SE7VN

Your ex partner struggles to meet your gaze, but when he does, he nearly shudders at the way you’re looking through him — like he’s nothing but a tiny spec of dust in the air. This quickly turns into a bitter and stark sound that resembles a laugh upon the realization that his words didn’t quite affect you the way he’d hoped.

“Pathetic.” He whispers under his breath. “This is the exact thing I was talking about! No emotions. It’s like speaking to a brick wall all because of your ego.” 

Your jaw slacks open and you run the tip of your tongue against the bottom row of your teeth. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head and a dry, unamused scoff leaves you. 

“Did you expect me to be sobbing in the middle of this restaurant while begging you to take me back?” 

His jaw clenches and his brows furrow in dissatisfaction. You watch as his fingers tighten into a fist and feel the table begin to shake from his knee bouncing up and down from beneath the table. “If that’s the case, you don’t know me at all.” 

With a long sip of the remaining wine left in your glass, your gaze doesn’t falter while the man in front of you seethes in anger at the sight of your calmness. Before he can respond, the waitress returns with your card and the receipt to sign.

“I hope you take this opportunity to better yourself.” The man in front of you lets out as he slips his card into his wallet and then into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Pushing his chair back, he quickly stands. “Otherwise you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.” 

Your scoff turns into a dry laugh as your ex-boyfriend pushes past the waitress and out the restaurant doors — the scent of his expensive cologne, that you once loved, now makes your stomach churn. When you look at the waitress, her eyes soften at the sight of your tiny, closed lip smile. 

“You seem too good for him.” The waitress quietly comments as you stand and grab your belongings, sliding your card into your purse. “I wouldn’t listen to a word he says.” 

“Never planned to.” You assure with a grin. “I apologize for his rudeness tonight. He’s a condescending jerk.” Pulling out your wallet, you hand the waitress a crisp hundred dollar bill as a thank you for the professionalism she upheld throughout the night despite your ex’s awful behavior. 

With a swift head shake, she bashfully pushes your hand away before claiming it was too much. 

Simply tucking the bill under the bread basket, you give her a final nod before heading towards the bar you’ve been itching to get a drink from since the conversation turned sour very early into the night. Your heels click against the marble floors until you slide into the nearest barstool. 

“What can I get you?” The handsome bartender smiles a charming little grin that makes your heart jump for a second, but when you see the silver wedding band on his ring finger, the bubble you’re in pops and you huff a small laugh to yourself.

Of course everyone else is in a loving and committed relationship, except for you.

“Just two shots of tequila, please.” You smile, hiding the disappointment of being single — once again. 

Smoothly throwing his cleaning rag over his shoulder, the bartender grabs two shot glasses and fills them up with your alcohol of choice. When presented, you quickly take the shots with ease — letting the sting slide down your throat and warm up your entire body.

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, but is everything okay?”

You sigh, then scrunch your nose when you look at him. “Bartenders notice everything, huh?” 

“Well, either something’s wrong or you really enjoy tequila — and no one really likes tequila, do they?” He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest, his broad shoulders shaking and bottom lip tucking between his teeth.

“I got broken up with tonight.” You dryly chuckle, already feeling pathetic hearing how you sound. 

“Ouch.”

“He sucks. I’m just upset I wasted a whole year with him.”

Your bartender’s lips press into a thin line. Without another word, he refills a shot glass with your choice of alcohol. Then pulls out a fresh glass before filling it up again, but this time lifting it up and towards you. “Here’s to a new start, then.” 

Lifting your glass, you mirror his movements and you both throw your heads back to let the liquid slide down your throats. You sigh in relief, your body immediately relaxing when you feel the warmth course through you. 

“Anything else I can get for you, miss?” 

Shaking your head, you give him a quick thanks before you occupy yourself by deleting and blocking your ex’s number, checking your messages, and ensuring you pace yourself to make your afternoon flight tomorrow. After a few passing guests and text exchanges between you and friends, the bartender surprises you by sliding you a martini with a single olive inside. 

“What’s this?” You ask with a small smile, stuffing your phone back into your hand bag propped on the bar’s table top.

“Courtesy of that gentleman down the bar.” Your bartender grins, pointing at a young man who gives you a small head nod and a smile hidden behind his whiskey. “Full disclosure though, he’s a good friend of mine and thinks you’re pretty but he doesn’t wanna come over unless you’re okay with it.”

“If I’m not?” 

“Then you can take the free drink and I’ll pass on a thank you. If you are, well, everything afterwards is up to you two, isn’t it?” He smirks at you, tucking his hands under his biceps.

You look down the bar, eyeing the way the bartender’s friend casually scrolls through his phone and taking reserved sips of his drink. “And what’s your friend’s name?” You ask aloud, gaze still locked on the man interested in you.

“John.” The bartender nods, watching as you take a cautious sip of your martini. “I’m Jaehyun. I thought I might as well introduce myself if I’m introducing you to a friend of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You chuckle, introducing yourself before taking another sip of your free drink. “Now be honest with me Jaehyun, does your friend have a girlfriend or wife waiting for him back home? I’m not a fan of getting into drama because a man can’t stay faithful.”

”He’s painfully single.” Jaehyun admits as he quietly laughs under his breath. Looking over his shoulder at his friend, he leans forward onto the bar. “Loyal to a fault, sometimes. He’s a good guy though. I promise you’ll be safe with him. Hell, I trust him with my life.”

”You sound like you’ve known him for a while.”

”Too long.” Jaehyun laughs, his cute dimples making their appearance in front of you. “So, what do you think? Wanna meet him or should I just send him your thanks?”

You pause, pondering the options. But with a sip of alcohol courage, you settle on your answer. “I don’t mind meeting him.”

“You won’t regret it.” Jaehyun playfully throws you a wink and turns to look at his friend. He tilts his head in your direction, a cheeky and knowing smile curling from his lips.

— A Very Charming Man.

The tall man at the end of the bar makes his way to you — dark gray slacks accentuating his long legs, black long sleeve button up shirt wrapped perfectly around his biceps, and a half full glass of whiskey in his hand. 

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Jaehyun playfully wiggles his eyebrows after introducing the two of you, then quickly turns his attention to tend to the arrival of new patrons.

With a firm handshake, Johnny locks his eyes with yours as a kind smile curls his lips. Pulling at the barstool next to you, you slightly lean forward and thank him for the free drink he sent your way. 

“It’s my pleasure.” He replies, mirroring the way you leaned into him. With a hand respectfully pressed on the middle of your back, he rubs a quick circle before retracting his hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here? Is it personal or business?”

“Both, I guess.” A tiny smile dances on your lips before you take a sip of your drink. “I had dinner with my boy—“ You pause and clear your throat, correcting yourself. “Ex-boyfriend. And I leave for a work trip. This hotel is closer to the airport, hence my stay.” 

Johnny nods, then looks past the second part of your response, clearly not there to talk about work. “So, that guy you were with is your ex?” He points behind him with his thumb, gesturing towards the dining area you were previously sitting. 

“You were watching me?” You tease, the tip of your tongue pressing on the inside of your cheek. Your head slightly tips to the side and you lightly swivel the stool you’re on, almost flattered by the information he let slip.

Johnny drops his head before rubbing his chin, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Pushing his styled hair back with his long fingers, his jaw slacks open just enough to see the tip of his tongue run across the back of his lower teeth. 

“Believe me, I’m not one to look at women who are already taken.” The edge of his mouth lifts into an unapologetic smirk. “But you? You’re hard to ignore.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly and you smile against your martini glass, trying your best to keep your cool while you assume his words are used on every woman he’s interested in. 

“Now I’m very curious,” Johnny lets out, palm facing down and fingers sprawled open on the bar’s counter top. “Did he break up with you or was it the other way around?”

“I wish I could tell you I did, but no,” you quietly huff, “he broke up with me.” You bitterly admit, swallowing a big gulp of your alcoholic beverage. 

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, clearly baffled at your words. He shakes his head and chuckles in disbelief. “There’s no way. Did he give you a reason?”

“Many, actually.” You giggle, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth with a slight head tilt, thinking back on your ex-boyfriend’s reasons behind ending the relationship. “I’m too focused on my career and not enough on him. I have to be mentally fucked for not wanting to start my own family. And he chewed me out for not having sex with him for the last three months.”

Johnny sharply sucks in air through his clenched teeth. “You’re clearly the problem. Those are huge red flags, didn’t you know that?” Johnny sarcastically comments, earning a giggle from you as he grins from ear to ear.

“Yeah, it’s totally me.” You press your palm to your chest, feigning a bit of pain as you sarcastically admit to your wrongdoings. “You’re absolutely right. You should run before it’s too late.” 

You and Johnny quietly laugh to yourselves just as his hand slowly cups under yours; testing the waters to see if you’d pull away or not. When you don’t, he leans in just enough for you to smell the fresh aquatic cologne he has on.

“If you ask me, it sounds like you scared him.” 

“What?” You giggle, unknowingly squeezing his hand. “What’re you talking about?”

Johnny grins, enlighten at the fact you asked him to explain. “Hot girls are always so oblivious.” He lets out, slightly shaking his head just before he shifts his feet onto the foot rail on the stool he’s sitting on. “You’re so sure of yourself, it scares him. Some men can’t handle that.” Johnny playfully shrugs before finally swallowing the last of his drink.

You catch the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, the condensation of melted ice slowly rolling down his long fingers. You tighten your hold on his hand, moving it on the bar top before securing it on your lap. “And where do you fall? Does that scare you, too?”

Johnny’s grin spreads, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. His large hand grabs the leg of your barstool and pulls you closer to him with ease, surprising you with his strength. With your knees fitting perfectly between his, his bold actions cause a flurry of butterflies in your torso and lustful thoughts rush straight to your brain.

“Not at all.” He confidently answers, carefully leaning into the backrest of his stool. “I find it very attractive, actually. I’m even glad he fumbled the way he did.”

“Why’s that?" You giggle as your palm gently rubs up and down the fabric over his thigh. His muscles tense up and you watch the way he casually drags his thumb against his bottom lip. 

“Well, for starters, I’m with you right now and he’s not. That itself is a win, don’t you think?” He cockily grins, straightening his posture.

You can’t help but giggle, amused and in awe by his naturally charming demeanor. “Are you always this smooth with your words?” You ask, leaning forward enough to invite yourself into his personal bubble.

You don’t expect him to mirror your actions, but he does and your breath catches when his lips are inches away from yours. 

“Only with women I’m interested in.” His gaze falls to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Do you always play hard to get?”

“Only when I don’t wanna seem too eager.” You reply, pulling yourself away. You watch the way Johnny hungrily locks onto your movements before he leans back, too.

“Eager for what?”

You simply shrug and swallow the last bits of your martini. 

“It can be a lot of things. You could be eager to have a stimulating conversation or to have someone to help you forget about your ex.” He pauses, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to devour you right then and there. “Maybe you’re eager to sleep with a handsome stranger you met at a hotel bar. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.”

You bite back a smile, looking away from the stranger in front of you — almost refusing to admit how easily he saw right through you.

“Can I ask you another personal question?” 

“Sure. At this point, I’m an open book for you.” 

Johnny chooses his words carefully before he speaks. “You refused to sleep with him. I wanna believe it’s because he wasn’t good in bed, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely more than that.” You chuckle under your breath, sitting up and straightening your posture. You give Johnny a sigh, scoffing in disbelief as you recall your ex’s words that cut a little deeper than you wanted to admit. “I assume you know what a breeding kink is, right?”

Johnny’s cheeks flood with a pink hue and you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact he’s surprised the words came out of your mouth. “I, uh, not from experience but I’ve heard of it, sure.”

“Well, I’m not fond of the idea of having children of my own, but under the right circumstances the idea of breeding is kinda hot — the possessiveness, the dirty talk, the creampie. Anyway, the idea of stopping my birth control was brought up so he could start a family. I told him I like the act but don’t actually want kids but he told me I was crazy to have the kink and not actually pull through with it.” 

Johnny’s expression is unreadable when he looks at you. For a second, you think you've shared too much but he nods, intently listening to your words. 

“His pressure to let him come inside me without protection started to annoy me, so I just took sex off the table. I guess it took him 3 months of no sex to finally end it.”

“Wait,” Johnny huffs in disbelief, “he got to come inside of you and still had complaints?” Johnny runs his palm over his face in slight frustration, shaking his head. “This guy is a fucking idiot. Listen, if that had been me—” A low whistle leaves his perfectly shaped lips while he hungrily eyes you up and down. “I’d shut up. Actually, I’d let you do anything you want to me. Might even thank you if I did.”

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous comment. Playfully pushing his shoulder, you earn a giggle and smirk from him. 

Johnny is too charming for your own good — something you know you shouldn’t fall for; something that has ‘player’ written all over it. But you ignore what you know you’re supposed to do because who says you can’t hook up with a handsome stranger you met at a bar that you probably won’t ever see again?

“So,” Johnny quietly interjects your thoughts, holding your hand in his. “Let’s say you did have me for a night, what would you want me to do?” 

You pause, tilting your head before your lips curved into a sly smile. “I’ve been in a shitty relationship for a year with a shitty guy who didn’t know how to fuck me properly.” You lean in and he meets you halfway. With your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, his skin begins to prickle with anticipation. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

He hums a laugh that’s filled with mischief and lust. “My room or yours?” His lips part slightly, hand sliding up and down the side of your thigh.”

“Yours.”

— Room 1409.

“After you.” Johnny smiles, holding his hotel room door open and gesturing to you to step in.

You sharply inhale, slightly nervous about hooking up with a stranger after so long. Your hold tightens around the straps of your handbag before you step into the air conditioned room. You catch your reflection at the full-length mirror near the closet and you take a quick look at yourself — there’s a sheen in your eyes from the alcohol, but to your surprise your hair and makeup are still intact.

“Beautiful, aren’t you?” Johnny whispers, palms sliding over the front of your dark green satin dress wrapped around your torso when his reflection appears behind you. With a swift movement, he twists your body to face him.

You let out a giggle when you nearly trip on your heels. “You’re a real smooth talker, Johnny.”

“It’s easy when everything I say is true.” 

His warm palm slides against the side of your neck before his fingers cups your nape. As his thumb brushes your bottom lip, your heart stutters and slow, shallow breaths begin to slip from between your lips. His thumb slides down your chin before settling just under your jaw, hand loosely wrapped around your neck, but tight enough to make you melt under his touch. When your lower back meets the nearest console table, his hips press into yours and your fingers curl around his black button up, silently begging him to come closer. 

The second his lips weave with yours, your knees begin to quiver. The tang of alcohol is prominent, but you don’t mind. Not when his hand grips tighter around your throat making you whimper against his lips. 

It’s intoxicating and possessive, like you were always his.

His large hands slide down your waist and squeeze your hips just enough to smoothly lift you until you’re sitting on the wooden console’s table top. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw all while his hands roam under your dress, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and slides it down your thighs before slipping the thin fabric in back pockets of his dress pants. 

Kissing down your throat, he begins sucking hard enough to leave proof of this night. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls your skin taut to leave a deeper discolored bruise, then another, and another. Pushing your dress up and over your head, he trails down your chest to leave a badge of claim between your cleavage and when he drops to his knees, he kisses down your sternum and your hips. 

The anticipation is agonizing, yet it’s the most intense and satisfying feeling you’ve felt in a while. It’s slow, deliberate, but purposeful like Johnny can hear the way your heart pounds against your chest; like he enjoys the way you’re trembling just by grazing his lips over your skin. 

Johnny lifts your leg over his broad shoulder while his other hand pushes against your other thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. Tilting your hips, he buries himself between you — licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

You don’t realize the way you’re holding your breath, already feeling light headed as you watch him drag his lips closer and closer to your core. Your eyes flick to the mirror behind him and a spark in the pit of your stomach ignites all while excitement pools between your folds.

When Johnny flattens his tongue and glides it over your slit, your mouth slacks open from pleasure. Your fingers comb through his hair as you throw your head back, resting it on the wall behind you. 

His name stutters from your mouth, fingers tugging on his now messy and disheveled hair. He swirls the tip of his tongue over your clit and his saliva slides down, mixing with your slick. The pads of his fingers dig into your inner thighs, burying his face deeper into you and wrapping his lips around your drenched pussy, gliding his tongue up and down all while his gaze never shifts from your reaction. 

It’s embarrassing, really, how close you are. Heat pools in your lower back and soon travels up your spine and neck before it floods your face entirely. Your chest heaves up and down, already feeling dizzy from the intensity that’s building faster than you can keep up with. 

But that certainly doesn’t stop your hips from moving against Johnny when the tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, selfishly chasing the high that’s so close, you can barely hold on. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling your sultry moans that made Johnny harden under his dress pants. Unsatisfied, Johnny tugs on your wrist and pins it to your abdomen while your free hand grips the edge of the table beneath you. 

You don’t give Johnny a warning except for a string of curses that you’ve intertwined between whimpers. Your velvety walls clench tightly, and so do your thighs, as the coil in your lower abdomen snaps. Your body twitches when his tongue runs over your throbbing clit — sucking and gently rolling over it until you’re helplessly trembling from the stimulation. 

Johnny smirks against you, then tenderly pecks kisses against your soaked core. When he rises he immediately cups your cheeks, but you’re the one who lunges towards him desperately. He lets out a low chuckle, allowing your fingers to hastily undo his leather belt before tucking your hand into his dress pants.

You grin against Johnny’s lips when you feel his long, thick member hidden behind the fabric wrapped around his waist. Dragging your thumb over his leaking tip, Johnny quietly groans before his middle finger rolls over your clit with just enough pressure to make your hips twitch against him. 

His middle finger slides into you with ease, your slick coating his entire finger. When he curls his fingertips, it brushes past your sweet spot and makes your walls involuntarily clench around his digit. Your fist tightens around his shaft, jerking it up and down to mirror the way his finger slides in and out of your soaked cunt. 

“This pretty cunt can take one more, right?” Johnny whispers against your lips as the tip of his ring finger probes your entrance, easing its way through your opening and filling your space to its brim. 

You eagerly nod, colliding your lips with his. The sting of the stretch soon melts into pleasure, letting you focus on the feeling of pleasure you couldn’t even fulfill on your own. 

Your moans turn into shallow bursts of breathless air, chest rising up and down as his rough palm rubs slaps against your aroused clit. The rhythmic movement inches you closer to another burst of pleasure that makes you insatiable. 

Your lips part in a silent cry. Your leg mindlessly wraps around Johnny’s waist, hips grinding against his palm, and nails scratching the fabric over his deltoids. His head drops to your shoulder when he feels your gummy walls pulse around his fingers and his breath warms your bare shoulder with a cocky huff of laughter.

“F-fuck me,” you beg, hastily push down the waistband of his underwear and dress pants. 

His cock springs up and blood rushes to his shaft, his veins protruding against his skin, and his darkened tip leaking with his thick and clear precum. His large hand guides his tip to your entrance and pushes into you. You already feel the way your body has to adjust to his size when he slowly pops his tip in and out over and over again until every inch is swallowed by your needy little cunt.

Your fingers frantically search for the buttons of his shirt, eagerly undoing the top two buttons before Johnny impatiently pulls the fabric apart — buttons becoming undone as it rips from the threading and falls onto the floor.

The way your palms slide up his chest and across his shoulders to push the fabric of his shirt off sends jolts down his spine and straight to his cock, twitching inside of you. When he allows his shirt to slide off his arms and fall to the floor, he hooks his arms behind your knees then presses his palms against the top of the table console before breaking you open ensuring he’s flesh to flesh with you with every hard thrust. Your breath hitches when he slowly but harshly rocks his hips back and forth until your moans are fucked right out of you. The edge of the table bangs against the wall behind you in a rhythmic pattern to match Johnny’s deep and hungry jerk of his hips.

With every rut, he dives deeper into you — nothing but his tip sweetly kissing your cervix in the compromised angle he has you in. Slinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him closer and catch a glimpse of the reflection of the mirror. The way his back muscles flex with every slam of his hips makes you pant into his ear, which does nothing but gives him permission to fuck you until your eyes roll to the back of your head and you’re barely forming coherent sentences. 

Your fingers manage to tug his hair, tilting his head back before gripping his jaw and forcing his focus to shift from his hips to the way your tongue rolls over his. 

With a shaky exhale through his nose, he quickly pulls out of you and your legs fall suddenly without his support. He tugs on your forearm and swiftly manages to have his bare chest pressed against your back as he guides you to the bed. 

“Bend over.” He commands through gritted teeth, already pushing down on your shoulders. 

You don’t object. With your knees firmly planted into the plush mattress, Johnny’s thick tip pushes past your folds once more but this time your juices help glide inside of you as if he belongs there. A deep raspy groan leaves him when he bottoms out, your body jerking forward as he thrusts. His fingers tightly grip your ass for leverage just before he mercilessly ruts into you. His bare chest presses against your back, heat building between your bodies. His soft grunts fill your ears as his lips brush against the shell of your ear, causing your nails to dig into the sheets before burying your face in them. 

Johnny chuckles devilishly, gripping your elbows with both hands and pulling you back until the top half of your body is suspended over the sheets. Snaking a hand down your torso and tucking itself between your thighs, he easily finds your sensitive nub between your folds, circling it delicately. “You’re not hiding that pretty face from me.” 

You’re not sure how many times you’ve reached ecstasy with the way you’re being thrown in positions you thought you were too rigid to be in. Your body trembles, but you happily push past it with the way Johnny eagerly fulfills your request: to show you what you’ve been missing out on. 

Johnny knew when to slow it down, giving your body the most tender kisses and admiration it rightfully deserved. But he also knew when your body craved for more — and more, and more — until you’re tearing from the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation that blurred pain and pleasure seamlessly. 

And you enjoy every second of it. 

As you lay there, limp and exhausted, a satisfied grin is painted on your face as his seed leaks out of you. Johnny’s plastered beside you, proud and confident as ever. You cuddle into him, feeling his chest rise and fall — clearly still reeling from the dopamine rush that came with spending the night with you. 

“I haven’t felt this amazing in years.” You sigh, fingertips gently running up and down the crevices of his abdomen. 

“Glad to be of service tonight.” Johnny chuckles as his lips brush against your forehead. “Glad your ex fucked up the way he did.”

“Loser behavior, I guess.” You happily sigh. “Though, I do wish I could see the look on his face if he ever saw your cum dripping out of me. He hated the idea of my other exes doing it. Imagine how pissed he’d be that I let a stranger do it.”

“Why don’t we find out?”

Your head shoots up, looking at him in confusion. “What?” You awkwardly laugh. “What are we gonna do? Invite him here to see this?”

“Not quite.” 

Johnny swings his legs off the side of bed and fishes for his phone from the pocket of his pants. Taking a seat at the foot of the bed, he parts your thighs and it’s astonishing how quickly you comply. Lifting his phone in view, you quickly catch on to what he has planned. He presses the big red button to film between your thighs, fingers sliding his seed into you. When he lifts his coated middle finger to your lips, he ensures the camera only catches the lower half of your face, as you gladly suck on his digit until he ends the recording. 

“What’s your ex’s number?” Johnny questions as the pads of his fingers patiently wait for your reply.

You repeat the number that you’ve unfortunately memorized by heart and watch him type it into his phone. “Won’t he just have your number if you send him the video?”

“It’s a good thing I’m changing it when I get back home.” Johnny smiles as he lays next to you. He hovers his phone, ensuring you can also see the screen and what he’s typing. 

Thanks for leaving her, loser. Never would’ve met her at the bar if it weren’t for you. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of her. I’ll just breed her until the only name she knows is mine. 

The swoosh sound on iMessage is heard and the delivered notification pops up under Johnny’s message. He silences his phone and tosses it to the side. 

You giggle, swinging your leg over him before straddling his lower abdomen. With his palms sliding across the sides of your hips, he grabs a handful of your pillowy rear — your skin spilling between his fingers before his tip slides into you again, lifting his hips and sinking into you until you’re stuffed full. Pressing your lips to his jaw, you trail soft kisses until you reach just below his earlobe. 

“You should keep your promise. Unless…” you tease between kisses, “you’re all bark and no bite?”

Both you and Johnny miss the flurry of angry texts flooding Johnny’s phone, but neither of you care; not when you’re being shown pleasure in ways you could never imagine until the break of dawn.

❁❁❁❁❁

Who tf is this?

Fucking answer me you little shit!

[10 missed calls]

You’re a little bitch. ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE.

[6 missed calls]

When I find you I swear to god I’ll beat your ass

[4 missed calls]

I hope you get a fucking STD

❁❁❁❁❁

Your internal clock and the sun beaming into the room from the balcony wakes you from your sleep. There’s a delicious ache between your thighs and it takes you a second to process your surroundings, until you’re made aware of the arm that slides across your bare torso and effortlessly pulls you closer to his heated body.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of sneaking away before saying goodbye.” Johnny chuckles — soft, tired, and raspy. Nuzzling the tip of his nose into your shoulder, a gentle kiss adorns your skin. 

“I was gonna leave a note.” You playfully counter as your fingers mindlessly rake through his thick and messy hair. “But now that you’re awake, guess I can tell you that I should probably head out to let you pack for your flight back home.” 

Johnny groans, lifting his head to see the pieces of clothing haphazardly thrown around the room along with his suitcase wide open with used clothes piled on each other. 

“Thank you for last night, John.” You quietly let out, hand gently pressed against his cheek to carefully guide his gaze back to you. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure.” 

Placing a quick kiss to your cheek, you take that as your cue to get ready to leave. His eyes watch your movements intently as you slip on your dress from last night and search for your underwear amongst the pile of clothes. 

“Where’d you put my underwear?”

A tiny snicker leaves his lips before a smug expression washes over him as he leans back into the headboard. When you look at him, he gives you a tiny and innocent shrug. “Maybe if you stay while I pack, it’ll show up.”

You roll your eyes, jaw slacking open with a tiny grin. Your eyes flick to his white long sleeve shirt he wore last night and you swipe it into your hand before wrapping it up around your waist. 

“You can keep that and I’ll take this as a memento.” You giggle, making your way to his side of the bed. “Remember, it’s silk. Don’t make the mistake of throwing it in the washer. Hand wash, only.” 

Cupping the sides of his face and tilting it in your direction, you place a kiss on his forehead — his eyes fluttering shut at the softness of your lips while his arm wraps around your waist. 

“Have a safe flight home.” 

Johnny chuckles softly, his arm pulling you in effortlessly and your knees press into the side of the mattress. “You know…I’m a fast packer.”

“Yeah?” You giggle. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“One more time for old times’ sake? I’ll let you be on top this time.” 

Letting out a hum and pretending to contemplate the tempting idea, you gently brush your thumbs over the space just below his eyes before a kiss presses onto his lips. 

“Let’s have fate decide when we do this again.” You whisper in the space between your lips. “In the meantime, I have a meeting to prep for and you have luggage that needs to be packed. Not to mention, a flight you need to catch.” 

Johnny sighs in defeat, then a beat of silence follows before speaking again. “That’s fair.” 

Bringing the back of your hand to his lips, Johnny gives your skin a quick peck then brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. Cupping your face with a gentle touch, he pulls you in for a kiss — one of gratitude and farewell all wrapped in the slow movements of his lips.

When you pull away, your forehead presses against his while you catch your breath.  

“Take care, Johnny.” You finally let out, pulling away as he playfully tugs on your fingers. 

When you finally get enough distance, your hand drops to your side and Johnny’s arm drops onto the sheets covering his bare lower half. Giving him a final wave goodbye, you grab your belongings and head out into the hallway, feeling renewed. Like a night away from your usual strict routine made you genuinely happy — something you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

❁❁❁❁❁

Sorry, too busy fucking her dumb to get back to you. 

She feels waaay too good to only go one round…or two…or three…

Also thought you should know Y/N says thanks, you helped her realize how bad you are at sex. 

And the name’s Johnny, bitch.

[this contact has been blocked]

— A New Place & A Reintroduction.

“So…” Mina sheepishly rocks back and forth on her heel, the wind whipping through her thick dark hair. Her fingers grip the handles of her handbag, the leather fabric tapping against her knees as you two wait near the front entrance of the high rise building you’ll be working in for the next year. 

“So…” you repeat suspiciously, waiting for Mina to stop beating around the bush and ask you what’s on her mind. 

“That hook up…” she finally lets out, quickly scanning your features for any reaction that would somehow tell her who it was with.

“Mina.” You sternly reply, giving her a look as if to tell her to keep your personal business far from your professional life. “Not now.”

“I’m sorry,” she whines, childishly stopping her feet. “One minute I’m thinking you’re getting proposed to at dinner and the next you tell me you’re single and hooked up with a stranger.”

You sigh, already regretting telling her about your night of fun while waiting at the gate for your flight a week ago. It’s clear to you that this has been stewing in the crevices of Mina’s brain, too scared to ask more details knowing how privileged she is to even hear that you hooked up with someone. 

“It’s like something possessed you. It doesn’t sound like you at all:” She quietly comments, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I love it, I’m just surprised. Do you know his name at least?”

Before you could reply, an older man waves and catches your attention. It takes you a second to realize it’s the manager you’ve been in contact with for the past few months — Mr. Choi. He appears with an all too excited grin on his face, already telling you he’s more than excited for this partnership between your home company and the one you’re temporarily transferred to.

“It’s nice to see the both of you again! Come on in, I’ll show you around.” He smiles, leading you towards the bright lobby of elevators. “I’m sorry to hear about the delay in furniture deliveries for the two of you. I’m hoping the hotel suffices until then.” 

“Oh it does!” Mina interjects happily, enjoying the room service at the expense of the company account. “This is by far the best hotel we’ve been in and, trust me, we’ve been in a lot.” 

A deep chuckle rumbles in Mr. Choi’s chest, arm extending out between the elevator doors as it opens then gesturing for the two of you to step into the cramped metal box. 

“We take up the top two floors. Beautiful view over the city, I should add.” Mr. Choi says, sounding a lot like a real estate agent than anything else at the moment. “Our floor is split in two, the east wing—” Mr. Choi looks at you. “Is where you’ll be. The west wing—” Mr. Choi looks at Mina. “That’s where you’ll be.” 

When the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the floor to ceiling windows providing natural lighting that spills through the central lobby. To the right of you, you’re met with the two receptions who stand upon seeing their manager.

“Good morning, Mr. Choi.” They greet in unison before their eyes flick towards you and Mina. 

Your sights fall towards their lanyard and the identification card that is used to enter the many doors of the building. 

“Chenle, Jisung,” Mr. Choi greets, straightening his posture. “I’d like you to meet the newest members of our team — Miss Y/N and Miss Mina.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, welcome to the team!” Chenle says, clasping his hands together. “Let us know if we can do anything to make the transition smoother.” The younger man next to him simply smiles and nods before excusing himself when the phone rings, pulling his attention there instead.

You and Mina give the two younger men a warm smile and a nod, but your verbal appreciation is cut short when you’re gestured towards the west wing by Mr. Choi, who immediately begins spewing out the renovation plan to improve the floor even more. 

As you’re swept away, you quickly turn your head to let out a quick thank you to the two men you just met. As you do, you catch a glimpse of disdain on Chenle’s face who seems to be burning a hole in the back of Mr. Choi before Jisung playfully punches his bicep to get him back into work. 

Just past the restrooms, you see the heavy glass doors at the end of the hallway open up. A man with dark rimmed glasses, a white button up shirt, and dark slacks with his hair perfectly parted into a three-fourths part walks out, his gaze focused on the iPad he’s holding. 

“Ah, Doyoung!” Mr. Choi loudly greets, starling the man who stops in his tracks. 

The man, you now know as Doyoung, mutters something under his breath before gripping the tablet in his hand and pushing the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Meeting him halfway down the hall, Mr. Choi introduces you and Mina. 

“Miss Mina, Doyoung is the person who is going to show you the ins and outs of the west wing.” Mr. Choi informs, watching Mina firmly shake the hand Doyoung extended. 

“Can’t wait!” Mina says enthusiastically.

“C’mon,” Doyoung quietly says, tilting his head towards the glass doors. “I’ll show you to your office. It’s right next to mine.” 

“And Doyoung,” Mr. Choi interjects. “Introduce her to the rest of the team and catch her up, will you?” 

You watch Doyoung sharply inhale. His posture fully straightens before a tight lipped smile forms on his lips. 

“I will.”

You watch as your friend disappears behind the foggy glass doors and you’re now left alone with Mr. Choi, analyzing the way his eyes burn intimidatingly while he watches the glass door come to a full close. When he looks at you, they drastically soften and the playful demeanor he’s always presented to you reappears. 

“Let me show you to your office.” He nods and the two of you backtrack, passing the central lobby and towards the east wing. Walking past conference room one and two, that’s directly across from each other, you’re guided to a vacant office room that’s filled with sleek, minimal furniture and painted with boring white walls that you’re able to see that’s not covered windows. 

“You’re right, the view is great.” You let out, making your way towards the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city below you. 

“It’s the best!” Mr. Choi says proudly, as if he’s the one who made it that way. “Across the hall is one of our best employees, but don’t tell him that. He can get a little cocky. He’ll be your point of contact to help you adjust, though he’ll be reporting to you.” 

You look out the wide picture window that gives you the perfect view inside the unoccupied office across from yours. The same furniture you have is rearranged into a logical design you learned would be efficient for productivity. On the desk, a stack of Manila folders balanced next to his office phone and a notepad with a few bullet points scribbled on the top of the white lined sheet.

“If he’s the best like you say he is, I’d say the confidence is well deserved, no?” 

Mr. Choi chuckles, watching as a disarming smile stretches across your face. “A little humbling would do him good, but I suppose you’re right.” An awkward beat of silence follows before he speaks. “Let me show you the break room.”

You follow Mr. Choi down the hall and enter the large break room with a few lounge chairs and counters filled with a variety of drinks and snacks for anyone’s enjoyment. 

“Didn’t expect everyone to be in here.” Mr. Choi said sternly, scanning the room filled with employees who shamefully looked down at the floor beneath them. 

The contrast of the chattering then and the dead silence now is stark. You watch as some employees uncomfortably shift from one foot to another while others finish up making their morning coffee. Then Mr. Choi clears his throat, adjusts his posture to his full height and crosses his hands against the small of his back. 

“I’d like you all to meet the newest member of our team, Miss Y/N.”

Their sights land on you all at once making you feel uncomfortable beyond comparison. You manage to give them a small wave and they mirror your movements, a quiet wave of ‘hi’ and ‘hellos’ filling the space. The tension is so thick you could slice it with a knife. 

“Looking forward to working with you all,” you smile, quickly pulling yourself together — straightening your posture, lowering your hands to your sides, and taking a half step forward. 

Mr. Choi takes a full step forward, now placing you slightly behind him. “I’m sure you all have work to start on, right?” He says, an edge to his voice to grab any semblance of power in front of you. 

With another step forward, you’re now next to Mr. Choi. The uncomfortable look on the employees face is prominent, making you realize Mr. Choi is purposefully ignoring it. 

“I’m sure they’re fueling for the day ahead.” You interject, looking at Mr. Choi dead in the eyes, something you’ve learned from your years in this career. “Don’t we all need a little moment to ourselves and a nice cup of coffee before diving into piles of work?”

You flash Mr. Choi another placating smile with your hand gently placing itself on his shoulder for a second before retracting it next to your side.

“I mean, I know I do.” You chuckle, looking at the rest of the employees. They quickly catch on to your point and each one of them gives an agreeable head nod. 

“I suppose you’re right.” Mr. Choi quickly agrees, palm of his hand rubbing the back of his flushed neck. “Again.” He quietly chuckles, sliding his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

Mina appears beside you and so does Doyoung, hand still holding the iPad but this time, glasses tucked into the breast pocket of his collared shirt. Doyoung does his part in introducing Mina who, like always, greets with the utmost enthusiasm. 

Mr. Choi’s phone rings, excusing himself to the corner of the room as he takes the call. You take this opportunity to get the names of some of the employees to begin building rapport with them after the awkward initial meeting. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch the way Mr. Choi snaps his fingers to catch Doyoung’s attention, his phone still pressed to his ear. He whispers something into the young employee's ear and you know it’s about you when Doyoung’s eyes lock onto yours. Then just like that, the older manager disappears out of the break room and into a conference room for more privacy to pace back and forth.

With a small wave goodbye, the employees disappear into a bigger room filled with cubicles separating them into smaller spaces. Doyoung follows suit, making his way out the door before you stop him.

“Uh, Doyoung—” you call out, stepping towards him. “Can I speak with you…in my office?” 

Surprised with your request, he nods hesitantly before both him and Mina follow you. Closing the door, Mina leans against your desk while cranning her neck to take in the boring look of your new space. Doyoung stands in the middle of the room, patiently waiting.

“What’s the deal with the tension between everyone and Mr. Choi?” You blatantly ask, catching the employee in front of you by surprise. 

Lifting his hand to the back of his neck, he gently scratches his prickling scalp. His mouth falls open, only to close again. 

“Tension?” Mina squeaks, catching everyone’s attention. “There’s tension?” 

Doyoung sighs, balancing his iPad on the arm rest of a nearby sofa. “He’s fairly new.” Doyoung begins to explain. “And utterly incompetent at doing his job. A lot of us feel that he’s on a constant power trip and it doesn’t help when he belittles anyone that isn’t a specialist, analyst, or consultant.” 

“How’d he get the job?” Mina questions, reading your mind and saving you from asking the question yourself. 

“Connections.” There’s an edge of annoyance in his tone. “Apparently, he’s friends with the founder. Though, I highly doubt the founder knows how shitty Mr. Choi—”

The two loud knocks on your office door startle the three of you before the door swings open and you see the subject of your conversation step through the door frame. Behind him stood a 6 foot 3 man with his dark locks slicked back and a killer smirk lifted from the corner of his mouth, lowering his disposable coffee cup from his lips when he locked with your gaze. 

“John, this is Miss Y/N.” Mr. Choi introduces, stepping forward and causing Doyoung to step back, settling himself next to his point of contact that’s now lingering by the window and snapping photos of the view. “Miss Y/N, this is John Suh. He’ll be working with you to ensure you’re acclimated to the new environment. He’ll assist you in whatever you need and will be reporting to you as well.” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs so hard you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. A knot tightens in the pit of your stomach, anxiety rising when you remember the night you shared — expect now he’s not just a handsome stranger you met at a bar, he’s your co-worker; one you’ll be working closely with for the next year. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Johnny interjects with a smile, feigning obliviousness and giving you a firm handshake like the one he gave the night you met. 

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.” You nod. “I heard you’re the best guy here. I have nothing but high expectations.”

Johnny huffs out a quiet laugh, fingers holding his coffee cup by its rim. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“Good.” You clear your throat, your hands clasping together just below your belly button. “We should probably catch up on the recent projects coming up.” 

“We should do the same,” Mina says as she points her finger between the space separating herself and Doyoung. “Walk me through the campaigns and I’d like to see data—”

Mr. Choi chuckles — an unamused laugh that makes a knot twist in your stomach. You didn’t like the way his hand wiped over his mouth or the way he shook his head slightly as he scratched over the stubble he didn’t shave before coming to work. 

“What’s funny?” You question, cocking your head to the side in confusion. You look over at Doyoung and take a sharp inhale, bracing himself for the comment the manager is about to make. 

“I can’t help but think we’re overestimating the value of our creative department.” Mr. Choi says ignorantly with a dismissive shrug to his shoulders. “I mean, anyone with a smartphone can upload a post to social media.” 

Your blood boils, heat rushing to your cheeks and a slight ringing in your ear. Between the surprised look on Mina’s face, the second hand embarrassment in Doyoung’s, and Johnny's tense expression written all over his face, you can’t not say something. 

“But what do I know right?” Mr. Choi laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and an oblivious laugh leaving his lips. 

Johnny steps forward to defend Doyoung’s team, something he’s done countless times before, knowing Doyoung won’t ruffle feathers with a man as ignorant as Mr. Choi. 

But you speak before he can.

“Sir, I hope you’re not insinuating our creative team doesn’t provide an essential role to this company?” You let out, voice calm and steady. “I’d hate to see when a poorly thought out campaign or a post highlighting a failed strategy goes viral. It wouldn’t reflect well on the company or the founder, would it?” 

The mere mention of the founder turns Mr. Choi’s face pale, letting your words sink in before uncomfortably clearing his throat. Your eyes lock with his, refusing to be the first person to look away. Mr. Choi feels the tension, beads of sweat forming on the nape of his neck before looking down; your comment about the founder rattling him more than anything. 

“You’re right.” He manages to let out, rolling his shoulders back in a lame attempt to recoup. “I will let the four of you get back to work. Please let me know if you need anything.”

And just like that, with no apology, Mr. Choi turns on his heels and walks out of your office and straight to the elevators.

“Well that was fucking rude,” Mina huffs. “What kind of manager says that about any department?”

“An incompetent one.” Johnny scoffs, then quickly apologizing on Mr. Choi’s behalf. “We learned to ignore a lot of his comments. I’m sorry you had to see that first hand.”

“And so soon.” Doyoung adds, his eyes still glued in the direction of your office door. 

“Just ignore him,” Johnny breathes, shoulders finally relaxing as he turns to you, then to Mina. “We have a solid team and despite us not listening to him or anything he says, we don’t get reprimanded harshly when we actually do our job well and the higher ups are happy with the results.”

“This is gonna be a shitshow.” Mina exhales, then turns to you with her hand on your shoulder and a playful grin stretched across her face. “Good luck, you’re gonna need it more than me.” When she turns to her point of contact, she pulls him towards the door by his bicep. “C’mon Doyoung! We have a lot to go over.”

And just like that, you’re alone with Johnny. Thick silence fills the room and a prickling under your skin makes you shift on your feet. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Johnny arches a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk as he lifts his disposable cup to his lips. “How’ve you been?”

“Great.” You nod, quickly clearing your throat. “So about those upcoming projects—”

“You go straight to business, don’t you?” Johnny chuckles, dropping a seat on the arm rest of a nearby couch. “I remember you being… less serious than this.” He pauses, crossing his wrists over each other as it languidly rests against his thigh. “In fact, I remember you being more relaxed than anything else. So relaxed, you could barely open your eyes when my tongue—”

The palm of your hand flies over his mouth, pressing your skin against his soft and plump lips and nearly knocking the coffee cup from his hand. With a quiet shush, you slowly retract your hand and shut your office door before closing the blinds that look into the hallway.

“Listen, John.” You sigh, forehead pressed against the frame of your door before you turn to look at him. “Whatever happened between us stays between us and in the past.” 

Johnny cocks his head, listening intently to your words. 

“From this point, everything is strictly professional. No more flirtatious looks or those little smirks. None of that.” 

Johnny can only chuckle. Not dismissively, but amused. The tip of his tongue runs across his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth. Setting his nearly empty cup on the coffee table, he stands to his full height, towering over you. 

Your breath catches in your throat, swallowing the words you meant to say. 

“You’re sure?” Slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he takes a few steps toward you and traps you between his frame and the door you just backed into.

You simply nod, slow and unsure, but you hoped Johnny didn’t notice the presence of hesitation. His gaze swipes over your blown out pupils staring back at him before dropping to the untucked collar of your dress shirt. His long fingers gently adjust the fabric and your breathing halts, almost afraid any type of movement would silently tell him about the fire ignited in the pit of your stomach and the tingle between your thighs. 

When he pulls away, he grabs his coffee cup by its rim and simply flashes you a charming, easy going grin. 

“I’ll follow your lead, boss.” He nods once, then goes quiet for a beat too long before clearing his throat. “Do you, maybe, wanna get out of the way so I can show you those reports?”

Heat from embarrassment prickles your underarms, your senses suddenly feeling heightened as you pathetically regain the confidence to finally move out of the way and open the door behind you. The whiff of newly brewed coffee whips through you, the smell going unnoticed until now. The typing of keyboard keys and the playful banter between the two receptionists suddenly feel louder, but don't drown out the heartbeat you hear pounding against your chest. 

Johnny snakes from behind you, unlocking his own door. Lavender scent hits you by surprise as you step in; the mist from a nearby diffuser spritzing in a calculated pattern. You watch as Johnny moves behind his desk, fingers working fast to bring up the most recent reports. He glances at you, then pauses his movements. 

“You know you’re really awkward for someone who wants to move past our night of fun.” Johnny chuckles. “If you don’t want anyone to suspect anything, don’t be suspicious.”

“This is new to me.” You admit, dropping your arms to your side. 

“This position or what happened between us?” 

You roll your eyes and a tiny smirk threatening to make its way onto your face. “Working with someone I previously hooked up with.” You quietly say, moving behind his desk to see his computer screen.

He nods, eyes falling back onto the electronic files. “I was worried for a second that you didn’t know how to do your job.”

“I do it very well, thank you very much.”

“So I’ve heard.” Johnny remarks, opening up the files most relevant to this quarter. He looks up at you and you catch a glint in his eyes as a strand of your hair falls before you quickly swipe it away — Johnny being completely enamored by your presence before he could stop himself.

“John.” You softly call out. “The reports, please.” 

“Huh?” 

You shyly smile, your thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks before gently turning his attention back to his computer screen. “The reports, Johnny. Walk me through them, please.” Slowly retracting your hand away from his cheeks, you watch a wide grin spread across his face.

“You got it, boss.”

— A Note & A Future Lunch Date.

Two months into acclimating to the new company and your new partner, you realize a few things: Mr. Choi is absolutely not fit for his managerial position, Mina has been on a personal mission to get Doyoung out of his introverted shell and stand up to anyone who downplays his intelligence, and Johnny is incredible at his job — so incredible, you’re wondering why he isn’t in the manager’s position himself.

In fact, you find yourself thinking about Johnny a lot — a lot for someone who wants to leave the hook up in the past. The way he tilts his head and holds eye contact when he’s listening to someone speak, how his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek right before his thumb brushes his bottom lip when he’s focused on the task at hand. And the way his fingers curl around—

“Any questions for us?” Johnny’s voice sears right through your thoughts and pulls you right back next to him in the boardroom with pairs of wide eyes staring at the two of you. 

“Yes.” The lanky old man that Johnny nicknamed Mr. Cautious speaks up, shifting in his seat as he stares at the color-coded line graph behind you. Using his pen to point behind you, you and Johnny slightly turn in the direction he’s pointing in. “How are you two confident your sales are projected to increase? I mean, not too long ago, this company barely had revenue coming in a few months ago.”

“Rest assured that our predictions are based on the upward trend we’ve been seeing in the most recent weeks. New strategies, more effective and efficient I may add, have increased our numbers drastically and immediately.” You share, taking pride in the strategic plan you and Mina helped implement since arriving — no thanks to Mr. Choi who insisted on keeping the mess of a strategy already set in place until you kindly reminded him the reason behind your transfer.

“I get that, but—” Mr. Cautious interjects, hesitation written all over his face. 

“I understand the risk you’re taking.” You reassure, now understanding the reason behind Johnny’s nickname for the man in front of you.

“If I may add,” Johnny interjects, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks and straightening to his full height. He glances over your way before looking straight at Mr. Cautious. “The company Y/N is transferring from has one of, if not the best, business strategies that we've seen in years — the same strategy we’ve adopted just recently and the numbers don’t lie. You can choose now or you can choose to wait, but I fear waiting won’t have much benefit to it.”

