Chapter 54. Naked Apron
Succubi Chapter 54. Naked Apron
Dinner eventually settled into the kind of warm chaos that made time blur a little.
Between bites and banter, everyone had slipped into that post-battle, post-flirt, post-feast rhythm—just existing together. Telling stories. Exaggerating them.
Sera mumbled something about a weird dream she had in her afternoon nap, then proceeded to fall asleep again halfway through her mashed potatoes. Head tilted back. Light snore. Fork still in hand.
Nobody stopped her. That was just… Sera.
Gladia, on the other hand, made it her mission to finish the entire stew pot. Not just her bowl. The pot. She kept scooping ladle after ladle into her bowl while muttering “just one more” like someone addicted to sugary cereal. By the time she sat back with a satisfied sigh, her belly was puffed slightly, and she looked about ready to ascend to stew-based nirvana.
“Best stew this month,” she declared proudly, like she’d been keeping score.
Meanwhile, Val had decided to share her favorite hobby—which, of course, was breaking mortal hearts like it was a professional sport.
“I’m collecting them,” she said casually while spearing a tomato. “Not the actual organs. That would be messy. I mean confessions. The moment they realized they were in love with me. That stunned silence, or the way their voice cracked a little. I keep a mental shelf of them.”
Rivy rolled her eyes. “We know. You monologue every time you add a new one.”
I blinked and tilted my head. “Wait. Isn’t your sin affinity greed?”
Val smiled sweetly. “Exactly. There’s nothing more valuable than a person’s heart.”
I winced slightly. “Okay, damn. That’s terrifying.”
She leaned closer, voice softer. “Except you, Evan. I like you.”
I blinked again, caught off guard. “Uh. Thank you.”
She winked. “Don’t get used to it.”
Plates gradually emptied. Cups clinked quieter. Even Rivy started leaning back, kicking her boots up onto an empty chair and swirling the last of her drink.
When the last bowl was scraped and everyone leaned into that final comfortable lull, the plates and cutlery rose up with a soft hum of magic and floated toward the kitchen.
Lilith stood, brushing a napkin against her lips.
“I’ll take care of the rest,” she said, waving lazily.
But I pushed my chair back and stood. “I’ll wash them.”
Her brows arched. “Oh?”
I shrugged. “Need something to do before bed. Helps me wind down. Plus, I don’t want to turn into a pig.”
She studied me for a second, then gave a small amused smile. “Fine.”
And just like that, she left. Didn’t say where. Just vanished with that usual Lilith elegance.
So there I was.
In the quiet kitchen, sleeves rolled up, warm water running.
The scent of dish soap filled the air—citrusy, oddly calming—and I dunked the first stack of enchanted plates into the sink. They scrubbed easily, magic in the soap doing most of the work, but I still liked running the sponge over them. Simple. Mindless. Rhythmic.
My thoughts drifted a little.
Not to the chaos.
But to the stillness after.
The girls. Their weird habits. The way this strange little family was somehow starting to feel more real than anything I’d ever had with Queenie, or even my old human home.
I was halfway through rinsing a wine glass when my phone buzzed on the counter beside the sink.
I didn’t flinch.
Didn’t need to look.
I already knew.
I reached over, dried my hand on the edge of a dishtowel, and tapped the screen.
Sure enough.
Queenie.
Attached: a picture.
And a message.
I smirked.
“Oh, here we go.”
I wiped my hands quickly and picked it up, still standing over the sink with suds clinging to my forearms. I already knew it wasn’t going to be a normal text. Queenie never just replied. She retaliated.
I tapped the notification.
The photo loaded.
Her room again—but this time? Oh, she went full war mode.
She’d dimmed the lights, added fairy string lights, laid out a charcuterie board next to an untouched glass of sparkling water with gold flakes in it. In the mirror, she wore a silk robe. Not just any robe. One with faux fur lining.
Queenie: Just finished dinner. Had a light meal to maintain my figure. Unlike some people who eat like orcs. Also, my room? Now featured in ‘Dream Homes Monthly’. Hope you’re enjoying your food in that shared dorm kitchen. Must be cozy.
I stared at the screen.
Then whispered, “Oh, you wanna play petty tonight, huh?”
Because I wasn’t even mad.
If she wanted war?
I’d give her petty apocalypse.
I leaned slightly, set the phone at a perfect angle on the kitchen counter—half sink, half aesthetic backsplash, soft lighting above.
Then I snapped a picture of myself.
Still washing dishes.
Sleeves rolled, wet shirt clinging slightly to my frame, steam curling up from the sink. I even angled my chin a little to catch the light just right.
Caption?
Evan: Hard work builds character. Also burns calories. So, no need for sad girl salads. PS: This ‘shared kitchen’ belongs to royalty now. The peasants left.
Sent.
I grinned like a satisfied villain, setting the phone down gently with all the grace of dropping a mic into a flaming throne room.
“Game on, Queenie.”
I went back to scrubbing the last of the bowls, humming under my breath. The warmth of the water. The soft clinking of dishes. It was kind of meditative.
I didn’t even notice when the air shifted slightly behind me.
Didn’t hear footsteps.
Didn’t feel the temperature drop or rise.
But then—
Arms wrapped around my torso.
I froze.
Straight up froze.
A soft, confident presence leaned into me from behind, her chin brushing my shoulder.
Warm.
Deliberate.
Lilith.
She didn’t say a word.
And I didn’t turn around.
Because I didn’t know what face to make right now.
“What…” I whispered, barely above the sound of the faucet.
But still, she stayed there. Hugging me. Arms snug under mine. Her hands resting against my stomach like she’d done it a hundred times.
I could feel her breath, slow and steady, near my ear.
Just… calm.
Like I wasn’t the anomaly. Like I wasn’t the overlooked older sibling who had to swallow everything down.
Like I was just… me.
And in that moment?
I didn’t say anything either.
I just stood there.
Let her hug me.
Let the silence wrap around us like another pair of arms.
Because for all the teasing and flirting and chaos…
Sometimes, demons know when a person just needs to be held.
Even if they won’t ask for it.
That’s what I told myself.
That’s what I believed.
Right up until I felt something press against my back.
Soft.
Warm.
Rounded.
My brain stalled.
‘Uh?’
My eyes narrowed at the soapy dish in my hand.
‘No. No way.’
That was too high to be her stomach. Too… bouncy.
‘Nipples?’
Nope. Not possible. That’d mean—
My whole body tensed.
Lilith’s hands—once resting innocently near my ribs—were now moving.
Down.
Lower.
Fingers teasing the edge of my waistband like they had business there. Like she wasn’t just comforting me. Like she was checking inventory.
“Lilith?” I asked, cautiously.
No answer.
Just… breathing.
Panting, actually.
And then, in a tone that sent a shiver right down my spine—
“Evan~”
Oh no.
Oh hell no.
That voice. That voice.
It was the other one.
The one laced with honey and promises no mortal should ever hear.
I turned.
Slowly.
And what I saw?
Broke every remaining defense I had.
Lilith.
In her apron.
Only her apron.
Nothing underneath.
No bra. No panties.
Just that black satin apron tied neatly around her neck and back, hugging her curves like it had a soul of its own—and right now, its only mission was to destroy me.
My mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
“Lilith, what the actual—”
She leaned in, fingers brushing my chest with maddening slowness.
“I just thought…” she whispered, licking her lips slightly, “if you’re going to act all princely… You deserve dessert.”
My soul ascended.
And my sanity?
Yeah. That left the building entirely.
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