100 Days with the Devil (part two)
🔞 18+ 🚨 minors and blank blogs will be blocked masterlist • part one • part two
When you inherit your parents' unpaid debt to the Devil, you're given two choices: serve their eternal sentence of servitude in Hell or negotiate a contract of your own. Surprisingly, choosing the latter and accepting a position to become his live-in assistant doesn't exactly dole out the torment you expect it to. As Hell begins to feel more like home than Earth ever did, both you and your impossibly ancient boss find yourselves navigating a far more confusing negotiation: falling in love.
PAIRING: devil!junhui x assistant fem!reader WC: 19.4K / 40K (complete) TAGS: crack, humor, roommate/boss to lover CW: implied demisexual reader, corporate hell, power dynamic, demons, kidnapping, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vomit, mentions of eternal servitude, bad parents, reader has abandonment/attachment issues and is clingy, god is a woman, mentions of torture and people in hell, brief appearance of a cult/cult leader, mention of the orange man, jealous junhui, possessive junhui, he's toxic in this one and threatens to hold reader against her will lol SMUT: marked at start and end, unprotected piv, creampie, virgin reader, possessive, fingering, oral f. receiving, sniffing? lol, his eyes turn completely black during oral, hickeys, biting, lotus, missionary, idk lmk if i missed anything A/N: here ya go! lmk what you think! unless u hate it! then just scroll! LOL <3
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.
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