“Though I’m sure you already know that, sir.” You flash a charming smile, before glancing over at Johnny who follows your lead and plasters a grin on his face. “You’ll find standard contracts in the folders as well.” 

In unison, those in front of you pull out the contract and look it over before signing away. A knock on the conference room door pulls your attention before Mina’s head pops in just in time for her and Doyoung’s time slot with the group. Johnny quickly collects the contracts before you both quickly grab your belongings, say your goodbyes with the crowd in front of you, and head out into the hallway.

“All contracts accounted for.” Johnny smiles proudly. “Even from Mr. Cautious himself.” He lifts his fist to give you a fist bump and you reciprocate, a little ritual you two have when you both have a successful day. “I’m going out for lunch, do you wanna join me?”

“I’m okay. I was planning to use my lunch break to catch up on my sleep.” Cupping your cheeks with the palms to warm your cold hands, you turn to glance at the surprisingly comfortable couch in your office. 

“I’m gonna guess you spent the night working.” Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head like a disappointed father. 

“You guessed right.” You giggle. “But before you go, I wanna thank you for having my back in there.  It’s nice to know I have someone I can rely on.”

Johnny smiles, endearingly stroking the back of your head. “We’re a team, you don’t have to thank me.”

”Sure, but I think it’s still worth noting.” You gently squeeze his arm. “Even if Mr. Choi refuses to admit it to your face, you’re amazing.”

“Well, since we’re dishing out compliments,” Johnny steps forward and leans towards your ear. “I’m glad you're here. You make coming to work worth it.”

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too wide at Johnny’s words. “Enjoy your lunch John. I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

Johnny nods, watching you disappear into your office. You catch his eyes from your window and you give him a small wave before shutting the newly replaced blinds that blocked out the hallway lights. Situating yourself on your sofa, you can’t help but replay Johnny’s words in your head until you drift off to sleep.   

❁❁❁❁❁

The alarm on your phone interrupts your sleep to let you know that you have 15 minutes left of your lunch break. Stretching your arms over your head, you stare at the blank ceiling to help yourself actively wake up before sitting up on your sofa.

To your surprise, you find a wrapped sandwich, an unopened bag of your favorite chips, a bottle of water, and a handwritten note from a memo pad you have on your desk is sitting undisturbed on the coffee table in front of you.

It’s your usual order. You need the energy :)  - Johnny

You make your way over to your blinds, opening it up and seeing Johnny sitting at his desk chewing on the end of his covered pen before his eyes meets yours. He gives you a small wave before grabbing his notepad and jotting something down then lifting it up for you to read.

Did you sleep well?

You quickly look behind you for the identical notepad and pen to write your response.

Yes, I did :) Thanks for the food, too.  I owe you a lunch date this week.    

Holding up the notepad to the window, you watch the way Johnny’s eyes scan your writing and a genuine smile stretches across his face. Pressing his pen to the paper, he writes a quick response and lifts the notepad to his chest.

I’ll hold you to that :)

You quietly laugh to yourself, then nod at Johnny, silently agreeing to his words. Johnny gives you a wicked smirk accompanied by a wink before his attention turns to his ringing phone. You take that as your cue to quickly scarf down your lunch as you clear out your email’s inbox, ensuring to tuck Johnny’s note into your wallet for safe keeping.

— A Rainy Day.

Four months into transferring and the routine of your position is deeply rooted into your daily life. Rolling your neck, you briefly shut your eyes in an attempt to relieve the strain on your eyes from staring at your computer screen all day. 

It’s one of those days you haven’t left your office — meeting with people virtually, ordering lunch through an app and one of the two receptions delivering it to you to get a second away from the ringing of their phones, staring out your window at at the pouring rain, and above all being isolated from the one person that effortlessly eased your work stress. 

Johnny’s been cooped up in his office for the same reason you are — meeting with overseas partners and clients virtually. You’ve caught him a few times, pacing back and forth in his attempt to stimulate his brain to prevent him from falling asleep during boring small talk he doesn’t care about. 

You try your best to refocus on the reports you have left to do before your work day ends. Your eyes gloss over yet another detailed and excruciating report, scanning for information that would be remotely beneficial to you at the moment. 

When you finally come across a discrepancy, your body jolts to attention and you use this as an excuse to save both you and Johnny from another minute of boredom. 

Your hand flies to your office phone’s receiver to call your partner in the room across from you. Two rings pass until Johnny’s voice is heard on the other line.

“Hey boss, finally caved in to admit you missed me today?” He jokingly says, leaning into the backrest of his chair and tucking an arm under the other. 

“No, I—”

“Too lazy to walk in here yourself?” He quickly interjects, head flying up when he sees you through the hallway windows when you stand from your seat, giving him a look that feigns annoyance. In return, Johnny gives you a quick, playful wink as he holds the phone’s receiver to his ear. 

“Or did you call to see if I missed you since I’ve been cooped up in this stupid office all day without my favorite person to keep me company. The answer is yes by the way, if you care.” 

His words, admittedly, make your heart soar. Your lips break into a smile before you could stop it. “Then stretch those long legs of yours and make your way over here. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Something?” His brow quirks up and a little smirk lifts from the corner of his mouth. “Something delightful, I hope.”

“Not quite.” You hum and scrunch your nose, watching his lips fall into a frown as he hears your words. “It’s about the reports you sent me.”

“Uh oh, I’m not in trouble, am I?” His bottom lip juts into an exaggerated pout, swiveling his chair side to side as he holds your gaze through the glass. 

“You will be if you don’t make yourself useful and get over here.” You lift a finger and curl it, motioning him to ‘come here’ before ending the call. 

Sauntering over, Johnny appears in your doorway within seconds. “Your insane attention to detail will be the death of me.” Johnny complains, making his way over to you. “What did I do wrong boss? And go easy on me, my ego is still recovering from the last time.”

“Oh please, last time only I pointed out your typos before sending it off to the execs and you acted as if I cursed your entire family.” You roll your eyes. “You’re being so dramatic. Anyway, lucky for you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just have a question about the drop in sales from here—” You point at your computer screen, your manicured nail pointing to the drop in numbers on the table in the report. “—to here and it keeps repeating every year. I’m not planning on having it repeat again, so do you have any idea what happened?”

Johnny makes his way behind you to get a better look at the screen. Bending forward, one hand presses on top of the wooden table top of your desk while the other rests on the top of your backrest. With his cheek so close it could brush yours, you could smell a whiff of his cologne — the same one from the night you first met him. 

He hums and mumbles something quietly under his breath before the hand behind you goes over your shoulder and traps you between his body while he uses your mouse and keyboard to search through your inbox for reports Doyoung has sent the two of you.

You can’t help but watch his long fingers move as you’ve taken a liking to them after your rendezvous with him. Your gaze wanders up his arm, admiring the veins protruding against his skin until you glance up at his features — first his angled jaw, then his soft lips. 

 “What’re you looking at, boss?” Johnny grins, eyes still locked onto your screen. “Your wandering eyes are gonna get us both in trouble.” But from the way he’s blushing, it’s clear he’s enjoying your attention. 

Biting the corner of your bottom lip, you refocus on the screen. “Just wondering why you’re so close to me.” 

“It’s because you’re my favorite person,” Johnny smiles. “As for the reports, I’ll set up a meeting with Doyoung and Mina for tomorrow to see if we can remedy this dip in sales.” 

“Thank you.” You whisper as you turn to him, his lips now inches away from yours. 

You’re tempted to kiss him, feeling first hand depravity from not touching him for so long especially when that’s all you did that night. You’ve tried to deny the tension between you two; tried to ignore the flirtatious comments he made that you’ve engraved into your memory; tried to talk yourself out of using that night’s experience to help you pleasure yourself. 

But you hold yourself back, again. 

After all, he’s your co-worker and you know better than to mix business with pleasure.

“From what I remember, you have another meeting in ten minutes.” You softly let out, ultimately being the first one to pull away. 

Johnny looks at the time on the top right of your computer screen and drops his head in disappointment. Pulling back, he straightens his posture and rubs his hands over his face.

“Can I stay here?” He pouts, the inner part of his brows curving upward and his eyes softening. “I can’t stand being in my office alone. It’s depressing.”

“Isn’t that inappropriate?” You tease, swiveling your chair side to side as you look up at Johnny. “I am your senior after all.” 

Johnny huffs a chuckle, rolls his eyes, and pokes his tongue against his cheek. “God forbid I took a gap year after graduation to broaden my horizons.” He sarcastically retorts. “You only have seniority over me by one year. You have to feel bad — I’m going insane in my office. I need social interaction that isn’t online.” 

“Fine!” You dramatically huff, waving your hand in the air. “You can sit at my desk while you have your meeting. I’ll make myself comfortable on the couch and read over—”

“Thank you!” He happily interjects, grabbing your hand and placing a dramatic kiss on the back of your hand. “You’re amazing.”

You can’t help but giggle, watching as he proudly makes his way out of your office to grab his laptop and other necessities for his meeting, though he ends up choosing to stay with you until the end of the work day. 

Four months into transferring and you’ve gotten to see many sides of Johnny — all sides you find utterly charming and endearing; all sides that make your heart race and your mind rattle.

— Out of Town Bar & A Tucked Away Office.

You don’t notice when Johnny walks in. 

His suit jacket slung over his arm and long sleeves of his white collared shirt pushed up to his elbows. He runs his fingers through his loosely styled hair that loosened through the day while a sealed pack of cookies are presented in front of you. You look up at the man that’s been on your mind more often than you’d ever admit — and, god, does he look ethereal when he gives you a tired lopsided grin. 

“What’s this for?” You ask, picking up the sealed bag of cookies and examining it. “You know that sucking up to me isn’t gonna make me like you more.”

“You know you love me. I’m your life line here.” Johnny grins, taking a seat on one of the chairs placed in front of your desk. “A client gave it to me and I thought you’d like it when your sweet tooth kicks in during the day.”

“What’re you talking about? I don’t have a sweet tooth.”

“I catch you stealing sweets from the break room all the time.” Johnny giggles, resting his ankle just above his knee. “Did you know you walked into the break room five times in a span of seven minutes yesterday?”

“No…I did not.” You embarrassingly admit, biting your bottom lip before taking the cookies and rolling your office chair over to your mini fridge nearby to secure them for future use. “Thank you for the treat.” 

“You’re welcome.” Johnny adjusts himself in his seat, lifting his hips slightly to lower himself just a bit.

“You don’t normally stay this late.” You ask, palm resting under your chin. 

“Been keeping an eye on me?” Johnny smirks, fist gently pressing into his temple as his elbow is propped onto the chair’s arm rest. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”

“I care.” You quickly interject, looking down at how reckless your words came out. “Is everything okay?” 

Johnny simply nods. “Why are you still here?” He questions, looking at the analog clock perched near the windows. 

“I got a hot date with reports.” You reply bleakly, pointing your pen towards your computer screen. “I just need to finish a few things so I don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Do you have a lot to do?”

Leaning into your chair, you cross your arms and scan the to-do list you have written on a notepad. “Eager to help cut my work load in half, is that it?”

Johnny chuckles quietly, then shakes his head. “Eager to have drinks with you tonight actually.” His words are so brazen and matter of fact, it takes you by surprise; only allowing you to stutter out a response before recollecting yourself. 

“No,” you chuckle, “we both know what happened the last time I had drinks with you.” 

The fond memory flashes through your mind before you could stop it. The positions he had you in, the marks that remained as a remembrance a few weeks afterwards, and the intense pleasure you felt for hours you couldn’t replicate on your own. 

“Plus, someone could see us.” You add, shoulders slumping when you feel a hint of disappointment in your chest. 

Johnny sits up, straightening his back and extending his long legs outwards to cross an ankle over the other. “There’s this bar on the outskirts of the city that no one here goes to.”

You sharply inhale, still cautious about the offer. 

“Colleagues have drinks with each other all the time, why can’t we be one of them?” He questions, tilting his head to the side and gaze dragging along your features, eyes softening as the milliseconds pass. “We’re friends. Friends have drinks with each other.”

The word echoes in your ears and you don’t expect the simple label to sting the way it did. Friends. The quick, harsh squeeze of your heart makes you sharply inhale before you’re able to play it off with a long exhale. 

“You’ve worked hard since you started here and I’d like to treat you to a night out to—” Johnny pauses, buying himself time to find the words he needs to convince you to spend your Friday night with him. “—celebrate everything you’ve done.”

A tiny uninvited smile tugs at your mouth and Johnny notices it. 

“Is that a yes?” He quietly teases. “Please let it be a yes.”

You surrender. “My place is nearby. We can leave our cars there and get an Uber to the bar.” You offer, giving into the temptation. 

“Smart girl.” Johnny’s lips parted into a cheesy grin before jumping to his feet, rubbing the palm of his hands together. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

❁❁❁❁❁

“How’d you find this place?” You ask. The thin long sleeves of your blouse cling to your arms as you cross them over your chest in an attempt to keep yourself warm against the cool air.

“My friend Yuta owns it.” Johnny says proudly, hand resting on your mid back and ushering you towards the bar’s entrance. 

“So you just have bartender friends all over the country?” You giggle, remember the handsome bartender who first introduced you to Johnny. 

Johnny grins and causally shrugs. “What can I say? Making connections is my forte. I even have some out of the country, if you fancy taking a trip with me overseas.” 

“Let’s get through tonight first before we start planning trips to other countries. For all you know, I could be trouble.”

“Oh I know you’re trouble.” Johnny gives you a knowing glance, standing in line at the entrance. “That certainly doesn’t deter me whatsoever.” 

Playfully and gently shoving him, Johnny’s arm slings over your shoulders and pulls you close as you two walk into the establishment. Classic rock from the 80s, 90s, and 2000s plays in the background as the chattering of patrons suddenly fills your ears. Johnny leads you to an empty table, giving you the small laminated menu sitting among the napkin dispenser and the ketchup and mustard bottles.

As you scan the menu, a young man with dark shoulder length hair pulled back into a half up and down updo using hair sticks appears next to Johnny. With one hand cupping Johnny’s shoulder, the other lifts to give Johnny a familiar handshake. 

“Hey John, haven’t seen you in a while.” The man glances over to you, giving you a friendly smile to show off his pearly white teeth. “Who’s your lady friend?”

“She’s my boss.” You catch a mischievous glint in his eye when he looks at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops immediately. “I-I’m not his boss. That would be so inappropriate.” You shake your head, palms facing outward and shaking mirroring the way you’re denying his accusations. Your face quickly heats up, the heat traveling down your entire body making your entire body prickle. “We just work together.” 

Johnny’s friend laughs loudly. “I believe you, don’t worry. I’m Yuta.” Extending his hand out, you take it and give it a firm shake. 

“Oh! You’re the owner.” You gleefully say, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you. How do you know Johnny?” 

Yuta scratches the back of his neck. “We slept together in college.” With his quick movements, he blocks Johnny’s punch to his shoulder, telling you they’ve done this many times before.

“You gotta stop telling everyone that.” Johnny shakes his head, pulling Yuta in a headlock. “Tell her the truth.”

Yuta flashes you a smile, hands gripping Johnny’s wrist. “We were roommates in college,” he laughs, “so technically what I said is true.” Yuta finally frees himself from Johnny’s grasp, strands of hair somehow falling perfectly to frame his face. “I had the top bunk and he got the bottom.”

“Huh,” you let out as you looked at Johnny, “I never took you as a bottom.” 

“Alright, you two are done.” Johnny shakes his head, grabbing Yuta by his shoulders and turning him away.

“You should get the beer battered fish and chips. It’s our most popular dish!” Yuta shouts as he’s pushed away from the table and towards the bar. 

“For the record I asked for the bottom bunk purely because I kept hitting my head when I sat up. I’m certainly not a bottom…” Johnny holds contact a little too long enough to catch a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or have you forgotten?”

Your eyes quickly and bashfully avert away from his gaze, locking onto the menu in your hand. “I think I’ll take the fish and chips, like Yuta recommended.” You let out, changing the subject. “With a beer.”

“Good choice. I’ll be right back.”

Johnny disappears into the crowd, though the top of his head sticks out and easy to spot makes you less worried that you’ll lose sight of him. Taking a glance around the room, you watch the group of people intently watching the white cue ball make its way across the billiards table before strategizing their next move. You glance over the group of people chugging their beers while the rest of the group cheers them on. Your eyes move towards a couple in a corner booth, watching as they giggle to themselves and throwing flirty glances toward each other. You try not to stare, but their nerves are so palpable you could feel it three tables away.

Your attention is pulled towards the unopened bottle of beer in front of you as Johnny takes a swig of the identical bottle in his hand. Without a word, Johnny uses the wide part of a random key from his keychain to effortlessly pop off the bottle cap. 

“Are you showing off, John?” You playfully retort with your hand resting under your chin.

”Depends. Is it working?” He smiles, taking another sip of his drink. “I figured it’s better to open your drink in front of you, so you know it isn’t tampered with.”

“Very considerate of you, thank you.”

Johnny simply lifts his bottle towards you and you gently clink your amber colored glass against his. Taking a long sip, you allow your body to finally relax after a long week of work. Johnny makes himself comfortable on a stool across from you, elbows resting on the round table in front of him.

“What caught your attention earlier?” Johnny asks.

“It looks like that couple may be on a first date.” You share, inconspicuously tilting your head in the direction of the couple in the corner booth. “I found it cute that they’re holding hands under the table and it got me thinking about my first date, that’s all.”

“Oh?” Johnny’s eyebrows quirks upward, leaning into the backrest of his chair. “Do tell.” 

“No.” You shake your head. “Not a chance.”

“Oh come on!” Johnny pouts. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“And what makes you think I’d want to hear about your first date?” You tease. 

“Fair.” Johnny shrugs. “Hearing about another guy being your first anything doesn’t seem like a topic I’d like to touch on.” 

You quietly chuckle and lean into your seat. “Jealous?”

“How can I not be?”

Your foot playfully jabs Johnny’s covered calf, causing him to chuckle to himself. Before he could speak up, you’re interrupted by a waiter and the delivery of the food Johnny ordered for the both of you. With a quick thank you, you take a bite of the potato fry that’s clearly fresh out of the fryer.

“Okay, so no discussing first date experience. Tell me what your ideal date would be.” Johnny lets out, mirroring your movements and grabbing a bite of the freshly fried potato.

“What?” You giggle, folding your arms over your chest. “Why would you want to know that?”

“Humor me.” Johnny shrugs. “I’m trying to have a normal conversation. What would your ideal date be?” 

His gaze locks onto yours and you bite the line he’s throwing. With a sharp inhale, you lean forward. You follow Johnny’s fingers as he rips a piece of fish from the plate in front of you and dips it into the accompanying sauce the dish comes with before popping it into his mouth. 

“A candle light dinner at home and a movie afterwards.”

“Huh.”

“What?” 

“I took you for someone who’d want to go to a fancy restaurant or something. Maybe take a trip overseas for dinner. Your ideal date seems—”

”Basic?”

Johnny nods, watching as your lips wrap around the opening of the beer bottle.

“A lot of the men I dated loved the lavish lifestyle and it gets old really fast when you realize they’d rather shower you with expensive things than spend time with you.” You let out a sigh. “I know it sounds like a first world complaint, but at the end of the day, it’s a whole lot of loneliness.”

“And that’s why you’d rather have a simple night in with someone that’s genuinely interested in you.” Johnny slowly nods, leaning into his chair and bringing the opening of his drink to his lips. “That’s good to know.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

Four beers in and suddenly Johnny’s the funniest and most philosophical person you know; not to mention, a yapper who can go on and on about his growing Pokémon card collection that probably makes him the cutest nerd who has a goldmine of rare cards that would put him on a rob list. 

Two beers in and a glass of whisky later, you’re a giggling mess and suddenly sharing more about your life than you’d ever imagined you would — everything laid out on the table for Johnny to pick and choose what to relentlessly tease you about; though he probably would never.

You catch the glimpse of the time, surprised with how quickly it has passed when you're with Johnny. “We should probably head out soon. It’s getting late.” 

Johnny lifts his wrist, checking his watch. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” He grins, swallowing the last bits of his drink before pulling his phone out. “I’ll order a ride.”

With your hand on his, you halt his movements. “Let me use the restroom first. It’s a pretty long ride back.” You eye the line of the woman’s restroom, sighing in disappointment as you’re aware of how full your bladder is. “We might be waiting for a while.” 

Johnny follows where your gaze falls before tucking his phone away. Standing from his seat, he offers his hand to help you up. “We can use Yuta’s office restroom.” 

“He’ll be okay with that?” You question, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way.

“Yeah. He gave me a spare key to his office for nights I get too drunk and can’t make it home. His couch isn’t the comfiest, but when you’re drunk out of your mind, anything will do.” 

You giggle, following him down the hall hidden behind the bar. Based on the lack of intervention from the employees, you have a feeling he’s done this a few times short of it becoming a habit. 

He unlocks the wooden door with a key he has and ushers you in. When the door shuts, the loud music and chatter suddenly stops. “The restroom is the door on your left. I’ll get a ride here while you do what you gotta do.”

“Thank you.” You smile, rushing off to the restroom while Johnny fiddles with his phone. 

When you exit the restroom, Johnny quickly looks up at you from the sofa and jumps to his feet. “Our ride is 10 minutes away.”

You nod, looking around the room and catching the framed photos on Yuta’s desk. One photo of who you assumed to be Yuta and his parents, another of Yuta and his sisters, and another of a younger bar owner and a group of men — one of them being a shirtless younger Johnny with bleached blonde hair and lack of his tattoos that adorned his bicep that you’ve imagined tracing over more than you’d like to admit. 

“This is you, right?” You smile, pointing at the photo of him at the beach with his friends. “I wouldn’t have expected you to go blonde.”

Johnny sharply inhales, shaking his head in disapproval of his younger self’s choices. “Spur of the moment type of thing.” He shrugs, using his large hand to cover the photo from your view. “Let’s not walk down memory lane of embarrassing moments.”

You smile, setting the framed photo down where it previously was. “Maybe you should consider going back.” Lifting your hand, you run your fingers through the side of his hair. “I think you looked great.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m very fond of the idea of frying my hair off again.” Johnny chuckles, taking your hand in his. “I just got it back to a healthy state.”

Pulling your hand back, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we wait outside for our ride?” 

Johnny glances towards the door, then back at you. Lifting his hand, he gently moves a strand of hair away from your eyes and tucking it behind your ear. “I think you’ll be warmer here.” 

Your knees go weak and there’s the flutters in your stomach that you try to bury deep into the pit of your stomach. When you finally meet his eyes, his gaze flicks between your eyes and lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You mumble, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“We agreed to be strictly professional.” Your voice trembles when you feel his palm slide down your arm, the conviction in your words slowly withering with a simple touch. “Compliments like that are making me think you’re not holding up your end of our deal.”

“Believe me, I’m trying.” Johnny chuckles, his hand now playing with your fingertips right before lacing his fingers between yours. “You’re just…really hard to ignore.” 

His lips press against your knuckles and you don’t stop him; not when he gives you a tender kiss on your wrist or when his lips press into your cheek, and certainly not when his hand cups the side of your neck and he gently weaves his lips with yours. 

Warmth spreads through your body while his arms slide across your lower back to pull you closer. Your body arches into him, fingers mindlessly raking through his hair before you pull away slightly breathless. 

“I don’t think this is what friends do, Johnny.” 

A quiet huff that resembles a laugh leaves his lips before resuming his movements. “Please don’t be mad. I only said that because I thought you wanted me to say it.” He confesses between breaths and kisses. “I thought that’d be more palatable than to tell you how badly I want you.” 

A smile blooms across your lips, satisfied with his words. You deepen the kiss — this time your lips frantically moving like you’ve been deprived from his touch for years. 

You press against the edge of the desk, feeling the bulge forming under Johnny’s dress pants and heat pools between your thighs. Your hand dips under his waistband, feeling his warm and veiny shaft harden at your touch, twitching as your fingers wrap around his girth. With one full stroke from his base to his tip, he shudders. Your thumb rolls over his slit, his hand cups the back of your head and fingers grip your roots, tilting your head to look at him. 

“Tell me you want me too.” He softly growls, his forehead pressing against yours. “I can’t be the only one.”

You grin, slowly stroking his shaft and watching him melt under your touch. “I need you.” You whisper against his lips. “Let me taste you.”

Johnny takes half a step back and you drop to your knees, fingers hastily moving to bring his waistband down his thighs. Before he could take in the sight of you on your knees for him, you envelop his tip between your lips and his jaw drops at the warmth your mouth offers. As your tongue swirls around his sensitive tip, his head tips back and his teeth bite down on his knuckle to stop the noise he so desperately wants to make. 

Swallowing around him, saliva runs down your chin as his tip meets the back of your throat. Your eyes begin to water and when you look up at him, mouth full of his heavy cock, your tears spill from the outer corners of your eyes and he gently swipes them away with his thumbs.

“You’re doing a great job, baby.” He coos, the pads of his fingers gently stroking the space under your eyes. “You’re so perfect. Taking me so well.”

Your tummy does backflips and you squeeze your thighs shut, focusing on the bobbing of your head and the swirl of your tongue. Your cheeks hallow around his tip, sucking it until his lips break apart with a moan, jaw slacking and chest huffing up at down. 

“My perfect girl.” He babbles, fingers gripping the roots of your hair. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come for you.”

Excitement ignites just behind your bellybutton, sucking on his tip just as you’ve done before. His eyes flutter shut and his brows draw tight. Johnny quietly groans your name, whispering it over and over like a prayer. His cheeks burn and his fingers twitch just before he tightens his grip in your hair.

And before he could stop it, his thick creamy ropes paint your tongue as his body stills, letting his entire body feel the ecstasy you helped him achieve. With a quick swallow of the remnants in your mouth, you pepper his sensitive tip and shaft with gentle kisses. 

Helping you to your feet, his lips crash into yours while his hands frantically grope your backside. But before any other exploration could happen, a notification on his phone goes off. 

A small frustrated groan rumbles in his throat and he pulls his phone out to see the notification that the ride he’s requested is arriving. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, glancing at Johnny’s phone then catching his eye. 

“Yeah, our ride is here.” He sighs, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead. “We should probably—”  He tilts his head towards the door and you simply nod, quickly readjusting your clothes before Johnny leads you out the door hand in hand.

Johnny slides in next to you, fingers lacing between yours and his head resting on your shoulder. The hints of his cologne mix with the smell of alcohol on his lips, and while you’d find it completely unpleasant if it were anyone else, Johnny was the exception. 

And part of you entertains the idea that he’ll always be an exception.

— Apartment 3B.

“Thank you for tonight.” Johnny gives you a lopsided smile, the alcohol still coursing through his bloodstream. “Not just for what happened in Yuta’s office, but for letting me get to know you a little more.”

“Yeah, it was fun. A night away every once and a while doesn’t hurt.” You nod, feeling the cool air prickling your skin. 

There’s a beat of silence, unsure of where to go from here. You shift on your feet, looking behind you at the entrance of your apartment building and Johnny glances towards his parked car, fingers fiddling with the keys in his pocket. 

“I should probably go.” Johnny’s lips press into each other, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You must be tired.”

A tiny grin dances on your lips. Stepping forward, you reach for Johnny’s wrist as he pulls his keys out of his pockets. He looks at you surprised, lips parting slightly. 

“I can’t let you drive after drinking tonight regardless of how much you can ‘handle your liquor.’” You let out, gently tugging on his wrist. 

“You’re right.” Johnny sighs, looking back at his car. “I’ll sleep in my—”

You lift your palm to stop him. “You’ll be warmer in my place.” Giving him an affirmative nod, you pull him towards your building’s front entrance before he could object and you refuse to let his hand go as you both walk up to the third floor to your apartment. 

As you push open the front door, you feel the surge of anticipation run through you as you blindly search for the nearby lightswitch. When the bright warm colored lights fill the room, you quickly step in and both you and your guest for the night toe off your shoes, kicking them to the side of the entrance way. 

“Nice place,” Johnny compliments, “very cozy.”

You chuckle, turning on your heel to look at him. “Thanks. C’mon, I’ll give you a quick tour.” Extending your hand out, he cups his palm into yours but this time, he pulls you into his body – one hand finding your waist while the other cups the side of your neck and his lips hastily find his way to yours once more. 

You don’t take a second to think about what to do next when your hands frantically undo the buttons of his long sleeve shirt and strip it off, throwing it haphazardly behind you while he drops his pants to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. It takes a split second to have your clothes in a pile next to the front door, leaving you in your matching garment set.

You’re stumbling through your apartment entrance, finally tumbling on top of Johnny as he falls onto your sofa. Climbing on top of him, knees pressing into the cushions of each side of his thighs, his erection hardens with every minuscule movement of your hips. 

“Finally gonna let me be on top?” You playfully ask, trailing kisses against his jaw and down the side of his neck. 

Johnny rasps a laugh, arms wrapping around your hips and in one swift move, he’s on top of you — giving you your answer. 

“Not a chance.” He hums as the tip of his nose brushes against your cheek just before placing a soft tender kiss on your heated skin. “Now open—” He smacks the side of your thigh, the slap of flesh filling the silence of the room. “I need to taste you after you’ve deprived me for so long.” 

You do as he says, spreading your thighs apart as you watch Johnny drop to his knees. Pulling aside the fabric covering your core, he wastes no time tasting you with a long strip of his tongue against your slit. Your head presses into the soft backing of your sofa, fingers raking through his hair as he devours you with no end in sight even when your vision blurs into stars or when your chest heaves up and down, and certainly not when you’re a whimpering mess with your nails digging into your cushion and gripping the edge of your seat.

Your body trembles when he gives you mercy, pulling away with his lips and chin glistening with your slick. You grab his hair, yanking him to your lips and your hands busy themselves with the waistband of the only fabric he has on. Slipping it down his legs and letting it pool around his feet before kicking it to the side, you give his long length a few pumps until his jaw slacks open as he feels all his blood rush to his cock. 

Aligning his leaking tip with your entrance, he pushes into you, pressing your thighs to widen your spread for him. And with ease, you take him without hesitation. 

“Your cunt is starving for me, baby—” Johnny groans, “begging me to stretch this pretty pussy open until you’re stuffed full with my cum.”

Blood rushes to your face and your heart races. You watch the way Johnny’s blown out pupils scan your features, suddenly making you extremely aware of how intoxicating his movements are — the quick and brutal thrust of his hips, the rush of heat through your body when his tip meets that sweet spot, and especially when his fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you down his cock. 

You don’t bother being quiet. Not when Johnny pushes your knees to your chest and traps your body between him and the couch cushions, feeling your pulse pick up in speed and the octave in your moans becoming louder and louder with every pound of his cock into your soaking cunt. 

“Scream for me, baby.” Johnny growls, the raw slapping of flesh punctuated by a groan. “Let everyone know I’m breeding my girl. Let them know you’re mine.”

His words only rattle in your head, making you nod and babble like the obedient slut you are. You cry out his name, tears prickling from the outer corners of your eyes as you writhe under him. 

“Say you’re mine.” He orders through clenched teeth, hips harshly thrusting into you before stilling, feeling his tip press into your g-spot and making your eyes roll back. “Say. It.”

“Y—” Your breath hitches. “I-I’m yours.”

You mindlessly repeat the words, satisfying Johnny as his hips mercilessly snaps into you until you’re sobbing out how pathetically close you are to the edge; unable to hold on to the last bit of control you’re desperately clinging on to. 

Your voice breaks as you cry out his name, feeling your walls tighten around every crevice of his engorged cock. Your eyes roll back, nails scraping down the skin of his back as his face buries into the crook of your neck. You whimper through the pleasure and your desperate noises are enough to make his voice crack on a moan, feeling him empty himself inside of you in sharp pulses. His cock twitches and a gravelly groan rumbles from his chest, pinning your hand into the sofa cushion with his eyes screwing shut and jaw slacking open at the bliss coursing through his body.

When he pulls his heavy cock out of you, the remnants he left behind slowly drip out of you and onto your flushed skin. Johnny smirks, using two fingers to scoop up the spill and push it back inside. 

“It's dripping out of you already.” Johnny grins, fascinated with the sight of you limp and satisfied. 

“Maybe you should fuck it in me again.” You happily let out as you prop yourself on your elbows. “Harder this time.” 

“That wasn’t hard enough for you?” Johnny questions, an eyebrow quirking and his grin spreads wider, sharp enough to make your pulse skip. “I’m gonna have to fix that, don’t I?”

“I think so,” you tease. “Unless you think you don’t have it in you?”

Johnny laughs deep in his throat, a laugh that promises trouble. “Oh you’re definitely going to regret saying that.” 

❁❁❁❁❁

The ache between your thighs is difficult to ignore as you carefully pull yourself out of bed to make coffee for yourself and the unexpected overnight guest who laid peacefully with his body heat keeping you warm last night. 

“Where are you going?” He groggily asks, one eye squinting as he lifts his head to watch you throw on your silk robe. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving me again.” His sleepy smile sends your heart into overdrive and you give him a reassuring peck on his temple.

“I’m gonna make coffee.” You whisper. “Its also my place, where else would I go?”

Johnny sheepishly smiles, falling back onto your pillow as you walk out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. As you wait for the coffee, the silence makes you think back on the night you had — a night that somehow surpassed the pleasure of the first time you spent with Johnny. You find your giddy state to be slightly embarrassing, but you can’t help but quietly squeal as if you had reached a new level of happiness. 

“I love the smell of coffee in the morning,” Johnny yawns, joining you in your kitchen still in his boxer briefs. He takes a seat on a countertop and carefully takes hold of the mug you offer, taking a small sip. His eyes flutter shut, allowing the warm liquid to work its way through his body. “Not the best cure for a hangover, but addicting nonetheless.”

You chuckle, taking small sips of your beverage. “What do you want for breakfast?” You ask, setting down your favorite mug and making your way to the fridge. You pull the double fridge doors open, quickly embarrassed by the emptiness in front of you. “Ah, on second thought—” You let out an awkward laugh before it falters into a fake cough.

“Breakfast is on me. Is delivery okay?” Johnny swoops in, hopping off the counter. 

You eagerly nod, delighted by the idea that you get to finally spend the morning after with Johnny. 

Johnny disappears into your bedroom to fetch his phone, meanwhile your attention turns to the front door after hearing your doorbell. Peaking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see your elderly neighbor, Mrs. Kang, outside with her lip tucked between her teeth and her brows knitted together. 

You quickly open your front door and a wave of relief washes over your neighbor’s face when she sees you. 

“Oh thank god!” Mrs. Kang lets out. “You’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I am. Is everything okay? Do you need help, Mrs. K?” 

Your elderly neighbor shakes her head. Her short dark bob swung at her movements. “It’s just, I didn’t hear you come home last night and then I heard these noises coming from your apartment. I called my daughter to see what I should do — if I should check in on you when I heard the noise or call the police right away…”

You nod attentively as you hear her express her concern. A mix of embarrassment about how loud you were and the regret of not throwing on your sleepwear makes you uncomfortably adjust your robe. You hold the fabric together near your collarbones, almost afraid Mrs. Kang could somehow see you’re completely naked underneath. 

“…but she told me to check in on you in the morning. So here I am.” 

You nervously gulp, suddenly feeling you’ve done something wrong. “I’m so sorry to worry you, Mrs. K. I went out for drinks with a friend of mine and didn’t get in until late.”

“But the noises—”

“Hey baby, do you want a breakfast sandwich or are you feeling—” Johnny’s voice becomes clearer as he appears behind you, still in his underwear, eyes glued to his phone screen, and completely unaware of your neighbor’s presence or her wide eyes when she finally connects the dots in her head. 

“Oh.” Mrs. Kang simply says, finally grabbing Johnny’s attention. She bites back a sheepish grin, avoiding eye contact with you and the handsome man behind you. “Ah, the noises make sense.” 

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kang. I wasn’t—I didn’t—I-I’ll keep it down, I promise.” You profusely apologize, using your arm to push Johnny behind you in fear that his half-naked body would somehow send your poor neighbor into cardiac arrest. 

“Not to worry, dear. I was young too and had my share of midnight friends.” Mrs. Kang giggles. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you for checking in. I’ll give you my number, that way when you’re worried or need help, you can just call me directly.” You quickly jot down your personal phone number on a nearby memo pad. 

“And your name, dear?” Mrs. Kang looks at Johnny who is now using your front door to hide his promiscuous state. 

“Oh! Uh, I’m John. John Suh, ma’am.” You catch a hint of redness paint over Johnny’s cheeks and travel down his pale neck. “I apologize for the noise. I told her to keep it down last night.” 

With a quick nudge to Johnny’s bicep, you give your neighbor the piece of paper with your number. “I’m so sorry, again.”

Mrs. Kang lifts her hand, palm facing you. A warm smile stretched across her face. “It’s no problem. I’m just glad you're safe." 

“Thank you, Mrs. K. Just let me know if we’re a bother or anything. We won’t take offense, I swear.” 

“Will do, dear. Have fun you two.” 

You and Johnny wave an awkward goodbye before he slowly shuts the door. When he turns to you, he gives you a small laugh under his breath as he scratches the back of his neck. “That was awkward.” 

You give him a knowing look, crossing your arm over your chest. “Told me to keep it down last night, huh?” Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts to the side. “Weren’t you the one telling me to do the opposite?”

Johnny gives you a lopsided smile before his palms cup your cheeks, pulling you in to give you a kiss on your forehead. “Back to breakfast, what do you wanna eat?” 

“Surprise me.” You mumble into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. “I trust you.”

Cupping the back of your head, he lifts his phone and orders breakfast from a familiar diner that he’s ordered from before, getting the both of you his regular order. 

“Now that’s settled—” Johnny tosses his phone onto your couch and swoops you up over his shoulder. A squeal leaves your lips, legs flailing as Johnny saunters into your bedroom.

“What’re you doing?” You giggle as you’re gently thrown onto your mattress, watching as Johnny climbs on top of you. His fingers play with the fabric holding your robe together before tugging at it, watching the silk unravel and slip down your shoulder. 

“Having a pre-breakfast.” His devilish grin disarms you quickly, allowing him to spread your thighs wide. “This time, you might wanna keep it down…for your neighbor’s sake.”

— The Morning After.

Walking into the break room, you’re greeted by Mina and her insanely bubbly personality at 7:30 in the morning. “How was your weekend?” She asks, taking a generous bite of a donut that another employee brought in to share.

You can’t help but bite back a smile, fingers busying themselves as they shuffle through the newly stocked bags of veggie chips to snack on later. Spending the entire weekend with Johnny wasn’t something you’d plan, but between the fucking, the cuddling, and the pure bliss of simply being around each other made it hard for either of you to be the first one to let go of the hold you two had on each other. 

“It was fine. How was yours?”

Mina babbles on and on about how she rearranged her bedroom twice, had a virtual meetup with some friends back home, and started a rewatch binge of The Big Bang Theory for the 5th time. 

From the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar figure coolly sauntering into the room with his hair parted perfectly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, and shining the same glow you’ve had since Friday night. A few morning greetings are thrown his way and Johnny kindly returns polite conversation before interjecting into your conversation with Mina. 

“Morning Mina.” Johnny smiles politely, then turns to you. “Morning, boss. Think I could pick your brain before our meeting today?” Johnny asks, eyes locked with yours as if he’s giving you a message only you’ll understand.

“Putting her to work before 8 am? You’re brutal, Suh.” Mina teases, tossing the used napkin in her hand into a nearby trash bin. 

“What can I say? I gotta keep her focused.” Johnny laughs quietly, then turns to you. “What do you say?”

You nod at Johnny before wrapping up your conversation with Mina. Following closely behind Johnny, he opens his office door and gestures to you inside. When you hear the door’s lock click, Johnny’s hands find your waist, twisting your body and pressing his against yours. 

“So, this is your idea of picking my brain?” You giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling his lips to yours weaving them together like you’d done this entire weekend.

Johnny smiles against your lips, fingers cupping the nape of your neck. “This weekend wasn’t long enough.” 

“It’s a good thing you see me here everyday, huh?” 

Johnny hums. “And yet, it somehow feels like that won’t be enough.” 

With your palms firmly pressed into Johnny’s chest, you pull away from his kiss. “You’re obsessed.” You playfully remark, carefully moving the strand of his hair that’s fallen onto his forehead.

“Come over after work.” Johnny offers, lips leaving a trail of kisses on your cheek. 

“Next, you’re gonna ask me to stay the night.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” 

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes searching for sincerity in his. Then you realize where you are — at work, with your co-worker peppering you with kisses in secret.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, afraid he’s crossed a line he can’t come back from. “I-I’m sorry.” Quickly dropping his arms, he steps away to give you space. 

“No, no. You didn’t—” you quickly say. “Maybe we can keep things professional during work hours. The last thing I want is for us to lose our jobs because we can’t keep our hands off each other.” 

Johnny nods in agreement. “We’ll keep things professional during work hours. I’ll take what I can get.” He looks at the digital clock sitting on his desk. “We have 10 minutes before our work shift actually starts. Does that count a—”

Biting down on your bottom lip, your hand snakes behind the back of his neck to pull him down to your lips. But just before you could meet his lips, his office phone startles the both of you when it rings and Mr. Choi’s name pops up on the screen. 

Johnny grumbles quietly before lifting the receiver to his ear. Johnny greets the manager simply, listening to his words and rolling his eyes in the process. 

“Sure, I’ll head up in a bit.” Johnny says before hanging up. He looks at you apologetically, holding your hand in his. “Choi wants me to meet some fresh college grads for an internship here. He says he’s pairing one with me and that I should meet her before the internship actually starts.”

You don’t mean to focus on such a minor detail, but your mouth works faster than your brain sometimes. “Her? Your new intern is a woman?”

You see a small grin tug on the corner of Johnny’s mouth. “You’re kinda cute when you’re jealous. Your nose crinkles a little when your eyebrows—” Johnny reaches to press his thumb against your furrowed eyebrows before you swat his hand away. 

“I’m not jealous.” Your attempt to make your words sound less defensive but the amused look on Johnny’s face makes you realize he can see right through you. 

“That’s good,” Johnny reassures, “because there’s no reason to be. I’m yours, remember?” 

You press a smile as you feel his lips pecking against your cheek. Pushing down the uncomfortable feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, you file this jealous feeling under irrationality in your brain. 

After all, Johnny is loyal — to a fault sometimes, like Jaehyun shared. There’s nothing you need to worry about.

Right?

❁ disclaimer | do not copy, repost, translate, or modify any of my writing. do not share my work on other platforms without my explicit permission.

STUPIDITY KNOWS NO BOUNDS

You swear your boyfriends are stupid. You've always known that when boys get together, their intellect goes down by quite a bit but witnessing it in action… is a whole other story.

Minghao and Hansol came as a pair. It was rare to find one without the other and in the underground racing world, they were known as the deadliest and fastest duo there ever was. Sure, they were different in many ways — their unique styles in fashion being one of them — but if there was one thing that the both of them loved and shared, it was the thrill of the game. Hence, it wasn't that surprising when rumours started spreading that they also shared something — or someone — else.

Minghao's been on the tense side recently, having made a few minor mistakes in an underground race that he partook in a few days ago. To anyone else, it would've been fine but you know your boyfriend and Minghao is a perfectionist, through and through. He still won the race but you knew that those mistakes were tugging at the back of his mind every time he spaced out when he was home. Hence, he needed an outlet, which so happened to be you.

He mentioned this to you before during one of your solo dates, but your presence has a way of making everything calm. You just have a way to make everything feel easy and his mind that normally races with a hundred and one things, just quietens when he's in your comfort.

However, Minghao wasn't the only one feeling off this week.

Hansol is normally really easygoing. In the time that you've spent dating the two of them, you realized that nothing really phases him and he always thinks with his head, not his heart. However, you know that he's been having trouble with his cars and he's had a few shitty days of bad races on the other side of town. Hence, he needed your comfort just as bad as Minghao did.

This lead to the two of them almost fighting for your time. Normally, you thrive a little on it, loving the effect that you have on them but as the tension kept building over time, you knew that it would eventually overflow if they didn't talk about it.

And overflow it did.

It was a small glare here and there, the atmosphere being a little tense in the room if you weren't there but then it started to get a little more intense when they started to talk to each other with clipped tones over a tiny mistake or two.

You were worried but you knew that they won't get physical with each other because no matter how angry or upset they were with the other, they both were aware and rational enough to know that violence was never the answer.

Racing on the other hand… was a free game.

Which leads you to this moment where you are sat next to your childhood best friend, Joshua who also owns part of the underground street racing scene.

"This is so stupid." You mutter under your breath. Joshua gives you a side glance before smirking as he leans back in his chair.

"The racing or the fight?"

"Both." You scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms, your eyes fixed on the monitor that has a multi-camera view for you to see the route plus a tracker on both cars to see who finishes first.

Joshua fixes you with a familiar intrigued and mischievous look. "And here I was, under the impression that they agreed to not race on the same track after what happened two years ago."

You grimace, remembering the reason for that decision. It involved you as well but it was more of a rational decision than an emotional one, a just in case if you will. It was a particularly bad and memorable race for the both of them. You remember waiting in the stands, your anxiety through the roof as the cars revved their engines to start. There were six racers that day, your boyfriends occupying two out of six of the slots. It had started raining while they were waiting for the race to start and although that normally makes the race more interesting as winning is more dependent on the driver than the car, you had a bad feeling in your gut.

Minghao and Hansol had assured you that they would be fine, the two of them giving you a kiss before sliding into their respective cars but, you still felt uneasy. You watched with Joshua from the main room (being both their race engineers) as they sped away, the ache in your chest getting more tense as they went sped down the narrow and wet roads.

It was during the second lap where you noticed something wrong with Hansol's car, causing your heart to drop further in your stomach as you radioed it in. Due to the rain though, the connection was particularly bad which meant that Hansol had trouble hearing you and by the time he connected what you were trying to tell him, it was too late.

His brakes stopped working and his car skidded straight into one of the barriers that was setup, knocking him unconscious. As if it couldn't be worse, you weren't able to convey the information to Minghao, causing the man to crash into the other side of the barrier a few meters away, just to avoid crashing into Hansol.

You felt your heart break as you immediately collapsed into Joshua's arms when you witnessed the crash from the screen in-front of you as you broke into a fit of sobs. Minghao made it out with a minor concussion and a few scratches, having already been prepared for the worst of it but Hansol on the other hand, was unconscious for a day in the hospital.

You refused to leave his side, no matter how much Joshua and Minghao tried to convince you, as you blamed yourself for this happening. If you had just pushed a little harder, convinced them a little harder about the bad feeling in your chest, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Thankfully, you woke up the next morning with Hansol's arms wrapped around you, accompanied by his soft snores in his hospital bed. You cried tears of relief that woke him up, blinking blurrily at you before he gently comforted you, assuring you that it wasn't your fault.

When Minghao came in a few minutes later, having gone to get the three of you breakfast and saw you in that state, it only took a shared glance between your boyfriends for them to come to the consensus that the they weren't allowed to participate in the same race anymore. One of them always being by your side just in case the worst happened.

