biting the last piece, he just… kissed you. Quick, warm, and cheeky. Then he pulled back with a laugh, holding the tiny end of Pocky between his fingers like a trophy. "Told you I’d make it memorable."

✦ MYSTERY

You weren’t sure if Mystery even would do it, but he took the Pocky without a word, eyes hidden under his hair. You bit the other end, the silence between you deafening. He didn’t make a show of it — no smirks, no winks, just slow, steady bites.

But that quiet confidence was worse than any teasing. Every inch he closed made your chest feel tighter.

You caught a glimpse of his lips parting for another bite, the chocolate stick trembling slightly between you. He stopped when you were close enough to count his eyelashes, his breath ghosting over your mouth. "You gonna finish it?" he asked, voice low, almost challenging.

You bit the last piece just as he did, which left your lips brushing for the barest second. To your surprise, his hand went to the back of your head, bringing you closer for a proper kiss. He pulled back like nothing happened, calmly chewing the Pocky, but the faint pink at the tips of his ears told a completely different story.

✦ BABY

"Oh, this is gonna be too easy," Baby Saja said with a smirk, holding the Pocky between his lips like he owned the game already.

You bit the other end, and he immediately went for reverent, fast bites. But somewhere in the middle, you decided two could play that game, and sped up too.

Now you were both leaning in way too fast, the stick snapping down to an inch. "You gonna back off?" he asked, already grinning like he knew the answer. "You wished," and suddenly you were close enough that your noses bumped.

The Pocky broke and his hand wrapped around your throat to kiss you roughly.

When he pulled back, he burst into laughter, clearly pleased with himself. "Guess we’ll call it a tie," he said already taking another stick.

✦ ZOEY

Zoey’s version of the Pocky game is pure chaos from the start. She’s giggling before the stick is even in her mouth, wiggling her eyebrows and making exaggerated ooh sounds to rile you up.

She bites down on one end, still grinning like this is the funniest thing she’s ever done. You take the other, and she starts nibbling forward—but she keeps laughing every bite, which makes you laugh too.

But somewhere halfway through, the laughter dies down, replaced by a tense silence. Zoey’s eyes widen a little when she realizes how close you are. Her cheeks flush pink, but she keeps going until there’s barely a crumb left between you. Then, right before your lips touch, she gasps dramatically and pulls back with a squeal. "Oh my gosh!", she covers her face, laughing so hard she nearly falls over.

Later though, when she thinks no one’s looking, she glances your way with a bright smile. "Next time," she whispers under her breath, "I’m totally letting it happen."

✦ MIRA

When Mira hears about the Pocky challenge, she smirks and mutters, "Oh, this’ll be fun." She bites onto one end with a cocky tilt of her chin, clearly daring you to make the first move.

You take the other end, and she wastes no time chomping down at a steady pace, eyes half-lidded in amusement. It’s like she’s watching a prey animal back itself into a corner, and you realize too late—she’s not stopping until she has you exactly where she wants you.

The last few centimeters are a blur. You don’t even have time to think before her lips are pressing into yours. There’s no hesitation, no awkward pause—the kiss is bold, quick, and just long enough to leave you breathless.

She pulls back with a smirk, Pocky crumbs on her lip. "What? You thought I was gonna chicken out?”" she says, leaning back like nothing happened.

But as she gets up, you catch her brushing her hair in front of her face, the tiniest hint of a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Don’t get used to this challenges," she mutters—though you’re pretty sure she wouldn’t mind doing it again.

✦ RUMI

When Rumi agrees to the Pocky game, you expect her to be calm. She holds the stick between her lips, tilting her head with a teasing smile that tells you she’s already decided she’s winning.

The moment you bite the other end, she keeps her eyes locked on yours, not blinking, not wavering. Each tiny bite forward feels deliberate, like she’s testing how long you’ll last under her gaze. The air between you grows warmer, and she doesn’t break eye contact even when you’re only inches apart.

She gets so close you can feel the faint brush of her breath against your lips, but instead of pulling away or finishing the stick, she takes one last bite—just enough to brush her lips against yours before pulling you onto her lap. "Guess I win," she says, but her faint blush betrays that maybe you’ve gotten to her more than she’s letting on. And when she notices you’re still a little flustered, she chuckles softly. "You’re cute when you’re like this."

You can’t tell if she’s just playing the long game to fluster you further, or if she’s hiding her own nerves behind her confidence.

“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.”