Meow meow
Days trapped in Pomefiore blur together, leaving you exhausted and numb. Vil's strict routine, Rook's constant surveillance, and Epel's fierce protectiveness weave around you like an iron web, slowly breaking down every last bit of your resistance. At first, you fought, desperate to hold on to any semblance of freedom. But with each passing day, you feel yourself slipping away, piece by piece, under the relentless weight of their affection.
One evening, as you're sitting in front of the mirror, Vil stands behind you, meticulously brushing your hair with careful, measured strokes. His eyes are sharp and calculating, watching every inch of you as if you're a canvas he's perfecting, a creation that must meet his every standard.
"Hold still," he commands softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. You do as he says, staring at your own reflection, barely recognizing the person staring back. The fatigue and strain have dulled your features, but under Vil's careful touch, you look almost doll-like, every detail controlled and crafted by him.
A hollow ache fills your chest, and before you can stop yourself, a quiet sob slips past your lips. Vil's hands pause, and he raises an eyebrow, watching your reflection with a mixture of disapproval and curiosity.
"Y/N," he murmurs, his tone softening. "What's the matter? Surely, you realize all of this is for your own good."
His words, meant to comfort, only deepen the ache. You can't hold it back any longer—the fear, the exhaustion, the constant pressure—it all crashes down in one overwhelming wave. Your shoulders shake as tears spill down your cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands, unable to keep up the mask any longer.
"I can't... I can't do this anymore," you whisper, barely audible. "I'm tired. I don't... I don't know who I am anymore."
Vil's gaze darkens, and he moves in front of you, kneeling down so he's eye level. His hands reach out, gently pulling your hands away from your face. His expression is unreadable, his violet eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes you shiver.
"Y/N, you're simply overwhelmed," he says calmly, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "You're not used to someone caring this much for you, but in time, you'll understand. You're becoming the best version of yourself, and you belong here—with us."
Before you can respond, Rook steps into the room, his gaze soft yet focused as he approaches. He kneels beside you, his hands gently resting on your shoulders, his touch warm and steady. There's a comfort in his presence that you can't deny, even if it feels stifling.
"Y/N, my precious treasure," he murmurs, leaning in close. His lips brush softly against your forehead, lingering as if savoring the contact. "Your spirit has been fighting so hard, and it's beautiful... but even the strongest prey needs rest, needs care. Allow yourself to lean on us."
He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, and a strange warmth blooms in your chest, an aching relief mixed with resignation. You feel yourself leaning into his touch, your resistance slipping as his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. It's suffocating yet comforting, and you can't bring yourself to pull away.
"You don't have to struggle anymore," Rook whispers, his voice a tender caress against your skin. "Just stay here, in our embrace, and let us protect you."
A soft sob escapes you as you finally surrender, letting yourself melt into his hold. The fight drains out of you, leaving a strange sense of peace in its wake, even if it feels tinged with despair. Rook's arms tighten around you, holding you like something precious, and his lips press to your cheek, then your jaw, each kiss soft yet possessive.
Epel appears beside you, his expression unreadable, but there's a fierce protectiveness in his eyes as he reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly. He's always been the gentler one, the one who seemed almost hesitant around you. But now, as he stares at you, there's a fire in his gaze, an intensity that leaves you breathless.
"Why'd you have to fight so hard?" he murmurs, his voice low and trembling. "We just want you safe. No one out there cares for you like we do... no one understands you like we do."
Without waiting for an answer, he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you with a fierceness that takes your breath away. His face presses against your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he whispers, "You're ours, Y/N. You don't need to go anywhere else. Just stay... stay with us."
As he holds you tightly, his fingers press into your skin as if afraid you'll slip away, and there's an edge of desperation in his touch. Your last defenses crumble, and you nod, the simple movement sealing your fate. You're too tired to fight anymore, too weary to push them away. The thought of surrendering, of letting them keep you, feels almost like a relief.
"I'll... I'll stay," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "I'll do whatever you want."
A triumphant smile flickers across Vil's face as he cups your cheek, his thumb tracing the path of your tears. "Good," he whispers, pressing a soft, possessive kiss to your forehead. "I knew you'd see sense eventually."
Rook's grip on you tightens, his lips brushing softly along your jaw as he whispers, "Magnifique. You're exactly where you belong, mon cher trésor."
Epel, still holding you close, murmurs fiercely, "You're safe now. No one's ever going to hurt you. We won't let them."
As they surround you, each touch and kiss feels like a vow, binding you to them in a way that's impossible to escape. And for the first time, you stop resisting, letting their embrace envelop you completely.
In their eyes, you see a dark devotion, a love that borders on obsession, but you don't look away. You're theirs now, heart and soul, surrendered to the intensity of their affection. And though a part of you mourns the freedom you've lost, there's a strange comfort in the knowledge that they'll never let you go.
Do you guys want me to make a part five that's smut? 👀👀👀