However, you guessed that rule went out the window the second they started yelling at each other in a quick fit of anger after you stepped out to do some grocery shopping for the two of them, only settling it when one of them suggested to race.

"I guess men's intellect and common sense really take a toll when they're together." You deadpan, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Joshua feigns hurt. "Hey!" He pouts. "You can't stereotype all men like that."

"I can when you and Jeonghan display the same exact energy when you guys are together."

"Aww and here I was thinking that I was your favourite, sweetheart." You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you glance behind you, seeing Jeonghan walking into the control room, dressed comfortably in a plain white tee with a bomber jacket, jeans and a beanie.

"I'm pretty sure Hao and Non will physically beat you up for even suggesting that, Hannie."

The older man sends you a smirk. "They don't have to know, sweetheart."

"You're dreaming if you think you're her first choice after us, Hyung." Minghao says, his voice crackling as it came through the control room speakers. "I also advise that you tone down on the 'sweetheart' calling, she's known as 'Rookie' and only 'Rookie' to you."

Jeonghan's mouth twitches as clicks his tongue. "Point noted, geez. Don't need to put your claws out." He teases, his hands raising in mock surrender even though Minghao couldn't see him. "Such possessiveness."

You roll your eyes before dishing out the headsets for both the men beside you to connect them to their respective drivers. When they had agreed to do this race, you immediately opted out of being a race engineer for either of them because you didn't want to get in between whatever this was (even though you were already in between it). Hence, you called your two older confidants to give the callouts and to make sure your boyfriends were safe, no matter who won the race. All the radios were connected to one singular channel but you think that each of them having their own space would also be good because that might help to resolve whatever was going on.

Or at least you hope it would.

You grab your own headset, placing it over your head before switching everyone to the general channel with the click of a few buttons on the control panel.

"Test, test. Can everyone hear me?" You ask, slightly adjusting your headset mic.

"Loud and clear, Baobei." Minghao's voice says first making you smile.

"Yep." Hansol clicks his tongue as you hear a little bit of shuffling. "Crystal clear, Angel."

You smile fondly to yourself before you purse your lips and look at the track.

"You know you both don't need to do this." You whisper into the microphone, gnawing at your bottom lip as you try one last time to convince them out of this. "We can talk it out here right now and then go home."

You feel Jeonghan and Joshua exchange a few glances behind your back but you try to ignore them and focus on what your boyfriends are going to say.

"We're already here, Baobei." Minghao says, trying to keep his voice light and airy so that you don't worry. "You also dragged Jeonghan and Shua Hyung here to help us so we might as well make the most of it."

"He's right, Angel." Hansol's voice cuts through and even though you can't see him, you know that he's nodding his head. "We promise we will be safe, we just need to settle this and this is the best way to do it."

Minghao lets out a hum in agreement, making you sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose. You want to yell at them or tell them off because you can think of a hundred other ways to deal with this without either of them getting upset by the end of the night or in any injuries but, they're too far gone to listen.

"Okay." You steel your emotions, the tone of your voice going neutral. "Ground rules." You say, adjusting the mic once more as you spare a glance at Jeonghan and Joshua. "I want a clean race, you two. You two can shit talk each other as much as you want but if there is any sign of cheating, the two of you are sharing the couch till I say so."

The protest of your sentence is immediate. "What?!" They both exclaim.

"Baobei, you can't be serious." You roll your eyes.

"I am serious, Xu." You chastise, hating everything about this race. "If any harm comes to either of you that is inflicted by the other, I will be pissed."

The line goes quiet at that the tone in your voice indicating to your boyfriends that you are indeed not joking. "Moving on." You say, clearing your throat as you grimace, looking at the route that they chose.

V8.

You don't know whether it's ironic or poetic.

The race starts off with an uphill zigzag path, followed by a ton of different eight round bends that really test a street racer's skill and ends with what everyone calls the leap of faith which is a downhill slope that is so steep, it feels like you're taking a leap of faith.

You describe the course to your boyfriends — even though they probably know it by heart — before setting the race rules. "As you both are aware, there are ramps around as well as shortcuts but use them safely and at your own risk. Shua and I went through just now to remove debris because no one has used this course in months…" You click your tongue. "so, take everything with a pinch of salt and be careful."

"Jeonghan and Joshua are here to assist you guys with route guidance and route guidance only. They are not allowed to tell you how close the other is because that's F1 and we don't run motor sports here."

That gets a soft chuckle out of the four men with you as your lips twitch, a ghost of a smile wanting to form.

"Any sign of a Jump, will be considered a false start and the other person will be automatically considered the winner. Lastly, and because I need this fact to be drilled into both your heads, any sign of foul play, I'm calling the race off and both of you are sleeping on the couch. Understood?"

The line is silent for a little bit, making you slightly annoyed as you clear your throat. "Understood?" You ask again, your tone reflecting seriousness.

"Yes." The two of them reluctantly murmur out.

You lean back in your seat with your arms crossed. "Good." You say. "I'll start the countdown."

You click at a few of the buttons on the dashboard as you peer at the time.

11:39pm.

You let out a slow exhale, hoping that this race will end before twelve before you flick the starting switch for the countdown lights.

Red light illuminate the track as you peer at the two cameras beside you that show both your boyfriends in their respective cars.

"I love you both." You whisper out. "Please be safe."

The two of them simultaneously eye the camera that's in their cars as they give you a smile.

"We'll be safe, Angel." Minghao nods, echoing Hansol's sentiment.

"Regardless of the outcome of this race," Minghao starts, leaning in closer to the camera. "We both love you and each other very much, Baobei."

You should feel a little more reassured after Minghao says it and Hansol nods, but you can't help that same uneasy feeling in your gut and chest that something was just about to go wrong. However, you know that both of them are far too deep into this to stop now.

You close your eyes to steel yourself as you let out a slow exhale before you nod at the two older men beside you before you flick the second switch that officially starts the race.

A steady beep rings out through the speakers before the lights change to yellow as Minghao and Hansol rev their engines, which seem to charge your body as well, the antipation of the race leaving your body on edge. "Ready. Get set…"

Your adrenaline rushes and your heart pounds in your ear before the light switches to green and the resounding beep rings through the speakers.

"GO!"

The effect is immediate as your boyfriends speed down the zigzag paths, making you hold your heart race as you watch them from the monitor in-front of you. You silently tune Joshua and Jeonghan out as they advise your boyfriends, having been amateur street racers long before them and just watch the cameras as you will your heart to slow down.

They will be fine. You internally tell yourself as you gnaw on your bottom lip. Right?

You lean back into your seat as you close your eyes, letting the engines roar in your ear as you sigh.

It either ends really well or really badly.

THE EGO FUCK UP

Two laps in and everything is smooth so far. You wince every time one of them makes a risky drift or takes the shortcut that you aren't sure is cleared or not. You had to have lost around a decade of your life just sitting here and watching your boyfriends eagerly battle it out in cars.

"Your drift there was a little risky, wasn't it, Hansol?" Minghao's voice rings out in the joint channel as he smoothly overtakes the younger man. You spare at a glance at his monitor, grimacing as you see Hansol's jaw clenching as he lets out a dark chuckle.

"Just learning from your drift a round ago, hyung." Hansol says coolly. "I need to learn from my seniors, don't I?"

Minghao's face doesn't change but his knuckles turn white at Hansol's words, making you sigh as you click the button that deafens them from the three of you.

"It's going well so far." Joshua gently says, giving you a smile.

You scoff, shaking your head. "If you call the name-calling and insults that rile them up even more and make them reckless, 'going well'." You sarcastically quip, raising your hands to make quotation marks. "Then, yeah! It's going great!"

The two older men share a look as you sink further into your chair, the build-up of anxiety getting a little too much for you.

"Rookie." Jeonghan gently calls, giving you a comforting squeeze on your arm. "Did you try telling them how you feel about all this? I mean, you basically have a free card that you can pull in a few minutes."

You glance at the clock.

11:55pm.

You sigh, shaking your head. "I don't even know if they remember." You admit quietly. "They've been talking about this stupid competition for the last week and whenever they spend time with me, it's to rant about the other one and I'm genuinely so sick of it."

You watch Jeonghan and Joshua share a look before the younger of the two scoots his chair over to tug you into him, letting you rest on his chest. You lean into your childhood friend who is like a brother to you. "What if they actually forgot, Shua?" You ask quietly, your voice cracking slightly.

You feel Joshua sigh underneath you. "I'm sure they didn't, darling." He assures quietly as he presses a kiss to your temple. "They love and adore you too much."

"You can say that again." Jeonghan says with a playful scoff. "Do you not remember your big birthday bash two years ago where they rented out the whole go-kart place with arcade machines?"

You bite back a fond smile as you recall that, you offhandedly mentioned once that you were a big fan of surprises during one of your movie nights with them. You didn't notice it then but they had shared a glance when they heard about it and just started surprising you with things whenever they could.

A bouquet of your favourite flowers here and there. Sometimes they saw a book that you have on your 'to be read' and immediately bought it for next day delivery. They also loved to buy you little trinkets that reminded them of you to put in your display shelf (which is running out of space) in your gaming room.

The biggest surprise was the one that Jeonghan had mentioned where you confided in them that you wanted to try an arcade and go-kart place because you never had the chance to when you were younger. Being the overachiever boyfriends they were, they got you a two-in-one with all your friends.

The two older men beside you were right, there is no way that they don't remember. They hadn't mentioned any plans yet but that was normal if they were planning on surprising you again this year.

You peer upwards at Joshua offering him a soft smile before you do the same with Jeonghan. "Thanks guys." You softly say. "I needed that."

Jeonghan gives you a genuine smile as he ruffles your hair. "We always got you, Rookie. Don't you ever forget it."

Your smile grows wider at his words before something catches your attention from the corner of your eye.

You immediately sit up and stare outside the control room windows to see that it had started pouring. The uneasiness in your gut flares as you gnaw at your lips, looking as the rain hit the control room windows. You dial back into the call with Minghao and Hansol.

Your head spins as you go back into race mode, moving both boys back to the their respective calls with the older ones. "Check tire and car condition with both." You command, making the two older men nod before unmuting their headsets to talk to their respective drivers.

You monitor the route as the rain continues to pelt down heavily. You tune out the men beside you as you switch between the cameras that are left on their respective route. Your eyes flit around the screen as you flick through each camera scene. You let your eyes linger for a few moments to see if there's anything out of the ordinary before repeating the process with the next one.

All is good till you reach camera eighty-four that is right at the last infinity bend. You were about to pass it over when you notice one of the trees swaying a little too much to the side. Your eyes narrow, your finger twitching as it hovers over the microphone button to pull all of them into the collective call.

The tree stops swaying making you breath a sigh of relief before moving your hand from the button. However, your heart stops when you notice something rolling from the corner of your eye. Your eyes immediately flick to it to see a boulder rolling down the nearby mountain. Your blood runs cold as you watch it knock into the nearest tree, breaking it and causing it to tumble down onto the path that both Hansol and Minghao are racing through.

Your adrenaline surges as you press the button, bringing everyone into the general call. The call immediately fills with overlapping conversations from both groups. You vaguely hear them talking about different strategies but you couldn't care less, more worried about the blockage in the road.

"Boys!" You interrupt, immediately halting all the conversations. "I need you both to slow down right now."

There's a brief period of silence before they both immediately start protesting. Minghao is currently just slightly ahead of Hansol, trying his best to not block him.

"Rookie." Minghao calls, his voice serious. "What is it?"

"There's a blockade on the road so I need the two of you to pull out now." Your boyfriends go quiet as soon as you say that, their focus still on the road but you watch as they contemplate your words, as if they are trying to find a workaround to what you are saying.

Your eyes flicker between both the screens as your patience starts to wear thin, your anxiety shooting through the roof. "Hello?!" You ask, your tone one of panic. "Did you guys not hear what I just said? There's a blockade in the middle of the road that the two of you are going to crash into—"

"How big is the blockade, Rookie?"

You freeze upon hearing Hansol's question cut through your panic.

"I beg your fucking pardon?" You blurt out, unable to stop yourself as you feel your blood start to boil.

"The blockade, baobei." Minghao affirms but this time with the loving nickname, as if it could placate you from the annoyance you're starting to feel. "How big is it?"

"You guys can't be fucking serious." You answer, your fists slowly clenching on the desk as you feel your anger rising with each word they were saying to you. "Turn back, right now. I'm being serious."

You watch the gears turn in your boyfriends heads before Hansol speaks. "Hyung." He calls, completely ignoring your earlier sentence which makes your heart drop. "How far till blockade and how big is it?"

Joshua looks between you and Hansol's face on the camera footage in-front of you before his eyes flicker towards the route map where time to impact is stated.

Five Minutes.

"Shua." You warn, your tone wavering as you stare at him with a pleading gaze, hoping that he will back up your decision.

"Hyung." Hansol tries again as he takes the lead from Minghao who lets out a groan of frustration, his palm smacking the steering wheel as he watches Hansol pull ahead by quite a bit.

"Hyung." Minghao tries this time. "Time to impact so I know if I can overtake?"

Jeonghan hesitates, watching your head whip to him as he contemplates whether he should tell your boyfriend.

"Hannie." You warn before turning back to your boyfriends.

"Xu Minghao. Chwe Hansol." You warn as you stare at the time until impact on your screen. "If the two of you do not turn your cars around, there will be consequences."

Three Minutes.

"Rookie, we're in too deep to stop here." Minghao sternly says as he changes gear and tries to overtake Hansol.

Your heart lurches as you see how close the cars come to knocking each other. The rain pelts down harder and the road narrows as they round the last bend, meaning they were only a couple of kilometers away from the giant tree that's blocking them.

"Hyung." Hansol presses harder, his grip on the steering wheel tight as he tries to fight of Minghao's advance. "Time to fucking impact!"

Joshua stares at you, almost stunned that the two hopelessly in love men were not listening to you. Your boyfriends in the car start to overlap their yelling, demanding that their race engineers tell them the time from impact so that they can plan accordingly while you sit there, your face pale as your palms begin to sweat.

You're speechless as you watch them still fight it out despite all your words, your heart racing as you watch them get closer and closer to the thing that will be the death of both of them.

One Minute.

"Fuck it." You hear Minghao whisper before he reaches over to turn off the camera in his car. You watch from the monitor as he speeds ahead, causing Hansol to immediately break, to slow his car down before he hits the other male.

"Hyung." Hansol yells. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Winning." Minghao says smoothly as you hear him shift his gears before seeing the car speed up on the monitor.

"Mother—" With that, Hansol also turns off his camera meaning that the three of you are blind to the egotistical drivers that are down there on the track.

"What the fuck are you two doing?!" You exclaim, standing up now as you slam your hands on the desk, a last ditch effort to get the two of them to turn around. "Please." You plead into the microphone, your eyes getting slightly watery as you watch them get closer and closer to the tree.

"Fifty seconds." Joshua whispers as you fumble with the dashboard in-front of you, flicking through the different cameras there till you found one that showed you exactly where they were on the track.

When you find it, you hit a few more buttons to trigger the path following on the device as you watch the cameras change in-front of you to follow your boyfriend's cars.

They ignore you, still swapping positions with each other as you feel like throwing up, the anxiety in your chest getting too much as you watch them get closer and closer to the tree.

"Guys." You sob out, nearly begging at this point. "Please turn around."

"Thirty seconds." Jeonghan says softly, making you slam your fist against the desk as you watch the distance between them and the tree. You wonder why they're doing this, why they are silent and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

You heart races. They're wearing you down, wanting you to crack and tell them the impact timing because they know you care too much about them. You feel your heart crack as you watch them go down the road.

"Fifteen seconds." Joshua says, his voice in a slight panic as he stares at you.

You angrily wipe your tears away. "Fuck it." You mutter before putting your microphone closer to your mouth. "Ten seconds, blockage is the same size as the fucking truck we saw yesterday."

You sniffle, pushing down a sob. "Good fucking luck." Is the last thing you venomously whisper before you tap out, not wanting to see your boyfriends risk their life for some fucked up competition.

You rip the headset off and slam it down onto the control room dashboard making the two men beside you jump. Without wasting another second, you pick up your things before picking up and walk out the door. Joshua recovers first and is quick to follow, ripping off his own headset to chase after you as you try not to angrily break down.

You don't make it very far as Joshua catches up to you with his significantly longer legs. He pulls you into him with ease as you try to wrestle out of his grip, needing to get away for your own sanity. You're fighting a losing battle as he tugs you firmly into his chest and wraps his arms around your center to keep you from leaving.

When it becomes clear that you aren't able to break out from his grasps, you break down into it instead. Joshua's hand runs through your hair, soothing you as you sob into his chest, feeling all the tiredness and overwhelm that you've been struggling to keep at bay for the last week or so.

"I hate them." You whisper into his chest. "Why are they so fucking stupid."

Joshua sighs as he presses a kiss to the top of your head as he moves his hand to slowly run up and down your back. "Ego, darling." Is what he answers after a couple of seconds. The two of you don't say anything else after that, Joshua letting you focus on regulating your breathing so that you stop crying.

Stupid fucking ego.

The two of you stand like that for a while, Joshua letting you take as much time as you need as your breathing starts to even out. You both hear a scuffle of footsteps, making you lift your head from Joshua's chest to see Jeonghan with his hands in his pocket.

"Are they okay?" You whisper out, unable to help how much you care about your idiotic boyfriends. Jeonghan gives you a weak smile before nodding.

"They both reversed and took a shortcut a couple of metres back." He shoots you a sympathetic look. "The race did end in a tie though."

Your heart drops.

A fucking tie.

All that for a fucking tie.

You close your eyes, a heavy sigh already building in your throat. This couldn't be worse.

The loud sounds of engines revving and drifting makes the three of you turn to the entrance of the outdoor carpark. The lights make you wince as you squint to see your boyfriends arriving. They don't bother to park and just turn off their engines before getting out of the car.

You expect them to walk straight to you first but Minghao instead slams his car door shut hard and walks over to Hansol, cornering him to the side of his car.

"What the fuck was that there at the end, Chwe?!"

Joshua and you blink at the sight as Jeonghan grimaces, remembering how they almost ran each other off the road at the end there.

"Driving, Xu." Hansol replies, his tone dry and pointed as he shows no sign of remorse. "But I could ask you the same for what you pulled at infinity turn forty-eight."

Minghao's jaw clenches. "Watch your tone, Chwe." He venomously seethes, jabbing a finger into the latter's chest. "You forget that I'm the older one here."

"I don't fucking care." Hansol bites back, grabbing Minghao's hand tightly. "Your recklessness nearly ran both of us off the fucking road."

"You did the same fucking thing towards the end there, Hansol."

"Well, like I said, I'm learning from my senior."

Minghao scoffs before leveling Hansol with a glare. "Well, let's fucking go again then." Minghao says as the younger one folds his arms. "If you are that good of a driver and you learned everything from me, you should be able to beat me without the fucking helpline of the tree right?"

"Oh that's easy." Hansol says, a smirk on his face from riling up the older man. "At the end, you wish you had the fucking helpline of the tree as you did today."

You see Minghao fume as Hansol gets up in his space. He shoves Hansol backwards and opens his mouth, ready to tear him a new one.

"Both of you, shut the fuck up!"

The two men immediately freeze, hearing you yell at them before turning to face you, their faces a little pale.

You, on the other hand, are fuming.

"Are you two even listening to the words coming out of your fucking mouths?" You ask, your eyes stinging with hot tears. "You both tried to kill each other out there!" You angrily brush at your eyes as Joshua gives your shoulder a squeeze, trying to ground you.

"Breathe, darling." Joshua whispers into your ear as you glare at the two boys you love so much.

"I told you both that this was a fucking stupid idea and you two wouldn't even listen to me! Your girlfriend that's been with you both for the last three years." You shake your head, your words getting softer and softer as you stare at them, slightly defeated. "You both didn't need to settle this on the stupid track. The three of us talking it out would've solved everything but no."

You glance between the two of them. "The two of you needed to show the other that you were better and broke the promise that you made to me two years ago. Is proving your worth to each other that important?"

Hansol and Minghao share a look before Minghao steps closer to you cautiously.

"Baobei." He softly calls out as he reaches for you. "We didn't mean for this to happen."

Hansol nods, also trying to get closer. "We're sorry that we got angry at each other and for the race. I swear when we do it again tomorrow—"

You bitterly laugh as Joshua's hand tenses on your shoulder, sensing the oncoming rage. "Tomorrow?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, when we actually can find a winner."

Joshua internally sighs as his grip on your shoulder tightens, hoping that it will help to ground you so that you don't unleash fury on the two men in-front of you. His hope however, goes down the drain when you break out of his hold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?" You lash out, the tears flowing freely down your face from how angry you are. The two men are stunned again as they stare at you before you toss your hands in exasperation. "I'm fucking done." You say as a laugh with absolutely zero humour escapes you.

"If the two of you race again tomorrow." You fix them with a hard stare as your heart breaks with the next words that come out of your mouth. "I'm done with you two."

Before either of them could even process what you meant or stop you, you turn on your heel and walk off. It takes one look from your childhood best friend to understand what you need as he gives you a small nod before taking your hand into his and walking off with you to his car. Joshua tosses your boyfriends a look of disbelief before shaking his head at them.

Hansol and Minghao just watch as you get into Joshua's car and leave, speechless and unsure what they did wrong. They fix each other with a look as Jeonghan stands there, looking at the two of them in utter disbelief.

"What just happened?" Are the first words out of Hansol's mouth as he stares at Jeonghan, hoping he knows the answer. Minghao, on the other hand, runs through every possible scenario in his head.

Jeonghan lets out a scoff at the clueless expression on both their faces. "You two are really stupid, you know." He deadpans out, making the two look at him a little more exasperatedly.'

He sighs, realizing that he needs to spell it out for them. "Both of you need to put your fucking egos to the side for second and look at what just walked away from you." He points towards where you and Joshua were. "That girl has been so patient with the two of you for God knows how many weeks, listening to the two of you argue while trying to be the middle ground for you both. She's been dividing her time, without any regard for herself and her well-being and she even let you both proceed with this stupid race despite her begging you not to do it."

Jeonghan shakes his head. "You guys claim that she's the best thing to have ever walked into your lives but because of this stupid fucking race, the two of you forgot the one thing that you promised to continue doing despite however much you were angry at each other." He pins them with a hard gaze. "Both of you broke your promise of remembering important dates."

Hearing that, Hansol immediately pulls out his phone before looking at the date for today.

12:48am on the 29th of June.

Hansol feels his heart shatter as he lets out a wrecked gasp, the date finally clicking in his head. "Hyung." He calls out to his counterpart who looks at him as Hansol shows him the screen. Minghao's face pales as it clicks into his head, his heart dropping into his stomach as his mind races.

Jeonghan watches the two of them go through mixed emotions and the five stages of grief before sighing.

"You two better find a way to fix this." He softly says. "If not, you're going to lose the most important person in your lives."

You can't remember the last time you've felt this empty. After Joshua took you to his place last night, he immediately sprinted to his closet to pull out your favourite hoodie of his and a pair of sweatpants that you left the last time the two of you had a sleepover. He ran a bath for you before he ushered you to it, wanting you to relax as much as possible.

When you had enough of the bath, you walked out of the bathroom to see that Joshua had ordered all your favourites. Stir fried mala sits on the table alongside your favourite bubble tea order as he gives you a smile.

You had given him a look of surprise, knowing how he felt about such an unhealthy combo. He just gave you a simple shrug and responded with a soft, "Figured we could use it today."

Those words alone were enough to cause your eyes to water as your older brother figure immediately plated you a plate with all your favourite ingredients. He passed you the bowl before putting on 'How to Train Your Dragon'. The intro of the movie plays as you leaned against his sofa, staring at the bowl of mala with a frown.

"Do you think I was too harsh on them?" You ask which makes Joshua stop eating, his food halfway to his mouth. He fixes you with a soft look before shaking his head as he places his chopsticks back onto his bowl.

He makes you look at him. "Darling." He softly says. "They were being absolute idiots. You had every right to act the way that you did because they hurt you with their actions. If you didn't stand up for yourself back there, they would've continued acting like that and you were doing what was right for yourself." He fixes you with a look.

"If you didn't do that, I would've probably done it for you anyways."

A soft watery laugh escapes you, which makes a small grin tug on Joshua's face. His hand goes to ruffle your hair in a very elder brother way before he gestures to the food in your hands. "Eat." He softly says. "And watch the movie, we're missing the best part."

You give Joshua a small smile before you nod and scoop up a spoonful of mala to eat. You turn your attention to the movie but you can't help the feeling of emptiness in your chest as you do. You love your boyfriends, you really do but they really hurt you and you couldn't help but feel less important to them. However, you couldn't bare the thought of having to actually break up with them. You loved them, you were sure of that. They filled your life with so much joy that you can't imagine dating or loving someone, the way that you love them.

Yet, on the night where they were supposed to treat you like a queen, ringing in your birthday, you spent it on your best friend's floor with a broken heart.

You sigh as you shake your head, your recollection ending as you stare at the ceiling in the guestroom of Joshua's house. You contemplate just staying in Joshua's house the whole day but you immediately push that thought aside because it's your birthday, you should do something you want to do instead of rotting in your best friend's house.

Luckily, Joshua shares the same sentiment as you.

"That's an amazing idea, darling." He says as he packs a tea to go for you as you're finishing up the special birthday breakfast that he had prepared for you.

Bacon and pancakes with a side of orange juice.

You had smiled when you first saw it, it was a childhood favourite of yours and it definitely brightened up your day just a little more.

Joshua walks over to you, placing the thermos on the table. "You did say you wanted to finish up the car before August so that you could show it to your parents when you go back and see them."

You swallow your last bit of food before nodding, a small smile on your face.

"It's a good distraction for sure." You say quietly as Joshua gives you a sympathetic smile. He glances at your phone that had been laid flat on the dining table.

He raises an eyebrow at it, "They haven't tried contacting you at all?"

You spare a glance at it, the pit in your stomach deep as you shrug. "I don't know." You answer honestly. "Put it on do not disturb as soon as I came here last night." You shake your head. "I don't wanna hear any of their half-excuses at the moment."

Joshua gives you another sympathetic look before reaching over and squeezing your hand. "Well," His tongue darts out to wet his tongue. "Happy Birthday, Sweetheart."

You give your older brother figure a small smile before he leans and gives you a kiss on the top of your head. "I should get going." You say softly, standing up. "Before the calvary arrives because they think they've given me enough space."

Joshua lets out a soft chuckle at your use of words as you give him a quirky smile. You slide your phone into your back pocket as you sling your bag over your shoulders. Joshua stands up with you as he holds your thermos of tea.

"Let's get going then." He says, giving you a smile as he opens the front-door for you.

FIRST MEETINGS

Joshua drops you off at your workshop before he presses a kiss to the top of your head and speeds off with the promise of seeing you after he finishes the errands he needs to run. You bid him goodbye before digging through your bag for the keycard to your garage.

A beep is heard before you push the door open and breathe in the smell that you've grown up with your whole life, your body immediately relaxing at the familiar comfort.

While Minghao and Hansol seek the thrill of the drive, you prefer to know the ins and outs of the machine. You had always been in love with cars, your dad being one of the main engineers for street racers back in the day. You always hung around and helped him grab his tools, your eyes wide with awe as he always manages to find whatever was wrong with the car.

Hence, he trained you for it, letting you take care of the workshop every other day so that you get some hands-on experience. Funnily enough, that wasn't where you met Minghao and Hansol.

It was one of the slower nights in the workshop. You spun on one of the chairs in the garage as you tossed a wrench up and down, your boredom reaching a new high. You almost fell out of your chair when your phone rang, piercing the silence.

"Shua?" You asked, a little confused as to why your best friend was calling you.

"Hey, you busy?" Joshua asked as his background noise booms in the background.

You winced a little at the loud sounds. "No, but where the hell are you? Why is it so noisy?"

Joshua ignored you, telling you that he was going to send you an address and to be there as soon as you could before he hung up the phone. You stared at your phone, bewildered as you wonder what the hell was going on.

You sighed before you made your way to lock up. If there was one annoying thing that your best friend knew how to do, it was to entice you enough that you'd drop everything to see whatever he was doing.

You get out of the car and stared at the underground racetrack with a confused expression on your face. What the hell was your best friend doing here. You walked through the different areas, taking in all the details of the place while keeping a keen eye out for your best friend.

"Darling!" Your ears perked up as you turn to the source of the greeting. You smiled to yourself as you saw Joshua jog to your side before he pulled you into a tight hug. "You made it!"

You scoffed. "You knew that I would come, Shua." You flicked his forehead. "Don't act all surprised now."

Your best friend let out a yelp from the pain before a pout appeared on his lips as he rubbed the spot you just flicked. "You hate me." He whined out, making you scoff.

"If I did, I wouldn't have locked up the shop early for you, dummy."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Joshua's face as soon as you said that statement as he feigned sentiment. You rolled your eyes before you grabbed his hand. "C'mon, show me whatever you want to show me." You muttered, which made Joshua let out a breath of a chuckle before he dragged you away from the current area.

"Why are you at a street racer course anyway?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at your best friend.

"Well, I own this establishment." Your jaw dropped open as you stopped walking, jerking Joshua back a little. He glanced at you, a confused expression on his face which meets your shocked one.

"You own an underground street racing establishment?" You asked, repeating the words slowly as if you had hoped that the words become more believable if you did.

Joshua chuckled at your expression and nodded. "Yep." He said, popping his 'p'. Without another word, he dragged you off towards God knows where as if everything was now suddenly clear.

You rolled your eyes at your best friend as you give up, letting him drag you wherever because you would have an easier time getting answers when Joshua was not so tunnel-visioned on where he wanted to go.

He dragged you through multiple crowds before the two of you appeared in-front of the VIP section. The security guard gave him a once over and a nod before letting the two of you into the closed off section.

"Shua!" A voice boomed over the music, making the two of you whip around to see a man with a leather jacket and jeans on, with a beer in hand. "Was wondering where you hurried off to."

The man glanced at you before a smirk appeared on his lips. "Well, well, well." He whistled out. "Looks like you brought a new friend."

Your best friend let out a scoff before he tugged you closer to him. "Out of your league, Jeonghan."

The man, Jeonghan, feigned a flabbergasted gasp as he placed his hand on his chest. "Ouch, Shuji." He muttered, a fake pout on his face. "Way to hurt a guy, why don't you."

Your best friend rolled his eyes before he said your name to the man in-front of you. "This is Jeonghan."

Jeonghan's expression did a full 360 as he gave you a smirk and a small salute with a wink. "Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "I wonder why Shuji has been hiding you all this time."

"Probably because she's uncomfortable with you calling her sweetheart, Hyung." Your ears perked at the new voice that caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. You turned to see lanky, tall man, who was leaning against a nearby wall with blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses on the top of his head. He donned a white sleeveless shirt that effectively showed off his tattoos that dotted his arms and a pair of dark brown cargo pants with some timberlands.

He eyed you, making your pulse jump at the intensity of his gaze, feeling slightly warm under it. He was definitely one of the most attractive men that you've ever seen. Jeonghan scoffed, shaking his head as a ghost of a smile lingers on his lips.

"Minghao." He greeted, raising an eyebrow. "Where's your counterpart?"

Minghao doesn't answer at first, his gaze unwavered from your figure which makes you fidget slightly, a little exposed under his gaze. He noticed, his lips pulled up into a small smirk before he looked at Joshua and Jeonghan, acknowledging them for the first time since he had arrived.

"Hansol went to grab the two of us a drink." He answered easily before he pushed off the wall and made his way over to you.

"Are the two of you not racing today?" Joshua asked with a raise of his eyebrow. Minghao nods at that.

"We are. Hansol's just grabbing us some sparkling water before we have to head for the drive."

He stopped walking as he reached your side, his gaze calculated as he stared at you.

"Minghao." He said after a beat, reaching out his hand for you to grab. You blinked, a little stunned by how forward the handsome man was being before you took his hand into yours as softly replied with your name.

Minghao's lips quirked a little when he noticed your cheeks heat up as he tested how well your name rolled off his tongue. The air felt a little charged and dangerous as he held your gaze, your heartbeat in your ears before he pulled his hand back when someone held out a drink for him.

Everyone's gaze fell on the newcomer who made your breath hitch. There stood a man with the most gorgeous face and mullet that you've ever seen. He was dressed comfortably in a sleeveless ripped hoodie with ripped skinny jeans and a pair of gloves on.

"Ah, there he is." Jeonghan said, his gaze twinkled with mischief as he looked between you and the boys. "Hansol, meet Shuji's best friend."

Hansol's eyes pierced through your soul as he gave you a once over, just like Minghao had done before he held out his hand for you to shake.

"Pleasure to meet you." You felt hot under their gaze as you muttered the same, shaking the man's hand.

Jeonghan clapped his hands. "Right, not to be the weird party pooper here." He said cheekily, causing your cheeks to heat up more as he gave you a wink. "But I think our racers need to get to their starting positions and we should probably head up to the main control booth.

Jeonghan hooked an arm around Joshua's shoulders before he dragged him a little, making Joshua lose his grip on you. The older man gave the three of you a look before he dragged your best friend with him, despite his protests.

"Come find us when you're done, sweetheart." Jeonghan threw back to you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You silently cursed the man that you just met as you felt the heat of the two good-looking men's gaze on you.

You turned to them, a timid smile on your face as you shifted uncomfortably.

"Is this your first time at an underground race?" Hansol asked, noticing the minor fidgeting you were doing. You let out a nervous breath of a laugh as you nodded.

"Is it that obvious?" You wondered aloud as you eyed the two of them. A faint smirk appeared on Hansol's face as he nodded.

"Just a little, you look a little out of place." Your heart stuttered at that as you frowned.

"Like I don't belong?" You asked.

"Like you're a little too innocent for the likes of this." Minghao answered before he took a sip of his drink. The low rumble of his words made your stomach flutter as you willed for the heat on your cheeks to disappear.

"Is that a bad thing?" You asked, your voice soft as you peered upwards at the two of them.

The two shared a glance as you watched a common understanding pass through the two of them before they turned back to you as Minghao shook his head.

"Not at all, Baobei." He said, leaning in closer. The nickname made your heart stutter as Hansol leaned in as well.

"Just means we got a thing or two that we can teach you, Angel." The double meaning of his words and the low rumble of his voice made your stomach do flip flops as they stared intensely at you, making your knees feel weak.

A sound was heard from the speakers before you could even reply, which effectively broke the spell and hold that the two of them had on you. They glanced at the speaker.

"Well," Minghao drawled out. "That's our cue."

Hansol nodded as the two of them took a step back from you. "Will you cheer us on?" Hansol asked making you blink at them as they stared at you in anticipation.

"Probably." You answered. "I mean the two of you are the only drivers I know." You blurted out before even having the chance to stop yourself.

Minghao's smirk grew as he gave Hansol a look.

"Good." He said before he reached out and gave your hair a small ruffle. "Let's keep it that way."

You swear your heart skipped a beat or two after he said that as Hansol fixed you with a smirk. "See you after the race, Angel." He sealed off his sentence with a wink. "Can't wait to get to know you better."

With that, they left you standing there, a little dumbfounded as they prepared for their race. You stayed glued to the spot for a few minutes before you shook yourself out of it and composed yourself as your thoughts raced.

You had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into but as you recalled their faces through your mind, you bit back a grin.

What was the worst that could happen?

KISS AND MAKE UP

You don't know how many hours you've spent working under the hood of your dream car but when you pull yourself out from under it and actually check your phone after wiping your hands on the washcloth, it's already 5pm.

You sigh before you let your eyes drift lower to stare at your lockscreen. It's a picture of the three of you during one of the first few underground races after the three of you made it official. You feel your emotions get stuck in your throat as you see the big smile on your face as Minghao and Hansol just stared at you, a soft and fond smile on both their faces as they looked at you instead of the camera.

You feel your heart clench as you contemplate checking your notifications. You sigh before you turn off your 'do not disturb' and let the notifications roll upwards.

62 Missed Calls from Hansolie <3 48 Missed Calls from Hao <3 22 Unread Messages from Hansolie <3 24 Unread Messages from Hao <3 296 Unread Messages from 'The Reason We Drive'

2 Unread Messages from Hannie 1 Missed Call from Shua 1 Unread Message from Shua

You sigh, placing your phone back face down onto the desk as you smack your face lightly. "Get it together." You mutter to yourself. The amount of time you spent here really did help to clear your head but with all the muck and grease over yourself, you really need a shower before you even think about answering any of those messages.

You huff before pushing yourself off of the desk and tidy up your workspace before going to the washroom to take a shower, the dirt and grime making your skin crawl. You step out of the shower in a pair of ripped jeans, a fitting top with a windbreaker and sigh, feeling a lot more refreshed.

You walk back to your workshop, using the towel to dry off the remaining bits of water in your hair when you freeze, noticing the door to your garage open. You frown, recalling that you had shut the door behind you because you remember hearing the magnetic lock click in place after you did.

You slowly creep to the workshop as you hear some shuffling inside as well as some soft voices. You peak your head through the door before your heart stutters. Out of all the people you were expecting to see, Hansol and Minghao leaning against your workshop table, talking more than they had in the last few weeks, wasn't one of them.

"What the hell." Are the first words to leave your mouth, which alerts the two men who whip around to see you standing there, looking super confused.

The two man immediately scramble to stand up as they give you a nervous look, fidgeting every few seconds. You eye them skeptically as you slowly walk into the workshop, the towel still in your hands as you glance between them.

"How did you get in here?" You ask, a small frown on your face as you scrunch your eyebrows. "Better question, how the hell do you guys even know about this space?"

The two share a glance as you cross your arms.

"We might've dropped by Shua Hyung's house." Minghao admits, scratching the back of his neck. You raise an eyebrow at that, urging them to continue.

"We might've begged him to tell us where you were and when he wasn't looking, stole the keycard for your workshop." Hansol finishes.

Your eyes narrow. "How did you even know that keycard was for here?"

Hansol lifts up the keycard and stuck onto the card was a label which had your name and garage behind it in a cursive font. You roll your eyes. Of course your meticulous best friend had labeled the keycard so that he wouldn't forget what it was for.

The workshop has always been a sacred place for you, you never really told anyone about this place since your father had given it to you and it was a place for you to come to when you needed some sort of escape.

Joshua was the only one who knew about it because he had dropped by many times when the two of you were younger and after your dad had given it to you, it felt right to give him a keycard for access at all times.

"Well," You huff, unable to escape the inevitable conversation anymore. "You guys found me. I'm fine and you guys can go now." You try to step around them to retrieve your things when Hansol reaches out, gently grabbing your hand.

You've always been a little weak to either of their touch so it's no surprise when he's able to easily pull you back to stand in-front of them. You internally curse yourself for being a little easy but you still refuse to meet their eyes.

"Baobei." Minghao softly calls, ducking his head a little to try to meet your eyes. You stubbornly look away, making the older man sigh. "Can you look at us, please?" He softly begs, his tone sounding a little exhausted, almost as if he didn't sleep well.

You refuse, gnawing on your bottom lip which makes them change their strategy.

"Angel." Hansol starts, fidgeting with his hands. "We're sorry."

You stare at the floor as he continues. "We were stupid and let our egos get the better of us because we were frustrated at ourselves. We didn't mean to take it out on each other and more importantly…" You feel Hansol grab your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We didn't mean to take it out on you."

You purse your lips, still refusing to answer as you feel Minghao approach you before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as his head sits on your shoulder.

"We're also sorry for breaking our promise to you, to keep you happy and to always remember the special days. Even though we didn't mean to forget, it's no excuse because you mean the world to us and we're sorry that we didn't listen to you."

You feel Minghao brush a kiss to the side of your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Please forgive us."

You internally sigh before composing yourself as you pull out of their grasps to fully look at them. "It really hurt when the two of you wouldn't listen to me." You softly say as you fidget with the zipper of your windbreaker. "It felt like nothing I said mattered to you guys and I was just a personal comfort thing for both of you. It was like I didn't actually matter in this equation between the two of you when we're supposed to be in a relationship together."

You feel your eyes start to prick with tears as you sniffle. "It felt like I was just walking on eggshells in my— our own apartment, the one place that I am meant to feel the safest and I… I grew tired of it." You glance between the two of them as you watch their faces crack, the guilt in their eyes evident. "I was only there when you needed someone to rant to or someone to affirm what you guys were angry about. Neither of you asked me about my day or even cared enough to see if I had eaten. Even when I was tired, I still felt like I needed to cater to you two because I love you both so much and seeing you both fight really broke my heart."

You see their hands twitch, especially Hansol's, who wanted nothing more to reach out for you, to comfort you, but they were waiting for you to finish, not wanting to interrupt you.

"I don't really care that the two of you forgot my birthday." You admit softly, taking a step closer to the two of them. "I just didn't want you to get hurt because I love you both with everything I am and I can't imagine my life without the two of you."

As soon as you finish your sentence, Hansol is up from the desk and he all but tugs you into his warm embrace, his breathing a little shaky as his whole body wrecks with emotions.

"Angel." He softly breathes out into your ear, his voice shaky and soft, as if he was scared that you were going to disappear if he spoke any louder. "We're so sorry. We didn't mean to make you feel like you needed to take on the weight of the world. It was stupid of us and we were only thinking of ourselves and we know that it's no excuse but we want to make it up to you, please."

You bit the inside of your cheek, to will the tears that dot your waterline to not flow over as you breathe in Hansol's comforting woody scent before you smell a hint of an earthy light scent as Minghao wraps his arms around you as well, placing a soft kiss to your temple.

"He's right, Baobei. You have every right to be angry with us and you should care that we forgot your birthday. It's the one day where we're meant to celebrate you. Not that we shouldn't celebrate you everyday anyway, but it's the one day where the universe blessed us with you by bringing you into this world. We can't imagine not having you in our life and we're sorry that we let our ego get the better of us. We shouldn't have fought over who is more worth your time but be grateful that you choose to spend your time with us and love us despite how flawed we both are."

You peer upwards at the older man who gives a soft kiss to your forehead. "We love you." Minghao says, his voie barely above a whisper as he pulls back from you and gets on his knees, making your eyes widen as Hansol does the same.

"Please forgive us."

You glance between the two of them on their knees for you as a bewildered giggle escapes you as you smile at them, wiping away the tears in your eyes.

"You're both idiots." You say as you reach for both of them to tug them up. "Please get off the floor."

A ghost of a smile of relief lingers on Minghao's lips as he shakes his head. "We can't." He says, tugging you closer to the two of them, which makes a surprise giggle escape from your lips. "You need to forgive us first, Baobei." He says, bringing your hand to his lips as he brushes a kiss onto them.

Hansol nods, as he places his hand on the back of your thigh, making you squirm a little as he looks up at you. "Please say you forgive us, Angel."

You glance downwards at them as you realize the position that the three of you are in. Heat pools on the underside of your belly as you see the way that they catch on too, their eyes darkening beneath you.

You swallow before feigning a ponder, trying to keep your heart from racing. "Well…" You drawl out as you look between the two of them. "Maybe the two of you should show me how sorry you are." You softly say, letting your eyes pierce into theirs as you watch their pupils dilate slightly. "Then maybe, I'll forgive you."

There's silence for a little bit as they share a glance before they turn back to you with a smirk on both their faces.

"With pleasure, Baby."

Those are the last words that fall from Hansol's mouth before your boyfriends move. Minghao stands and pulls you into a searing kiss that elicits a gasp from your lips, making him groan as he slides his tongue into your mouth. Hansol, on the other hand, moves his hand upwards and under your shirt before he pushes himself up slightly on his knees to be able to kiss all around your stomach.

You feel yourself getting wetter at their touch as they continue to overstimulate you with their touch, each making your knees weaker and weaker. You let out a whiny moan as Hansol starts to tease your nipples, pushing your bra upwards for easier access. Minghao bites lightly on your bottom lip, making your mind blank as he continues to kiss you as if you are providing him with the oxygen to breathe.

Minghao pulls away, pressing two chaste kisses on your lips as the two of you catch your breath before your boyfriends move you towards where your car is. Hansol rips the canvas off of the car and lets out a low whistle as he catches the make and model of it.

"Damn, Angel." He looks at you, his eyes filled with lust as he gives you a smirk. "A baby blue 2004 Mazda RX-8?" You blink at him, slowly registering his question as you nod, your brain still foggy.

Minghao sends his partner-in-crime a smirk as he pulls you toward the car to lay you on the hood of it. He hovers above you as he eyes you up and down and devilishly smirks at how wreckced you already look.

"What a perfect car," He hums as he unbuttons your pants and pulls it down along with your underwear in one swift motion, making you gasp as the cold air hits your wet pussy. "To fuck you on."

Before you even have a chance to register his words, his mouth is on you, eating you out like a starved man. You gasp as your back arches and your eyes bulge. Hansol is next to you in a matter of milliseconds, his hands tight on your waist which effectively stops your squirming.

"Shhh." Hansol coos as he spots a few tears leaving your eyes. "Be a good girl and let Hyung eat you out like you deserve." Those words make your mind blank more as Minghao captures your clit into his mouth and sucks as it, groaning a little which sends a wave of pleasure through you as the vibrations roll through your body.

Your eyes roll as Hansol takes the opportunity to lift your shirt and bra up fully and over your head, his one hand still steady on your waist before he dips his head and wraps his mouth around your right breast.

You let out a loud moan as Hansol massages your breast while sucking and nipping at your right one. Minghao takes that chance to dip his tongue into your hole, fucking you with his tongue that makes you lose all sense of your sanity.

"Fuck." Minghao drawls out as he glances upwards to see Hansol switching and continuing his ministrations on your other breast. "You taste so heavenly, Baobei."

You whimper at his praise as he dips a finger into your folds, making you let out a gasp as he gathers your wetness onto them.

"Want a taste, Hansol?" Hansol is quick to pull away and take Minghao's fingers into his mouth, sucking erotically as he eyes you, making your jaw drop open as that gesture causes you to clench around nothing.

Minghao notices and smirks as his pupils dilate more. "Think you need a better taste, Non." Minghao all but whispers as he pulls his fingers out of Hansol's mouth with a soft 'pop'. "Want it?"

Hansol nods, making Minghao smirk as he pulls Hansol in for a kiss, licking into his mouth to let the younger man taste the remnants of you on his lips. You, however, are not forgotten as Minghao sinks two fingers into you without warning, making your eyes roll backward as he fingers you, hard and fast.

Your boyfriends pull away from each other, panting as Minghao gestures his head towards you. "Go on." Minghao goads, his voice low. "Eat her out while I finger her, Hansol."

That's all the command that Hansol needs before his mouth is on you, making you let out a loud broken moan, your legs shaking as their touch brings you closer and closer to the edge. Minghao, who notices that you are pursing your lips, a tell that you are almost close, immediately angles his fingers until they hit your g-spot inside of you.

The first time he hits it, you nearly cum on the spot from the shock of it, your body wretching upwards and making Minghao's angle change.

He looks at you with a slightly disappointed look as he shakes his head before his other hand moves to pin you to the car. "Be good, Baobei." He says sternly as he fixes you with a pout. "We can't make it up to you if you thrash around like that, so be still and let us give you what a birthday girl deserves."

Before you could even sob out a reply, Minghao captures your lips into a searing kiss as he re-angles his fingers to hit the same spot, harder now. You whine into his mouth as he licks and nips at your lips as Hansol sucks on your clit hard.

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your right hand gripping and pulling at Minghao's hair which indicates that to him. He pulls away from your lips before leaning down to your ear.

"Be a good girl and cum for us, Baobei." He whispers, his voice rumbly and low.

That command is all it takes as you let out another whiny moan before the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum all over Hansol's mouth. Hansol doesn't complain. In fact, he does the opposite and groans into your pussy as he begins to lap up at your elixir, not wanting to waste a single drop.

You feel like you've just seen the stars as Minghao coos sweet words at you and gives you soft pecks as his fingers still move inside of you, chasing the high of your release. You lets out a whine, your body shuddering as you feel the start of the overstimulation, making your hand fly to Minghao's arm.

He glances at it and nods before he nudges Hansol, lightly with his foot. Hansol immediately pulls away from your pussy, the lower half of his face shiny with your slick, making your cheeks heat up as he gives you a slightly dazed smile.

You whimper as Minghao's fingers slide out of you, still sensitive from cumming. He brings his fingers to his mouth and leaks them clean while staring straight into your eyes making the butterflies in your stomach flutter as he groans.

You glance around for Hansol who is back at your desk, digging around your table for a little bit before he finds what he is looking for. He returns with some wipes and a bottle of water from his bag as helps you to sit up. He opens the bottle in one quick twist before placing a straw into it.

"Slowly." He gently mutters as he watches you drink the water. "Don't want you to choke."

Your heart warms at his concerns as he opens the wipes and hands one to Minghao. You watch, with the bottle in hand, as your boyfriends wipe you clean, making sure to be extra careful around your private parts as they don't want to overstimulate you. Minghao helps to pull up your underwear and pants as Hansol helps you adjust your bra and your shirt, brushing it downwards so that it doesn't wrinkle.

Hansol presses a chaste kiss onto your lips as he helps you to fix your hair, causing you to give him a small, lovesick grin which he returns before he plants a kiss onto your nose, making you giggle.

Minghao smoothens out your ripped jeans before rising and planting a kiss onto your forehead. "Do you forgive us, Baobei?" He wonders softly, looking at you at eye level as you give him a soft grin before nodding.

"I do." You say, giving him a quick peck on his lips. A cute smile appears on his face which makes your heart race as Hansol takes the bottle of water from your hand and shifts the straw for himself to drink.

"Good." Hansol hums after he gulps the water down. "Would be pretty awkward for the two of us to go to your birthday dinner without you."

Your heart flutters at his words as you glance between the two, a smile of excitement appearing on your lips. "Really?"

The two of them look a little offended by your question as they crouch down to meet your gaze a little better as you still sit on your dream car.

"Angel." Hansol starts, grabbing your hand into his. "We were serious about making it up to you. We will never ever forget your birthday again for the rest of our lives and if we do, you have full permission to leave us."

That pulls a soft giggle out of your lips, making Hansol crack a small smile as Minghao continues. "We love you, Baobei. We were in the wrong and we also re-promise that the two of us will not be on the same track ever again. Just because we always want one of you to be here with us because baby, you might not need us, but we both sure as hell need you."

You feel your chest ache at their words as you squeeze both their hands. "Silly boys." You mutter glancing between the two of them. "I sure as hell need you both too. So don't ever say something silly like that ever again."

Your boyfriends flash you smiles before you stand up, tugging them up with you.

"So…" You eye the two of them eagerly. "Where are we going?"

Your boyfriends sneakily glanced at each other before giving you a knowing smile.

"You'll see."

FOREVER AND ALWAYS

"I love you both so much." You sigh out, glancing at your boyfriends who are lying on either side of you on the grassy hill that they took you too. "This is absolutely perfect."

Minghao gives you a grin as he pushes himself up, leaning on his elbow. "Well, we know that you didn't want a big birthday bash this year so we decided that it should just be the three of us. Plus," He darts his tongue out to wet his lips. "Hansol and I had a lot of apologizing to do."

"And I forgive you both." You mutter. "You both planned an amazing birthday for me."

It's true, they had.

After they helped you to pack up the rest of your garage, you guys dropped by Joshua's house to give him back his key, which led to a twenty minute sigh-lecture fest from your childhood best friend before you physically had to push your boyfriends out of the door so that he doesn't rip them a new one for stealing from him.

You promised the two that they would get keycards from you in the coming days because you trusted them and it was honestly something that you should've given them a year or two ago.

Hansol was particularly interested in that because he wanted to help you out with fixing the car and learning from you. "It will probably help me to be a safer and better driver." He hums out in the car. "Not many racers have the knack for knowing what's going on in the organs of the car."

Minghao had scoffed at Hansol's word choices but was excited to see you in action, all the same.

They drove you to one of the nearby taco truck that is your go-to and ordered a few before they drove you to 'Lover's Hill'. A stargazing spot that had been on their mind for ages.

The three of you ate happily as they asked you to talk about the car before you guys started to stargazing at the beautiful night sky.

"It's our pleasure, Baobei." Minghao softly says as he leans in to press a kiss to your temple. "You are the reason we do this, y'know?"

You tilt your head to the side. "To do what?"

"Drive." Hansol answers, making you peer at him as he too, leans on his elbows. "You're the reason we drive."

You swear you're going to break down into a second fit of sobs if they continue to say things like this to you. "I love you both, so much."

Hansol and Minghao grin at you. "We love you more, Angel."

"Forever and always, Baobei."

You smile up at them before giving a thought crosses your mind, making you give them a small smirk. "Y'know…" You drawl out, pushing yourself up and leaning on your palm as you glance between the both of them. "This hill is called 'Lover's Hill for a reason…"

Your boyfriends share a glance before turning back to you, small smirks on both their faces.

"Oh, really?" Minghao asks softly, leaning in closer. You nod, your breathing hitching slighly at how close they're getting.

"Maybe you should enlighten us, Angel." Hansol says, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

You look between the two men in-front of you and smile to yourself at how much love the three of you have for each other and looking at them, you honestly see forever.

"With pleasure."

©livmarauder2026Thank you guys so much for reading my v8 birthday fic! I do hope you guys truly enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 More fics to come!! Like my work? Join my Permanent Taglist! All my fics are 18+, which means blogs without age or age indicator will not be tagged! If you like this, please consider reblogging or liking! It really makes my day! <3 Thank you for showing our hyperpop v8 street racers so much love!

“more.”

he kissed you once more.

“more.” you whined softly, not liking how he ended each kiss so fast. 

the only respond you received was a soft brush of his finger on your bottom lip as he said, “that’s all you’re getting tonight  love.”

nanami saw your dramatic expression change, frowning as though it’s the end of the world. a hearty laugh escaped him at your theatric, rubbing your cheek with the back of his index finger, his touch felt feather light against your side, “you’re terribly drunk, the only thing you need to be doing right now is sleep.”

“not drunk,” you mumbled, even though sleep sounded amazing in your ear right now as you felt your eyelids getting heavier by the second, nanami’s ever so softly touch didn’t help you in staying awake at all.

“if you say so,” he replied easily, getting up from his spot without words, leaving you alone in bed. you flashed an exaggerated pout as if the man could still see you, not knowing he’s already returned to the same spot within a minute with a familiar looking bottle on his right hand.

“i don’t wanna drink anymore,” you murmured, giving him a pleading look. nanami chuckled.

“i’m not making you drink this, silly girl,” he claimed gently, pouring three drops of the liquid content to a cotton pad you’re just now seeing, before wiping away your face tenderly like you’re made of glass. 

right. that’s your bottle of make up remover. “oh.”

the soft dab of the cotton on your face over and over made you sleepier, the consistent rhythm of rubbing and tapping nanami was working wonders, almost like a magician in soothing you. but the focused expression on his face as he leaned close to you held you back from going into the dream land. 

“you’re so handsome,” you whispered, staring the man like he hung the moon. 

“am i? thank you love,” he replied without missing a beat and at this point you knew this man would always respond patiently to whatever nonsense you were cooking in your mind even though it's easier to ignore what you're saying while you’re under the influence, instead he was spoiling you rotten.

“what about me? am i pretty?” you asked, eyes half-lidded. 

“the prettiest.” he smiled tenderly, stopping just to give you a smitten look before going back to work, the soft wipes of cotton underneath your eyes knocked you right into a daze, deciding to just close your eyes because it was too mush work to keep them opened

“ken?” 

“yes love?”

"d’you think cats are sad they don’t get to blow candles on their birthday?” you asked in a serious tone, half your body felt like it’s being pulled into slumber, nanami’s laugh sounded like as though it’s underwater.

“maybe, but they’re going to be even more sad if you don’t go to bed now,” he said, the last thing you heard was the sound of an object being put on the bedside table and the feeling of your hair being brushed gently. nanami saw it happened as your breath slowed, head limping to the side.

he kissed your head softly, adjusting the blanket and tucked you all proper.

DAY FIFTY-FIVE

YOU AND YOUR BOSS CALL IT A DAY AND RETURN HOME AFTER THREE SUMMONINGS, ONE AFTER THE OTHER. Today, you negotiated terms for fame and a plea for everlasting beauty. The last one, though, was interesting.

Jun had been summoned to a small apartment, where a single mother waited for him, begging for just enough money to send her only daughter to college.

"She just got into her dream school. She has scholarships, but it's not enough and I can't afford it. She has to go. She's been working for this her entire life.

I'll exchange anything you want. I'll pay every cent back if you want. You can have my soul, too. Anything—please. As long as you take nothing from her."

You were dumbstruck. Her daughter was living a life parallel to yours on the opposite track. Here was a mother who was willing to do whatever she could to secure her daughter's future, while shielding her from their struggles and from the consequences of dealing with the Devil. While yours… yours offered you to him on a silver platter. It was only by Jun's grace that it didn't work and another deal was agreed upon.

And it was by his grace again that this single mother wasn't given a deal at all. Instead, he told her this was a case better suited for God.

"I've already prayed so hard to God."

"She receives millions of prayers a day and does her best to attend to them. But I'll talk to her personally. She'll grant you a miracle that you won't have to pay her back for."

"'She'?!"

It was a short visit, but you know it's one you'll think about for the rest of your life—and maybe even well into your impending demonhood.

"That was really nice, Junnie," you tell him as you two slouch against the sofa, covered in ghost pepper chip crumbs and still in your work clothes—you in your stupid cloak, him in another jaw-dropping outfit—too lazy to get to your respective rooms right now.

"Ugh, don't start."

"What?" you laugh. "It was!"

"Yes, well, I'm not totally incapable of kindness."

"I know that!" you scoff, slapping the couch since he's too far to slap and you don't want to move. "It was just… very touching."

The silence that follows is a little heavy with a lot of unspoken words on your end, but you force yourself to sit in it. You don't know how long it's been when Jun says, "I know it's really gross and selfish, but I'm the literal fucking Devil so I can say this." You smile at the disclaimer. "I'm glad your parents were so shit." The smile is wiped off your face.

"Huh?!" you exclaim, sitting up straight to face him fully. "Why would you say that to me?"

"That's what you were thinking about, wasn't it?" he asks, the picture of composed as he remains unflustered by your outburst. He doesn't even bother looking at you when he says it, eyes lazily zoning out on the marble pillars bracketing the hallway to your suite. "How this girl has one parent who would do anything for her, including damning her own soul… and you had two parents who were perfectly fine with giving you away to the objectively worst person you can give someone away to? You were thinking about what must be so wrong with you that your parents couldn't love you the way that mother could."

It takes you a few moments to truly process what just came out of his mouth, and when you do, you're unexpectedly hurt by the words even though they're the same ones that have been bouncing around inside your head since the summoning ended.

You know he's the Devil. You know that thousands of years of stories and countless cultures have all painted him to be vile and cruel. Ruthless and merciless. But in the few months you've known him now, you've cast those stereotypes aside. It's clear to you that Jun is as good as you suspect God is—maybe even better honestly. After all, he's the one charged with punishing the wicked. He is justice and vengeance and karma, and while he can't deliver any of it while on Earth like God can, he still does it exceptionally well, down here in Hell. But even with how unfeeling his job forces him to be sometimes, he's been soft. He's been kind. He cares.

You would've never expected him to say something like this, and it's why you give him the benefit of the doubt before deciding to immediately start crying and screaming and demanding Hell expense you a therapist.

"What do you mean?" you ask hesitantly.

He shrugs, either missing how badly he's hurt your feelings or ignoring it. "I told you it was gross and selfish… but if they hadn't been so… nauseatingly despicable, you wouldn't have ever wound up here."

You pause, neither inhaling or exhaling—finding yourself kind of incapable of either, actually. You wanted to take a chance that someone wasn't trying to hurt you despite history saying otherwise, and you were right. Jun actually meant the opposite. In a really sad and messed up and yes, slightly gross and selfish way, the Devil was trying to tell you he liked having you here.

"DAD is over, y'know," you point out pathetically.

He chuckles. "Today was unique. You should remember you're appreciated today too." His voice gets stern all of a sudden. "But just DAD and today. Do not even think of feeling valued any other day of the year."

You grin. "Fine. I won't."

"Good."

You feel your muscles relax as you sink back into the cushions, relieved that Jun wasn't pointing out how unwanted you were by your own parents for shits and giggles. How funny—that in the end, you finally do feel wanted. By the creatures of Hell, no less.

"Do you have parents?" you ask quietly.

Jun inhales sharply, heaving a sigh before he answers, "The stars are my mother, the dawn my father."

You glance at him, ready to tell him to be serious, but when you see the wistful, almost sad look on his face, you know he is. You turn over onto your stomach, prop your chin on your hands, and openly stare at him. Feeling your gaze, he turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

"Do you miss them?" You don't know if it's a silly question to ask, especially since you can't fully wrap your mind around his parents being so abstract.

His questioning eyebrow lowers as he thinks over the question, those dark brown eyes piercing through you as he does. You think he looks human like this, so pensive and unsure. A world away from the confident, untouchable king everyone views him as. And maybe one time he was—human. You think you're lucky to be able to see him like this.

"It's been a long time," he finally says. "I sometimes think I don't remember them or that period of my life at all. But then I go to Earth at the magic hours just to catch a glimpse of them, and I remember that they named me Junhui—outstanding and bright. And I was loved… and cherished and so carefully raised to take my place here." He smiles a little sheepishly at you and shrugs. "And I don't feel like I need to miss them. They're everywhere I am and in everything I do."

You roll your lips between your teeth to keep them from trembling as your eyes water. He groans and rolls his eyes, pushing to get off the couch and away from you.

"Stop it!" you shout, lunging forward to grab a hold of his bicep and pull as hard as you can. Still, he barely budges and you know you only succeed at keeping him in place because he allows you to. "I'm sorry! That was just really lovely! And I'm already emotional from tonight! I'm only human!"

You mean it as a joke, but Jun looks at you with wide eyes, searching your face like he's making sure you're not going to have a mental breakdown on his sofa. When he sees you're not, he leans back into the cushions with you.

"Junhui," you repeat, saying his full name for the first time. "It's very beautiful. I love it."

He smirks but the blush that creeps onto his cheeks tell you it means more to him than he lets on. "Thanks. Don't go using it in front of everyone, darling."

"No promises," you joke. You won't. You knew the moment he said it, Junhui was something you'd want to keep for yourself.

You only remember your fingers are still wrapped around his bicep when he pries them off. You're about to rip your hand away and apologize, but then he transfers it to his own hand resting against his abdomen, staring down at it like it's the sky—something he'd travel to Earth every day to catch a glimpse of. He cradles your hand in both of his, so gentle, it makes you melt.

"I forget sometimes," he says. "That you're human." He traces the lines in your palms with his fingertips, the sensation sending goosebumps up the same arm. "It feels like you've been here my entire reign."

You laugh nervously, unsure why your palms are suddenly becoming clammy and your heart is thrashing in your chest.

"It's weird, huh? It's only been a few months." Jun nods as you take your hand back and wipe it furiously against your thigh under your stupid summoning cloak, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Do you still feel like you've been kidnapped?"

You blow a raspberry and pretend to think. "Uh yeah, because I was." He scoffs. "It might be gross and selfish to say, but I suppose I'm glad you did." You cringe at yourself. How was he able to achieve this kind of vulnerability without making it sound so cheesy? "At least I wound up here."

The smile that paints his face isn't like any smile of his you've seen before—so big and wide that his gums show and his eyes crinkle in the corners. His mouth makes that pretty heart shape you get to see so rarely, and it's impossible to refrain from mirroring his joy right back.

"Yeah?" he asks for confirmation.

"Mhm." You give it to him.

DAY SIXTY-THREE

"Hold it, please!"

You know from the way the voice doesn't gurgle with the sound of a little blood that it isn't any of the damned souls, so you comply, holding the elevator doors open for whoever asked you to (strictly forbidden for damned souls; in fact, you're expected to hit the emergency close button should any of them ask you to hold the doors). You shove a foot over the threshold without looking up from your tablet.

"Thanks," the man breathes, entering the lift. You hum in acknowledgment but don't bother looking up.

You instead try not to lose your concentration as you search for the best time to fit in grooming for Key, who you were just informed got thrown up on by another Hellhound who'd gotten into some cannibals while at doggy daycare. He will not be coming home with you until either you get him an appointment or Junhui himself cleans him up.

It takes you another minute or two and a few ascended floors to find the perfect gap in your boss's schedule for him to take Key over. You don't care that you're the assistant; you refuse to be near Hellhound puke ever again if you can help it. You send a quick ping to Junhui to let him know he will be taking his dog to the groomer before you finally look up.

"You're Y/N, yes? His Infernal Majesty's business manager?" the stranger asks now that you're not preoccupied.

You're put off more from the title than from the demon knowing your name. You look up to find a tall man, around Junhui's height, with a polite smile and long, luscious, dark hair that frames his face.

"Yes. Though 'business manager' is generous," you laugh nervously.

"That is effectively what your role is, no?" he asks, eyes twinkling as he tilts his head at you. "From what I've seen, you've really whipped this place into shape. You practically run half of Hell at this point."

"I do not!" you insist quickly, still overly sensitive to agreeing to anything that can misconstrue you as Junhui's opposite—or as Soonyoung keeps calling you, his queen. Ugh. "I'm just his assistant."

"Sounds like a gross understatement but fine," he relents. He places the hand not holding his briefcase against his abdomen and bows his head slightly. "I'm Minghao, from—"

"Minghao?!" you shriek, voice bouncing off the marble walls of the elevator. "Minghao from Accounting, Minghao?!"

He just barely subdues an amused smile and nods. "Yes. That would be me."

You fully turn toward him, tuck your tablet under your arm, and grab his hand with both of yours, shaking enthusiastically.

"Oh!" he startles a little.

"Oh my god, I have heard so many things about you," you inform him. "Your work on making filing taxes a never-ending form of torture was so impressive."

"Why thank—"

"I mean, making it so that every single box on the return references another form they're not sure they even have? Genius!" He grins wider as you shake your head in astonishment. "And that exercise at the soul intake window? The one that forces all new damned souls to do the math and figure out how many lives they could have improved if they hadn't carried out every, single bad decision they've ever made—is it true that was your idea?"

He blushes the way only a humble mastermind like him would. He coughs over another laugh and nods. "Ah yes, my first-ever contribution to Hell. I was just an intern back then."

Your mouth makes a small o at that piece of information you hadn't heard prior. "Wow. Truly remarkable."

"Not as remarkable as getting His Infernal Majesty to start an entire department dedicated to building a torture chamber specifically meant for the day that one, orange American arrives in Hell," he shoots right back, inspiring a roll of the eyes from you.

"Oh please. Bare minimum. Any respectable Hell would've already had one."

"Okay. How about creating Hell's first-ever paid holiday?" he points out, raising his eyebrows like he's suggesting it's something you can't refute. He doesn't know you, though. You can refute anything you set your mind to.

"That was more so I could have a day off than anything else."

"Still no small feat."

You shrug, not having much to say to that. If the demon is committed to complimenting you, you're not going to stop him. It takes him clearing his throat and pointedly staring down for you to realize you're still holding his hand in a handshake that's been long over.

"Oh god!" you exclaim, releasing him. "I'm sorry! Didn't mean to hold you hostage. I just got a little excited. You feel like some sort of celebrity."

"Is that so?" Minghao asks, pursing his lips to keep his smile from getting ant larger. "You know, Y/N, I've heard quite a lot about you myself."

"Like what?" you laugh. "I'm really good at annoying the archangels?"

He tucks the hand you released into the pocket of his slacks, and you take a moment to observe just how elegantly out of place Minghao is in Hell.

Every demon you've met here has an enchanting and almost uncanny beauty about them, which is probably mandatory for the job if they're meant to lure humans to Hell. But Minghao doesn't ooze chaos and destruction the way the others do. He doesn't have a frenetic energy that almost vibrates off the surface of his skin and threatens to suffocate you. He seems too mature for that. There's something ancient about him—not unlike Junhui.

"Actually, yes," he confirms, chuckling. "But I've also heard about your very attentive and kind nature."

You look up at him, mortified. "Someone down here called me 'kind'?" You don't take it as an insult, but you know depending on the demon who used that word, it could very much be meant as one. "Who was it? Was it Jeonghan? Because if so, you should know that the other day, that fucker voluntarily beat the shit out of the vending machine until it released my Snickers bar. He's the 'kind' one!"

Minghao laughs freely now and shakes his head. "No. No, it wasn't Jeonghan…" The way he says it makes it sound like he's in on some joke that he has no intention of filling you in on. You narrow your eyes at him, but all he does is smile that disarming smile. "I speak with His Infernal Majesty quite often."

"Oh," you utter, the anger in your posture deflating. "Jun said that?"

He smirks now. "In his own very cagey and obliquitous way, yes."

"Obli… quitous…"

He nods. "Roundabout. Indirect. Honestly, a little bit of a ramble."

"Oh okay. Obliquitous," you repeat.

He nods. "He's right. You're very endearing."

"'Endearing'?" you repeat, even more mortified than you initially were. "He called me 'kind' and 'endearing'?" Your mouth drops and you dazedly bring your tablet back to your chest as the elevator approaches your floor. "Does he hate me?"

Minghao coughs suddenly, waving a hand when you ask him if he's okay. "I'm fine. Just, uh, breathed down the wrong tube. Anyway, all I meant to say was I've heard a lot about you and you seem to be doing a great job. Hell is lucky to have you."

You feel heat rising in your cheeks. and you try your best to accept the compliment, nodding shyly. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from the demon that singlehandedly audited God's spending and actually succeeded in cutting her budget." You frown. "Actually, kind of rude of you. Stop silencing women."

He scoffs then. "She started it." Before you can ask what he means, the elevator dings a few floors below yours, and he sticks his hand out. "Well, Y/N, it was nice officially meeting you."

"You too. Don't go telling people I'm kind, though. I have a reputation to maintain," you grumble, slipping your hand into his and shaking it once more.

"I won't, promise. Just a quick one this time," he laughs, looking pointedly at your joined hands as the doors slide open. "Maybe we'll have more time for you to hold me hostage again another day."

You snort. "I'm—"

"Oh? And what do we have here?"

Junhui stands at the open doors, and even though his words come out light and easygoing, his face is so carefully blank, you're actually not sure you've ever seen him so expressionless. For whatever godforsaken reason, it drives a horrible chill down your spine and right between your legs. And for the first time in a while, you're reminded of what your doctor told you.

Arousal. You immediately rip your hand out of Minghao's, step away, and avert your eyes from your boss's prying gaze.

"Jun!" Minghao greets him happily, a mischievous lilt seeping into his voice. He's officially the first demon you've ever heard call the Devil by his name. "I've finally met your incredibly lovely business manager."

You quietly groan at the title, your face turning even hotter. You feel Junhui's eyes boring holes into your forehead as you busy yourself with the black marble under your feet. Very shiny.

"Hm."

"She's every bit as charming as I expected her to be," he says, confusing you because you're sure you were the opposite of charming. In fact, you might have been borderline embarrassing with the never-ending handshake and all the unsolicited fangirling. He steps forward, making to leave the lift but turns to you one more time and smiles. "Y/N, it's been grand. If you're free next week, I'd love t—ungh!"

Minghao stumbles back as Junhui yanks him by his collar, shoving him away roughly before he can barrel into your boss. He replaces the man in the lift next to you and shoots Minghao an icy glare, who has his own displeased frown on his face.

"She's busy," Junhui answers for you. "And come to think of it, you are too." His subordinate raises an eyebrow at him. "I want a report of how many improved lives the damned souls have counted at the intake window this week, complete with their full names and a brief summary of how their lives would have improved."

Minghao balks at him now, the elegance replaced by sheer disbelief. "We get millions of souls a week."

He finally smiles, but it's all kinds of wrong. Like a predator smiling at food. "I told you you'd be busy."

"Oh come on, dude, it was a joke!" he complains, scratching his scalp violently in irritation. He's also the first demon you've heard call the Devil "dude."

Junhui laughs, cold and forced, even bending over and shaking his shoulders as he does. He points at Minghao as he does. "Good one!" He stops immediately, his glare returning. "Get to work."

The doors slide closed, and the space is engulfed in silence as you rise toward the top floor, where both your and Junhui's desks await. You fidget in the wetness of your underwear, and you decide you will be sifting through that list of therapists when you get home.

"So. Business manager, hm?"

Your eyes widen. "I did not call myself that. He pulled that out of his ass! In fact, you should ask for two weeks of metrics as punishment!"

Junhui hums again but says nothing else, forcing you to exist in the discomfort of whatever just happened.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR

"What's this?" you yawn, rubbing one eye with a knuckle as you sleepily stare at the familiar red glimmer of a contract floating above your bed, where Junhui just woke you up for the day.

"Updated employment agreement," he huffs, turning away from you to leave your room. "Hurry up and sign it so we can get going."

You read the gist of it, scoffing when you finish. You sign as requested before getting ready for the day and meeting Junhui in the kitchen for breakfast and coffee like you always do.

"So. Chief of Staff, hm?" you ask, trying not to let on how pleased you are about your new title.

His cheeks turn a light pink as he shrugs, refusing to look up at you from his phone. "Business manager is a dumb fucking title anyway."

You grin, taking your seat at the kitchen island as he puts his phone down and begins pulling you an espresso shot. "Agreed."

He finally turns to look you in the eye, and when he sees you're serious, he smiles. A real one this time. He extends a hand to you, and you shake it, that same hot sensation taking over as your new deal is cemented in Hell.

"Congratulations on your promotion."

"Thanks, boss."

"Hm."

DAY SIXTY-SIX

"Hi, Minghao. Here for your meeting with Jun?"

"Sorry, so so crazy busy, cannot talk to you ever again, even if it's just a harmless fucking joke," Hell's accountant grumbles as he speed walks right past your desk and allows himself into your boss's office.

You frown, turning as your gaze follows the demon to the chair across from Jun, who simply slouches back in his seat, a smug grin on his face as he stares at an irritated Minghao. His eyes slide to you and his grin just widens. He winks and you turn back to your desk, blindly picking a therapist and making an appointment.

DAY SEVENTY

"So. Therapy, huh?"

It takes everything in you to keep from bolting out of the office. You sink deeper into the plush couch in an attempt to keep yourself grounded. The silver lining is that you're within proximity of God. She is walking these very halls as you breathe. That's it, though.

Heaven is entirely too bright and white and polite and full of talk about the weather (how much can someone talk about clouds?), and you would rather be cleaning up Key's vomit back in Hell.

"Yup," you answer, popping the p.

"And what compelled you to pick me?"

"I didn't. It was like… a blind box of therapists."

"And I'm your therapist Labubu?"

"Yes, Joshua," you sneer, rolling your eyes at the archangel, who's nestled into the armchair adjacent to you, his massive wings tucked in around him like a comfy cocoon. "You're my therapist Labubu."

The archangel nods, his expression surrendering nothing. "Okay, well, you can choose someone else if you're uncomfortable, but I'd like to let you know that should you remain my patient, anything you tell me will be kept between the two of us, and Satan will never have to know."

"What makes you think this is about Jun?" you ask, voice rising and heart rate spiking at the implication that he knows you're here because of the devil.

"I don't," he assures you, doing a fantastic job of not looking at you like you have two heads the way you would have anyone else. "Since our paths cross professionally, I just want you to know that everything that is said here will not leave this room. In case that is a concern for you."

"It's not." It is. It very much is. Junhui meets with Joshua at least once a week. He is the last person who needs to hear about your clammy hands and soiled panties.

"Okay, good."

"Great."

"So do you want to discuss why you're here?"

"No!" you shout suddenly. His eyebrow twitches—the closest it gets to a frown. He still succeeds in keeping his face neutral.

"Alright," he says easily. "We don't have to talk about anything in particular. Is there something you do want to talk about?"

"I… um," you stammer, stopping to chew on your lower lip.

You didn't notice Joshua was even on the list of therapist recommendations when you chose blindly. Why would an archangel be moonlighting as a therapist serving both celestial bodies? Does he not have enough responsibilities liaising between God and Junhui all hours of the day? Or managing idiots like Brayden?

"Why are you a therapist?" you blurt.

He smiles. "I've always liked listening to people and helping them through their thoughts and feelings. So I started with just Heaven. Then, my archangel duties took me to Hell, and I figured I'd expand my services."

"So you just have two jobs?"

"A few more," he admits. "I have many interests."

"And this is not a conflict of any of those interests?"

"Oh, no, it very much is," he confirms, nodding. "We just don't care here. There isn't exactly an abundance of therapists for our hundreds of thousands of angels and demons to choose from. So. We overlook some things."

"Right."

"Again, you're free to choose someone else if you'd like. I can give you a list—"

"No lists!"

He purses his lips and nods. "Okay." He lets the silence sit for a full minute before he finally asks, "Are you feeling alright? You're jittery today."

You exhale through your lips and nod. "Yes. I'm fine. I just… wasn't expecting you to be here."

He nods. "Fair. How long have you been with us now, Y/N?"

"Uh, three months soon," you say, unsure if that's even correct. Your mind is so foggy.

"Wow, time really flew, huh? Feels like there isn't an angel or demon who doesn't know who you are."

"I don't know about that," you refute, shaking your head. "I just have to talk to a lot of people on behalf of Jun."

Joshua nods. "Yes, I imagine you do. Well, either way, you've been doing a really great job. We notice it up here too; since you've arrived, things have been going very smoothly."

It makes you feel proud. "Thank you. I've been having fun."

"Good!" he says, sounding genuinely pleased that you like your job. "Plus, Satan has been in a much better mood these days. Less annoying."

You clear your throat to stop yourself from having a cough attack. You nod but say nothing else.

He smiles. "He's been a good boss?" You nod again. "I know the way you were… hired was a touch unconventional. Does it bother you at all?"

You shake your head. Other than the occasional jibe that Junhui kidnapped you, you wholly view your station in Hell, ironically, as a blessing.

"That's great to hear," Joshua says despite not actually hearing anything. "You fit very well with all of us despite being human. Do you feel at home?" You nod. If he's tired of your nonverbal answers, he doesn't show it. "And are you making friends?"

There's Soonyoung, who is determined to die at the hands of his boss because he never leaves you alone. There's Jeonghan, who frequently comes by to run his ideas for torture by you. There's Jeongyeon, who lets you cut all the damned souls whenever you want water and gives you all the best gossip. Junhui. Junhui, who has become the best of all your friends. You talk to your human friends less and less these days, giving you even less reason to visit your apartment on Earth. You're very much making a life in Hell. And you like it.

"I like it here," you murmur.

"What do you like?"

"Um," you start to rifle through the things that come to mind. In the end, you rattle them all off without much thought. "I like my home. Jun making breakfast. I like my work. I like being around people. My friends. I like Jun's pets."

Joshua shudders, and you stifle a laugh at the thought of all the stories Junhui has told you about the archangel's encounters with Lock and Key.

"I, um, think I enjoy it more than I did my life on Earth," you admit, feeling a little embarrassed to.

"Why do you say it like that?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"Like what?"

"Like you don't want to say it at all."

You shrug.

"What was your life like back on Earth?"

You snort. "I was a bartender at a nightclub. I had a good amount of friends. My parents were absent, but you know that." He nods, giving you a comforting smile.

"It sounds like you had a nice life back on Earth."

"I guess." He makes you sit in the silence again, just softly smiling at you even as you start to feel awkward, picking at the nonexistent lint on your pants. When you can't stand the silence anymore, you tell him, "It was quiet."

"Nothing wrong with quiet."

You correct yourself. "Lonely."

"Ah," he nods. "Why were you lonely?"

"I lived alone. My friends were 'just for fun' friends—people who only hit me up for a good time or to get into the club for free. I didn't really know my coworkers much beyond covering shifts for each other. I was just… living day to day. I felt like if I disappeared, no one would notice." You pause and laugh a little as you come to the realization in real time. "No one did notice. I've been gone for almost three months, and no one has tried to see me outside of a night at the bar."

Joshua studies you carefully, and he must see something because he doesn't speak, allowing you to gather your thoughts before you continue.

"I can go for weeks without hearing my own name. If I didn't have the job I did, I think I could go for months without talking to anyone at all," you tell him, feeling an uncomfortably prickly feeling behind your eyes.

He hums, nodding. "How about now?"

You shake your head. "It's the complete opposite. I hear my name all day. Demons randomly check in to talk about nothing. They invite me places. They ask how I am. Jun always has ghost pepper chips stocked at home. He brings me to Earth to watch a movie I mentioned or visit a place I miss. I went to the doctor's early one morning without telling him, and my absence was noticed immediately. I feel… I feel… I don't know how I feel."

"Wanted, maybe?"

The word punches a hole through your chest. You inhale deeply. "Yeah. Wanted. I feel wanted. Like I matter here. Like…" There's suddenly a knot in your throat and you recognize too late that the prickly feeling are your tears fighting for release. "Fuck."

You turn away from Joshua and wipe at your eyes, mortified to be crying in front of your boss's colleague.

"Here." A tissue box prods at your knee and you take it without looking at him.

"Thanks."

"What's going through your mind?"

You press a tissue to your eyes, and when you're certain you won't start sobbing out of nowhere, you face Joshua once more, crossing your arms and driving your back into the couch as far as you'll go.

"I was just thinking that I feel like I belong somewhere. Like…" You clear your throat and roll your eyes at yourself. "Like, if I disappeared, someone would actually miss me."

"Someone?"

You look up at him, finding that same, neutral, unjudging face. He smiles at you encouragingly, and you only understand now why Joshua is a therapist. He's fucking good at it. You told him you didn't want to talk about why you came here, and now you're doing even worse—you're talking about the real reason why you came here. The reason you weren't even consciously aware existed. Because the truth is, you feel like if you disappeared right now, there isn't anything Junhui wouldn't do to make sure you made it back home. And you've never had that.

Your doctor had it right. It's not so much the things about Junhui you find attractive. It's the fact that you feel like he cares. He cares deeply—enough to want to provide a safe space for you.

"I don't know, this is dumb."

Joshua raises his eyebrows at the sudden retreat back into your shell. "Why do you think so?"

"I'm crying because people notice I exist," you scoff, shaking your head at the ridiculousness. "It's pathetic."

"No," the archangel insists, correcting you gently but firmly. "It's not pathetic. It is innately human—actually, it's not even human. All creatures crave that. Demons and angels included." He adjusts himself in his seat, the feathers of his wings ruffling as he does. "Have you ever thought about the possibility that it isn't that you're crying because people notice you exist? That maybe you're crying because for the first time, existing doesn't feel like something you have to justify?"

You frown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, before, your existence seemed to hinge on how fun you could be to your friends or how useful you could be to your coworkers—things meant to justify why you should matter to them, right?" You don't answer. "Well, here, you get to experience what it's like to simply… exist, period. You don't have to do anything other than be exactly who you are here, and people still care about you. People still want you around. You don't have to offer anything to feel like you belong." He pauses to let his words land before he eventually asks, "Is it possible that's why you're crying?"

Your tears slide down your face quickly, one after the other, and you groan, plucking several more tissues out of the box and burying your face into them.

"Fuck, you're really fucking good at your job, you motherfucker," you practically wail into your hands.

"I think this has been a very productive first session." His voice is so smug.

"Yeah, I bet you do!" You're met with the melodic chuckles of an angel.

DAY EIGHTY-ONE

You think you're being much too obvious that something fundamental has changed inside you. Junhui watches you carefully these days, a little more than usual.

The man has taken to waking you gently in the morning, simply laying a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezing instead of ripping your blankets and eye mask off. He also lingers a little before going to the kitchen, asking how you slept and if you feel okay. He tells you to take your time in the mornings, blocking out the first few hours of his day so the two of you don't have to rush into work. Throughout the day, he'll poke his head out of his office and ask you how you are, and on more than one occasion, he's forced you on a break to walk with him or even visit Earth for a meal. And weirdest of them all, he cooks dinner for you. He only knows how to do hotpot, but it's still surprising to you.

It isn't that you aren't grateful for the gentle treatment; you love it, actually. You think it's the most regulated your nervous system has ever been in your entire life. It's that now that Joshua has helped you identify how badly you crave stability and safety and unconditional love and care, Junhui's change of pace is inspiring dangerous feelings you don't think you ever learned how to properly feel in the first place.

"Why are you being so nice?" you blurt out over the table.

He looks up at you from the belt of revolving sushi he had been relentlessly staring at. He's been pulling all your favorites without being told, never missing a single plate that crawls by even though you're pretty sure you can't eat anymore. Junhui doesn't answer right away, taking his time watching you like he always does. And usually, that's fine. Today, you fidget uncontrollably.

The Devil shrugs. "I told you. I'm capable of kindness."

You roll your eyes. "Stop. You know what I mean."

"Maybe I don't."

You glare at him before glaring at the restaurant around you pointedly. The restaurant he whisked you away to for lunch in the middle of the day despite having a packed schedule of meetings. Meetings he had you cancel for him.

He smirks, unashamed of being caught so blatantly lying. He reaches for the spicy tuna, popping it into his mouth and leisurely chewing, not-at-all in a rush to answer your question.

"You're being weird."

"Am I?" he asks around his food. "Why do you say that?"

You don't want to have to say it out loud because how do you even explain to your boss that his behavior is weird because it's making you feel valued? "You just are" is the genius answer you settle for.

He sighs when he finishes swallowing, putting his chopsticks down and leaning back. "You've been visiting Joshua a lot."

You nod. It isn't a secret you've been seeking therapy. But try as he might to get you or Joshua to tell him anything, everything else about your appointments has—thankfully—remained a secret.

"Can you blame me if I'm concerned that you've visited a therapist three times in the last 10 days?" he asks, glowering at nothing in particular.

You snort. "Therapy is good for you. You should try it."

"I'm a million years old," he spits your most-used hyperbole to describe everyone in Hell back at you. "I have been in and out of therapy before therapy was even a word." You raise your eyebrows at the admission. "Don't look so surprised." He smirks when he quotes you, "Therapy is good for you."

"Well, I'm fine," you tell him. It's the truth. You're more than fine; you're happy. Your appointments with Joshua so far have revealed that much. Now, you're just sifting through the confusion of being employed by someone you've come to think of very fondly. And that someone doesn't need to know that. "You don't have to worry."

His smirk fades, and he leans forward, openly staring at you as he does. "But I do worry. So that can't really be helped, hm?" You open your mouth, but he doesn't let you respond. "Are you happy?"

You make a surprised noise at the question, but when he sits in silence, waiting for your answer, you nod quickly. "Yes, Junhui. Of course I'm happy. I'm not seeking therapy because I'm unhappy."

"Then, will you tell me why you are seeking therapy?"

"That is sensitive information you shouldn't be asking about!" you admonish him, feeling your cheeks heat up at the mere thought of telling Junhui why you needed an appointment in the first place.

"I'm the Devil. I can ask whatever inappropriate question I want," he grumbles. When that doesn't work on you, he sighs. "Fine. But you promise you're okay?"

It makes your heart want to burst. "I promise. I am very happy."

He smiles a little at that. "And you promise if that changes, you'll let me know?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes. I will let you know. Is that all? Your weird behavior was just you being worried?"

He shrugs but says nothing else. That "weird" behavior you love so much doesn't stop even after Junhui seems to accept your assurances as truth, and you're secretly glad for it.

DAY EIGHTY-NINE

"Congratulations on completing your probationary period."

"Junhui, can you hurry up?" You complain as you open an email invitation requesting his presence at what is essentially Hell's Met Gala—except instead of fashion, they appreciate their own torture methods. "I have, like, 20 Ouija Board calls to screen."

"Please put your tablet down for one minute so I can give you your first performance review."

"Hold on."

He barks a singular, disbelieving laugh but allows you your one moment as you respond "Yes" to the invite. You also make a note to have him fitted for whatever ridiculously attractive outfit he wants to wear to what you've now decided to call Hell Gala. Something with abs showing, you note.

You saw his abs a total of one time. You had woken up early for once after Lock had pounced on your chest and scared the ever living shit out of you. Unable to go back to sleep, you made your way to the kitchen to find Jun dialing in the espresso, nothing on aside from black silk pajamas hanging for dear life on his hips. He'd turned around and made the most interesting noise as he flinched in surprise. You couldn't even make fun of him because your eyes zeroed in on the muscles rippling across his torso. You didn't expect your boss to look like a chocolate bar. And if it were you, you would go everywhere shirtless. You're not sure why he doesn't, but you should probably be glad you don't have that distraction to worry about.

You pucker your lips in thought before adding an extra note: Probably wants to wear black, but let's float the idea of hot pink.

You lock your tablet, rest it against your lap, and smile widely at him. "Alright. Ready."

"Thank you so much for gracing the King of Hell with your attention," he grumbles as he turns to his right. A screen materializes—a shimmery red that displays what you know is information about your performance.

"You're very welcome, Junnie."

He shakes his head, muttering things under his breath before he starts.

"You are a very effective employee," he starts monotonously. "You do your job very well, you have made life very efficient, and the demons all love you. Well, as much as a demon can love, I suppose."

You think it's the Soonyoung-shaped conscience you've unfortunately developed that prompts you to ask, "Can demons… not love…?"

Jun frowns at the question. "They can." Relief, curiously, is the first feeling that washes over you. "It just takes an insane amount of time. Probably more time than it's worth. Y'know… bloodthirst and a general craving for chaos can get in the way of other feelings sometimes."

You snort. "Right."

"Now, let's go over some of your big wins and room for improvement." He reads off the screen. "Big wins: everything you've done thus far… improvements… none." He narrows his eyes as they slide to you.

"Amazing!" you exclaim, clapping and moving to stand. "Thanks, boss! I'll continue doing an impeccable job and get back to screening those c—"

"Sit."

You squeak in surprise as the chair behind you jerks forward, forcing you to fall back down on it. You gasp in disbelief. "What was that for?!"

"I don't know, going into my computer and messing with your review notes, for one? How did you even get into this? It's literally in my mind." He pauses momentarily before muttering, "You're going to make a fantastic demon, it's infuriating."

You roll your eyes. "Why do we even need to do this? Since when have you cared about performance reviews?"

"Demon Resources insisted I at least do your 90-day probationary review so they have it in their records. For what, I do not know, and I do not care. But they did just have a record quarter with their torture retention, so I will give them this one thing as a reward."

You groan. "I have so much work to do!"

"I'm your boss. I say you have no work right now, so you have no work right now. Sit still, let me review you, and this will go faster than it currently is with all of your interruptions!"

You sigh, annoyed that you find his rising voice attractive. "Fine."

"Big wins!" he shouts, emphatically shoving his sleeves up his forearm and leaning toward his screen, glaring at it as it deletes what you'd written. It begins writing new notes as he speaks. "Since your employment, scheduling conflicts have decreased by 96 percent."

You smile smugly.

"Thanks to your help, we've able to hit all our targets on pace, and several demons and department heads have personally reached out to me to tell me you've helped them a great deal."

Your mouth drops open in delighted surprise. "Like who?"

Junhui scrolls for a little. "Ah, here it is. Jeonghan said, 'Thanks for letting us use Y/N for the latest brainstorm on our automated torture project. She's insane and her contributions were better than my useless demons.' Insane used positively, of course."

"Of course," you agree, grinning. "Go on."

He gives you a flat look.

"What? If you're going to review me, you should tell me these things, no?"

"Don't let 'em get to your head, darling," he murmurs, oblivious to how the pet name now makes you squirm. He reads on. "Seungkwan said you're a 'joy' to work and talk shit with." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Should I be worried?"

"I have never talked shit about you, Junnie."

"Hm." He returns to the screen. "Minghao said—" He cuts himself off, his expression turning dark immediately as he reads on without reciting it.

"What?" you ask. "What did Minghao say?"

"Nothing," he says, skin turning a dark pink as he scrolls back to where he originally was. "Anyway, like I was saying, your contributions are very valuable." He doesn't let you get a word in, barreling on so you don't have the space to. "You do a fantastic job negotiating contracts during summonings. In fact, you would do very well in Contracts and Collections once you're a demon in case that option interests you."

You find that it does and lean forward. "As in, I would only do summonings?"

He hums a yes. "And debt collection. You'd take lower-level calls that don't explicitly ask for the Devil."

"Ah, so no longer with you."

He hesitates but ultimately shakes his head. "No." He takes a deep breath before reminding you, "Your time with me will be complete once your human life ends. You'll be free to do as you wish once you're a demon."

"What if I want to continue being your assistant?" you ask, frowning.

Jun looks confused. "Why would you want to continue being my Chief of Staff?" he asks, subtly correcting you.

"Why wouldn't I…?"

The question stumps him.

"I like this job," you say when he remains silent. "Who knows, I might change my mind since I have quite some time before I die, but I really like doing this."

"Sure, but enough to do it… forever?"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, you're lucky I'm in this role because you would never be able to sell it to anyone else." He continues staring at you blankly. "Yes, I would not mind being your Chief of Staff forever."

Your boss's stare is relentless, and you're almost convinced he managed to completely dissociate while you were talking. After a long, painstaking silence, though, he finally speaks, and when he does, you wish he hadn't.

"That's not a good idea," he announces, leaning away from his computer. The screen disappears altogether.

"Huh? Why not? You just said I'm a very effective—"

"The agreement explicitly states that employment will end upon your human death," he says, clearing his throat uncomfortably. His Adam's apple bobs a few times, and you kind of want to punch it because of how annoying he's being right now.

"The agreement doesn't say anything about me not being allowed to continue working the same role after, though."

"I don't care what the agreement says."

"You're the one that just referenced the agreement!"

"Don't care. I say it's a bad idea."

You glare now. "It's fine if I'm doing it to escape the debt of my asshole parents, but once I actually have the autonomy to choose to work for you, it's suddenly a bad idea?"

Jun exhales slowly. "It's not like that. But even if it were, I'm within my right to choose when it is and isn't 'fine.' I'm literally the—"

"The Devil! We fucking know!" you shout in frustration. Junhui's face settles into an eerily calm expression as he watches you with slightly narrowed eyes. "You're the Devil and you get to do whatever you want—I know. I also know you're never going to find someone better than me for this job."

"That won't be your concern once your contract is over."

You feel a horrible tightness in your chest. Of all the feelings you had been sorting through in therapy, you never considered that fear should be one of them. You never stopped to be afraid you could lose any of this; in your mind, this was eternity. This was it. You exhale a single laugh and shake your head.

"I did do something wrong, didn't I?"

"What?" He tilts his head at you, perplexed.

"When you were sick. I did something wrong." His face falls at the mention and you know you've hit the nail on the head. "Right? That's why you were giving me the cold shoulder, and that's why you're saying I shouldn't work with you anymore once I'm a demon." He doesn't answer, his eyes coming down to his desk as he thinks back to his bout of the Demon Flu. "So what was it? What did I do? I can't properly apologize until you tell me."

"You didn't—"

"Bullshit." He raises an unimpressed eyebrow at you, but it doesn't scare or deter you. "Did I cross a boundary? Maybe I shouldn't have entered your room or helped you eat or… whatever it is you're mad about—"

"I'm not mad."

"—but if that's why you don't want me to be working under you anymore, that's a dumb reason! You love me being your direct report!" you insist. The tips of his ears turn a bright red and he can't meet your gaze, eyes flying about the room. "And I know you would love to have me as your Chief of Staff forever! Now tell me what I did so I can apologize!"

"I have to go to Earth for business," he says abruptly and stands.

"No, you don't. We have 45 minutes left of this stupid review you wanted to do so badly. So review me. Tell me what's so wrong with me being your Chief of Staff."

"I will be back late."

"What?" you ask, voice coming out small and helpless as all of your stubbornness is immediately forgotten. "How late?"

"Not that late," he walks his words back immediately, shaking his head frantically and waving his hands to retract his statement. "Actually, not late at all. Sorry. Uh, I'll be quick. I'll be home before you go to sleep. I just—I'm—yeah, I need to go."

"Junhui, what the fuck is—" He disappears without another word, nothing but red flecks of light and dark smoke in his wake.

DAY NINETY-FOUR

If you thought what happened the week following Junhui's Demon Flu was bad, you were wrong. Because this time, it isn't even fully a cold shoulder, which you can stomach since that's an obviously petty response to something. No, this time, it just feels like you've been put in a box, forbidden to interact with Junhui at all. You hardly see him anymore, and when you do, it's only brief glances as he makes his way to whatever next meeting he scheduled himself. You haven't added anything new to his calendar in days.

You know what you did wrong; you pushed on a boundary that, although he never verbally expressed, he had still drawn clearly. You pushed and pushed and pushed, and he snapped, and now everything that has to do with you makes him uncomfortable. And it deeply hurts your feelings.

You just wanted to keep being his Chief of Staff after death. You thought that would be a good thing—flattering, even. That in your death, you would still choose to sit outside Junhui's office, answering his phone and fielding calendar invitations and spending time with someone who felt like the first real friend you had in ages. Not someone who thought you were a fun time out, or someone who liked that you got discounts at the bar you worked at, or someone that only ever talked about themselves and never cared to know anything about you. But an actual friend.

And that's probably where it all went wrong anyway. Even the Devil understands professionalism. You have no business being friends with your boss. You're his roommate, and that's already so questionable on so many levels. Now that you've had all week to think about it, you recognize that your insistence that you stay his assistant is just another symptom of your fear of being left behind. The Contracts and Collections role didn't sound bad at all until he confirmed he wouldn't be with you. Then, it sounded like the dumbest job in the world.

Junhui could probably sense your desperation for friendship—for his friendship—as you pressed him for an answer during your probationary review. And of course that would be weird and uncomfortable. You put him in an awkward spot, and now you have no idea how to properly apologize, especially because you're still not confident you wouldn't still fall to your knees begging to keep this stupid job once you die.

What has your life come to?

"I don't know, what has it come to?"

You jump, turning to find Soonyoung entering the mail room again. You sigh, putting the fan letter to Jun you were failing to comprehend and respond to back down on the desk.

"I don't know," you mutter. "Sorry, didn't realize I was talking to myself."

He raises his eyebrows. "Whoa, no sarcastic quip? What's wrong?"

You look around. Save for a pair in the corner raiding the supply closet for packing tape to wrap a damned soul in, you and Soonyoung are alone in the room, and you've gotten to know the demon well enough that you think sharing some of your woes with him wouldn't be so bad.

"I have bad abandonment issues."

He freezes for a moment before dumping the packages he came in with into a random cart and taking the seat next to you. "Damn. That's heavy."

"Yeah."

"Parents or a bad ex?"

You snort. "Parents. I've never even been in a relationship."

"Oh. Do you want to talk about it?"

You shrug. "I have a therapy appointment soon."

He laughs, looking at you like you're silly. "Okay, that's nice, but you can still talk to a friend about your feelings. You don't have to wait to see your therapist."

Soonyoung turns his body to face you fully, propping his chin in his hand and giving you all his attention.

"C'mon. Tell Soonie all your woes. I'm listening."

Normally, you'd probably slap him and shove him away, telling him to leave you alone unless he has stories to share about his hot Earthling witch. But you've been sensitive about your review and Junhui's switch-up on you, so instead, you start to weep at the extended kindness.

"Oh!" Soonyoung squeaks, panicked. "Oh devil, don't cry! What's going on?" He scoots his stool closer to yours and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Hey!" he calls to the other two demons. "Get out of here! We need the room."

They oblige, shooting you worried glances as they scurry out with arms full of packing tape.

"What's wrong?" he asks softly once you're both left alone in the mail room.

"I had my performance review," you tell him, sniffling. "And it was going well, but then—but then, Jun said he doesn't want me as his assistant anymore once my contract is over."

"Huh?" The demon sounds as confused as you feel. "Why not?"

"I don't know!" you wail, startling him a little. "He wants to transfer me to Contracts and Collections once I die! He got so weird and… and… cagey about it, and he just left without having a proper conversation! And he hasn't talked to me since then!

"He doesn't wake me up. He leaves breakfast and coffee, but he doesn't wait for me to go to the office with him. He schedules his own meetings. He doesn't ask me for anything, not even hot pot. He hasn't talked to me—hasn't even looked at me!"

Soonyoung's palm starts to rub circles into your back as your crying becomes more and more hysterical.

"It's like he suddenly hates me!" you hiccup. "And I know that maybe I haven't been the most p-professional because I—I treat him like too much of a friend or a roommate or, or, or—whatever. But I thought we were friends. If he felt like I was crossing boundaries, why didn't he just say that?! He doesn't need to… to transfer me!"

"Hey, it's okay," the demon says soothingly. "He doesn't hate you. Anyone with eyes knows he doesn't hate you. Even the damned souls who've had their eyes gouged out know it. That can't be why he's transferring you."

"What else would it be?!" you shriek. "I kick ass at my job! My performance review said as much, anyway!"

"Why don't you just… ask him?"

"Because he won't talk to me!" you repeat, the words sending your forehead forward until it meets the desk with a thunk. Soonyoung makes a startled noise, his hand hovering over your slumped figure hesitantly. "And I'm scared."

He freezes, a shit-eating grin growing across his face. "You're scared? Of the Devil you swore wasn't scary?"

"Oh fuck off!" you wail, your tears making it impossible to see.

"Okay! Sorry! Sorry! Bad time!"

"What if I talk to him and he just fires me? Then, what? What happens to me? Where do I live? What do I do? Who will care if I'm not there one day?"

Soonyoung inhales sharply and says your name softly. "Do you really think no one else would care if you just… stopped showing up?" he asks, no judgment in the question. When you don't answer immediately, he assures you, "Because we would. We all would. You don't have to stay in that position or be around Jun 24/7 for somebody to care about you."

Your eyes widen at his use of your boss's name, but he doesn't panic or take it back or start stuttering out of fear like you think he normally would. Instead, he just shakes his head at you, brushing your hair out of your face and catching a tear with his knuckle.

"When you become a demon…" he says quietly, "you'll have your own living quarters in any part of Hell you want. You can even move into the lot next to mine. And if that's still not close enough to a friend, you can just be my roommate. Though I have to warn you that I sleepwalk sometimes and have been known to stab a stuffed toy or two during one of the spells."

You stare at him, mouth agape at the idea of Soonyoung stabbing you in his sleep.

"And if you really do get transferred somewhere else, then you'll be transferred somewhere else," he says nonchalantly, shrugging. "You'll get a new job, you'll kill it at that one too, and you'll continue to live your life down here with all of us. We'll keep torturing souls and hiding away from our jobs in the mail room and all the fun things we do now."

You feel your breathing start to slow. "You'd still be my friend?"

He grins. "Wait—" he takes his phone out. "Can you repeat that? I need to record it. What did you just call me?" You roll your eyes and slap his phone out of his hand, ignoring his gasp when it bounces on the table. "See, despite this behavior, yes. I will still be your friend."

"But do you think Jun would be? Do you think he'd have anything to do with me if I weren't working for him?"

"Mmm, it's not about the position, is it?" he asks. "It's about him." You stay quiet, ashamed of the implications of your answer. Soonyoung doesn't tease you or judge you or tell you that whatever it is you're feeling is wrong. He just sighs. "He loves you."

You frown deeply at the words, but the demon is too busy staring at the wall absentmindedly to notice.

"I can't see a world where he wouldn't want to stay your friend. You're the best assistant he's ever had, and he likes you enough to keep you as a roommate. And create a holiday for you."

And get angel cake for you. And decorate the kitchen for you. And take you to Earth whenever you feel like it or he thinks you need it. Constantly ask after your health. Make sure you eat three meals a day even though he needs to be reminded it's time to drink blood and eat organs. Trust you with things he's never told anybody else. Never let you be alone in the house at night even if he's ignoring you because he must know by now how much you hate it.

He's meant to be the most despicable creature in the universe, and he likes you enough to be soft for you.

"Oh my god," you murmur, pushing yourself up off the desk. "You're right."

"Yeah. I usually am."

"Don't push it."

"Fine."

"But… if he doesn't want to fire me, what reason would he have to transfer me out?" To get you farther away from him.

Soonyoung looks at you in amusement. "He may be the Devil, but everyone feels afraid of something." He shrugs. "He's probably scared too."

DAY NINETY-EIGHT

The last person you expect to be in Junhui's office when you barge in is a woman so blindingly beautiful, it makes you want to rip your own eyeballs out of your head and stomp on them for ever having the audacity to look upon her. She's seated across from him, with perfect hair and perfect posture and a perfect manicure and a perfect aura that seems to pulse and glow around her.

"Y/N!" she exclaims, gasping and standing. "I've heard so much about you." She throws Junhui a look before she walks over to you, a stupid and perfect smile on her stupid, perfect lips. "I've been wanting to meet you for quite some time, but I think Jun here has been hiding you from me. Worried I might poach you." She leans in and theatrically whispers, "I can totally make that happen, by the way, if you ever want to cross over to the light side."

"Y/N, meet God," Junhui sighs, waving a hand at the woman. "God, Y/N."

The revelation overshadows the fact that that's the first thing Junhui has said to you in days. You gasp so loudly, your boss flinches, and your eyes widen, quickly darting between the two. "God?! Is that you?!"

"In the flesh!" she says cheerily, brushing her hair behind her shoulders and grinning with all her perfectly white teeth.

"Oh my god—I mean, uh—oh my—holy shit—I mean, what the fuck?!" you stammer. "I've been wanting to meet you since I heard you were a woman."

She laughs and the sound is like choir bells softly ringing in the distance. "Of course I'm a woman. They would never put Heaven in the hands of a man."

"Oh my god—shit, sorry."

She shakes her head. "You can say it. I don't care."

"Oh my god," you say again just to say it. "You're so beautiful. I've literally never seen someone more beautiful."

"Okay, this is ridiculous." Your boss goes ignored.

"What's your skincare routine?"

"I use the tears of incels as my toner."

"Ugh, duh, of course."

"Y/N," Junhui says your name in a way that reminds you he's been busy pretending to hate you all week. "Is there a reason you're barging in here, interrupting my meeting without so much as a knock?"

"I'm going to head out," God announces, smiling. "Y/N, let's get coffee sometime."

"She's busy."

"No, I'm not!" you deny immediately. "Coffee would be amazing!"

"Splendid. I'll have my assistant reach out. See you soon then." She turns to Junhui and raises her eyebrows at him, and when he rolls his eyes but nods anyway, you wonder if they can communicate telepathically. She disappears, leaving nothing but dove feathers and white petals in her wake—both of which dissolve before you can lean down and pluck either off the ground as a keepsake.

You exhale, the rush of meeting God leaving you quite breathless. After a few moments, Junhui clears his throat exaggeratedly, gesturing for you to get on with whatever you rudely barged in here for.

You step forward, taking a seat where God just was. "Wow, God was just sitting here," you mutter. Junhui doesn't entertain you with a response. "Um. Hello."

"Hi."

"Why are you ignoring me?" you ask.

"I'm not," he denies it. You stare at him but he doesn't offer you anything else. He knows he doesn't have to explain himself to you, of all people.

"You are."

"I'm busy. That's all. So if you don't mind…" He tilts his head toward the door of his office. You stay right where you are.

"Are you not going to admit things are weird?" you ask, giving it one last shot before you try your best to make your boss near-homicidal. "That the best thing for the both of us is for me to stay here, as—"

"You don't know what the best thing for me is," he cuts in, face too blank for how cold his words are. "I've been alive longer than you can fathom, and I've fared just fine. I don't need you pretending you know what's best for me."

"You're being cruel, Junhui," you say, squeezing your hands into fists to keep them from trembling.

He smirks. "Yeah. Well. Welcome to Hell, darling."

You have no idea what happened in the last week—what could have caused Junhui to switch on you so fast—but it's clear to you now that you're not going to get an honest answer out of him with civil conversation.

"I've been thinking," you say, trying not to lose your nerve as you lie through your teeth. "If we both know that our time is limited and that you'll release my employment as soon as my contract is over, then maybe we should terminate my contract altogether. Maybe you should just… send me back to Earth."

He freezes, that blank mask falling over his features again. "Repeat that?"

You swallow. "Maybe we should—"

"And why the fuck would I do that?" he snaps before you can do as he asked and repeat yourself. "Your employment replaces the eternal servitude your parents were indebted with. Terminating now, a measly three months into your contract, would not benefit me."

"According to our termination clause," you say, begging your voice not to shake, "I'm under no obligation to deliver the equivalent of eternal servitude at the time of termination. The only requirement for termination is my natural death, the collapse of reality, or a mutual agreement."

"None of which you have," he hisses. "Because you sure as hell don't have my agreement. Now if you're done being a nuisance—"

"The fourth option was a legal challenge by three cosmic authorities and one archangel."

His eyes narrow at you, without a doubt hearing your negotiation voice through your nervousness. "You're aware that the only cosmic authorities are me and God, right? That the inclusion of that in your termination clause is a trick meant to present you with the illusion of choice?"

You scoff. If you were serious about terminating your employment, you'd be seriously pissed.

"I don't know why you keep needing me to remind you who I am," he says, his words landing sharp around the edges. You have no idea why he's so angry, but it's giving you more courage to do what you need to. "It's my job to be deceitful."

"Okay, let's try something new then," you say through gritted teeth, smiling tightly. "I'll remind you who I am. To answer your question, yes, I'm aware that you think the only cosmic authorities are you and God." His eyebrow furrows at the distinction. "So while you were busy throwing a tantrum and ignoring me all week, I have been studying. It turns out there are quite a few authorities I can choose from."

You see it clear as day—the panic that briefly flashes across his face before he schools it back into that careful mask again. His fingers grip the arms of his seat tightly as his eyes search you for some sign that you're bluffing.

"I happen to know a witch," you explain. "She communes with Pagan gods—a number of which she has assured me would be happy to uphold a challenge on my behalf."

"Pagan gods have no authority in Hell," Junhui's voice is low and dangerous, and you think if you were someone he liked even just a little less, your head would already be rolling right now.

"I'd imagine that has no bearing since the clause says 'cosmic authority,' not infernal authority," you point out, delighted when you catch his eye twitch. "But if that's your argument, I have another back-up."

"Wow. You really thought this through, didn't you, darling?" he asks, glaring at you. "So eager to be rid of me?"

"You've reminded me so many times who you are," you say simply. "I wasn't going to bring a knife to a gun fight with the Devil."

He hums in mock amusement, seeming more devilish now than you've ever seen him. His eyes flash a deep red. "Cunning little thing. Fine. I'll play along. Tell me about this back-up of yours."

You smile. "There's no higher authority than the Devil and God."

"Glad you agree."

"Except for the deities that made them."

He stares at you for so long, you'd assume he malfunctioned in any other scenario. You don't know how much time has elapsed when he asks, "You called my mom and dad…?"

You grin. "Yes! With the help of my witchy friend. Very lovely—your parents. Your dad took a little convincing, but with the help of your very understanding mother, we were able to secure his agreement to help." You shrug. "So with all of these options, I'd say I have more than enough authorities to legally challenge my contract."

"Wrong," he seethes. "You also need an archangel, and if God wants to avoid the guarantee of me absolutely decimating Heaven, she will be smart to advise her little, feathered flies to stay far, far, far away from you."

You purse your lips. "Well, that makes this a little awkward because Joshua has already agreed to—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

His voice causes a sort of sonic boom in his own office as he stands and slams his hands on his desk. You shriek as your hair is blown away from your face and the marble under his hands fractures into several hairline cracks. The Devil disappears, reappearing at your side and yanking your seat violently away from his desk. You gasp at the motion, the sound of it getting caught in your throat when Junhui hinges at the hips and cages you in with a hand on each arm of the seat. You're almost nose-to-nose as he speaks.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, hm?" he asks, his eyes bright red now. "Do you really want to do this with me right now? Because I'll fucking do this."

"Do what, Junhui?" you ask quietly.

"If you think you can leave me before I say it's okay to, you're so mistaken, it's pitiful," he tells you. "I own you. Do you understand? I own you. You belong to me."

"No I don't!" you protest weakly. "We specifically negotiated that when I first came here! It's in my—"

"I do not care," he accentuates each syllable, his voice drenched and dripping in so much venom, it shuts you up. "You think I need words to make you mine?" he barks a laugh out at the thought.

For the first time since meeting him, you truly see the Devil now. You think you understand why the others are so scared of him sometimes. Unfortunately, you don't quite have the same survival instinct they do, because all this does is make way for that familiar ache low in your stomach to return.

"Your contract is binding. If I have the means to leave, then—"

"Oh, baby, I'll have you chained up at home faster than you can ask any of your so-called gods for help," he informs you, snickering as he does. You squeeze your thighs together uselessly. It does nothing to alleviate your pain.

When the sound of his laughter dies, he takes a slow, deep breath, his exhale brushing up against your lips. He clicks his tongue in disapproval as his eyes sweep your face, his face deceivingly soft even though he looks like he's ready to eat you alive.

"I fear I've given you the wrong impression of me," he says quietly, one hand coming up to trace the side of your face as his gaze follows his own movement. The ache inside you grows nearly unbearable as he drags his finger down your cheek, across your jaw, and to your throat. "I'll admit it, though. It is my fault.

"I was nice to you. I cooked for you. Made sure you were happy. Safe. I gave you all my time. All my energy. And now you think because I care about you, that I'm also going to play nice. That I'll play fair, and I'll stop being the Devil."

One by one, his fingers slowly and delicately wrap themselves around the front of your throat. His gaze comes up to meet yours when he feels you swallow under his palm, and whatever he sees just makes his eyes glow a brighter red. He smirks.

"But you've got it all backwards. It's because I care about you that I'm going to play dirty. I care about you more than I've cared about any damn thing in my life," he says, stealing your breath away. "And you think I'd let something as trivial as our fucking signatures keep me from you?"

His grasp goes from your throat to your cheeks, and he squeezes, bringing you right back to the first night he appeared in your apartment.

"I'll tear that contract up right now, Y/N. I don't care. I'll keep you here anyway. You don't get to change everything about my life and then decide to leave it, darling. I don't care how ugly it makes me. I don't care if you think I'm a monster. I don't care. You're going to be here for fucking ever."

You glare at him, wriggling your face until it's free of his hold. He snorts, bringing it back down to the arm of your chair. "So you don't want me to leave."

He narrows his eyes at you. "I barely want you out of my sight. Why would I want you to leave?"

"God, was that so fucking hard?!" you shout, planting both hands on his chest and shoving him away from you. He steps away, clearly baffled as you stand and put space between the two of you before whipping back around. "You want me here! You want me to stay! You want me to be with you!"

His cheeks turn pink even as he looks at you like you're losing your mind. He doesn't confirm it, simply staring at you as you breathe hard at the realization that you and Soonyoung were right. Junhui is scared to lose you. If this isn't a man as equally terrified of being without you as you are of being without him, you don't know what is. It's just infuriating that he could only communicate that once you pretended you were set on leaving.

"I want to be here too," you say breathlessly. "I love it here so much. I love being here. With you. I love being with you. I…" You swallow hard, shaking your head. "Junhui, I love you."

He doesn't move a muscle, doesn't say a word—doesn't really show any sign of life, really. But you force yourself to keep going.

"I'm not even sure what to do with all of it because I've never felt this before. I've never cared like this before either. And if you're being honest… if you care about me too… then I'm confused.

"I don't know why you're trying to push me away. Why you're trying to make me go somewhere else, or have to be without you. I don't know why you want me to leave when my contract is up. If you need space, then say that. But… don't cast me out. Don't make me be without you," you plead pathetically.

You don't register that Junhui is walking toward you until you're done speaking and he's already reaching you, stopping when you're toe-to-toe. There's a split second where he seems to give you the chance to take everything you said back, but it passes too quickly for you to even fully register. Because his patience snaps and his large hands cradle your face, walking you backward until your back hits the wall. You find that he's taken the both of you back home, and you're in his room, pushed right up against his door.

He looks like he's committing your face to memory as one thumb runs across your bottom lip, before it pulls it down enough to open your mouth. He inhales sharply when you take it in, eyes fluttering closed as the warm saltiness of his skin hits your taste buds. He presses his thumb into the center of your tongue, dragging it out of your mouth and groaning at the obscenity of your spit coating his digit and dripping off down his wrist. He lifts his thumb off you and you look up at him through your eyelashes, swallowing as you do.

"I wasn't trying to push you away. I'm sorry—I was—I'm…" He falters, unsure where to start. "I don't want you to be without me either," he finally says, voice husky as he stares at you like you're actively torturing him. "I need you. I need you so badly, you have no idea."

"Show me."

Without waiting another moment, Junhui leans down, and his mouth is on yours, hot and commanding as his hand snakes around the nape of your neck to bring you impossibly closer. His other hand comes to your waist, balling your shirt up and squeezing like he's fighting the instinct to tear it off.

You let your body give into its own instincts, kissing him the way it tells you it needs to and grabbing him wherever it wants to. You swear it feels like you spent your whole life doing this. Like you've never done anything other than kiss Junhui senseless. His tongue prods your mouth open, and you surrender, giving him entry to any part of you he wants.

You moan, sighing into it when his tongue meets yours, licking into your mouth so fervidly and getting you so burning hot, you're half worried your body is actually catching on fire.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispers as you break away for a breath, not missing a beat as he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

"Junhui," you gasp, "if you stop, I swear I'll find a way to fucking kill you."

He chuckles against your skin, the mere feeling of his breath causing you to roll your hips into his. He groans at that, roughly pressing his already hard dick against you and pinning you to the door completely. You whimper, immediately trying to create friction on your clit but finding that you can't move under him.

"Be careful, darling," he warns you, his voice vibrating through his chest and into yours, where you're pressed together. "You don't know what you're playing with."

"Please," you whine, throwing your head back and sighing impatiently. "Please, please, please. Need more."

"Ugh, sound so pretty," he grunts, allowing just enough space for him to fit his hand between you and unbutton your pants. "So needy, hm? What do you need, darling? Tell me."

He brings the zipper down, his pointer finger resting against the bare skin right above your panties.

"Need you."

"I'm right here."

"Touch me," you beg, trying to roll against him. He flattens his palm against your stomach and keeps you in place, smirking when you whine in frustration. "Please!"

"Mmm," he hooks one finger into your panties, running it back and forth teasingly. "So impatient." He slips his finger in further, making your breath hitch. "You should know by now…" he whispers, finally slipping his hand down your panties. "That I'll give you anything…" He cups your cunt, holding you steady when the sensation makes your entire body jerk. "Anything you ask for."

You gasp and grip his shoulder tightly as he parts your folds, running two fingers through them and collecting your arousal before he presses your clit firmly.

"Oh fuck," you breathe, head tilting back against his door. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Junhui."

"Fucking love it when you say my name," he confesses in a broken whisper to your ear, massaging you too slowly. You look up at him, dazed and convinced you'd collapse to the floor if he stepped away from you. He watches you with hooded eyes and a lazy smile. "Will you say it again for me, darling?"

"Junhui," you near cry, gasping when he rewards you with faster, harsher circles. "Junhui, I—"

You squeal as you're suddenly bouncing back in his bed, his tall frame towering over you as he kneels between your legs. You didn't anticipate Junhui using his Hell-given abilities while fooling around, but you find it useful, wasting no time sitting up and whipping your shirt off your body before reaching for the buttons on his and undoing them clumsily.

You're not even through all of them when you shove the fabric off his shoulders frantically, unable to help yourself as you giggle at the sight of a topless Junhui in bed with you. Before you can bring your hands to his bare skin, his fingers circle around your wrists, stopping you.

You look up at him to find him looking at you with wide eyes and parted lips.

"Are… are you okay?" you ask, unable to ask if he changed his mind. You don't think you'll be able to recover from the embarrassment of your eagerness if he's suddenly changed his mind.

He squeezes your wrists, absentmindedly bringing them to his chest and holding them there. You press your palms against his hot skin, exhaling when you feel his steady heartbeat underneath your fingertips.

Junhui utters your name so softly, it almost sounds like a hallucination. You look back up at him, and you're floored by how much reverence he looks at you with, his eyes searching you with an almost panicked energy—like eternity isn't enough time to spend looking at you. You melt into his grip.

"Junnie?"

"I, uh," he starts, licking his lips nervously. "I'm right there with you… I don't know what to do with everything I feel either. It's so—" He swallows. "It's so much. And I've never felt like this."

You swipe your thumb across his heartbeat, giving him an encouraging smile and nod as you wait for him to think through his thoughts. He exhales.

"I can't promise to know what to do at every turn," he admits. "I know I've already messed up. But… I love you too." The side of his mouth twitches up into a brief smile before it opens again to speak. Nothing comes out for a moment. Then, he says it again. "I love you. And you'll never be without me. Never."

You bring a hand to cradle his face, the grasp he has on your wrist sliding down to hang loosely from your forearm. He leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

"Junhui," you murmur. "Are you going to show me?"

He nods, smiling as he starts to crawl over you until you're pressed flat against his pillows. He reaches down to kiss you, licking, sucking, and biting as he does. Then, he starts making his way down, mouth leaving marks in your skin as he does, and you're too busy getting lost in the pleasure of belonging to someone to protest the hickeys. You know you'll be mortified later, but right now, the thought of everyone seeing what Junhui did to your body makes you so unbelievably wet, you squirm underneath him.

"Junhui," you breathe, hips bucking up into his. "I, um—oh fuck."

His fingers hook into your pants and your underwear, shoving both down as he bites your collarbone. He runs his tongue across his marks before he sits back, pulling your clothes off your legs and tossing them aside carelessly and leaving you naked from the waist down. He rests his hands atop your thighs, massaging the flesh there as he stares down at your pussy, his eyes growing so dark, they're nearly black.

"Perfect," he whispers as he drops to his stomach between your legs, hooking each over his shoulders so he can get as close to you as humanly possible. "Tell me I can. Please."

His eyes don't leave your glistening cunt as he pleads, groaning when you clench around nothing because the ache is threatening to kill you at this point. You nod frantically.

"Ye—" You're cut off by your own gasp because that's all he needs.

He surges forward, his tongue lapping at your clit like he hasn't eaten in ages. You struggle to keep your hips still, your mind reeling as you experience something you never have before. How did people do this? How did people feel this good and keep from completely falling apart in someone else's hands? Because you think you might die tonight. You think you might die right here, in Hell, with the Devil's face pressed tightly against your cunt as he drinks you up.

He holds your legs open, groaning as he licks stripes up your folds, his tongue leaving no part of you unexplored.

"Junhui," you moan, hand slipping into his hair and pulling uncontrollably. The vibrations of his groans against you make your toes curl, and you think you're edging closer and closer to this imminent death. "I'm… I…"

"What is it, baby?" he sloppily speaks against you, refusing to let his mouth completely leave your pussy. He travels further down, until his tongue is poking into your hole, gently massaging its way in until his cheeks are practically welded to your inner thighs and his nose is buried in your folds.

"Holy shit!" you gasp, hips rolling on their own in rhythm with Junhui's tongue as it licks and thrusts into you. "Oh… oh my god… Jun… Jun, I… I… so good. It feels so good…"

He pauses for only a moment to tell you, "Come on my face, darling."

There's no time to respond before his tongue is inside you again, and the words alone are enough to push you toward what you thought was death and realize now was your orgasm. Your fingers close in a fist around Junhui's hair, your other hand gripping his sheets like you'll float right out of your body if you let go.

The noises that leave your mouth are noises you've never made in your life, and they just make Junhui move more aggressively—more desperately. Just before he retracts his tongue, he breathes you in deeply, his hips grinding into his bed as he groans at your scent.

"Jun!" you shriek, mortified as you shove his head away. It doesn't go far; after all, you aren't very strong compared to the literal Devil.

"You smell divine," he informs you, licking the entire length of your slit and taking another deep inhale. "You smell like you're mine. Taste like you're mine."

You whimper at the nearly overstimulating sensation. He lifts his head and when you meet his eyes, you flinch and it makes him smirk. The dark of Junhui's eyes had spread while he was between your legs, and there's no longer any white left of them.

"Are you scared?" he asks, his voice powerful and guttural. Almost wild. He crawls up over you, head tilting as he stares at you and waits for your response.

"No," you say truthfully. You writhe under him, hands reaching for his naked torso. He leans back before you can touch him, though, obviously amused when you're disappointed. "Jun."

"Hm?" he hums, clearly distracted as he's turning his attention back to your pussy. He takes two fingers through your folds before he brings them to his mouth, sucking hard and tilting his head back with a hedonistic moan. "You're delectable, baby."

You breathe hard, even as all you do is lay there, watching the man you've managed to fall in love with in a handful of months taste parts of you no one else has and now never will. It does something to you—knowing that he's consumed a part of you. That you're inside the Devil.

"Mmm, I'm part of you now," you whisper. He lets his fingers fall from his mouth and when he brings his head back down, his black eyes pierce right through you.

"Does the thought of that please you?" he asks, bending down to lick and nibble at the flesh of your inner thigh. You're too busy squirming to answer the question. "Do you like thinking of us as one?"

"Yes, Junnie," you sigh. "Oh my god, yes."

He smirks, two fingers slipping into you without much resistance after he's already made you come. "Do you want a part of me too, darling?" You mewl as he spreads his fingers, scissoring you open leisurely. "You can have my fingers…" He shoves his fingers into you until he's knuckle-deep, pulling a cry out of you before he starts curling his fingers into a spot that has you seeing stars when you squeeze your eyes shut. "You can have my mouth… my tongue…"

"You," you gasp. "Want you."

"Hm. Maybe soon… if you can give me another one," he tells you, fingers moving faster. "Do you think you can give me another one, baby?"

You nod, murmuring incoherently, no idea what you're even trying to say. Your body starts to move on its own, trying desperately to meet Junhui's fingers with so much fervor, you're sure his knuckles will leave you bruised. You don't care, not when you're so close.

"One more." Junhui's voice is suddenly at your ear, his tongue darting out to catch your lobe and suck. You let out a hysterical keen at the two sensations working together to bring you to your second orgasm. When you get there, the feeling pulls you under, and you officially lose yourself in the Devil's bed.

It feels like free-falling through the dark, nothing but the sound of Junhui's praise reminding you where and who you are.

"That's it, baby, that's it," he growls, his fingers becoming frenetic as he pants above you, hips grinding against you. "Oh, you're doing so good. You're fucking perfect."

"Need it," you gasp, finally blinking your eyes open as you register the rock hard body part pressed into your thigh as Junhui's cock. "Need it, please. Please."

You press Junhui away from you, holding your breath as his fingers slip out of you. You prop yourself up on your elbows, letting the straps of your bra fall off your shoulders. Junhui's black eyes drop at the movement as he brings his fingers into his mouth again. His eyes seem to roll into the back of his head momentarily, and you get chills only seeing more black. Once he's swallowed your slick, he leans over you, arm immediately coming up to wrap around your torso. His fingers make quick work of the clasps of your bra, popping it open easily and tossing it aside the same way he did your other clothes.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," he whispers, chanting the word over and over again as he dips down to take your nipple in his mouth.

"Junhui," you call, clearing your throat when you hear how raspy your voice sounds. He hums but continues circling your nipple with his tongue. "Junhui, hold on."

He immediately releases you, head snapping up to look at you. You watch as his eyes return to normal, allowing you to see the concern in them upon hearing your request to stop.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pushing himself off your body slightly.

"No—yes! I mean yes," you say, laughing a little. "I'm okay. I just…" you reach up to trace the lines of his collarbone, into his pecs, and down his abs, feeling entranced and momentarily forgetting what you wanted to say.

"What is it, darling?" He reaches up to massage your breast and you let your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm… I've uh, never done this," you admit.

He freezes over you, and you open your eyes, a little panicked that he's about to stop before you get to the good part—the part you desperately need. But he looks down at you fondly, a small smile on his lips.

"You've never done what?" he asks teasingly.

You glare at him. "Junnie, please."

He laughs. "I'm just kidding, love." He bends down to catch your lips in a quick kiss.

"I like that."

"What?" he asks, leaning back to look at you once more. "'Love'?" You nod sheepishly and he grins. "Mmm, 'love' it is."

The two of you kiss for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of your tongues sliding against each other and your hands caressing each other's bodies. When you start bucking up into him again, he breaks the kiss and presses his hips to yours to stop you from moving. You groan in frustration.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "That you want to… do this? With me?"

You nod. "Yes. Yes. I've never been surer. Are you—"

"Don't even," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. You bite down a giggle. He sits back on his heels, unbuttoning his pants, and your heart leaps into your throat.

You sit up along with him, crawling onto your knees and gently pushing his hands away as you undo his zipper. When his slacks and his underwear are off, your throat suddenly feels dry as you wonder if there's enough room inside you for him.

"Oh my god," you breathe.

"C'mere," he says softly, taking your hand in his and guiding you until you're straddling his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist and hugging you to him. You wrap your hand around his cock between your bodies, pumping a few times before you press it against your clit for you to grind against. "Fuck."

You moan in agreement, your movements growing frantic as you chase the friction, your slick coating the underside of his cock until Junhui is near whimpering underneath you.

"Are… are you ready?" he asks, hand tracing gentle shapes into the skin of your back. You nod quickly.

"Yes, yes, please, I'm ready."

He untangles his arms from you, one hand planting itself on the bed behind him to support the two of you and the other finding yours and intertwining with your fingers. He guides you to lean your weight into your joined hands as you rise onto your knees to line his cock up with your hole.

"Take it as slow as you need to," he reminds you, leading your hand to his shoulder and wrapping his arm around your waist once more. "It might hurt a little at first. We can stop at any point, okay?"

You shake your head. "No, not okay."

He smirks but it quickly falls off his face when you start lowering yourself, the head of his cock sliding into you with ease at first. It quickly meets resistance, though, your muscles tensing at his size.

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. He doesn't complain, simply leaning forward to leave gentle kisses across your collar and shoulder. He doesn't hurry you, either, saying nothing when you have to pause for a minute or two to adjust to his size. Between the kisses he leaves on you and the caress of his fingers, you relax enough to let him in inch by inch.

Then, finally, he bottoms out, your hips meeting with the delicious feeling of his balls resting against your ass.

He groans loudly, touching his forehead to your shoulder. You cradle his head, trying to breathe through the overwhelming feeling of being full.

"You're so big," you whisper.

"Mmm…" he hums absentmindedly, the hand on your back pressing flat against you like he needs you even closer than you already are. "Breathe, baby."

The command is the only reason you notice you're holding your breath. You try to exhale, struggling with the feeling that if you do, Junhui's dick will quite literally split you in half.

"Breathe…" he coos soothingly. "You're fine, love, you're fine. Just breathe… take your time."

You don't know how long it takes for your abdominal muscles to relax around the feeling of Junhui inside your guts. When you do, though, you know it's okay to move from the fact that breathing finally comes easily to you again.

"Junhui," you call, clearing your throat. "I want to move now."

"Go ahead, baby," he says, nodding. "I've got you."

He supports you, holding you with so much care as you start with rolling your hips to ease yourself into the feeling of him moving inside you. It's only a few more movements before you're lifting yourself off him and coming back down, the drag of his cock inside you pulling moan after moan out of you.

You bring both palms to either side of Junhui's face, tilting his head up. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, his pupils vibrating erratically like there's a battle happening inside him. You take shallower thrusts to reach down and connect your lips to Junhui's, eagerly swallowing all the whimpers he makes.

Then, when you break apart, foreheads resting against each other, you look into his eyes and tell him, "Let go, Junhui. Let go for me."

Whatever is happening inside him comes to a head, and the black of his pupils start to seep into the brown, and into the white, spreading until his eyes are a bottomless abyss again. But Junhui's pleasure knows no bounds now, and the perimeter of his room also goes up in white hot blue flames. As his moans get louder, the fire pulses, growing and climbing up the walls and across the ceiling but never burning through anything or getting anywhere close to you.

You groan at the thought of you and your cunt being the cause of this burning loss of control the Devil is experiencing, and it suddenly isn't enough. You tilt your head up, eyes barely focusing on the rippling blue flames dancing above your heads as you lift yourself almost completely off him before crashing back down. The room is a cacophony of skin meeting skin, desperate gasps for air, and whines for more.

"Oh, fuck," Junhui curses, leaning back onto the hand on his bed to support himself as he starts to thrust his hips up to meet yours each time you come back down. The flames ferociously lick every surface of the walls.

"Junnie," you gasp when his movements start to get rough, the feeling of being split open no longer scaring you and suddenly becoming a sensation you're actively chasing. "Feels… feels so good."

"You feel fucking amazing," he tells you with a broken moan. "Made for me."

You nod desperately. "I was." You ride him easily now, smiling when you notice him watching your tits as they bounce in his face with every thrust. "Was made just for you."

"Fuck," he whimpers, the glow of blue fire illuminating just how much he enjoys that. "Say that again. Fucking say that again." His grasp on your waist becomes bruising and it makes the burn in your thighs tolerable as you slam down on him repeatedly.

"This pussy was made for you," you tell him, the words followed by a scream when Junhui suddenly turns the two of you over without warning, leaving you no time to adjust as he starts thrusting into you so fast and hard and violently, you're immediately rendered boneless.

"That's fucking right," he grunts, taking both your hands in his and holding them above your head as his hips piston mercilessly. "Just for me, huh?" You nod wildly. "Your first and your last."

"Junhui!"

He kisses you then, his mouth hungry and impatient and sending an electric sensation straight to your cunt. Almost like he knows what's happening underneath him, he starts grinding his pubic bone hard over your clit to drive you even closer.

"Jun…" You squeeze your eyes shut and your nails carve half moons into his hands. "I'm going to… I'm…"

"Me too, love," he breathes. "So close…"

"Please," you beg, though you're unsure what for. Junhui seems to know somehow because he nods at your pleas. "Please, baby."

"Gonna fill you up," he promises. It isn't until he says that that you realize that's exactly what you're begging for. "Is that what you want? Wanna be pumped full of my cum?"

"Fuck, yes. Yes."

It only takes two more thrusts before your thighs are clamping around his torso hard, the heels of your feet digging into the small of his back as you come. Your walls spasm and suck him in, demanding more of him even as you hug him as close as possible with your legs.

He grunts loudly, fucking you through your orgasm for only a few seconds more before his own hits him. The fire roars and the room is bathed in blue. "Take it, baby," he nearly shouts when he comes inside you. It feels never-ending as he fucks his own cum deeper and deeper into you. "You want it, take it all."

"Junhui," you whimper, feeling him beginning to spill out of you when his cum has nowhere else to go. "No, no, no, no. Please." He hums in question. "Keep it in. Keep it… keep—"

The flames slowly fade to red, calming down to a gentle flicker that's more reminiscent of candlelight than the wild Hellfire used to melt flesh off the bones of damned souls. Junhui's thrusts come to a stop, and he makes sure to go as far into you as he can to seal his seed inside you. You sigh happily at the thought of being full of him.

"Thank you," you mutter, hugging him close. "Thank you."

He peppers everywhere he can reach with kisses—your face, your neck, your hair—careful not to move his lower body so you don't start whining that he's letting his cum drip out of you again.

"How are you?" he asks after he feels that you've caught your breath. "Are you okay?"

You nod. Okay is an understatement. You don't think you've ever felt bliss quite like this. Your body is so loose and pliant and relaxed, and you know it's because you've been so thoroughly and carefully fucked.

"I love you." It's the last thing you say before you unintentionally drift off to sleep.

DAY NINETY-NINE

When you wake up, it's dark and warm, and you've been cleaned and changed into your silk pajamas. You don't doubt that all happened with a snap of Junhui's fingers. You take stock of your body, wincing a little at the soreness between your legs and in your thighs.

"Hey." Junhui's voice is gravelly and thick with sleep. His arms follow close behind his greeting, tightening around your waist and pulling you until your back is flush against his chest.

"Hi," you whisper through a yawn.

"How do you feel?" He plants a kiss on your shoulder. "Does anything hurt?"

"Yes, but it feels good," you tell him honestly. "Really good."

"Good. Now come on. You need to eat."

You immediately shake your head. "No."

"Yes."

"No—hey!" Junhui suddenly disappears from the bed, leaving you without his arms wrapped around you. You shriek when the covers are ripped off you and the eye mask you didn't even know you were wearing vanishes, allowing the lights of Junhui's room to blind you. "Jun!"

"Food time," he hisses, hauling you up and into his arms.

You're seated at the kitchen island before you can register what's happening, a breakfast already cooked and ready for you. You blink at it.

"You cooked?"

"Of course I cooked. When have I not cooked you breakfast?"

You frown, realizing the only time he's ever left you without a meal in the morning was when he was sick. You just shared yourself with Junhui in a way you've never shared yourself with anyone, and still, this makes you blush furiously for some reason.

He smirks but doesn't comment on it. "Eat up, love. We have a lot to talk about."

And he doesn't waste any time, starting as soon as you've put away the last piece of bacon on your plate. The dishes disappear and he sits next to you, fully facing you and resting his arm along the back of your seat. He watches you carefully, a soft smile on his lips as he takes in every bit of you.

"Hi," you say pathetically.

"Hi."

"Thanks for breakfast. And… everything else. It was perfect."

His smile widens drastically, eyes raking over all the exposed bits of skin where he can see the marks he left on you with his mouth. Mercifully, he doesn't say anything about them. "You're perfect. Thank you for trusting me. For sharing that with me."

You blush furiously and look away, ignoring the way it makes him chuckle. "Okay, anyway, what do we need to talk about?"

"Ah. Your contract."

Your stomach sours. You'd forgotten that you two had never finished your conversation. You got so lost in Junhui—or rather, he got lost in you—it didn't occur to you that you still had things to discuss.

"It's important to me that you know I wasn't trying to make you leave," he mutters, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "I think I've made it quite clear how much I do not want you to leave."

You nod, trying not to fidget as you think about how much his reaction to the termination of your contract turned you on. "Well, then… so why do you want me to transfer out?"

"Because you were always going to be mine," he says simply. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Presumptuous of you."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "So be it. But I knew. And you can't be mine if you work directly under me."

You bark out your laughter, looking at him incredulously. "You mean to tell me… you're willing to hold me hostage and chain me up at home, but you draw the line at fucking your assistant?!"

He purses his lips to keep from smiling at the mere mention of sex with you. He rolls his eyes. "Say what you want, but chaining you up and holding you hostage is kind of par for the course in Hell. Fucking your direct report, though—generally frowned down upon. You moving into another department upon your contract completion would take care of that for me. I just… didn't know how to communicate that without having told you how I felt yet.

"So... I kind of panicked and thought if I just stopped communicating at all, maybe that would quicken the process and you'd just want to transfer on your own sooner, then I could explain myself. I didn't anticipate you threatening to leave Hell altogether. But I can see why my behavior would make you feel like I wanted you to. I'm sorry for that."

You hum, nodding as you process this information. "See, this is why you need to go to therapy. You probably could've figured that out before I had a meltdown, sobbing to a demon in the mail room."

He frowns. "You cried?" You shrug. "And who the fuck did you cry to?"

You scoff. "You're such a jealous person."

"I am not jealous."

"You buried Minghao under so much work, the man won't even look at me anymore."

"Good. That's the point."

You roll your eyes but can't help the feeling of satisfaction that blooms in your chest at that. You'll never admit to him how much his possessiveness pleases you.

"I'm sorry again," he says. "For making you cry."

You shake your head. "It was a misunderstanding. I'm sorry for goading you into your own little meltdown."

He glares at you. "Don't ever do that again. I was this close to leaving you mid-sentence to go eviscerate Joshua. That would've been incredibly unfortunate." You raise your eyebrows at the understatement. "Did you really call my parents?"

You nod, smiling. "Yes. They're lovely. I didn't tell them anything, though. Just called under the guise that I was updating all of your contacts."

He laughs, shaking his head. "You're insane."

"I didn't know how else to get you to admit you wanted me to stay."

Junhui sighs, cupping a hand behind your neck and reaching forward to kiss you like he needs to remind you immediately that he does want you to stay.

"Of course I want you to stay," he says as he releases you. "You don't want to see what I'd do if you left."

"I can imagine," you say, amused.

"You can't," he disagrees, shaking his head. The seriousness in his voice doesn't scare you, though. It just turns you on all over again. "But we won't have to worry about that. Right?"

You shake your head. "Nope. Not unless you randomly decide to push me away again." He groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder and sighing. "I'm kidding, Junhui. We're fine. Your ranking of what's immoral is a little skewed, but we're fine."

He raises his head and glares at you. "Chains in Hell are normal."

"Sure."

"Fucking your direct report is not."

"You technically just did."

He winces. "Well, that's what we need to talk about."

Your heart jumps. "What do you mean…?"

Junhui reaches over to hold your hand, threading your fingers together. "You're going to have to transfer before your mortal death, darling."

"What…?" you ask, crestfallen. "But… I…"

"Hey, hey, hey," he calls, standing and pulling your bar stool so that it's facing him. He pushes your legs apart so he can stand between them and take your face in his hands. "You're still going to live here for as long as you want. You're still going to see me as much as you want. You're still going to be mine, and I'm still going to be yours. You're not going to be without me, okay?"

Your breathing slows, the Devil effectively quelling your growing panic before it even becomes anything real. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah… yes. I'm still going to have you and my friends and my job and everything I love." And you're still going to have therapy to help you remember that.

He hums in affirmation. "Yes you are. You're going to have everything you've ever wanted and will want. I'll make sure of it."

Your cheeks grow hot and you turn in a weak attempt to hide it. But your face is still in Junhui's hold, so he guides your gaze back to his. He smiles fondly at the pink dusting your cheeks and bends down to press a kiss to both.

"I love you," he says, looking deeply into your eyes when he says it. "No matter where in Hell you are and no matter what role you're in. I love you and you have me."

You smile up at him, closing your eyes as you nod. You feel his lips touch your eyelids before they press against your mouth. He tastes like coffee and ghost pepper chips and you fight to keep from laughing in his face because of it.

"What?" he murmurs, feeling the amusement in your lips.

"Nothing," you say, shaking your head. "I love you, Junhui. Now take me back to bed."

"Gladly."

DAY ONE HUNDRED

THE INFERNAL ADMINISTRATION OF HELL Office of Internal Communications Memorandum

Executive Leave

Please be advised that His Infernal Majesty and his Chief of Staff will be out of office on approved executive leave for the next week.

During this period:

Do not attempt to summon His Infernal Majesty for matters deemed "urgent" unless they are apocalyptic

Matters involving routine damnation, contract approvals, ritual inquiries, plague authorizations, and standard temptations should continue through normal channels

Ouija Board communications from minors should be redirected to and screened by the Community Outreach Desk

Please note that executive leave is not to be interpreted as an invitation to stage a coup.

Additionally, His Infernal Majesty would like to announce an organizational restructuring. Upon her return from executive leave, Y/N will transition from the position of Chief of Staff to Director of Contract Negotiations.

In her new role, Y/N will oversee:

High-value mortal negotiations

Executive-level contract drafting and review

Treaty negotiations with celestial representatives

Appeals involving legacy soul agreements

Cross-departmental bargaining strategy

Y/N will now report to the Chief Torment and Innovation Officer.

A message from His Infernal Majesty:

"Y/N has demonstrated exceptional judgment, professionalism, and integrity throughout her tenure as Chief of Staff. This move reflects not only her accomplishments, but the confidence I place in her continued leadership. She has my full authority in all matters pertaining to infernal negotiations."

Please join Executive Leadership in congratulating Y/N on her well-earned advancement and wishing both executives a restful leave. (Fun Fact: The last time His Infernal Majesty took more than three consecutive days away from the office, the Byzantine Empire still existed!)

We appreciate your patience as he attempts this exciting new experience known as "relaxing."

This memorandum has been reviewed and approved by the Office of Internal Communications and His Infernal Majesty.

choso, eyes rimmed red and glossy, glances up quickly at the familiar voice. his pupils grow wide at the sight of sukuna, shaking with rage. and already fallen off the edge…actively losing it.

kaori’s eyes widen in shock, her gaze drops to her hand then to her step-son. she swallows thickly. her short black bob lays flat on her head, a black skirt hugs her waist, as the rest flows, reaching her boney ankles. her formal attire stands out in the sea of casually under dressed teenagers and young adults. and none of it can hide the slight wrinkles around her neck, or the unnerving sensation that shoots through sukuna when she meets his gaze.

“choso said you weren’t here—“

she doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence when sukuna’s suddenly slamming the frail woman into the wall. choso’s eyes widen as sukuna’s frame towers over her with little effort. he ignores how his hand shakes, gripping the collar of her blouse, squeezing. every muscle in his body shifts, tightening his hold on her.

“I asked you a fucking question!” he shouts in her face. unbothered by the sudden looks of people backstage, including ino, who ran into the crowd to call for sukuna when the woman came in.

a few moments earlier….

ino’s standing beside mechamaru, the two watching over choso as he adjusts his guitar for the fourth time that night.

“dude it sounded fine before, now you’re just messing with it,” mechamaru exhales in exasperation.

choso’s brows pinch, “no, this chord is loose.”

“because you keep playing with it.”

“just give me a sec!” choso snaps.

the two boys glance at one another, looking down at their distraught friend. it’s obvious choso’s been on edge since they arrived. but the guy won’t give them a straight answer. instead he keeps fidgeting and messing with his guitar like there’s a fly constantly buzzing in his ear. to make matters worse, ino and mechamaru noticed sukuna coming in with a couple of his friends. last they heard, choso still hasn’t cleared the air with him. is that why he’s on edge?

“got it,” choso finally exhales.

unfortunately, the good news is immediately cut short when choso notices his bandmates looking like they’ve just been shot.

standing behind him is the uncanny woman that looks like a spitting image of their best friend. choso’s heart drops to his ass, and the blood drains from his face in seconds.

“choso.”

the unnerving sound of his name coming from this woman’s lips has a chill running down his spine. his sweat turns cold as he looks up from his seat on the ground, quickly moving to stand up. choso stands at nearly the same height as the tall skinny woma, maybe an inch or so taller.

“mom, how’d you—“

SLAP!

the sound rings so sharp it cuts through the muffled bass bleeding from the stage outside. choso freezes. completely still. his head jerked with the impact, black hair falling into his face as the sting blooms hot across his cheek. for a second, he doesn’t even process what happened. his body locks up as his brain tries to catch up. his eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares somewhere past her shoulder.

ino and mechamaru go dead silent. the two boys stand there like statues, shock written all over their faces as kaori lowers her hand with terrifying calmness. there’s no guilt at all, just that same unreadable expression.

“you lied to me,” she says coldly. the authority in her voice settles instantly, suffocating the space around them.

choso slowly lifts a hand to his cheek, fingertips brushing over the burning skin, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that she actually hit him. it’s been years— his throat feels tight.

“choso,” she says again, sharper this time. “i’m speaking to you.”

his eyes flick up properly now, confusion and disbelief behind his eyes as he finally looks at her. then instinctively, his gaze darts toward ino and mechamaru.

his jaw clenches.

“can we talk after?” he mutters quickly, voice rougher than normal. “i’m about to go up—”

“no. we’re talking now.”

her fingers wrap around his wrist immediately. it tightens, making choso stiffen as she pulls him toward the farther corner backstage, away from the noise and people passing through, heels clicking.

the second they’re out of earshot, mechamaru’s neck nearly snaps as he whirls toward ino. “why is she here?!” he whisper-shouts.

ino throws his arms up, drumsticks still clutched in one hand. “i don’t know! that was a hard fucking slap too—”

both boys suddenly glance back toward the corner kaori dragged choso to, he’s sitting on a stool as she stands in front of him. and the reality settles ugly in their stomachs. maybe this is exactly why sukuna didn’t want choso around her alone. and neither of them have to voice that realization.

“should we—”

“i don’t want him killing us though—”

“he’ll kill us for sure, but if we call him he probably won’t!” ino cuts in frantically, already moving. “c’mon!”

the two practically trip over themselves rushing out backstage. the second they hit the main crowd, the noise slams into them full force. music shaking the grass, colored lights flashing violently overhead from the strobes attached to the makeshift stage, and bodies shove shoulder-to-shoulder near the elevated stage as another band screams through their set on stage. the battle of the bands was the first huge event kicking off summer break, and the turnout at the rented park is insane and only getting bigger as more people flood in.

finding sukuna in this mess feels impossible.

“i honestly don’t know which way he went!” mechamaru yells over the music, shoving past a group near the bar trucks.

“split up!” ino shouts back immediately. “call me if you find him!”

they separate without another word, because somewhere in this packed park is a six-foot-four soccer captain with face tattoos, a terrifying temper, and enough presence to make grown men shut up when he walks into a room, and right now they need him.

eventually, ino spots a familiar head of pink hair through the sea of people. well….two heads.

an almost identical, much smaller version of the man he’s looking for sits perched on sukuna’s shoulders, glow sticks hanging around yuuji’s neck as the eleven-year-old screams along to the music like he’s completely lost his mind. sukuna isn’t much better, one tattooed arm is hooked around yuuji’s leg while he shouts something toward the stage, feral under the flashing lights.

ino nearly cries in relief, “sukuna!”

he starts shoving through people immediately, bumping shoulders and muttering rushed apologies until he finally reaches the college student. his hand grabs the back of sukuna’s plain black tee.

sukuna whips around instantly, ready to shove whoever grabbed him, then stops. “ino—”

“there’s a small problem!” the drummer’s panting, sweat dripping down his temple from sprinting around the park venue. sukuna’s expression shifts immediately. brows pinching sharply as his stomach drops before ino even finishes speaking. he can see it all over the kid’s face.

“choso’s mom is here.”

everything happens at once. yuuji yelps as sukuna grabs him off his shoulders without warning, shoving the younger boy toward gojo’s side. the white-haired man barely catches him properly before sukuna’s already gripping ino hard by the arm.

“where?”

“backstage—she took him—”

“watch him,” sukuna snaps toward gojo and geto, voice suddenly low cutting through the music.

gojo’s grin vanishes instantly. geto’s brows pinch instantly, that tone isn’t new to them. “for sure,” gojo says immediately.

ino doesn’t hesitate. he spins around and starts forcing his way back through the crowd, sukuna right behind him. except “behind” isn’t even the right word, his shoulder slams into strangers hard enough to make them stumble, dark eyes fixed ahead as the noise around him dulls. his pulse pounds violently in his ears with every step, ino’s words looping over and over in his head.

choso’s mom is here. his jaw clenches so hard it hurts. and somewhere deep in his chest— something ugly starts waking up.

present….

“I asked you a fucking question!”

kaori raises a hand to her step-son’s forearm. lips parting as her eyes dart over his hardened expression, his eyes flashing red, every muscle on his body protruding as sweat beads down his forehead.

“are you deaf?—“ he snaps after she takes too long to respond. his head snaps to choso still sitting on the stool. “she hit you?”

choso stands, head dropping and hand covering his face. his heart pounds against his chest.

“choso—“

choso’s clenches his jaw, blood boiling.

“choso—“

“forget about it!” choso snaps.

sukuna suddenly lets go of kaori, taking the single step to uncover choso’s face. his other hand cups his chin, tilting his face up, and it all hits him at once. the tears building behind his brother’s brown eyes, looking away from the older as he bites down on his teeth, and the bright red hand print on his right cheek.

kaori smooths out the front of her wrinkled blouse, eyes cold as ice.

“choso lied to me,” she says flatly, but not to sukuna, she never talks to him, it’s always at him. “he told me the money was for cram school because he was falling behind in his classes and needed it for his finals.” her lip curls faintly as she gestures toward the backstage area and the unruly screaming crowd beyond the curtains. “then i find out it was for this.”

choso tries pulling away from sukuna’s grip, but sukuna’s frozen, completely still as he stares at the red handprint burning against his little brother’s cheek. the heat builds u see his skin, sweat collecting behind his neck.

“spending time with you has rubbed off on him, something I did not want to know.”

that finally makes sukuna’s eyes snap upward, sharp and furious as his gaze cuts to choso instead of her. “how would she know to give you that money?” he asks quietly, that tone is worse than yelling.

choso visibly shrinks, shoulders tightening as he avoids eye contact. “she asked to meet with me,” he mutters, uncomfortable. “and asked if i needed anything.”

sukuna’s jaw flexes hard enough to hurt. “so when I asked you, it was before that?” choso looks away. and that’s all he needs. sukuna’s head whips toward kaori so fast it nearly startles ino beside them. “I’m getting a fucking restraining order on your fucking ass.”

kaori scoffs immediately. “we both know that’s not an option.” she crosses her arms now, anger bleeding through her composed expression. “i’m more concerned about my son going around asking people for money over some ridiculous band competition while struggling in school—”

“choso isn’t struggling with shit!” sukuna barks. “he’s a fucking genius. that’s how he scammed your psycho ass in the first place.”

people nearby are definitely staring now. a few phones are raised before mechamaru immediately starts hissing at people to stop recording while ino frantically waves others back. choso looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.

“are you seriously praising him for lying?” kaori demands.

“to you? fuck yeah.” sukuna steps closer. towering. violent rage practically radiating off him. “actually, i’m disappointed he didn’t ask for more money.”

“ryo—” choso starts weakly, oozing with embarrassment.

“that’s what you get for going behind my back,” sukuna cuts over him, eyes locked onto kaori. “throw all the money you want at him. choso isn’t going anywhere near you.”

“choso,” kaori says again softly, completely ignoring sukuna, that sets him off. choso’s face twists, confusion and guilt and stress all mixing together as he looks between them. “you know i’m just disappointed in your actions,” kaori tells him, voice suddenly gentler in a terrifying way that makes sukuna see red. “you can tell me if you’re having trouble asking your grandfather for things.”

the faux sweetness hits choso like another slap. sukuna sees the hesitation and confusion immediately. choso’s chest tightens, and suddenly sukuna’s moving again.

“stop fucking talking to him like that,” he snarls, voice low and shaking with fury. “jus’ ‘cause he answered your texts doesn’t mean you can suddenly care about him.”

“ry—” choso tries, voice tight.

sukuna doesn’t even hear him.

“you’re outta your fucking mind if you think giving him money is gonna win him over.” sukuna spits at kaori.

“i was helping my son,” kaori fires back immediately.

“your son?” sukuna laughs harshly. “now he’s your son?”

“ryo,” choso says again, louder this time, but sukuna’s blood is roaring too loudly in his ears to listen.

“i didn’t forget the way you fucking treated them,” sukuna steps closer. “some mother leaving bruises on her fucking kid, making him all jumpy. not after the shit you did with me—“

“i said stop!”

the shout cuts through backstage so sharply that even the people shouting over the music nearby go quiet for half a second. sukuna freezes. choso’s chest heaves. his face is bright red now from humiliation and anger. his eyes are glossy with held back tears that only seem to piss him off more.

“I don’t give a shit!” he snaps, voice cracking despite how hard he’s trying to keep it steady.

kaori’s expression shifts quick. “choso—”

“no—” he jerks away before she can touch him again, stumbling closer to sukuna, instinctively. “don’t— don’t touch me.” his breathing is uneven. ino and mechamaru exchange nervous looks from a few feet away. “I don’t fucking care about anything other than playing tonight—that’s it!” choso gestures wildly.

sukuna’s jaw clenches.

“i can handle my own shit,” choso continues, breathing shakily now, attention now on his older brother. “ya don’t have to make a big deal outta something when I didn’t ask for it!”

sukuna’s eyes darken immediately. “the hell you mean by that?”

“i mean i’m not yuuji!” choso explodes. “you don’t have to hover over me every second like i’m two!” a thick ugly silence follows, even choso goes quiet after saying it, but he doesn’t take it back. instead he glances briefly at his older brother, than at his mother, his jaw tightens. “i’ll pay you back the money by the end of summer,” choso snaps, eyes burning now. “so you can be disappointed at me, somewhere else.”

the words hit hard, then choso walks away, angry. truly angry.

sukuna watches his younger brother shove past the backstage clutter, shoulders stiff and fists clenched at his sides and for a split second, the resemblance is almost nauseating. not in appearance — sukuna’s always known choso looked too much like her — but in their temperament. the rage settling ugly beneath his skin until it explodes. sukuna never really noticed how much of himself choso inherited. but kaori notices it immediately, especially when her expression flickers.

choso reaches ino and mechamaru, both immediately crowding him with questions.

“dude are you okay?”

“what the hell was that?”

“did she seriously—”

“i’m fine,” choso cuts sharply. the three fall quiet, choso’s fingers tighten around the neck of his guitar before he looks toward the stage entrance where the current band is finishing up.

“we’re up next,” he says, jaw locked. “and we’re gonna fucking win this.”

ino blinks, then quickly grins. “HELL YEAH,” he shouts, shaking choso’s shoulders.

mechamaru nods quickly beside him, still nervous, but determined all the same. and just like that, the three disappear further backstage toward the stage call area, leaving sukuna alone with kaori.

sukuna’s sharp eyes cut through her, there was no holding back now that choso was gone. his hand snaps back onto her blouse, fingers curling in the fabric until it bunches tight and strains under his grip. he yanks her forward, lifting her just enough that her heels barely touch the ground.

“i’m going to fucking kill you,” he spits. his voice is low, and shaking with controlled rage. it was worse than shouting. “I’ll rip your arm straight out of your body if you—” his grip tightens again, the words weren’t enough to contain what he meant. “—ever lay a finger on him.”

kaori’s breath catches. she’s on her tippy toes now, frozen, sweat gathering at her temple, and for the first time, something in her cracks. this wasn’t another intimidation tactic or performance. it was a real threat from sukuna.

he leans in closer, voice dropping even further, every word precise, already imagining how it would happen. “i won’t even give you a chance to breathe,” his eyes are deep crimson blood, “if you touch them again… i’ll rip you in half before you even know what’s happening.”

and with that, sukuna lets go of kaori, and she stumbles back a step, catching herself with a sharp inhale.

“keep threatening me,” kaori spits, chin lifting even as her voice wavers at the edges. “I don’t take childish boys seriously—“

something in sukuna snaps again. “i’m gonna fucking kill you, you cunt—”

he steps forward, already closing the distance with terrifying quickiness— and then an arm locks around his chest and yanks him backward.

“what the fuck?!” sukuna twists immediately, muscles tensing as he fights the grip, but it holds him steady, pulling him off his line like he weighs nothing. he doesn’t even need to see the face at first, he just knows from the strength alone.

toji.

sukuna digs his heels in, shoulders straining as he tries to wrench free. “get off me,” he snaps, still fighting forward, still locked on kaori like she’s the only thing in the room. but toji doesn’t budge. he just drags him back another step, grounding him with pure force, cutting through the athletes strength with some struggle.

“get a fucking grip!” toji snaps in his ear. he uses every muscle in his body to knock sukuna off his weight again and drag him further away.

sukuna digs his fingers into toji’s forearms, but it’s too late when he’s pushed back to the exit, joining the crowd cheering the current band.

“fuck!” sukuna shouts, receiving a hard shove from toji until he’s completely knocked back. the rage had boiled way over, that toji standing in front of him, just as pissed, then he’s gripping sukuna’s collar, bringing him to his face, fist raised.

“are you fucking seventeen again!” he shouts, the music and chaos around them made everything much calmer than what was actually happening. “I’ll knock your teeth out if you don’t calm down!”

sukuna still struggles—

PUNCH

the hit directly lands on sukuna’s eye, sending him back, but toji keeps him up. fist curling tighter. “you wanna fuck everything for your brothers? do you!”

“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits on toji, just to receive another punch directly in his solar plexes, almost knocking the wind straight out of him.

his breath catches, a few people nearby step away in surprise. the ocean crashes in the distance. toji still grips his shoulder. sukuna is hunched over, catching his breath, back rising and falling like a beast ready to attack. but instead, sukuna aggressively shrugs toji’s hand away.

“I’m going to fucking kill her,” he repeats under his breath.

toji rubs his face, chest heaving with his own rage.

“woah! what happened!” yuuji shouts over the music, eyes wide as sukuna finds them in the crowd again, toji not far behind.

gojo, geto, megumi, and now nanami, all glance up, all stunned at the bruise slowly forming around sukuna’s eye. sukuna looks furious still, not explosive like before, but still pissed. the anger settling deep. his chest still rises hard under each breath, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.

toji walks a few steps behind him, equally pissed, rubbing at his own face.

“jesus christ,” gojo says first, brows lifting. “did you get jumped?”

“shut the fuck up,” sukuna mutters instantly.

his voice comes rougher than usual, and he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand standing back beside his brother.

yuuji stares up at him wide-eyed. “did someone hit you?!”

sukuna finally looks at him then. his expression doesn’t soften much, but something in his eyes shifts slightly at the sight of his little brother hovering there, worried out of his mind.

“i’m fine,” sukuna says shortly.

yuuji clearly doesn’t buy it. “your eye’s all swollen.”

“and?” sukuna shoots back, dismissive, though the edge in his tone dulls just a little. “still standing.”

toji scoffs behind him. “barely.”

sukuna cuts him a glare sharp enough to kill. for a second, it looks like sukuna might start yelling again, but then he just exhales hard through his nose and leans his head back instead. the ocean crashes somewhere behind them. music shaking the ground beneath their feet.

geto studies the tension between the two men carefully. “what the hell happened?”

“nothing,” sukuna says immediately. yuuji still lingers beside him, nervous energy practically radiating off him, and sukuna notices immediately.“quit staring at me,” he mutters, finally shoving lightly at yuuji’s shoulder. “i said i’m fine.”

yuuji doesn’t even get the chance to respond before sukuna suddenly grabs him by the waist and lifts him back onto his shoulders like nothing happened. except everyone notices the slight wince that flashes across sukuna’s face. his hand brushes his stomach for half a second, fingers pressing there instinctively before he adjusts yuuji’s legs over his shoulders again.

toji notices immediately. his jaw tightens.

“choso is up,” sukuna says instead, voice flat, already looking back toward the stage through the crowd.

yuuji steadies himself, hands gripping the top of sukuna’s head as he tries to lean down to see his brothers bruised eye. “are you sure you’re okay?”

“you ask too many questions,” sukuna mutters. but he keeps one hand locked around yuuji’s calf anyway, secure and steady despite the bruise forming around his eye and the ache spreading through his ribs.

gojo watches the whole thing with raised brows. “wow. tough guy for real.”

“say another word and i’ll knock your teeth out.”

“there he is,” geto sighs. nanami shakes his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitches for barely a second. behind them, toji exhales through his nose, still irritated, but at least sukuna has settled for the time being.

everyone’s attention shifts fully to the stage as choso’s band gets called up. megumi sits on toji’s shoulders, arms loosely resting over his dad’s head as the whole group drifts closer to the center front where the crowd thickens. lights flare across the stage, as the anticipation of the next band rolls through the audience. yuuji immediately lights up the second he spots choso stepping into place.

“CHOSOOOO!!!” he screams at the top of his lungs, bouncing on sukuna’s shoulders. sukuna tightens his grip instinctively, keeping him steady. the motion pulls at his bruised ribs again, but he doesn’t show it beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.

“THAT’S MY BROTHER!”

sukuna exhales through his nose, eyes fixed on the stage. choso stands under the lights now, adjusting his position at the mic, shoulders rolling back shaking off everything that happened earlier. the crowd noise builds around him, voices overlapping, everyone cheering.

gojo cups his hands around his mouth. “YOU GUYS GOT THIS!!”

on stage, choso finally looks up, and for a split second, his eyes find the group in the crowd.

yuuji waves wildly like his life depends on it. “you got this choooo!!!!”

sukuna doesn’t wave, but he holds eye contact with choso for a moment longer than anyone else, steady and sharp. the bruise on his face not visible under the shifting lights.

choso inhales sharply, shaking off the rest of his anxiety. sweat building from the nerves and heat. and then they start.

the first hit of ino’s drums sends the entire crowd shouting with excitement…

sukuna’s chest tightens. the uneasiness weighs on his shoulders as a dark pit quietly stirs awake inside him. though his focus remains ahead, eyes locked on his brother performing their first set, there’s that lingering anger that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

not since he was seventeen, standing by the intersection, red and blue lights flashing across his face, and his dad’s car jammed slightly beneath the truck, completely crushed.

“shit—that’s your dad’s car?” kashimo repeats, as if saying it again will snap sukuna back.

but he’s already moving. his feet stumble off the sidewalk before his mind catches up, shoving straight into the street. his skull is split open by the sirens screaming loudly. ambulances and police cars clogging the street. the headlights blur his vision, only seeing the wreck straight ahead.

“SUKUNA—!” kashimo pushes after him, nearly slipping as he forces his way through the growing crowd. officers notice immediately when the two teenagers duck beneath the tape.

“hey! kid—!” an officer grabs for sukuna’s arm.

sukuna violently shoves him off. “THAT’S MY DAD —!”

his voice sounds unfamiliar to him as it tears straight out of his throat, making the officer stumble back just enough for sukuna to break free and start running the second he sees paramedics dragging someone out from the passenger side.

his stomach drops.

the familiar body is pulled out, and all he sees is his father covered in deep red blood.

blood coats his face, runs down his neck, soaks through the front of his shirt. glass sticks to his skin. bruises already spread dark beneath the flashing lights while firefighters shout over each other around the wreck. controlling the truck from starting a fire. sukuna drops beside his dad so fast it scrapes the skin clean off his knees.

“shit—shit, shit, shit—” his hands shake violently as he looks at all the blood.

one of the paramedics tries pulling him back. “kid, you need to move—”

“dad?” sukuna grabs onto jin’s arm anyway, panic rising so violently inside him it feels like he’ll throw up. “dad, what the fuck—? WHAT THE FUCK?!”

his voice cracks at the end, eyes wide as jin tries to respond but only wheezing comes out. blood covers one of his eyes as he struggles to open them properly. every breath sounds wet and broken.

“r-ry—” his fingers twitch upward weakly, trying to reach him.

and suddenly sukuna can’t fucking breathe, the anger explodes through his chest making him dizzy. “YOU SHOULD’VE STAYED WITH ME!” sukuna shouts, tears burning hot behind his eyes. “WHY DID YOU GO AFTER HER?!”

jin barely seems aware of the wreck around him, or the paramedics putting a mask on him, or the blood soaking through his clothes. instead, his entire focus stays on his eldest son kneeling beside him with bloodshot eyes, and an anger he can’t seem to ease.

“ryo…” he wheezes painfully. “men…” his hand finally reaches sukuna’s hand, smearing blood across his skin.

behind them, paramedics pull another person from the opposite side of the car, alive and walking. kaori stumbles against the police cruiser, hysterical, mascara running down her face. her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused.

“ma’am,” an officer says sharply, catching her arm before she falls again. “have you been drinking tonight?”

another officer immediately steps in beside him after smelling it. kaori starts crying harder, words slurring together into panicked nonsense.

sukuna looks up. then something inside him twists… his father is laying in front of him and she’s standing.

“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits, shoving himself to his feet so fast his knees nearly give out beneath him. jin’s bloodied hand slips from his sleeve, still reaching after him weakly.

“ryomen…”

but sukuna already storms forward. an officer immediately moves between him and kaori. “hey—hey! back up!”

“get the fuck out of my way!” sukuna barks, trying to shove past him again, completely losing it.

kaori sits against the side of the ambulance now while a paramedic presses gauze against the cut on her forehead. another wraps a blanket around her shoulders despite the smell of alcohol practically soaking the air around her. she looks up just in time to see sukuna lunging toward her and for the first time that night, genuine fear crosses her face.

“you did this!” sukuna screams.

two officers grab him before he reaches her. sukuna fights violently in their grip, rage tearing through him he can barely see anything besides red.

“HE WENT AFTER YOU!” he shouts. “HE FUCKING WENT AFTER YOU!”

“kid, calm down—”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”

behind him, paramedics suddenly start shouting near jin’s stretcher. one of them yells for another medic, and starts pushing sukuna’s father faster toward the ambulance.

what followed turned into a blur that sukuna’s mind never fully managed to piece together afterward. his body moved before his mind did. one second officers held him back, paramedics shouting around him, and the next he climbed into the ambulance beside his father while someone yelled that he couldn’t ride along unless he stayed seated.

sukuna didn’t even remember agreeing, he just remembered the inside of the ambulance feeling freezing cold, remembered the medic cutting jin’s shirt open, and remembered the blood. so much blood.

sukuna sat there with blood covering both hands, staring while they worked on his father right in front of him. jin barely stayed conscious the entire ride. every now and then his eyes opened halfway, searching weakly until they landed on sukuna again. like he needed to make sure he was still there. and every single time, sukuna felt something twist apart inside his chest.

then the hospital lights replaced the sirens. people moved around him constantly, nurses, doctors, officers asking questions—but sukuna stayed hunched over in the waiting room chair with his elbows on his knees and his father’s blood smeared across his hands. he stared at the floor so long he lost track of everything.

the automatic doors eventually opened again. heavy footsteps quickly coming towards him. toji. and then his gramps following close behind him.

“ryomen,” toji says immediately, breath uneven like he rushed there as fast as possible. “what happened?”

sukuna doesn’t answer. he just sits there, shoulders tense, brows pinched tight while his fingers curl harder against his palms. staring at the blood in the creases of his hands. then he mutters. quietly. low. “she killed him.”

toji’s expression shifts instantly. “what?”

“she killed him,” sukuna repeats, harsher this time, the words scraping out of his throat. “she killed him.”

sukuna barely notices the two men hovering around him. he keeps staring at the blood on his hands instead. his scraped knees. his football uniform still on.

sukuna genuinely can’t tell how many hours or minutes pass. the hospital waiting room grows quieter as the night drags on. his grandfather quietly rests his head back, while toji paces near the windows like he might punch straight through the glass. and then finally, the doors open again, a doctor walks out. everyone freezes immediately. and sukuna doesn’t need to hear the words, before the doctor even speaks.

he’s dead.

and it’s her fault.

the hard yank on his hair snaps sukuna straight back into the present. music crashes through the field while people scream their heads off around them. yuuji sitting on top of sukuna’s shoulders has one hand gripping sukuna’s phone while the other fully tugs on his brothers hair to keep balance.

“GRAMPS DO YOU SEE HIM?!” yuuji screams into the phone loud enough to blow out the speaker.

gramps voice crackles back immediately. “you keep shaking the damn phone!” the camera angle violently jerks around. all yuuji can see is the top half of the old man’s forehead shoved way too close to the screen. “stay still!”

“OHHHHHHHHH!!!!” yuuji completely loses his mind the second choso steps up to the mic again.

the entire field erupts with him.

ino’s drums shake through the speakers while the guitars kick in harder, the stage lights flashing over choso and his band as they absolutely light up the crowd. even nanami cups his hands around his mouth to yell, whatever dignity he usually carries cracking under the sheer energy of the performance. gojo screams something incomprehensible beside him. geto laughs while shoving him. megumi claps from toji’s shoulders with far more enthusiasm than he’d ever show on a regular day.

and somehow yuuji’s excitement finally drags sukuna with it. the tension in his chest loosens for the first time all night as yuuji bursts into louder cheering.

the two brothers start yelling toward the stage together, voices getting swallowed by the music and chaos around them while choso stands under the lights. and sukuna’s resolve hits him that very moment too.

he’s not letting these two out of his sight.

the celebrations, surprisingly, continued through the night until all the performers were done.

sukuna and the boys watched in the audience as all the bands crowded onto the stage and the promoters stood in the middle with a list and began announcing the six bands that will be proceeding to the semi-finals in two weeks.

“DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTING!” yuuji starts the cheers, sitting back on sukuna’s shoulders. the rest quickly join, and as the four bands are announced, the chanting grows louder. the crowd joining, a universal want for choso’s band, death paintings, to be one of the semi-finalists.

“and the final band to make it into the semi finals is….” the host waits for the anticipation to simmer, but it’s not realized with how unbelievably loud the chanting has gotten for different bands, but the loudest being for— “DEATH PAINTINGS!!”

—

the culmination of celebration among the group extends to choso. him and his two friends are on cloud nine after the announcement, riding the adrenaline. somehow, choso manages to push everything else aside that almost swallowed the entire night.

people keep stopping him before he can even take three steps, congratulating the band, asking questions, slapping him on the back. toji leaves before everyone else, megumi staying behind with the group as security pushes the crowd out of the venue field and toward the beach nearby. bonfires burn in the distance and music continues from portable speakers.

everyone was distracted, except sukuna. his decision settled during the performance and by the time they return home, well after midnight, the house felt exhausted. choso’s friends immediately crash his room. megumi sleeping in yuuji’s room without complaint. doors shut, voices fading until silence settles over the house.

sukuna sits alone at the kitchen table. the only light comes from his laptop screen.

the black envelope sits beside it. opened.

a thick paper rests beneath his hand as he reads the letter again for what must be the hundredth time. an invitation. the one he’s waited to receive again for the past five years.

a la liga club. three weeks training with one of the best clubs in the world. three weeks that could change his entire future. the letter might as well weigh a hundred pounds. for weeks, sukuna pushed away replying, even when everyone brought it up. he had more pressing things at the front of his mind….

his eyes drift toward the hallway where his brothers sleep. a few months ago the answer would’ve been simple. obvious, even…but since kaori, everything’s changed.

his jaw tightens as his fingers move across the keyboard.

Dear Recruitment Team,

Thank you for extending the invitation. I am honored by the opportunity and would like to formally accept.

But before finalizing travel arrangements, I would like to discuss one logistical matter. I am the primary caretaker of my two younger brothers and am responsible for their supervision and wellbeing during the summer. As a result, I will not be able to travel without them and would like to ask whether accommodations can be made for my brothers to accompany me during the three-week training period. Their presence would not interfere with my participation in training or any club obligations.

his eyes narrow, reading over the email. he isn’t asking, he already knows what he’s doing. if the club says yes, yuuji and choso are coming. end of discussion. if they don’t…then. his fingers flex, veins straining.

both outcomes will result in consequences. the first is choso, but after today, he doesn’t care if choso throws a fit, or if he gets called controlling or insane. he isn’t leaving them behind after tonight and remembering exactly how fast everything can disappear.

his fingers resume moving.

I understand this is an unusual request, but I wanted to address it before confirming. If necessary, I would be happy to discuss the situation further and provide any information you may need.

Thank you again for this opportunity. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Ryomen Sukuna Itadori

sukuna leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. for a moment, the silent churning deep in his chest twists… the lingering feeling that’s been pushed returning. a familiar one that’s ruled his life for years. bad things happen whether you’re ready or not. people leave whether you hold onto them or not. life keeps moving whether you’re scared of it or not. and if that’s true—

his gaze drops back to the laptop. the cursor hovers over the send button. the house remains completely silent. inside their rooms, his brothers sleep peacefully, completely unaware that their summer plans are about to change.

SEND

the email vanishes.

for several seconds he simply stares at the screen. then he reaches over, grabs the black envelope, and crushes it in his fist. three weeks in spain. suck it up.

—

the following two weeks went by with a breeze. aside from two separate incidents in two completely different places. one unraveled in the itadori household a few days after the battle of the bands tournament, and the second was in a certain hospital staircase that same day.

your jaw tenses. shoko quietly stands beside you, your hands tucked behind your backs. a resident stands across from you while an attending stands front and center. the staircase feels too small and you already know this isn’t about a patient, glancing at shoko beside you.

the attending, your father, removes his glasses, folding them in his hand. “you know why we’re having this conversation?”

you shift your weight, shoko glances at you. heat crawls up from the back of your neck. you finally respond with a small shrug. the resident cringes, your father doesn’t. “you asked shoko to ask a resident physician to prescribe medication to you.”

you swallow thickly biting your cheek. shoko opens her mouth, but your dad holds a hand up.

“I’ll give you a chance. I’m asking her to answer first.” you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. which you do.

“i asked a question,” you clear your throat. “I was asking shoko to ask for me.”

“you put them in an inappropriate position,” he cuts, silencing you in seconds.

your chest tightens, heat spreading to your face now. the embarrassment sits heavy on your chest now. you see shoko try to raise her hand beside you again.

“can I—“ the attending finally turns his head to shoko. “we were just talking.” she clears her throat, “we both didn’t know what the policy was on—“

“the policy is your supervisors can’t prescribe you medication,” he snaps.

shoko nods, glancing at the resident, who’s supervising this summer’s undergrad students, including her and you. “yeah, I was told.”

you scratch your wrist awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to put anyone in an…inappropriate position.” you wet your lip, pushing the coil crawling up your throat. “it won’t happen again.”

he processes your apology. his eyes flick to the resident and shoko, dismissing them. shoko glances at you as she follows the resident out, the staircase door shutting behind her. the silence grows louder with just the two of you. you inhale sharply, your head falling back, hands covering your face.

“dad—“

“do you need a new prescription?”

“no,” you cut, hands shielding you from his gaze.

“then why did you ask? have you spoken to your doctor about this?”

“I’m not—“ you stop, taking a deep breath. “I don’t need another prescription. and I told you already I’ve been talking to my doctor. I was just asking a question— I was just stressed.”

“why? you’ve done all this before,” he cuts, brows furrowed, and arms crossed in confusion.

“I’m stressed about other stuff,” you exhale, hands falling, face still burning from the humiliation earlier.

“what other stuff?” he pushes. genuinely confused about what you could be worrying about. “you don’t have classes or exams. you know everything. if you have any questions you can ask me—“

“yeah, I’m worried about other stuff, like generally,” you huff, rubbing your face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“you’re not taking any medication now?” he changes the subject back, brushing off your concerns to push his own out, “jennie told me you weren’t when she visited.”

your teeth clench, rubbing your eye, “yeah, I don’t need it anymore. I haven’t had them since finals.”

his eyes narrow, you can see the concern pinching his brows. “I don’t have a problem if you still need to take them. you know that—“

“yeah, but I don’t need them,” your stomach curls tighter, especially when he glances over you like…like you’re causing him more stress. it’s confusing, you know tjat. saying you don’t need any more medication, but then asking a resident a question about whether they can give you some for stress. it doesn’t make sense, and at this point you’re getting frustrated with yourself. “it’s not a big deal. next time I just won’t ask anyone anything,” you mutter.

“we’re having a conversation, so don’t do that,” he shakes his head in disappointment. the pit in your stomach growing at the sight. “I want to understand why you asked.”

you stomach churns, “it’s fine.”

the silence stretches between you, then you finally decide to leave.

“you should go home,” he steps to block the door.

you barely blink, the comment rolling off your back as you hum. “great.”

your father exhales through his nose. “i’m serious.”

“i know.”

“you don’t sound like you know.”

your jaw tightens, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. “can i go now?” you ask.

he stares at you for another second before stepping aside. the staircase door swings open and you leave. your shoes slap against the floor as you move through the hallway. nurses pass, residents pass, families pass, and it all irritates you. you don’t even realize how fast you’re walking until another set of footsteps catches up beside you.

“hey.” you don’t look over. shoko keeps a quick pace beside you anyway. “hey.”

“what?” you stop.

the word comes out harsher than intended. shoko is unfazed, “i’m sorry.”

you glance at her. the two of you standing by the lockerroom. “for what?”

“for telling the resident.”

“yeah well you didn’t tell on me.”

“still.”

you put the code in before entering the locker room, shoko follows. “still what? i asked a question and apparently that’s illegal.”

“that’s not what i mean,” shoko sits on the bench as you take your backpack out.

you sigh, “i know what you meant.” you start changing. “it’s just annoying that I was scolded like that and I didn’t even wanna do this stupid ass program in the first place. no offense,” you start rambling. “but seriously, how many times does this make it—like the fifth freaking time I get yelled at in front of these residents and I haven’t even done anything that crazy. asking a question?! god forbid!” you throw your hands up in sarcastic defense. you scoff at the situation rolling your eyes.

“this whole thing is just a humiliation ritual of being a fucking doormat, and having every single person around me be the biggest ops ever—not you,” you put your shirt on, pulling your jeans up right after. “let’s bet how much shit I’m gonna get if I just mention to jennie how annoyed I am,” you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what she’ll say. “if yOU doN’t LiKe it sO mUCh jusT qUiT,” you mimic her voice.

shoko, who has been quietly listening, stifles her own laugh. “why do you let her get under your skin?”

you deadpan. “she is the only person that can ragebait me until i wanna tear my hair out,” you’re basically clawing at your skin. “can’t even complain about anything anymore,” you mutter more to yourself. “whatever.”

shoko gives you a sympathetic look.

“call me when you finish, I’ll come pick you up,” you conclude, waiting for shoko’s hum before leaving.

and just a few miles away, another incident was unfolding in the itadori garage.

“what?” choso’s voice cuts through the room. “you’re lying.”

“you don’t want a free vacation?”

“it’s not a free anything! i’m not going to spain! the tournament—”

“yeah, the finals are the day before our flight, still lying—”

“i’m not lying! when we win we’re gonna be meeting with producers and stuff—”

“and stuff,” sukuna laughs. “you can zoom in.”

“that’s not the same thing!”

“sounds the same.”

“it literally isn’t!”

the garage erupts. the old fan rattles uselessly in the corner, guitar cables snake across the floor and choso stands in the middle, face red with frustration while sukuna lounges against the workbench like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week.

“i’m not missing opportunities because you’re going to spain!” choso shouts.

sukuna shrugs, “good thing i’m not asking.”

“you can’t do that!”

“watch me.”

“ryomen!”

“choso!”

the younger teen looks seconds away from committing a felony, his jaw tightens, anger bubbling dangerously, “you’re possessively controlling.”

“shocker,” sukuna replies lowly, checking his phone after it buzzes.

“you can’t just drag people across the world!”

“sure i can.”

“i’m sixteen!”

“exactly.”

choso makes a strangled noise just as the garage door suddenly slides open.

“hey, i brought—” ino freezes, a pizza box hangs from one hand. his eyes dart between the brothers. “…oh.”

“tell him he’s insane!” choso shouts, voice cracking and pointing at the tattooed brother lounged in the corner on his phone.

“tell him i’m right,” sukuna says at the same time with less effort as his younger brother.

ino slowly starts backing out. “nope.”

choso’s jaw clenches, “ino.”

ino shakes his head more, “no.”

“ino,” choso’s words strain.

“naaahhhh man.” the teen points at both of them, pizza box fumbling. “last time i got involved in your family drama i got interrogated by psycho satan.” he means sukuna.

“that’s dramatic,” sukuna snorts.

“you threatened me,” ino huffs.

“that’s different,” sukuna casually scratches his large tatted bicep, with an added shrug.

ino frowns, “how is that different?!”

suluna shrugs, while the younger teen throws his hands in the air, choso’s black hair is messy and pushed out of his face from how much he’s run his hands through it. “he accepted the offer!”

“what offer?” ino asks.

“the spain one,” choso frowns, and sukuna eyes dart up, not realizing how many people knew about this offer. ino blinks, lips parting and eyes lighting up.

“…spain spain?”

“yes, spain spain,” choso snaps.

“like beaches?”

“yes.”

“europe?”

“yes!”

“yoooooo,” ino is smiling wide now, stepping further into the garage. “that’s so cool!”

“dude—“ choso snaps.

ino cringes, but the smile doesn’t go away, “sorry, but like DAAAAANG, remember a couple years ago, we talked about it—duuude,” ino’s attention shifts to sukuna, smiling wide. “congrats!!”

“what—stop glazing him!” choso interrupts, and ino holds back his tongue, conflicted.

“cool but like yeah, no, that’s actually insane, why does choso needa go with you? not cool,” ino falls in line.

choso relaxes just a bit, “thank you.”

“but also…” ino hesitates, and choso’s eyes narrows immediately.

“don’t.”

ino puts the pizza on the table, shrugging, “i’m just saying—”

“ino.”

“i mean…spain is kinda sick,” he plays devils advocate. and sukuna barks out a laugh.

“ino!” choso looks ready to throw his guitar right at his best friend. “you never help, shit friend.”

“he’ll get over it,” sukuna says to ino, who feels slightly guilty, opening the box to take out a slice while it’s hot.

“i won’t!” choso shouts, putting his guitar down.

sukuna ignores him, “he will.”

“i won’t!”

“you always do.” the words come out too casual, and for half a second, the garage falls quiet. choso’s jaw tightens, and sukuna’s grin fades slightly, watching his younger brother’s expression shift, the anger burning hotter. the same anger claws at sukuna’s own chest remebering why he has to force choso to come with him.

“I’m staying with gramps,” choso’s voice is lower. his own brain trying to wrap around the sudden information. he hadn’t even known that his brother accepted the offer when he wouldn’t even talk to anyone about it. and to find out he accepted it and was told it’s okay for him to bring his brothers without even asking him?!

“gramps is going to the lake with his war buds like he does every summers so yeah, you’re not staying here alone.” sukuna tsks, standing up. he glares at choso across the garage, waiting for choso to test him. the tension suddenly hits ino full force. the bickering had turned into something charged in a matter of seconds. his chewing slows, awkwardly.

“I’ll stay with ino,” choso pushes, eyes darting between sukuna’s.

“this lying shit?” sukuna scoffs pointing at ino without glancing at him.

ino chokes, coughing, “me?!!”

sukuna frowns, eyes narrowing sharply, “I fucking asked you if he saw that bitch of mom and you said no. that constitutes as lying.”

ino lowers his head.

“I told him not to say anything,” choso defends, “he’s my friend.”

“exactly why you’re not staying with him because he’ll lie and I won’t know if you see that woman again or not.” sukuna takes a step towards his brother.

“i took money from her,” choso tilts his head, clearly not afraid of the older as his eyes narrow. “I’m gonna give her that money back.”

“I don’t give a shit if you don’t or if you take more money from her. she owes you and yuuji a shit ton of money anyways,” sukuna stops in front of choso. an unknown look crossing the man’s face, and choso hesitates for a moment. “I have a problem that she laid her hands on you.”

choso’s jaw clenches, stepping away. “I stole money from her.”

“so you think you deserve to get hit?” sukuna snaps. choso rolls his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza, forcing himself to act casual. “she’s a toxic psycho.”

“whatever, man,” choso mutters, dismissing the conversation about his mother. an uncomfortable twist settling deep in his stomach making him slightly nauseous. “I don’t wanna talk about her with you.”

“why because I don’t sugarcoat how horrible she is?” sukuna scoffs. choso’s defensive attitude quietly triggers the older. choso rolls his eyes again, gaze locked at the pizza, but sukuna catches it and ino sinks further in the corner. “stupid ass teen,” sukuna grabs his keys from his pocket, walking towards the door, opening the garage. “fucking proving my damn point by acting stupid as fuck.”

sukuna scoffs, pissing himself off as the memories of this woman flood his mind. jaw tensing as he looks at choso turning away from him. “mothers don’t beat their kids, and she was more of dad’s fucking mental patient than a mom to you”

“how the fuck would you know!” choso finally snaps. “your mom left and my mom isn’t yours, I have my own memories!”

“the ones when you were two?” sukuna scoffs, walking towards the parked pick-up truck. “I doubt you remember shit before you were twelve,” sukuna says the comment without realizing the flame he lit.

“I remember you going to jail too and losing your first club offer,” choso spits. “great example compared to her. definitely my role model!”

sukuna stops dead in his tracks, jaw tightening, he glances over his shoulder and choso doesn’t back down. “you’re more like her than me or yuuji are, so it’s pretty hypocritical that I’m being forced to go to spain with another psycho.”

mechamaru had just parked his car and is exiting when he hears the yelling from his friend’s open driveway. ino has attempted to blend in with the couch, empty plate in his lap while choso’s chest heaves. the strings in his heart strain ignoring the unfamiliar look on his brothers face. especially when sukuna fiddles with his keys with one hand, the jangling fills the tense air, before sukuna licks his teeth.

“at least I’ve never hit you guys.”

the response is deeply honest that choso pauses, unable to respond. sukuna swings his keys between his fingers, rubbing the back of his neck and walking down the driveway. he passes mechamaru silently, unlocking his truck.

the teens are left in defending silence minutes after sukuna’s already driven away. ino and mechamaru exchange looks, especially when choso disappears into the house to wash his face.

at some point the houses thin out and the ocean appears. the clouds hang low and heavy overhead, turning the late afternoon gray. rain threatening to fall any minute. sukuna parks in an empty lot overlooking the beach and kills the engine. his hands are locked around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

you’re more like her than me or yuuji are.

his jaw aches. choso hadn’t even sounded afraid when he said it, he was angry enough to mean it. sukuna drags both hands over his face, wishing he can claw at everything. “fuck.”

the word disappears, waves crashing against the shore, ahead as his phone vibrates inside. and miles away, parked beside an empty field, you do the same.

the hospital sits somewhere behind you, and your home is in the opposite direction, and neither destination sounds appealing. the engine is off. the windows are cracked. summer wind drifts through the car as you stare at absolutely nothing. your father’s voice rings around your skull making you rest your head against the window. you don’t want to go home or go back or do anything.

eventually your phone lights up.

after another few minutes of staring at the ocean, his hand finally reaches for his phone. notifications flood the screen, group chats, soccer shit, gojo being annoying, something from toji, and his thumb scrolls through the usual unopened messages until he sees a certain contact.

his thumb stops. three days ago.

crybaby: where’s the video of your brother’s band?

his gaze lingers. for some reason, that message irritates him less than everything else. he opens the chat and for a moment he considers not responding, his thumb mindlessly scrolls through your earlier conversation, until the photo you sent him fills his screen.

dumbass: they made it to the semifinals

a beat passes..

dumbass: i forgot to send the video

your phone vibrates against the passenger seat making you glance down and see his name, and despite the day you’ve had, despite everything, your chest loosens just a little.

crybaby: woww

crybaby: a whole 3 days later

crybaby: i was starting to think u hated me

sukuna snorts. his head tips back against the seat. outside, thunder rumbles somewhere over the water.

dumbass: good guesser

you roll your eyes, holding back a smile.

crybaby: haha u’re soo funny

sukuna scrolls through his camera roll. easily finding the video gojo had taken and sending it to you. you heart the message, and a few minutes later the texts flood in.

crybaby: WHAAAA

crybaby: WTHHHH UR BROTHER IS SO GOOD

dumbass: u def thought they were gonna be ass

crybaby: ngl…I wasn’t expecting much

dumbass: rude

crybaby: ONLY BC I’ve gone to a few in the past and RARELY r they ever good

crybaby: NO OFFENSE

dumbass: I’m offended

you don’t realize the smile on your face as you watch another video sukuna sends. relaxing back in your seat, jaw agape.

crybaby: no like actually wth — ur brother’s voice is making me tear up

crybaby: it’s so angelic esp for a hard rock band

sukuna snorts.

dumbass: crybaby

crybaby: did I say CRY? I said TEAR UP smh smhh

a few beats pass, not long enough for you to fully exit your messages, but long enough to watch the little typing bubble appear then disappear, and then your face fills your screen.

….incoming FaceTime from dumbass….

your lips part, cheeks warming as you easily click accept, the call connecting. sukuna’s face fills your screen, the camera angle is terrible, but somehow he still looks unfairly attractive.

the lighting inside the truck is dim from the storm clouds outside, shadows cutting across the sharp lines of his face. his pink hair looks soft, a few strands hang loose across his forehead. his tattoos disappear beneath the collar of his black shirt, the dark markings curling up the side of his neck. his forearm rests against the driver’s side window, broad shoulders, strong jaw—you hate how hot he looks.

on the other side of the call, sukuna feels much the same.

he expected your voice, but there’s something about seeing your face. your hair is slightly messy from your long day. you’re leaning sideways against the drivers seat, cheek pressed against the headrest of your car seat. golden evening light spills through the window in front of you, softening everything. you look tired, but pretty…really pretty. something in his chest loosens.

your eyes blink slowly, then narrow, “what happened to your face?”

sukuna’s brow furrows, “what?”

you lean closer to the camera, “your eye.”

his hand immediately comes up, glancing at the mirror in front of him. forgetting about the faint bruise caused by toji a few days ago, and barely noticeable to anyone except apparently you.

his fingers brush beneath it. “nothing.”

you stare and sukuna stares looks back at his phone, “that’s not nothing.”

“it’s nothing.”

“yeah definitely,” you sarcastically quip.

“it’s literally nothing.” your expression flattens. his matches yours instantly. neither of you budge. the silence stretches then—

“did you get punched?”

the offended look that flashes across his face almost makes you laugh. “the fuck kind of question is that?” he snaps.

you shrug fast, “it’s a valid question.”

“no it isn’t.”

“it is, since that’s what people who get punched in the face look like,” you say, like you’re some expert.

“speaking from experience?” he tosses, irritation scratching at your questions.

“yeah,” you lie, and he probably knows that, but still he leans back in his seat again. “it definitely looks like you got a bruise.”

“yeah, because i play a contact sport,” he huffs. you squint suspiciously as he rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him. “gojo elbowed me in the middle of a game.”

“see?” you point triumphantly. “that wasn’t hard.”

sukuna tsks, “you’re annoying.”

“i was curious,” you shrug.

“it’s a bruise.”

“on your face.”

“you sound like yuuji.” the corner of his mouth twitches, barely there, but enough for the tightness in both of your chests to ease just a little. your lips part, still looking at the bruise.

“does it hurt?” your voice is softer, allowing something warm to settle in sukuna’s chest.

a smirk tugs on the players lips. “yeah. you gonna come make me feel better?” the teasing has your thighs clenching. his voice is low, deep, watching your eyes dart off screen. “where are you right now?”

you shift in your seat, flipping the camera to do a 360 of your surroundings. sukuna notices your bag in the passenger seat, “you get off work?”

“yup left early,” you flip the camera back, your phone on your lap as you fix your necklace in the mirror.

“you ditched?”

you laugh, “no,” you pick your phone back up, “I was kicked out.”

sukuna whistles. “bad girl. what’d you do?”

you shrug, leaning back in your seat, “I punched a patient.”

sukuna’s eyes blow wide, “you’re lying.”

you snort, “obviously,” you smile, pretty lips glossy as you wet them. “just had a chat with my dad and he told me to go home.”

“are you home?”

you shake your head, tilting just a bit as you watch sukuna through the phone. the silence fills both your environments. “doesn’t look like you’re home.”

“got work soon,” he answers, eyeing the curve of your jaw as you look out the window as if you weren’t parked in a deserted lot. still he can’t help the churning in his stomach as you fiddle with your earrings, lips parting again.

“so you gotta go soon?”

sukuna can’t fully read your emotions through a shitty phone screen, but he can catch the slight sweetness in your tone. and that was enough to pull a subtle smirk from him. he’s fully resting his back against his seat, arm propped on the open window holding his phone, while the other rests on his lap.

“I have some time,” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing a tad when you hum. “you have something in mind?”

you wet your lip, eyes twinkling as you nod your head. “yeah, i wanted to ask you a question.” he smirks, letting you continue. “how fast did you cum when i sent you that picture on saturday?” sukuna’s smile falters. “because you sent me a pic like three minutes later.”

you really love to push his buttons. the scowl is written all over his face. “i was already on edge, so i was doing it for awhile before you even sent it.”

your smile grows, if possible, a devilish twinkle in your eyes. “so i really helped you cum, ryo, hmm?” you wet your lip, and the action, coupled up with your sultry tone, has sukuna’s pants growing tight, “you made a big mess. cumming all over yourself like that,” you tsk, teasingly. “do you always make a big mess when you play by yourself?”

sukuna’s jaw tightens, his crotch swelling from your teasing. the bulge pushing up against his jeans, just as his palm digs against the evidence. unable to hide the fact that you’re turning him on.

“don’t be embarrassed, ry,” you coo with faux sweetness. “big boys make messes too.”

a loud, strangled scoff, escapes the man’s mouth. cheeks hot, as you continue degrading him. “suddenly y’er all confident because I can’t pin you down from here?”

you shrug, little smirk still playing on those pretty lips of yours. fuck, he misses having those lips on him. kissing you deeply, swallowing your whines and strangled moans. “am I not allowed to make you feel better?”

“fucking teasing me,” he grunts, jaw tightening as he palms his bulge.

heat pools between your legs, face warm as you see his shifting. “did I make you hard?” the excitement was obvious in your tone.

“don’t act surprised,” he mutters, flipping the camera to see the big bulge he’s gripping over his jeans. sukuna see’s the dizzy like look you have, lips parting.

“take it out.”

he smirks. you’re a little perv. and not so surprisingly, you see the uncoordinated moving as he unbuckles his belt, the phone dropping then getting raised again to see the way he pushes the waistband of his black Calvin’s, dragging it down. his dark pubes not as well groomed as it usually is, and that has you biting back a whimper.

fuck fuck, you miss pressing your face there, licking the coarse hairs, kissing his base.

and finally his hand wraps around the chubby length, freeing his semi-hard cock in his car. thunder cracks in the distant, rain starting to pour.

“gonna keep telling me what to do, or do you want closeups?” he teases, stroking his base lazily, biting his lip.

you shift in your seat.

“spit on it—“

you already see his spit fly and hit his flushed cock, immediately making your cheeks sting.

“c’mon, gotta keep talkin’ to me like my personal slut,” he hasn’t done anything since spitting on his cock, waiting for you to continue your directions. if you’re gonna act all dominant, then he’ll give you all the control…at least when you’re separated by a phone screen.

“stroke your cock…slow,” you command, wetting your lip as you watch him, and he listens. a wave of quiet confidence floods your head at his submission. “rub your slit with your thumb…yeah…” your lips part watching him stroke his cock. “faster.”

his breath is heavy behind the phone, grip tightening when he reaches the base, before twisting his hand back up, thumb collecting his pre and spreading it to the rest of his cock.

“do you usually jerk off like this?” your lewd curiosity always makes him smirk.

“I’m taking your direction.”

“jerk off like you usually do then…I wanna see,” you interrupt.

he snorts, loosening his jaw, before his pace picks up, tugging on his impressive size, collecting more pre and doing his best to self lubricate. his grunts are slightly louder, sending heat to your pussy, you can already feel your drenched panties.

“let go.”

a strangled noise comes out of him as his hand lets go making his cock bob between his legs, his thighs flex, jaw tightening as more pre cum leaks out in humiliation. “fuck.” he runs his hand on his abs, lifting his shirt higher, watching his own cock throb and twitch mid-air. the weight angling his cock down.

“ow!”

he doesn’t fully realize what you’re doing, until you yelp. his brows pinch, eyes narrowing because your phone is no longer on your face, but on the ceiling of your car.

“what’re you doing?” his words fall on deaf ears, when you’re suddenly lifting the camera back up, and revealing the state you’re in. you’re completely naked from the waist down, shirt pushed above those beautiful tits, and your lips all wet from how much your biting them. “fuck, baby.”

you smile, pushing the drivers seat further back to give yourself space, cheeks hot as you spread your legs. “lemme see your face, ryomen.”

he easily flips the camera back. you blush seeing the pink dusting his cheeks. “you like risky stuff,” he points.

“I’m alone.”

“still public.”

your lips part, rubbing your nipple, slowly teasing yourself. his eyes darken, gaze darting between your face and those beautiful perky nipples he wishes he could suck this very second. fuck, when you’d run your nails through his hair when he’d bite your perky buds and you’d moan so sweetly.

“you’re not even twisting them hard enough,” he tsks, watching you play with yourself…incorrectly. “how often do you touch yourself.”

“not as often as you touch me.”

sukuna chokes. you’re way too fast for him, and it catches him off guard every once in a awhile. he quickly recovers, “show me how wet you are.”

you listen, managing to face the passenger seat and have the phone propped on your bag.

“aw, you’re dripping,” he coos, biting his lip, as you run your fingers through the mess, spreading your pretty folds for him. “dirty girl,” he groans, hand sneaking down to his twitching hard cock—

“don’t touch yourself,” you cut possessively. “it’s my turn.”

“I didn’t even cum,” he tsks, but still eases back, thick legs spreading wider as he watches you shrug. “fine, lemme see how many fingers you can put in that little pussy.”

“one.”

“I said: let me see,” his voice drops an octave and that has you clenching and blushing all over. “lick your finger.”

you lean close to the camera, making a show of caressing your plump bottom lip, then easing your middle finger in. your suck the digit, eyes heavy as they look directly at sukuna. he silently watches, jaw loosening as he tries his best to keep his hand away, especially when you pull your middle finger out, flipping him off.

“cute,” he smirks, screenshotting. “put it in.” he tilts his head, humming as you sit back just a little. he eyes the way you open your legs, running your finger down your body, before circling your clit. your lips part and sukuna notices the way your back arches just a bit, finally pushing in, “theere we go.”

you hum along, jaw agape as you curl your finger in slowly pumping your finger. it’s not the same though. you hate having to do this shit yourself, it would kill the mood if sukuna wasn’t praising you on the other line.

“fuck, your pussy looks so pretty,” he groans, “so hot.”

you bite back a moan, lashes fluttering as you move your finger back to your clit. unaware of the disappointment until you hear a loud tsk.

“why’d you take your finger out?” sukuna barks.

you frown, still rubbing your clit, “It doesn’t feel as good.”

“bullshit,” he huffs, “put two fingers in.” your cheeks flush hot, collecting your arousal on your finger and teasing your hole again. “fuck your pussy like I told ya too.”

you wet your lips with attitude he can clearly read, especially when you add a sarcastic, “yes, sir.”

pre oozes from the brute’s twitching cock.

still, his eyes narrow with lust as he watches you dip your pretty little fingers in that tight hole. it’s always the initial stretch that has your lips parting. “keep moving your fingers. curl ‘em,” he husks, voice much lower and sexier, unbelievably turned on. “dirty girl fingerin’ herself in her car.”

you whine, back pressed against the door, as you angle your hips up, back arching as you continue fingering yourself, especially when you curl them and finally feel that spot. “got it?”

your glossy lips part, nodding, “y-yeah haah—ry-touch y’rself to me.“

fuck.

he doesn’t waste a second grabbing his cock and working himself up to the pace you’ve set. his own jaw clenches, watching your legs tremble as you pump your pretty fingers in and out, watching the way your fingers glisten every time you pull out, pretty nipples all hard and exposed, and lips glossy.

his thigh trembles, jaw tensing as he squeezes his base, holding himself back as you pull your fingers out to stimulate your neglected clit.

“good girl,” he husks under his breath, unaware of how much he enjoys watching you and getting jealous from nothing. you respond with a heavy sigh, tongue poking out as you feel yourself getting closer.

“gun- cum with me…ry-haah?”

he starts working his chubby cock, wishing to death he can feel the heat of your pussy against his swollen tip. “yeah, keep working those little fingers, make yourself cum.”

your whine pitches a little higher in the small car. thighs spreading wider as you stimulate your clit, oblivious to the low praises sukuna is muttering, feeling his heavy balls clench up. and just as your about to reach the edge, toes curling in your shoes, your phone tips over, hitting the ground just as sukuna hears you moan—

“anhh—“

“what the fuck!?”

you whine, back hitting the door as your legs close around your hand. lips parted as your chest rises with each heavy breath. you don’t even realize what happened until you hear your name being called, followed be another “where the fuck did you go?!”

your brows furrow, glancing at where your phone once was, then to its place on the floor of the passenger side. “oh.”

you move over the center, reaching down to lift your phone, and the moment your face comes to view, sukuna’s jaw tenses more.

“you came?”

your lips part sitting back in your seat. “yeah, I think i accidentally kicked my bag. did you cu—“

“no.” he cuts sharply. you suck your lips in to refrain from laughing. “cum again.”

your brows rise. “I can’t.”

sukuna barks out a humorless laugh. “I always make you cum more than once—“

“yeah, YOU—not ME. I don’t know how to overstimulate myself,” you reach for some tissues to clean yourself off camera. but sukuna groans loudly, cock throbbing as he works himself. “just imagine me cumming.”

his jaw locks, head tipping back so you can get a perfect shot of his sharp jaw. the silence stretches for a second before sukuna opens his mouth, refusing to look at his phone, missing the way your lips part, and face burns.

“talk into the phone then.”

your stomach flips with something you don’t want to name, especially when he tilts his head back clearly still working his monster of a cock that’s painfully red. “I’m close. speak.”

the command has you closing your thighs tighter, raising the phone to your lips, inhaling slowly, controlling the butterflies.

another beat passes before you finally begin.

“my fingers are so wet after cumming…” you dramatize a gentle sigh, “my pussy is so empty…I need your big fat cock filling my tight…little…pussy…ryo.”

“fuck,” sukuna’s jaw clenches harder, abs tightening as he aggressively twists his hand up his cock, thumb digging into his slit, much more aggressive than how you’d touch his cock, but he just needs to cum.

“can’t wait to see you, ryomen,” you exhale sweetly, adding a little pitched hum, “want you to use my pussy like it’s your pretty toy,” you blush at your own words, keeping it just a little over a whisper because if it was any louder than you might melt into the seat with embarrassment. but sukuna’s strained, low grunts, is reassuring. “fuck me until I can’t move, kiss me until I can’t breathe…you wanna kiss me right, pretty boy?” your cheeks sting viscously at the pet name that casually rolled off your tongue—

but then, a long deep groan comes from the back of the 6’4 footballer’s throat.

your entire body catches on fire, and a smile quietly tugs at the corners of your lips.

“you wanna kiss me that bad, baby?” you tease lightly, and even though sukuna refuses to reply, his strangled grunts, and sounds of his squelching cock being tugged, is enough reassurance to give you that final sentence that pushes him off the edge. “you also wanna stuff my pretty pussy right: wanna fill me with your thick…heavy cum, don’t you ryo?” you bite your lip the moment you hear the choke on the other end.

you quietly listen, pulling your phone to see that sukuna’s phone is forgotten in his lap. your finger playing at your lip, still smiling, waiting for sukuna to come down from his orgasm.

the man’s jaw is locked. head tipped back against the head rest. chest heaving. and face burning with a light shade of pink.

“you cum?” you break the silence, tone laced with something that twists in sukuna’s gut. the phone shifts, your face unable to stop your smile when you see his flushed face. your fingers still playing with your lips with faux innocence.

“yeah.” his clipped tone isn’t too harsh, but definitely shielding something else as he looks down at the mess. his jaw tenses seeing his cum covering his hand and splattered on the steering wheel. even if the phone is on his face, you can see the way his eyes are looking past it.

“you made a mess?”

he licks his teeth, eyes catching yours. “yeah.”

dang he’s cold. is he embarrassed? a warmth settles in your tummy at the thought. it’s hard to read him, but it’s even harder when it’s through the phone. either way, you shift around your car, putting your panties and pants back on and pulling your shirt down, fixing your bra. on the other end, sukuna is pulling his shirt off, and using it to clean the mess he made. jaw tensing every time your voice rings in his head again.

“who taught you how to talk like that?” he raises his hips pulling his pants back up, tucking his softening cock in.

your brow quirks lightly, “nobody lol,” you look back at your phone. “I was just going with the flow,” you smirk, head tilting just a bit that the man freezes, stomach flipping at the pretty sight on his phone and he instinctively just….*screenshot* “was I good?”

he makes a grumbling noise, then, “made me cum.”

“so, good?”

he rolls his eyes, “sure.” he ignores your smile as he finishes cleaning his mess. the buzzing of your phone interrupting. “you have to go?”

you hum, “yeah, gotta pick up shoko.” you text her that you’re on your way. sukuna looks back at his phone as he starts his car up, you do the same. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

and the second sukuna gives an affirmative hum, you hang up.

as the days pass. neither one of you found your stress levels steady. instead, you were tested again and again, more rejection emails coming in for writing and producing programs you applied too for the summer. and as was sukuna with his brother’s attitude, especially with this weird phase that’s caught his attention with yuuji.

“I thought you were seeing megumi tomorrow?” sukuna glances up from his spot behind the bar, stopping mid-wipe down to see yuuji slinging his backpack on.

“we’re going to the beach today to see them set up before the festival tomorrow,” yuuji mutters, pushing his overgrown hair off his forehead in quiet annoyance.

sukuna’s brows pinch tight, “thought we were gonna do that?”

yuuji shrugs already walking to the back of the bar, large open windows lining the back that overlooks the beach. megumi and nobara wait outside, chatting. “s’fine,” yuuji stops by the door, “choso doesn’t talk to you, and you’re always busy—so whatever.”

sukuna tenses, grip curling around the dirty rag as his little brother turns and leaves. what the fuck?? since when has yuuji been cut and dry with him!?

just as sukuna stresses about his younger siblings, you’re wondering how much longer you have to hold yourself back until you tear your eyes out. another rejection email, that could’ve been the reason why your sudden stress skyrockets and then it immediately crashes after higuruma finally texts you after not hearing anything from him since you first got his number.

[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: hey this is hiromi

[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: sorry it’s been awhile but my uncle finally got back to me, he’s free thursday or friday around the afternoon to chat

[12:35PM] hiromi higuruma: lmk which day works so he can put it in his calendar before he gets booked

your lips part, standing outside a patient room staring at your phone. shit. your heart pounds rapidly against your ribs. you work until five everyday. your jaw tenses…just ask if he can do anything after—he can’t. unlike you, people can’t just move things around for you. your fingers quickly tap your screen.

[12:40PM] you: hii

[12:40PM] you: yea friday works for me, would this be a zoom call or phone call?

you see the bubbles appear, then disappear. you shift your weight, stomach churning.

[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: shit

your stomach drops.

[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: I forgot—you’re not based in the city?

[12:42PM] you: no, I’m back home for the summer

[12:43PM] you: would it be a problem doing it on zoom?

your back leans against the wall, stomach aching as you wait for his response. seriously, can one thing not work out in your favor?

[12:44PM] hiromi hirguruma: I’ll talk to him, but I think it’s better to wait until you’re back in the city and do it in person

[12:44PM] hiromi higuruma: only saying this bc he forgets everyone he talks too on zoom but he’ll be much more helpful if he meets you face to face, plus you’re a good conversationalist (js from my perspective) so you’d leave a good impression

a beat passes.

[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: your call tho, i can still talk to him if u want

[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: he's here all summer, so whenever you're back js Imk and I can set up a meeting

fuck!! your jaw aches, clenching down hard enough to break your teeth. hot tears sting behind your eyes, threatening to spill. you inhale sharply. grinding down harder on your teeth as you squeeze your phone.

what’s the fucking point in meeting with him now if he’ll just forget about you?

[12:47PM] you: oh okay, yeah I think it’s better in person then

[12:47PM] you: I’ll be in the city in august, is that okay?

your heart twists unbelievably tight, nails digging into your palm.

[12:48PM] hiromi higuruma: yeah for sure! and dw I’ll set a meeting up with u and him

almost like he can sense your disappointment through your hesitant texts. he sends another message.

[12:49PM] hiromi higuruma: how’s your summer?

wrong question…

[12:49PM] you: 😀 so good!

the bubbles appear then disappear, then:

[12:50PM] hiromi higuruma: that’s a sarcastic emoji right?

you can’t control the quiet chuckle that slips out.

[12:50PM] you: loll yeah

[12:50PM] you: its fine…working here…with my dad…yayy

higuruma seems to understand your tone as he responds.

[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: u losing ur mind?

[12:51PM] you: nope

[12:51PM] you: y would u say that (I wanna kms)

[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: (rip) just a hunch, guess I was wrong

a smile threatens your face.

[12:52PM] hiromi higuruma: don’t stress tho, my uncle has some rlly good connects so he’ll help u out

you bite your cheek, pushing down the anxious twists that’s been eating at you for months. you’re still waiting on another possible opportunity for the second half of summer, but now you’re scared if that falls through, all you’ll have is nanami’s friend’s uncle as a connection..

[12:52PM] you: thanks🥹🙏

[12:53PM] hiromi higuruma: how long is ur program?

[12:53PM] you: till the last week of july so js two-ish more weeksss

[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: homestretch

[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: u need a vacation after

[12:54PM] you: TRUSTT

[12:54PM] you: it is in the works🫡 my friends r planning it

[12:55PM] hiromi higuruma: where r u guys going?

you pause, lips parting.

[12:56PM] you: oh….i forgot

[12:56PM] hiromi higuruma: fr?

[12:56PM] you: no frrr shoko just told me to block off the dates but i actually forgot where we’re going bc they were planning it for awhile and i was too busy to pay attention

you cringe, trying to remember where shoko said satoru’s infamous mediterranean summer house is. either way higuruma responds with a cool message, unbothered by your lack of remembrance.

[12:57] hiromi higuruma: well it’s clear u need that vacation then

[12:57PM] you: 😪✊

you don’t realize you’ve basically been standing on your phone for awhile until a resident passes by, eyes flicking down.

“put the phone away before I tell your dad,” he mutters, and though the “joke” has been tossed around multiple times by the residents who know exactly what your relationship is with the chief of surgery, it doesn’t make it any funnier when you heard it the first time or the hundredth time —

your jaw tenses, glancing at your phone to see higuruma’s text.

[12:58PM] hiromi higuruma: make sure to stop in the city after tho and text me ahead of time

[12:58PM] you: i willlll

you shut your phone off, exhaling sharply as your head tips back. at this point…the only thing you’re looking forward to now is this trip. considering the second half of your summer is delayed after pushing this meeting back. and from the looks of it…you highly doubt you’re getting accepted into those writing programs.

“great,” you mutter to yourself.

your feet finally drag you away from the wall, and down the hall. unfortunately the pressure on your chest doesn’t leave, instead your mind quietly moves in circles as you continue the day’s work. unable to remove yourself completely from the stress of your future.

you smile at patients when they greet you. you laugh when shoko mutters something inappropriate under her breath. you still finish your notes, answer questions, make coffee runs, and remember to ask people how their weekends were. nothing is wrong enough for anyone to pull you aside and ask if you’re okay because you’re not falling apart. you’re just…tired. there’s a heaviness that sits beneath your ribs and makes everything feel harder than it should.

even when you check your phone during lunch. your conversation with higuruma sitting near the top of your messages. another month of waiting. another month of this feeling. you lock your phone just as someone calls your name, answering immediately.

it all keeps moving, dragging you along. the routine sucking you in. driving home as shoko talks from the passenger seat about the residents. about a movie she wants to watch. about a patient that yelled at her. about her not fully confident about her mcat studying methods. you nod and laugh, chiming in.

that’s how it goes in the mornings. driving at six am, music playing softly through the speakers. your eyes randomly burning behind your sunglasses, making you blink, unable to stop the tears from gathering for no apparent reason other than you can shake this heaviness on your chest. but it’s easy to wipe beneath your eyes during the red light. shoko doesn’t notice.

even at home, your sister asks how your day is, if you ate, how dad is, and you answer shortly without much thought. jennie watches you for a moment longer. her eyes lingering, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something before deciding against it. especially when you quietly play with yazzy now. playing with her barbie’s clothes in silence, clearly not fully present, but still able to pull a smile for your niece.

“fix her hair now!” yazzy shoves another barbie in your hand, the gum stuck to the ends making you scowl.

“why is there candy all over them?” you lightly scold, making yazzy cover her face with a doll, bashful and guilty.

“it was an accident!” she giggles, making you tsk lightly, giving her a faux disappointed look which earns you another loud giggle from her.

jennie quietly watches from the living room, eyes softening. she’s been gone for some time, but her concerns are present, so when shoko walks into the kitchen, her attention shifts momentarily.

“question,” jennie glances at the brunette. shoko hums, looking over her shoulder from the fridge. “how upset is she? because she’s working with our dad?”

shoko glances at you in the living room, the tv playing masking the conversation in the kitchen. “she hates it.”

jennie hums, looking down at her nails. “she said that?”

shoko nods, “she takes it on the chin though, but yeah…she hates it. she usually complains then feels guilty for complaining.”

that seems to twist something inside jennie, her jaw clenching. “yeah…she’s an idiot.” she mutters, hand rubbing her face. “there’s only so much you can tell her and she still won’t listen.” jennie stands straight. “it’s her life.”

shoko doesn’t respond. instead watching as jennie calls her daughter to head back to the hotel, and once they leave the house quiets, and you’re left alone with yourself.

you brush your teeth while staring into the bathroom mirror, foam gathering at the corners of your mouth as your reflection stares back. the faucet runs as you tilt your head. you look the same…same face, eyes, person — there’s no visible proof that anything is changing beneath your skin. but…you wonder if everyone else feels this way. is everyone secretly mourning versions of themselves they haven’t even become yet. are they walking around pretending everything is okay too? do they also hate where the direction of their lives are heading? can they even see what path they’ve taken—

you spit into the sink, washing your face.

once you crawl into bed, your room finally settles, feeling the darkness press close. and once again, your chest tightens. you think about the mcats. about the future. about all the people your age collecting internships and recommendations and certainty. you think about your father’s anxieties of your future. your mother’s concern. jennie’s harsh words—

you turn onto your side…then your back…then your other side. then…your eyes sting.

the tears build on their own, as they always do. your throat drying as you feel the warm liquid slide onto the pillow. you’re not sobbing. you don’t even know what you’re crying over. nothings happened. but eventually, sleep takes you.

“are you excited for college?” “what are you majoring in?” “you’re going to be a doctor, right?” “isn’t your dad a really good surgeon? my dad wants me to go into med school, but i don’t think i have the patience.”

the high school girls are packed into the locker room before gym, voices bouncing off metal lockers and tiled floors. someone’s trying to braid their ponytail in the mirror. another girl is complaining about wanting to get out of this gym period.

“wait, did they release decisions yet?”

“can your dad help me out when i’m looking for an internship?”

“yeah, you always work for your dad, so it’s not fair.”

“i’m jealous.”

your seventeen year old brain can only laugh, “it’s not like that,” you say automatically. but your friends only seem to double down. marking all your “wins” on one person who isn’t you.

“must be nice having your whole life figured out.”

the pressure in your chest tightens. you blink. you’ve heard these conversations a hundred times, so you should be used to them by now. but something tight twists in your chest. your fingers fumble with the combination lock on your gym locker. the metal slipping beneath your hands.

“you okay?”

“yeah,” your voice comes out too fast. you try again. however, it becomes harder to breathe, your vision blurring around the edges.

“shit!” your friend moves back just as you hit the lockers, falling to your knees as you grab your chest. is this a heart attack? people have heart attacks. can a high schooler have one? your dad would know—

“i can’t breathe.” the words tear out of your throat. your heart pounds harder, your fingers feel tingly and your head lightheaded.

“i can’t breathe.” you try again. nothing is coming out. air won’t come in. your hands shake violently, chest twisting.

“someone get the nurse!”

“she’s crying—”

you don’t feel the tears spill down your face before you even realize you’re crying. your chest hurts, your head spins, and the girls crowd around you.

—

the week leading up to the trip moved strangely, it was slow. the days blurred together as each individual hour stretched.

sukuna picked up more shifts at the bar, the smell of beer and musk clinging to his clothes long after he got home. when he wasn’t working, he was on the field by the beach, shirt sticking to his back beneath the summer sun as he played against whoever was willing to challenge him. usually it was gojo and geto. sometimes yuuji joined him, always laughing, but sukuna could feel the subtle shift. the kid lingered less…asked fewer questions, and as close as he is with gramps, even he wasn’t telling wasuke the full answer. and that was starting to make sukuna a little on edge.

then there was choso. it was inevitable after their argument. choso went out of his way to avoid his older brother and buried himself in rehearsals for the upcoming semifinals, spending more nights at ino’s, then with yuuji or gramps.

meanwhile, you’ve settled deeper into a routine. the hospital shifts, and early mornings that made you want to claw your eyes out. the drives with shoko that always eased you a bit. but then there was the wedding that jennie came for. and every aunt and family friend had something to ask. was there anyone special? were you talking to someone? how is it going into your senior year of undergrad? had you started studying for the mcat? have you taken the mcat yet?

your mother brushed them off, while your sister laughed because dating felt like the last thing on your mind. you smiled through it all, even as your stomach twisted tighter with every question you couldn’t answer honestly.

and then there was your father. he’d become quieter after the incident in the staircase, polite but distant in a way that unsettled you more. is he disappointed you aren’t taking the mcat yet? did one of the residents say something about your performance? you don’t ask. you just keep the questions with you, swirling in your mind whenever you see him.

none of the stress eases. not even when you quietly see sukuna in gojo’s ig stories. not even when yazzy tries to teach you and shoko a new dance move she’s learning. not even when your sister finally heads to the airport. none of it seemed to scratch that itch that kept your mind loud and irritating.

“did you get any sleep?” shoko pulls her shirt off, slipping into her scrubs. you stifle a yawn, shaking your head as you pull your scrub pants up. shoko yawns along with you, but exhales loudly afterwards. shaking her hands as she gives you smile. “last day though!”

your lips part, eyes widening, “oh snap.” and maybe that was what you needed because you’re suddenly smiling with shoko, laughing as you look at your phone. “last day!”

shoko hums, smiling wider as you both start dancing. and that definitely could be considered the longest, and best day of your week. and before you can blink, you’ve packed your suitcases and kissed your mom goodbye as she drops you and shoko off at the airport.

and with full unbridled honesty, you knew the best part of this trip was the excuse of being away from everything and everyone, and that’s what you’ve convinced yourself is what you need.

even after hours trapped in a middle seat, struggling to fall asleep, awkwardly folding yourself away from the men occupying both armrests beside you, you endure it. by the time the plane lands, your eyes burn with exhaustion and dark circles sit beneath them. the warm air greets you outside carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen.

you and shoko collect your luggage in a daze, exchanging tired glances until your attention catches on a sharply dressed man near the exit, holding a sign with both your names.

and that’s when your oasis begins.

the drive stretches along the coastline, blue water glittering beneath the afternoon sun. the mediterranean houses blur past the windows. shoko rests her cheek against her fist while you stare outside, feeling something inside your chest tighten again. what’re you even taking a vacation for?

you turn the corner into the neighborhood and your jaw drops. a villa sits at the end of the hillside like something straight out of a movie, and beyond the property is the ocean stretching endlessly, waves crashing.

“…you’re kidding,” you breathe.

shoko lets out a low whistle, stepping out of the car, “i forgot how disgustingly rich he is.”

the front doors slide open before either of you can fully process the sight, grabbing your suitcases.

“well, well, well!”

of course, the first thing you see is satoru gojo. he stands at the entrance wearing nothing but black swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his white hair, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming royalty into his kingdom. his skin is slightly tanned, abs glistening, and veins crawling up his forearms.

“took you guys long enough,” he announces obnoxiously. “i’ve been suffering all alone.”

“you’ve been posting pool pictures for three days with everyone,” shoko deadpans.

“but we’re still missing people,” gojo rebuts.

shoko laughs despite herself, stepping forward to wrap him in a quick hug. gojo squeezes her dramatically before turning his full attention toward you, who’s still dragging your suitcase across the polished floors, gaze darting between the towering ceilings, the sweeping staircase, and the ocean visible through the open living room.

“…what the hell,” you murmur. “this is insane.”

gojo’s grin somehow widens, “i know.”

you finally look at him properly, “thanks for letting me join,” you say, sincerity slipping into your voice before you can stop it. “seriously.”

for a brief moment, he looks genuinely touched, then— “well, it’s the least i can do,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “i’ll just need significantly more praise from you and sho for being such a generous, handsome host—”

“sure,” you cut him off easily, making him pout. but you finally step closer, wrapping your arms around him in a greeting hug anyway. “thank you, satoru.”

the complaint dies in his throat. “you’re welcome,” he says quickly but sounding almost suspicious of your sincerity before recovering instantly. “see? this is why you’re my favorite guest.”

“sure,” you sarcastically hum. “I’m just guessing you say that to everyone.”

“i do not.”

“you literally called utahime your favorite yesterday on facetime,” shoko points out.

“that was an obvious lie,” gojo shrugs.

“you definitely told geto he was your favorite,” shoko adds quickly.

gojo points, “he’s my favorite best friend.”

you glance between them, exhausted laughter bubbling out of you despite the lingering ache behind your eyes. sunlight pouring through the windows.

your suitcase stands forgotten by the doorway. somewhere outside, waves crash against the shore. and as gojo continues arguing with shoko about favoritism while leading you deeper into the villa. more people start coming into view.

“ahhh!! finally!!” a familiar voice booms, suddenly seeing a blur before you’re being engulfed in a hug by utahime. “it’s been hell with just these guys!”

gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why don’t you go ogle yuno, you perv—“

the harsh slap to his bare arm shuts him up, utahime glaring at him as she looks over her shoulder. luckily, yuno was still chatting loudly with nanami and some other guy you weren’t familiar with.

geto takes the attention as he steps in from the front door, sunglasses on and hair tied in bun. a smile immediately comes to his face when he spots more people. “it’s finally starting to feel like a vacation.”

you and shoko are taken upstairs. your suitcases bump softly against the polished tile floors as gojo launches into an overly detailed tour that neither of you retain, and something shoko’s already heard before.

but what you do manage to take in is how the villa becomes even more breathtaking the more you see of it. the arched doorways connecting the rooms, the patterned tiles lining the hallways, and carved wooden accents softening the stone walls. the villa held about eight bedrooms, and you and shoko barely process the number before finding yourselves in your room—or rather, your suite.

utahime’s presence is immediately obvious. her clothes are draped over the armchair near the balcony doors, makeup bag open across one of the dressers, bikinis and dresses laying on two of the beds, and several pairs of shoes already claimed near the closet.

“she really made herself at home,” shoko mutters.

you hum softly, too distracted by the room itself. two queen-sized beds sit beneath the exposed wooden beams, white linen curtains swaying every time the wind passes through the open balcony doors. the adjoining layout gives the three of you more than enough space, and the balcony utahime had apparently secured for the girls stretches across the back of the villa.

you wander to the open balcony before you can stop yourself, curious as to what the view is. warm air brushes against your dampened skin from the journey, but you’re immediately welcomed by the scent of salt and blooming flowers. below, you see the large pool, and then past the trees that circle the property, are terracotta rooftops of other villas, then the coastline in the distance. you can see the ocean glittering invitingly.

eventually, you peel yourself away making your way to the shower, washing away the hours of sticky travel air. the warm water loosens the knots in your shoulders, the steam clouding the mirror. by the time you emerge in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, toweling your hair dry, your body feels impossibly heavy.

the room is empty. you can hear shoko and the rest of the group outside from the open balcony. but all you can manage to do is walk across the tiled floor, barely managing to crawl onto the bed to turn of your phone alarm. your eyes struggling to stay open as you uncap your bottled water and swallow your scheduled pill. and once it goes down your throat, you toss the birth control pills back in your bag, and hit the warm sheets. you sink into the mattress with a relieved sigh.

the balcony doors remain open. the breeze filtering through the curtains. setting sun painting soft patterns across the tiled floor. and somewhere between one blink and the next, lulled by the sound of the ocean just beyond the villa walls, the exhaustion from everything finally catches up to you.

your eyes eventually drift shut.

unaware of what’s taking you so long, shoko and utahime go upstairs after an hour, freezing once they see you passed out.

“what the—“ utahime frowns. “we’re gonna go out to eat, wake up—“

utahime’s words die feeling shoko tug her out of the room.

“just let her sleep,” shoko cuts. “she’s been stressed for weeks, and i feel bad.” shoko’s voice is much softer, eyes down as utahime glances at her expression, then at the closed door.

“did something happen?” utahime’s brows are pinched.

shoko steps away from the door, shrugging, “I dunno,” a beat passes. “her sister just told me she doesn’t sleep well when she’s stressed, so just to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t drink too much if she’s still, like,” shoko tries to find the right words. “funky, I guess. so like…this is a good chance for her to catch up on her sleep and relax a bit.”

utahime nods, immediately. “for sure. I’ll keep an eye on her too then— and we can help her destress in these next two weeks!—“ utahime suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth after she basically shouted.

shoko chuckles, but hums along.

the two had the right idea leaving you to sleep. you knocked out for the rest of the day, and by the time you wake up, the sun is only a few minutes from rising. you were slightly confused, having slept for so long. groggy, you sit up and blink around the unfamiliar room. the pale morning light filters through the open balcony doors, the curtains shifting softly with the breeze. and once you see the two other people sleeping in the room, you realize where you are.

utahime is asleep beside you, laying on her side hugging her pillow. shoko is sprawled across the other queen bed like a starfish, blanket tangled around her legs.

and you simply sit there, still waking up, until your stomach starts growling. you rub your eye, reaching for your phone, happy someone had put it in the charger.

6:02 a.m.

“…damn” you mutter to yourself, you hadn’t eaten since the shitty airplane food. careful not to wake either of them, you slide out of bed and slip out of the room.

the villa is quiet in that way when everyone’s still asleep. it’s peaceful and calming. you notice a few abandoned glasses still sitting on the kitchen island from the night before. some half-finished bags of chips on the counter and couches. through the open doors, the warm morning air drifts inside carrying the scent of the ocean.

gojo’s pretty rich to not care that all the back doors are wide open, you think.

you rummage through the mediterranean style kitchen until you find bread, cold cuts, cheese, and enough ingredients to throw together a decent sandwich. then with a plate in hand, phone tucked beneath your arm, you wander outside. the backyard overlooking the hillside below, terracotta rooftops spilling toward the ocean in the distance. the pool reflects the pale pinks and oranges beginning to stretch across the sky. and you settle onto one of the lounge chairs by the pool. your legs curl beneath you as you scroll mindlessly through your phone between bites of your sandwich.

it’s nice and quiet, and your shoulders sink further into the chair, slowly beginning to force yourself into a vacation mindset. and because of that, you don’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps crossing the brown tiled floors.

what you suddenly hear, mid-scroll, is a heavy unexpectedly loud thud of a duffle bag hitting the ground startling the living hell out of you. your heart hitting your ribs.

“…what the fuck?!”

you yelp entire body jerking, nearly tumbling off the chair as your heart launches straight into your throat. you’re still holding your sandwich, immediately whipping around to see the perpetrator.

and standing in the middle of the living room. black soccer shorts hanging low on his hips, a loose black t-shirt stretching across his shoulders. a cap resting in one hand, headphones around his neck. suitcase standing beside him, and a worn-in duffle bag abandoned at his feet….is sukuna.

he looks like he just got off a flight, slightly sweaty, slightly irritated, slightly exhausted, and unbelievably attractive. his scowl is already in place from being startled by the scream, but then he pauses once he sees you.

his eyes drag over your messy sleep-tangled hair, oversized shirt, bare legs tucked awkwardly beneath you on the lounge chair, and the bite of your sandwich still sitting in your mouth as you slowly chew. the edge of his expression shifts, not quite a smile, but something softer than his scowl.

“…the fuck are you screaming for?” he asks.

you stare at him, chewing the rest of your sandwich that flew out when your screamed. he stares back.

“…you look a mess,” you finally say through your bite.

his gaze flickers over you once more. “i think you’re looking in a mirror,” he replies flatly.

and just like that, sitting barefoot beside the pool at six in the morning with food in your mouth and your heart still hammering against your ribs, you can’t explain the way your shoulders ease a bit.

“asshole,” you reply with no bite. sukuna hums, sliding his backpack off and dropping his cap, headphones, and phone on top of his duffle before walking towards you. you swallow the bite you’d been chewing just for sukuna to kneel on the ground beside you, inspecting your sandwich.

“what is that?”

you glance at it, then down at him, your cheeks warming in seconds. he’s so close. “turkey, cheese, olives—“

“olives?” his large hand wraps around your hand, holding the sandwich.

you raise a brow, “yeah, it’s good—wha!” your eyes blow wide when he suddenly takes an obnoxiously large bite out of your sandwich. “what the hell!” you shove his shoulder back, making him loose his balance and catch himself on his annoyingly big arm, but it was too late. he’s chewing your sandwich, as you frown. “you didn’t even ask.”

“y’ didn’t look like you’d give me a bite if I asked,” sukuna speaks with his mouth full.

you scowl, “obviously, it’s mine. you can make your own, tch.”

sukuna continues chewing, still sitting back on his arm, eyes heavy as he stares up at you from your spot on the lounge chair.

you frown right back at him. even half-awake, with travel exhaustion weighing down your limbs, your expression pinches in annoyance. your brows pull together, nose wrinkling slightly, and your grip tightens around your sandwich.

his gaze lingers, “your eyes are bloodshot,” he finally says. you blink at him. “did y’ get any sleep?”

you take another pointed bite before answering, glaring at him over the edge of your sandwich, “yeah, actually. i slept the second i got here and missed dinner,” you narrow your eyes. “which means the first thing i’ve eaten since yesterday is the sandwich you freaking stole.”

sukuna scoffs, “dramatic.”

“you took half of it!” you screech lowly.

“that’s not half.”

“you have no idea what half means.”

his eyes drift downward before returning to your face. you’re sitting cross-legged on the lounge chair, turning slightly away from him now as you continue eating, subtly trying to finish it before he tries to take another bite. which he probably would do, just seeing the way he’s eyeing it.

sukuna feels a quiet tug beneath his ribs. the morning sun finally stretches over the horizon, painting gold across the pool water and catching against your soft skin. you’re still grumbling under your breath as you chew.

“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter.

he pushes himself up a little straighter beside your chair, his calloused palm rests on your bare thigh. “one more bite?” he asks.

you let out a humorless laugh, “yeah, as if.”

he lifts a brow, squeezing your thigh, “c’mon I’m starving. the plane’s breakfast was ass.”

“make your own then,” you say through another mouthful, keeping your free hand against his shoulder to keep him at arm’s length. he glances down at it, then back up at you.

annoyance flickering across his face. “seriously?”

you glance between his eyes, swallowing and taking another bite, “yeah.”

“one more bite.”

“there’s barely any left though,” you whine, keeping his shoulder back as he tries to get closer. but he clicks his tongue before wrapping his hand loosely around your wrist, pulling your palm away from his shoulder with little effort.

“selfish,” he mutters.

you nearly choke. “selfish?” you repeat, staring at him in disbelief. “you’re tryna steal my breakfast.”

“whatever,” he scowls, still holding your wrist. “I’m hungry.”

“ryomen.”

“what?”

“make your own sandwich.”

he stares at you. you stare back. then, without warning, he reaches for your wrist that holds your sandwich, making you gasp loudly, using your legs now to keep your bodies apart. “don’t—“

your free hand wiggles in his grip while he leans over, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as your horrified complaints echo through the otherwise peaceful sunrise. your body struggles as he takes control, easily manuring himself onto the lounge chair, your knee keeping him away, as the other squirms to move between your body, but hanging loosely around his torso.

“ryo pleasee,” your whine rings so clearly, he can’t contain the flip in his stomach. he stops.

your chest is rising and falling from the struggle, anxiously glancing at him, brows pinched expecting him to pull your wrist to his mouth, but he remains still. staring down at you. then at your lips. then back at your eyes.

and suddenly, your legs are loosening, heart beating against your ribs, and letting sukuna fit himself comfortably between your legs. his hand holding your free hand, carefully brushes beneath your jaw before settling against the side of your neck. it’s warm and familiar. the morning breeze lifts strands of your hair across your face, and for a second, neither of you move.

waves crash in the distance. birds calling out in the pale sky. sunlight spilling over the terrace, painting soft lines across the sharp planes of sukuna’s face. his eyes don’t leave yours, and you can feel his breath against your lips, warming a deep spot in your tummy.

“you good?” you whisper eventually, voice smaller than you intend.

his gaze flickers down again. your mouth, then back to your eyes. then groggy, and voice much deeper then before, he mutters… “been a minute.”

your stomach flips. wetting your lips unconsciously, and sukuna’s eyes sharpen at the movement, barely blinking before you feel his firm lips against yours.

the breath leaves his lungs in a quiet rush. there’s a desperation hidden beneath the steadiness he tries so hard to maintain. but his hand tightens ever so slightly where it rests against you.

your lips move in sync like muscle memory. it’s familiar and instinctive. your fingers drift upward, threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck before settling against his scalp. he releases a gentle exhale against your mouth at the contact, making your pulse stumble. sukuna leans closer without realizing it, his broad shoulders block out the morning sun as he deepens the kiss. your lips part on instinct, welcoming his tongue.

you can’t explain the urge that grows inside you the longer you kiss. the make out feels unbelievably calming, his grip tight around the lounge chair above your head, his knees digging into the seat, and his tongue swallowing your moans that have his pulse stuttering. your nails scratch at his scalp, threading through the pink locks digging gently.

“you taste like my sandwich,” you murmur with a clipped tone, tongue kissing his as he hums.

“yeah, fuck if I care,” he so easily brushes off the attitude to kiss you again. there were only two bites of your sandwich left, but you still held on to it, even as sukuna skillfully traced your bottom lip with his tongue. his hips lowering just to press his semi-bulge right against your clothed cunt, and that was enough to note the way your breath catches.

he can’t put into words how much his body needed you. just seeing you when he first walked in after his shit flight had his chest twisting, and now, kissing you…he feels every second relieving the weight on his shoulders.

your nails scratch at his scalp, tugging gently just to have him pull away, his eyes watching the way you catch your breath. lips all pretty and wet from him. eyes slightly dazed as you stare up at him, face lit softly with a healthy glow that has him leaning down again. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your bottom lip, caressing your tongue as it meets again.

“you didn’t send me any more pics,” he mutters.

your cheeks flush, nails caressing his nape. “you didn’t ask for more.”

“it should be unspoken.”

you snort, leaning closer when he pulls away, “it’s not now.”

sukuna grumbles, jaw ticking for a moment until your lips find each other again, your legs wrap around his torso, letting him put his weight on top of you, unbothered by the plane’s air that still clings to him. “give me a bite of the sandwich,” he mutters, trailing his lips down to your neck. and even if it’s been weeks, he still finds your sweet spot in seconds, nipping at it. your breath catches in your pretty throat, whining shyly when he licks the spot again with his warm tongue.

“no,” you say, managing to take another bite, doing your best to chew it as fast as you can, even with the bread being so thick, sukuna catches your wrist again. your eyes widen, watching him move your hand to his open mouth, taking the last bite.

you groan with a mouth full, eyes harsh as they glare up at him. the two of you chewing all the while his hand finds its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin.

“is it too hard for you to make a sandwich?” you speak with your mouth full, swallowing bites but still chewing.

“yeah, it is,” he replies coolly.

your brow twitches in irritation. but you still can’t help the way your gaze lingers. it’s been almost two months, and somehow he looks exactly the same. however, his salmon hair has grown out just enough to brush against the nape of his neck, it’s slightly damp from the warm weather. his shoulders seem broader than you remember, his t-shirt stretching across his frame. his veins stand out beneath his sun-bronzed forearms, hands rough and familiar where they rest against the lounge chair and your bare waist.

even sitting there, lazy and half-awake from travel, there is something unfairly imposing about him. it’s all familiar, but it could be the distance apart that has you pointing out the sharp tattoos again, the intimidating size difference, and the quiet confidence of him, painfully aware of what his body does to you.

your eyes drift over the dark tattoos peeking beneath his sleeves and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. his beefy thighs crowding the edge of the chair when he shifts, solid beneath his worn soccer shorts. he’s inconveniently attractive, stealing your sandwich like a jerk, familiar arrogance seeping with each glance your way, and his typical scowl…but still, your fingers almost ache with the remembered habit of tracing his inked skin beneath your fingertips, wanting to hear the low huff he’d give you in response.

you don’t miss him…but you do miss this pull of wanting someone who always feels just out of reach, but still appears right in front of you when you need him most.

“good-fuckin’-sandwich,” he finally swallows, licking his lips. he leans down with little effort, and high confidence, pressing his lips to yours again. body moving on top of you, rolling his hips down just to hear your little hiccup, your hand suddenly presses against his shoulder, pushing. he barely moves, but he does pause, pulling away enough to keep his face hovering close. “what? you mad I took the last bite?”

you roll your eyes, ready to respond when your stomach suddenly pierces the air with a loud grumble.

the sound has the frat boy freezing, glancing down. your lips part, cheeks flaring, glancing away as sukuna sits up just a little. “you seriously didn’t eat anything?”

“I told you I haven’t eaten,” you tsk, cheeks inflamed from the sound, desperately trying to ignore the caresses of sukuna’s hand under your shirt, thumb brushing your torso, suddenly pushing the material of t-shirt higher revealing more of your torso.

the air grows awkwardly uncomfortable, neither of you saying a word, and him not responding has you growing slightly more aware of the position he has you in. you don’t want to address it, you seriously, strongly, want to ignore how he’d just made himself comfortable with touching you after being apart for weeks. but that sudden thought as you pushing yourself up.

your hand climbs up his chest, curling your fist around his collar. and with little resistance, you tug him towards you.

“I’ll make another sandwich,” you mutter, your pretty chest rising with each breath. “you can keep kissing me…” his eyes flick between yours, they’re heavy with either exhaustion, lust, or both, but then you whisper the precious words he’s been dreaming of hearing this close, with your warmth wrapping around him, and your scent making his head spin… “please, ryo.”

his lips twitch up, arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close from under your shirt. then your heart skips a beat. his head tucks down to your shoulder, burying his face there, pulling you to his chest.

your lips part, cheeks burning hot as he hugs you closer. his fingers dig possessively around your waist, bicep flexing around.

the summer breeze wraps around you. heart beating aggressively against your chest. fingers twitching trapped between your bodies, his hot breath fans against your neck. seagulls fly above you, the sky clear as day. but none of it can be fully processed, not when sukuna is hugging you like it’s been years since you’ve seen each other.

“r—“ you stop yourself when a warm kiss is pressed against your neck. then another. his hand brushes up and down your warm torso, making you always aware of his presence. slowly trailing kisses up your neck, subtly inhaling more of your flowery scent.

his cheeks sting, and he feels the heat crawl up his neck as his bulge grows harder. but he doesn’t stop peppering your burning skin with wet kisses. he pays a certain spot with more attention, sucking just a bit harder, smiling subtly when he hears your cute hiccup-like-moan.

“y’know,” he mutters against your skin, sucking another light hickey on your pretty neck, barely noticeable. he doesn’t wait for you to respond, your fingers twitching at his waist, holding his shirt. “I’ve been thinking’ bout how you got naked in your car,” your cheeks sting as the memory resurfaces quickly. “and how you fingered this pussy ‘cause I asked ya too,” you don’t have to look at him to hear the devilish smile he’s sporting. “then you fucking knocked over the phone when you came.”

your lips part in a quiet gasp, “it was an accident—“

he tsks, “still.” you blush. “I wanted to see it.” his hand brushes higher, unbothered by how he’s pushing your shirt up, revealing your lower back to the warm air. your skin is just so soft under his rough palm, and you fit perfectly against him. “you’ve been teasing me.”

your eyes go wide, “me?!—haah—“

the moan has your face bursting into flames, his teeth sink into your neck. your hand finding its way to his bicep, nails digging in, as he licks the mark he leaves. his lips skim up your neck, warm breath fanning gently until your lips are parting to inhale the same air.

“yeah, you,” his eyes flick over your lips. “with that call, and the one before that, and your photo.” he wets his bottom lip, a sinister smirk exposing his sharp canines. and in that moment you feel like he’d swallow you whole any second. “and now you’re lounged out here waiting for me.”

that’s when a a loud scoff leaves your lips. cheeks aflame. “as if. I didn’t even know when you were coming. it’s a coincidence.”

a disbelieving hum resounds from his throat. “so you were camped out here in these little shorts,” he tugs the hem of your shorts. “and this shirt wearing nothing underneath, for who then?”

you raise a brow, amused by him, forearm casually resting on his shoulder as you look back at him. “would you believe me if I said it was for me?”

he clicks his tongue.

you hum, glancing away for entertainment, free hand coming up to your chin. sukuna sits still, surprisingly patient, almost like you both have all the time in the world. it was unnervingly attractive. but you still decide to tease him, amused by the thought so you say it.

“then it was for satoru.”

and the moment that name leaves your lips, the reaction is far from what you’ were expecting. sukuna’s once calm features shift into a sudden disgusted scowl. the expression catches you so off guard that you suddenly burst out laughing, right in his face.

“fuck outta my face,” he spits.

you laugh even louder, hand coming up to your mouth trying to control yourself. “what? you don’t believe me?”

your push has sukuna rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. “playin’ in my face.”

“pleaseeee,” you cackle, adjusting yourself higher, waving a hand in front of him. “I was—I meant to say it’s for suguru.”

you visibly see the twitch in his eye, and that has you laughing louder hitting his chest as your head falls back. “I’m DEAD, you’re actually killing me!!” your laughing is so loud it irks him how much you’re getting a kick out of his reaction. he also ignores how cute your stupid laugh is after not hearing for so long. “cmon, it’s no biggy, wearing this skimpy little thing for my suguru.”

“your suguru,” sukuna spits back, disgust laced in every word.

you nod, bitting your top lip as you hold in your laughter, even if your eyes are laughing. “it makes sense, since me and him are sharing a room.”

his body suddenly goes dead still. “you’re fucking with me.”

his tone has you laughing louder, unaware how much that bothered the footballer. “you don’t believe me?”

sukuna rolls his eyes, loosening his jaw as he exhales through his nose. “daamn, relax ryo.” you coo, hand coming up to squish his cheeks. “tough month? you can’t take my little jokes anymore?” your faux pout has him scowling immediately, but his cock jumps at the expression.

“ragebait,” he mutters. you softly snort, smile lighting up your face, then your pretty head tilts for him. so fucking pretty.

“aww, that wasn’t my intention,” you coo.

the lie has sukuna scoffing, eyes flickering between your insincere doe eyes, and it tickles an itch deep in his core. “I was just playing with you,” you playfully squish his cheeks again, watching the way his lips purse together. he’s so cute.

his hands rest on your waist, staring straight into your eyes, and he unknowingly allows you to mess with him. enough that a string tugs at his chest.

“you mad?” your lips part slightly when he doesn’t respond, your eyes still holding a playful spark in them.

“yeah.”

it was a detectable lie that has your pretty lips pulling into a smile you can’t control. “yeah?” you’ve seriously grown confident in your time apart, and it’s unbelievably attractive. “but I thought it was pretty funny. you can’t be mad about that, can you?”

your thumb brushes the morning shadow on his chin, the stubble beyond attractive. but sukuna is too busy clicking his tongue at you to notice the way you’re checking him out whilst pushing his buttons. “I can. do you see me laughing with ya?”

you purse your lips, smile spilling out wide. you shake your head, then you push yourself up. your pretty legs are loose around his hips, your fingers gently curling under his chin, wetting your bottom lip with a soft hum.

“I don’t,” your voice is low, sweet. his jaw tenses slightly, waiting for you to act, and surprisingly you catch it. and you start smiling again. “you’re so patient, ryo.”

his breath catches, covering it with a loud, offended scoff. “maybe finish your sentences,” he snaps. “y’ keep fucking trailing off.”

you smile, leaning close to his face. breath warm against his lips. “I just answered you though,” you trail off again, purposefully. your lips hover over his, slowing your breath, lashes fluttering like a subtle seductress. and it works. he leans closer, wanting your warmth to encompass him even more. his cheeks a stained dark pink as you exhale softly. “you just like listening to me…don’t you?”

your smile is unbelievably beautiful, but his remains still, glaring at you through his dark lashes. his thick brow quirks. “i don’t remember ya being this cocky,” he mutters and there isn’t much heat behind the insult.

your smile only widens, “I didn’t realize how easy you make it,” you coo softly.

his brow twitches, “don’t flatter yourself.”

“mm.” your fingers drift along the collar of his shirt, eyeing the tattoos that peak, then meeting his crimson gaze again. “too late.”

the morning breeze curls around the two of you, the scent of salt and sunscreen drifts through the quiet villa. the pool glitters behind him and still, neither of you moves away.

his eyes drag over your expression, lingering on the curve of your smile and the amusement brightening your face. he’d spent weeks listening to your voice through a phone speaker, catching glimpses of you through photos and stories, and now that you’re here, he finds himself unable to take his hands off you.

you tilt your head. “what?” you ask, trying and failing to sound innocent.

“you’re annoying,” he cuts.

“but…” you lean closer, your lips brushing his, and he barely reacts. “you haven’t asked me to stop.”

something shifts behind his eyes. the confidence in your expression flickers for half a second, replaced by something softer, and something he sure as shit brushes away. but the teasing quiets just enough for his stomach to twist.

“tell me ryo,” you murmur quietly, voice just above a whisper. the sweetness drips into his ear like honey. his cock straining in his shorts, unable to control his body’s reaction to you. “you like being teased…right?”

his mouth twitches. “you fucking with me again?”

you slowly shake your head, staring into his eyes, twirling his hair around your finger. “you can tell me,” you tug at his hair lightly. “I don’t judge.”

he’s leaking for sure. the clear outline of his cock would be embarrassing if he wasn’t packing. and even with how obviously turned on he is, how flushed his ears are, and how blown his pupils have gotten. he still manages to hold his composure, and bite back a shit eating grin.

“cute,” his arm tightens around your waist, the other dragging up your thigh, pushing up your shorts. his bulge is pressing directly onto your shorts, and his sharp canines almost make him look animalistic. “I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.”

you hum, dragging the sound in faux innocence, lashes batting up at him, almost making him release a pathetic noise. “what am doing? I thought I was creating a safe space for you,” you coo.

“don’t play dumb.”

you shrug, face still close, and fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, the other squeezing his bicep. “I’m not.“

and once your eyes glance over the scowl that flickers across his face, your unable to control your reaction. you laugh softly against the small space separating you, and the sound seems to snap whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to.

you make a startled sound against him, one that quickly melts into something softer when he kisses you harder than before. his brows knit together, expression caught between irritation and want.

he completely steals the breath from your lungs. all the teasing from the last several minutes dissolves into something far less careful. the laughter lingering on your lips disappears beneath the press of his mouth, your fingers tangling tighter in the ends of his hair as he forces his tongue to meet yours. and the moment your tongues make contact, a guttural groan comes from the back of his throat. the sound is muffled against your lips, but the way you feel the warmth pool between your legs is immediate.

he doesn’t care anymore. his mind has wrapped itself around you, the familiarity of your lips, the warmth of your body, and the soft edges of your aura, it all has him melting. and it doesn’t take long for him to press his fully erect cock right against your shorts. rutting.

a squeak escapes your pretty lips at the first roll of his hips. jaw falling agape at the stimulation. the sunrise paints everything gold around you, warm light spilling across the pool deck while the rest of the villa remains asleep. and as exhausted as sukuna is from his flight, he physically can’t stop his body from rutting into you like a dog in heat.

his tongue is thick and hot, slowly stroking your lips passionately until you’re meeting the wet muscle with your own. your whine is muffled, arms latched around his shoulders, as he hooks your leg over his arm, humping your clothed pussy.

“we should fuck,” he mutters between kisses, grinding even harder, stimulating his cock. “yeah?” his hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, kissing your bottom lip with haste. “everyone’s sleeping, I got a condom in my bag—“

a choked groan slips out of his throat when you tug his hair, his pupils twice their normal size. cheeks flushed a dark red, and his body unable to pull away from you. he doesn’t want to address how quickly you turn him on, or how much he craved your touch after being away from you for so long—no, none of it crosses the front of his mind when you’re under him, hands caressing his nape, lips glossy and swollen from kissing, and dark lashes batting up at him like you know everything. “you haven’t showered.”

he kisses down your neck, grinding slower, reminding you what he’s asking for. “I don’t smell that bad.” he unintentionally presses his face against your nape, inhaling. “fuck, but you smell so fucking good.”

your lips part momentarily, cheeks flushed. you feel him kiss the warm skin of your neck. he trails back to your lips, hand wrapping gently around your neck, tilting your chin up with a thumb, kissing you deeper, if possible.

it was a scene. and it was one that gojo was waking up to. his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, white hair sticking in every direction, as he wanders down the staircase in nothing but a pair of shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. one hand disappears beneath the hem of his shirt as he scratches absentmindedly at his chest, the other reaching automatically for the carton of orange juice waiting in the fridge.

the villa is quiet. the open screens let the morning breeze drift through the house, sunlight spilling across the floors and stretched toward the living room, where a duffle bag and suitcase had been abandoned carelessly near the entrance. gojo blinks, his gaze moves from the luggage to the open patio doors, then stops. “…oh.”

outside, beneath the morning blue sky, was a certain someone hidden behind one of the lounge chairs overlooking the pool, and sukuna was right on top of her. the two of you were obviously making out, his head bent toward yours, your hand buried somewhere near the ends of his pink hair, his broad shoulders blocking part of your frame from view, and his lower body was rocking against yours.

gojo stared, lifting the orange juice to his mouth, then lowering it. “…they’re still not dating,” he murmured to absolutely no one.

“what are you doing?” nanami’s voice breaks through the silence making gojo glance over briefly. fresh out of bed himself, nanami is halfway through pulling a shirt over his head, pajama pants slung low against his waist, catching a brief sight of his dark blonde happy trail, as he walks into the kitchen, following gojo’s line of sight. his steps slowed. “oh.”

gojo points toward the patio, “they’re not dating.”

nanami yawns, moving toward the fridge anyway.“i went to bed early,” he said. “did he get here last night?”

gojo shakes his head immediately, finally twisting the cap off the orange juice. “nope. he literally just got here. i got the notification from the security.” nanami pauses, glancing over his shoulder again, then toward the abandoned bags in the living room, then back outside.

“…they’re that comfortable with each other?” the question slips out before he can stop it.

gojo snorts, “or they’re just ridiculously attracted to each other,” he shrugs. “but they’re definitely not dating.”

nanami raises a brow thoughtfully. “did they not have sex with anyone else if they’re jumping each other like that now?” gojo tilts his head in genuine surprise. nanami’s eyes linger on the scene outside.

maybe it’s instinct or it the unmistakable feeling of being watched, because outside, sukuna’s gaze lifts. his sharp crimson eyes slide toward the villa without warning and land directly on the blue and honey-colored pair staring back at him from the kitchen. the silence stretches, until gojo slowly raises his carton of orange juice in greeting.

your brows quirk seeing sukuna’s suddenly pulling away and scowling over your shoulder. that’s when you decide to stick your head out, brows quirking at gojo and nanami both standing in the kitchen.

“didn’t mean to interrupt the streamy sesh,” gojo calls out casually, nanami glancing at him in annoyance. “you guys can continue.”

you snort, pressing a hand to sukuna’s chest, just for the hot head to sit back on his knees, glaring at his friends. “damn, but you kinda made me loose my appetite though,” you say stepping away from sukuna to stand up. his eyes follow you, jaw tightening as gojo cackles loudly from the house.

“whaaaat—but don’t you guys miss each other? I didn’t wanna ruin the reunion,” gojo lightly teases, unknowingly hitting a nerve as sukuna tsks, and you surprisingly raise a brow.

“you’re not ruining anything,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at sukuna who’s still sat on the lounge chair, hand over his bulge. “we were jus’ talking.”

gojo smirks, nodding sarcastically, “yeah, for sure. must’ve been the wind then.”

you sarcastically cringe, shrugging. “ah, must’ve been.” you don’t break a sweat as you walk further into the house passing by the boys as you make your way up the stairs, leaving them behind. and even with your heart beating erratically, and your face sweltering. you keep your composure until you’re out of sight.

as for sukuna…he remains seated, quiet, and unbelievably pissed off. nanami finds it slightly amusing, while gojo is snorting loudly. “that’s how much you wanna get in her pants—I just got the notification that you walked in and you’re already tryna fuck her—jeez.”

sukuna scowls, standing up. the irritation dripping from his being as he slips a hand into his shorts, tucking his erection up. “since when do you fucking cockblock me?” he snaps, walking into the house.

gojo’s hands fly up in defense, “you’re the ones that stopped. I was just drinkin’ my juice here.”

“he was watching,” nanami casually corrects, earning another shrug from gojo. sukuna clicks his tongue, and it prompts nanami to follow up with the only question swimming in his head. “are you guys dat—“

“no.”

the room falls silent.

sukuna picks up his duffle bag. his sharp eyes find the two men, and he utters his next words, with little thought, only wanting to end any further discussion on a subject he has little care to address with outsiders.

“we fuck. and I’m gonna fuck her again. and that’s my deal with her.”

his harsh tone is followed by a low whistle from the white haired man. and though sukuna walks away from them fully believing he put an end to whatever assumptions they insisted on making. because whatever existed between you and him has always been simple, physical, and convenient. except…

later that week, the simplicity shakes just a bit. when your arms lock around his torso, fingers twisting desperately into the back of his soaked shirt, refusing to let go. face pressed against his chest, eyes rimmed raw, breaths breaking apart into uneven pieces as your entire body trembles against him. the rain coming down harshly, drenching the quiet street and soaking through your skin and fabric.

and sukuna can only stare over your head into the empty street. his arms tighten around you without fully realizing what he’s doing it. his veins straining beneath his skin because you won’t stop shaking. your nails digging into him.

“don’t…” your voice is strained, the softness still shining through even in the state you’re in. “don’t push me away yet.”

his jaw clenches.

“please.”

a/n: watch you guys burn me alive after this. no joke, this shit was gonna be longer but I reached the line count limit on tumblr so I had to cut the scene short and add a sneak peak into next chapter.

“no,” you huff. “you’re always working. need you so bad, cho—you don’t need me?”

and choso whimpers, because of course he does, because what else is he supposed to do when you zip down his jeans & pull out his swollen, heavy cock? your eyes are glimmering & he’s so fucking hard and there’s already precum smeared over the flushed pink tip. you lick your lips. flash him a smile. “aw, cho. hard for me already?”

he stifles a gasp, cheeks hot. “so hard. mmfph—” you pump him slow & he swallows, hips stuttering against the board. “i’m sorry baby,” he cries, “always need you.”

“are you sure?” you coo, lashes fluttering as your thumb circles his slit. “sukuna will get mad again.”

choso’s lashes are sticky with tears. “he’s always mad—hah—i think.”

you giggle, leaning forward to lick a teasing stripe up his tip. "so you're saying this is fine ?"

choso wants to say yes. he wants to say no. he doesn't know what he wants anymore except your hand on his cock & your voice in his ear and—

BANG!

“hello. what the fuck is taking so long?!”

ryomen sukuna has his guitar slung over him & his lips bent in a frown. choso’s hands fly to his jeans, and you only smile sweetly as sukuna’s eyes dart frantically between your wet lips & choso’s panicked eyes. suguru pokes his head out of the booth; grin clumsy, eyes bright.

“…lock in.” sukuna mutters, and the door slams shut.

2. HEADLINE #2: R★CKSTAR CAUGHT DURING MIDNIGHT SEXCAPADES ?!

choso kamo is too needy for his own good.

it’s 1AM & choso kamo is under hotel sheets with need buzzing between his thighs. the band’s on tour for the nth time this year but choso isn’t thinking about practicing his guitar riff. his phone screen is too bright in his face & his eyes are on your soft thighs, supple breasts, pretty face—and he’s palming himself while staring at pictures of you before he can think any better of it.

but then his phone chimes.

[ BLOOD MOON 🎸]

mine 😊🫀: @ choso i miss you :(

choso blinks at the notification, pupils dilating. he clicks it so fast his thumb twitches.

BLOOD MOON 🎸

mine 😊🫀: @ choso i miss you :(

choso: I miss you too, baby. You’re not sleeping yet?

mine 😊🫀: hard to sleep without you touching me.

choso’s cheeks are hot. his cock twitches in his pants. but then his phone chimes again.

BLOOD MOON 🎸

sukuna: Can we not do this in the band gc.

geto🐒: why is she even here i’m dead

mine😊🫀: @ choso my pussy is so wet for you daddy :/

geto🐒 reacted: ⁉️

sukuna: IN MY PUBLIC GC ???

satoru🧿:

——

choso panics—throat bobbing, eyes wide. he quickly switches to texting you privately, face smushed into his pillow & cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

mine ☺️🫀

choso: Baby, why would you text that in the gc?

Satoru will tease me during practice again

And Sukuna already texted saying he’ll beat me up

——-

your text comes in instantly.

mine ☺️🫀: are you mad at me?

i just missed you cho. i won’t text you again since that’s what you want ☹️

choso: What? I said I didn’t want that? When?

I always want you to text me. It makes my day when you do. Please don’t stop texting baby I always want to hear from you.

mine ☺️🫀: let me see your cock

choso: Okay

I’m already hard for you. I was touching myself to your pictures before you texted. You’re so pretty, baby. Miss your pretty face.

[Image_Attachment]

mine ☺️🫀: aww, you’re so cute cho

why not come over and get the real thing ?

choso: I want to, but you’re two hours away. Can I see your breasts?

mine☺️🫀: you can see them if you come over 😚 and you can touch them too pretty boy <3

choso: But I can’t come over. What can I do?!

mine☺️🫀: Suffer

choso: ???

——-

choso stares at the screen, mouth agape, heart in a frenzy. the light is bright against his eyes but choso doesn’t care to dim it. what can he do? he really wants to see your breasts but the circumstances won’t allow it. he bites his lip, thumbs moving before his brain can catch up to them.

choso: Suffer

I’m already suffering, angel. I don’t know how to suffer any harder. Can you please tell me what to do?

mine ☺️🫀: go to sleep choso

choso: But I don’t want to sleep. I want to see your breasts

mine ☺️🫀: then come over

choso: But I can’t

mine ☺️🫀: so why are you still texting me?

choso stares at your text, breath hitching. he glances over at the clock on his nightstand, and the digital display gleams back. 1:17 AM. that’s not too bad. surely he could get there by around three, fuck you till at least four, and get back to the hotel by six.

it’s a stupid plan. but for you choso’s a stupider man, and the next text you send doesn’t help his judgement.

mine☺️🫀: [Image_Attachment]

mine☺️🫀: sneak peek <3

choso’s heart hammers. the picture only shows your tits clad in a pretty pink nightgown, but the material is too sheer & choso can see everything. the soft swell of your breasts. your nipples pebbled and peaking through the fabric. the way your arm is tucked underneath your tits to push them together into the camera. choso’s mouth dries. his breathing goes ragged & his cock goes heavy against his leg. he’s still gawking at your picture when his phone chimes again.

mine☺️🫀: my new nightgown’s so thin :( i don’t know why you can see my tits through it

choso thinks your nightgown is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

choso: your nipples are so pretty, baby

he sucks in a breath, taking one last sorry glance at the clock.

choso: I’m coming over.

choso doesn’t wait for a reply. he’s already scrambling to fit a tank top over his bare chest, tugging socks over his feet & shoving them into slippers. the hallway is dark and quiet, and choso takes one last look at your perky tits on his screen before clicking his phone off & shoving it into his pockets. he sucks in a breath. let’s do this.

two hallways right. one staircase down—not the elevator because it’s way too loud—and then another hallway to reach the lobby. choso knows the hotel layout like the back of his hand. he slips into the corridor, steps quiet against the hardwood, and the staircase is right there—

“late night, kamo?”

choso stops before he can bump right into sukuna.

ryomen sukuna is not impressed—and neither are the two boys behind him. geto’s piercings are glimmering in the heat. satoru has a smile too cruel to be kind. they stand on either side of a crossed sukuna, hands in their pockets, grins lazy-cruel.

choso gulps, eyes flitting between them. “uhm, i just needed some water—“

“back to your room, lover boy,” suguru whistles, thumb pointing to satoru. “unless you want to be smacked upside the head?”

satoru is cracking his knuckles with a grin.

“no thank you,” choso says too fast, too sheepish. his cheeks are peach tinged. “and what do you mean by lover boy? i was only—“

“save it,” sukuna growls, cocking his head. “the walls are thin as fuck, idiot. you think i didn’t hear you beating your shit and whining into your pillow in the next room over?”

choso’s throat bobs. sukuna pads closer to his shaky figure.

“back to your room,” sukuna’s hot breath tickles choso’s nose, “and don’t let me catch you in these halls again.”

3. HEADLINE #3 : R★CKSTAR CAUGHT HAVING SEX AFTER SETS ?!

on stage, choso kamo is half-boy, half-heartbreak.

at least, that’s what the fangirls say when he plays like this. mic cord in his mouth. hair soaked & sweat sticky. mascara smeared down his cheeks & a riff so loud it makes you feverish. on blood moon’s stage, choso kamo plays the electric guitar like his life depends on it. sukuna’s singing blares more like a roar. geto is on bass & satoru on the drums.

choso hasn’t seen you since the set started.

not in the crowd, or the lobby, or the soft space behind the old stairwell where he likes to kiss you dizzy. he’s trudging through backstage now, guitar strapped heavy on his back, steps slow & breath heaving because the adrenaline hasn’t worn off & he’s still half-high. where the fuck is his girlfriend?

but then he sees you on the amp.

and choso’s first thought is glitter. lots of it. sticky on your lip and your chin and your hair and your face. he pads towards you with bleary eyes and you welcome him with a teasing smile.

“hi, choso.”

“Hi,” his arms bracket your hips. “you look shiny.”

you giggle, hand curling into his necklace as he trails sloppy kisses to your jawline. choso kisses like a dog, tongue wet & breath sticky. “you’re so hot,” he rasps. “so fucking hot—mmh—m’dizzy.”

you let him kiss your lips. “can’t do this here,” he murmurs against them. “can i take you away, baby? behind the stairs?”

his eyes are soft and pleading. he talks like he’s asking but his hands are already hoisting you up & lifting you into his chest before you can tell him no. you cup his face. smush his cheeks. “impatient, are we?”

“sorry,” his cheeks are pressed together in your palms so his voice comes out strangled. “missed you.”

choso isn’t sorry. he’s stumbling past workers & crew alike while pressing sloppy kisses to your hot mouth. his tongue slobbers and drags while his hands press into your thighs, thumb climbing higher to graze circles on your hips. he nearly trips over two cables but you laugh into his mouth and choso kamo has never been happier. “you’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “so pretty.”

he finally reaches the stairwell. the closet door just under it is blue & peeling, and choso kicks it open with his mouth on your throat. he pulls back to stare at you and his gaze is soft. his eyes lift to stare into the room as you kiss his cheek.

his band members stare at him back.

ryomen sukuna has his arms crossed & his back against a wooden shelf. gojo satoru is sat criss-cross on a table with his lips in a grin. suguru stands beside him, leaned back lazily against said table with his lip piercing glimmering in the heat. and right there in the center, manager toji fushiguro has his arms folded over his chest, temu wristwatch catching the light.

choso drops you very slowly.

his eyes flit between his band mates, cheeks already blood drenched. he’s still gripping your skirt when he sets you down beside him. you whack his hand away and shift behind him to hide.

geto grins. “hey, lover boy.”

choso leans back into you slightly. he whispers over his shoulder, “baby—it’s a trap!”

he doesn’t need to tell you. you can fucking see that.

sukuna steps forward. he’s not even angry—shocking, honestly—he’s bored. steps lazy, gaze half-lidded. “told ya, fushiguro. our band’s lead guitarist is always in fucking heat.”

choso squeaks, gripping your skirt. “i wasn’t gonna fuck her!”

sukuna glances back at the others. “who is he lying to?”

toji sighs, shaking his head. he shoves his hands into his pockets, expression bored. “look, kid—“ he glances up, “your band mates and i don’t care about you being a horndog. we care that you’re letting it get in the way of your responsibilities.”

satoru perks up, tongue clicking. “you were supposed to head straight to the van after the set. but here you are trying to get some pussy…”

“shit’s jarring, man,” suguru finishes. “absolutely jarring.”

you lean up on your toes, just enough to poke your head up behind choso’s shoulder. satoru grins when he sees your face. suguru gives you a soft wave.

“hi,” your voice is shy. “this is my fault. sorry about him.”

“don’t sweat it, princess,” toji waves you off, fake ice glimmering on his wrist. “our business is with your boyfriend, not you.”

you nod shyly, disappearing behind choso yet again. sukuna huffs through his nose. “choso, got anything to say for yourself?”

choso looks around. at gojo and geto’s sleazy grins, toji’s deadpan face, sukuna’s lazy gaze. the room is hot but his cheeks are hotter. he swallows, blood sticky in his throat.

“i’m sorry,” he croaks. “it won’t happen again.”

sukuna doesn’t let him off. “what won’t happen again?”

choso grips your skirt behind him, swallowing. you squeeze your thighs around his palm to reassure him & choso gulps yet again.

“won’t fuck my girl while on duty. or let her fist me in the rec rooms. or try to sneak off to see her.”

your eyes widen behind him. he did not have to mention the rec room!

toji nods. then he checks his wrist—the temu wristwatch says it’s time to go. “alright, we’re done here. you boys be in the van in five. i got somewhere to be.”

he trudges past you and a frozen choso, kicking the door open to leave.

the boys follow suit. satoru hops off the table, grinning. “nice one, cho!” he smacks choso’s arm as he walks past. sukuna bumps choso’s side lazily. suguru slings an arm over your shoulders to steer you to the van with the rest of them.

in the closet, choso kamo has his feet frozen in place and his face contorted in horror.

once again, our rockstar’s been caught.

R★CKSTAR CAUGHT, end.

Jaemin stands somewhere in the middle of it all, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, barely bothered.

Haechan is already annoyed. Jeno is quieter, standing close enough to his girlfriend that they might as well merge into one at this point. Jaemin glances at them once, then forward again.

Start of spring energy. Everyone trying to squeeze something out of the night before everything resets into exams and exhaustion. The line inches forward. Warm air hits in waves whenever the door opens. Music follows it – heavy, messy, familiar.

Then when Jaemin’s in, noise swallows everything. Every corner is packed. Full tables, standing clusters, people leaning into each other and still shouting. The bar is already packed, orders shouted over each other, glasses clinking nonstop.

Jaemin steps further inside and blinks once, already knowing who to look for.

Same girl he’s been obsessing over for god knows how long.

He’s seen you plenty of times. Sometimes with Jisung, sometimes not. Sometimes in the library, others in the social studies building. Mostly he sees you here. Always behind the bar, barely smiling at customers. Always half-elsewhere even when you’re physically there.

He never fails to notice you for some reason. Never able to look away as fast as he’d like. First your posture. Not slouched exactly, but weighted, or bored. Like your body has learned how to keep functioning even when you’re past your limit.

Then your hands. Short nails. Practical length. Old polish chipped at the edges, like you painted them on a day you had energy and haven’t had another day like it since. You don’t even seem aware of it. Or maybe you just don’t care.

Your fingers move fast anyway – pouring, counting, sliding drinks across the bar without hesitation. Not a single wasted motion as you laugh at something one of your colleagues whispers in your ear.

Then his eyes glance at your arm when you reach up for a wine glass. The small tattoo sits on the inside of your forearm – simple, dark ink. Not decorative in the way people show off. More like something chosen for yourself, placed somewhere only visible when you move a certain way.

An outline of a tiny daffodil that disappears again when your sleeve falls back.

Then your face. Makeup that was probably neat earlier in the day, now slightly worn down at the edges. A faint smudge near your eye, like you’ve wiped sweat or pushed hair away too many times without thinking.

Jaemin’s mouth tilts before he realises it. Why are you always so nice to look at yet so difficult to approach?

“Jaem, this round’s on you, right?” Haechan says beside him.

“Yeah,” He answers carelessly, already stepping forward.

He slips into a free space at the bar before anyone else can, close enough that he doesn’t need to raise his voice.

You still don’t look up.

“Hey,” He tries, already feeling like an idiot.

You glance up. There’s a flicker of recognition and his mind already thinks you’ve tagged him as someone familiar from somewhere mildly annoying. Then your expression resets into something neutral. 

“Hi,” You greet, with a nod and something could resemble a smile if you didn’t look devastatingly bored. “What can I get you?”

Jaemin leans lightly on the bar. “Four beers, please.”

“What kind?” You’re already reaching for a pint glass.

He watches your hands again. “Whatever’s quick.”

You nod once, without further comment. Turn. Pour. Move. And Jaemin instantly thinks, damn, your manager must love you.

Behind him, Jeno laughs at something Haechan says. But Jaemin couldn’t be less curious. He’s still too busy watching you.

The full drinks land in front of him one after the other before he has enough time to admire you as much as he'd like.

“Cash or card?” You ask, reaching for the card machine on autopilot, like you already know his response.

“Card,” He says, tapping it. And before he can speak again or thank you, you’ve already migrated to the next customer, the dismissal so disappointingly quick it feels like a punch in the gut.

You work fast. Faster than most people in a place like this could reasonably manage. But there’s no flourish to it. Just survival through repetition. Someone calls your name and you respond immediately without looking away from what you’re doing, no distraction allowed to get in your way. And Jaemin internally pictures his compromised attention span laughing at him.

When you come back down the bar, he does something he never really had the intention of doing doing with you. He acts on instinct.

“Y/N, right?” He speaks a little too loud, miscalculating the decibels of the music, and immediately wishes he could ascend out of his body and slap himself. Maybe you'll do it for him instead.

You look at him a fraction of a second longer than before. There’s a faint twitch of your eyebrow, fatigue pressing closer to irritation, but still contained under professionalism. “Something wrong with your drinks?”

“You’re Jisung’s friend?” He doesn’t think he’s ever sounded this lame before.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you study him again. “…yeah,” you say. “Why?”

“I’ve seen you with him,” Jaemin says, his own voice irritating him already. “Around campus.”

Great, now he sounds like a stalker.

Something in your expression adjusts - subtle recalibration. Like you’re placing him properly now instead of just acknowledging him.

“Right,” You reaffirm. “You’re…?”

Do you really not remember him? He's introduced himself to you at least three times in the last few months. You've been to his house parties for crying out loud. And you still can't remember his name?

“Jaemin.” He smiles a little, hoping he looks a lot calmer than he feels. “I live with Ji.”

A small breath leaves you. Almost a laugh, but you don’t give it all the way.

“Okay,” You nod, like that settles it and you're in a rush to move on. “Anything else?”

There it is. The politeness. So fake that he wonders what you’d sound like if you screamed at him in anger.

Jaemin leans slightly against the bar, gaze drifting briefly past you and lands on the sign behind you he’s never seen before.

HELP WANTED

He nods toward it. “Does that still stand?”

You follow his gaze, then look back at him like you already know where this is going. “That I know of, yes.”

“And you’re hiring just anyone?”

You offer an indifferent shrug. “If they’re competent.”

“Slightly low bar, no?”

You huff a dismissive laugh, eyes rolling a little. “You’d be surprised.”

He studies you for a second longer. Your exhaustion is so evident, yet you’re holding this whole place together without letting it touch you more than necessary.

“You think I could apply?” A genuine question. The man studies biology, doesn’t know anything about bar tending.

“Honestly?” You say carefully, still polite, but focused on writing something on a small notepad in front of you. “Go for it, but you’d probably quit after one shift if you’ve never worked at a student bar before.”

Jaemin tilts his head slightly. You’re not judging him. You just don’t care whether you’re right or wrong. He still feels like you indirectly called him inexperienced, though.

“Alright,” he says. “Say I did apply.”

“You’d need to talk to the manager.” Again, so disinterested.

“Any warnings?”

You blink at him once. “About what?”

He gestures vaguely around him. “The job?”

You halt for just a second, then get back to pouring. “No, not really.” Then you shake your head. “You get what you see.”

And you’ve already moved to the other side of the bar, shouting about something he can’t quite decipher over the music. Maybe a missing cocktail pitcher?

A quiet laugh of disbelief slips out before he mumbles to himself. “Fair enough.”

“Well done.” Haechan drags him out of his thoughts as he grabs two of the four drinks. “You actually spoke to her and didn’t faint.”

“I was close.” Jaemin picks up the remaining two drinks and hesitantly retreats with a last glance towards you. He scans the crowd to find Jeno and his girlfriend have already secured a table in the furthest corner of the crowded space. Too far from the bar. At least for his liking.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

You shouldn’t have come outside.

It’s colder than you expected, the kind that settles in slowly, creeping through your sleeves, but at least it’s quiet out here and no one’s calling your name, no one’s waiting for you to pour their drink or fix something that isn’t your fault.

You lean back against the wall, cigarette between your fingers, letting your head rest for a second as you exhale. The noise from inside is muffled now, like it’s happening somewhere far away instead of just behind the door that you barely register opening again.

“Oh, hi.”

You glance over. Ugh.

You recognise him immediately – the one who always stares at you. The one you always actively ignore. Tonight you even went so far as pretending not to remember his name. Again. The one and only campus legend, Na Jaemin.

He looks very well put together tonight. Annoyingly so. Hoodie that’s a little too oversized, hair that looks effortless in a way that definitely isn’t, and a smile that comes too easily to be accidental. His teeth are ridiculously perfect.

You look at him for a second, then away again. You’re too tired to cover up the disinterest now. “Hi.”

He doesn’t take the hint.

“You look different out here,” He observes you skeptically.

You take a drag before answering, letting the smoke sit in your lungs for a second longer than necessary. “Less busy.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, even though you made no joke. Is he stupid?

“You shouldn’t smoke,” He nods towards your hand. You can tell he’s in the mood to tease.

You exhale slowly, turning your head just enough. “You shouldn’t drink. I still served you.”

“You’re not very friendly when you’re off.”

You glance at him briefly. “We’re not friends.”

There’s a glitch behind his eyes, as if he wasn’t expecting that to be the end of it. What an odd little fella.

“We could be–”

“Don’t even,” You cut in, immediately. “I’m already bored of this.”

He blinks once in shock, then lets out a very loud, almost crazy laugh. It’s drawn out on purpose. Like he’s testing how serious you are and deciding not to be.

“I’m sorry.” He pretends to be serious again. “That was funny.”

You eye him carefully this time. “Are you, like, super bored, or…?”

“No, not at all.” He responds with a shrug. “Do I need to be bored to talk to you?”

You tilt your head slightly. “No offence, I’m really not interested.”

That doesn't seem to do much other than pause him for maybe half a second. Then he nods like he’s processing a new problem.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “So…”

You straighten slightly, cigarette between your fingers, watching him. This is already getting old. “So I wouldn’t bother if I were you.”

He frowns a little. “Wouldn’t bother doing what?”

“Flirting, or whatever this qualifies as.”

“How do you know I’m flirting?”

It’s your turn to laugh this time. “The brick wall knows too. You’re not slick.”

His pout is too cute for a man his age. “So it’s not working then?”

Before you can even think of a response, a voice cuts in from behind him, saving you.

“Jaemin, hurry up. I’m going home.” His friend – half-annoyed, half-laughing – clearly has been watching this whole thing and can’t be bothered to intervene properly.

Jaemin turns slightly but doesn’t move away immediately.

“Give me a sec,” He calls back.

“Can he have your number?” His friend is looking at you now. “He’s actually not as annoying as he comes across and I would quite like to go cuddle my girlfriend.”

Jaemin glances back at you again in disbelief, like he’s weighing too many options. “Ignore him.”

You snort a laugh, slightly entertained by their weird dynamic. “So you don’t want my number.”

“Oh, I do.” He steps back a little, finally starting to retract. “But you won’t give it to me.”

You don’t react.

He nods to himself like he’s collected enough data. “See? I’m not that deluded.” Then, just before he fully turns away, he speaks again with a smile too pleased for someone who just got rejected. “Maybe I’ll try some other time.”

You struggle not to smile back. Then you look back at his friend, who’s still watching the strange interaction with fascination written all over his face.

“I wouldn’t,” You say flatly, internally battling whether you mean it or not. Would you want him to try again? He probably won’t anyway. He seems like the type to move on from these kinds of situations a little too easily. Maybe that’s good.

“Okay, I won’t then.” He just laughs again as he finally walks off. And annoyingly, it doesn’t sound like he’s serious at all.

𓂃𓆩⠀⠀ ⊹𓈒⠀⠀ 🐰⠀⠀ 𓈒⊹ ⠀⠀𓆪𓂃

“Oh, shit–“ Jaemin whispers mid thrust, forcing his brain to tune out Nora’s loud moans. He focuses on his pending climax instead. So close. Right fucking there.

“Jaem, baby, cum for me.” She slurs, sounding too fucked out. Is she faking it? Jaemin swears he barely put any effort in making her cum tonight. He’s too distracted.

He buries his face in her neck, eyes clenching shut, ears blocking out her sounds, hips delivering sharp thrusts, still chasing a high that seems unreachable. The way she strokes his hair – gentle, sweet – seems to be working, and he thanks the universe that his dick finally gives up being stubborn. Not too long after, he finally releases in the condom with a defeated sigh.

It’s when Nora’s in the bathroom and he’s managed to regulate his breathing, that Jaemin finds himself in deep thought.

It wasn’t really her voice, or touch that pushed him over the edge, but his filthy imagination. Because for the first time in forever, Jaemin thought of someone else when he reached his high. His mind didn’t go blank. Nora’s naked body got replaced by the scandalous thought of you his brain chose to produce. You being in her spot. Under him, moaning a lot gentler than her, not faking anything, writhing in overstimulation but also begging him for more.

And for the first time in a long while, shame creeps in.

Not because he’s disrespected Nora. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. But because he barely knows you. Yet somehow, you’ve managed to lodge yourself in his head so deeply that his brain fills in the blanks without permission. Is this normal? Or is his conscience finally deciding to torture him?

You’re younger than him, he knows that much. If you’re Jisung’s age, you’re definitely two years below, which makes you a second-year student. And what business does he have entertaining thoughts about a girl at such a different stage of life?

Two years isn’t much. Not really. But it feels like more when he remembers who he was at that age - confused, broke, permanently overwhelmed. And he still is all of those things, but not for much longer hopefully. You’re probably still navigating uni life like a tourist in foreign land, meanwhile, he’s supposed to graduate in less than five months. To get out in the real world and get one of those big job things that everyone strives for. And Jaemin’s sure that if you were older than him, he wouldn’t even hesitate. But you’re not. And for some reason he cares.

Though, he will admit you did seem to have your wits about you. You have a job. You probably pay your own bills. You're responsible in ways he definitely isn't.

Maybe he really should apply for that vacancy. He'd been joking earlier, but now he’s seriously considering it. Especially after checking the remaining balance in his bank account.

“You staying?” Nora’s voice jolts him out of his spiral.

“Nah.” He offers an apologetic smile. “Got class early tomorrow.”

“Yikes.” She settles under the covers with a tired pout. “You seemed a little out of it tonight.”

Women and their weird intuition.

“Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Just tired, I think.”

She laughs softly. Like she’s caught the lie. She probably has. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging.”

Jaemin smirks knowingly, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re always judging.”

“True.” The answer comes so quickly it pulls a smile from him.

A second later she’s yawning into her pillow, and Jaemin takes it as his cue to get out of her space.