Archive of Our Own

Jeonghan had a flair for theatrics. Everyone knew this. So when Jihoon hosted a small celebratory dinner in his living room for winning an award—just close friends, his cousin Seokmin, and his boyfriend Soonyoung—Jeonghan turned it into an event. He claimed it would be “just a few sparkles,” and yet somehow fairy lights now tangled around the beams like drunk vines, there was a cheese board that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel, and Soonyoung had opened the evening by lighting actual candles with his fingers.

No one asked.

Seokmin arrived right on time, full of warm, bouncing energy that made the already glowy room feel brighter. “I brought cupcakes!” he declared with a grin that could refuel the sun, arms wide and hair slightly wind-tousled from his sprint up the stairs.

“You’re the cupcake,” Soonyoung said, snatching one and shoving it in Jihoon’s mouth before getting a glare in return. Seokmin just laughed.

And then Jeonghan stood up.

Which everyone now understood meant something was about to happen.

“You’ve all met our good friend, Hong Joshua, haven’t you?” Jeonghan purred, his voice velvety with mischief. “No?”

There was a pause.

Jeonghan snapped his fingers.

The lights flickered. A gentle gust rolled through the living room as if the world sighed. The shadows near the hallway twisted once, then shimmered as something—someone—stepped forward.

Joshua didn’t walk into the room. He unfolded from darkness, like he had always been there but only just decided to be noticed. His boots were obsidian and silent, his coat long and elegantly torn at the hems, like time dared not touch it fully. Eyes darker than oil flicked to the room, scanning faces lazily until they landed—softly, but surely—on Seokmin.

Seokmin blinked. He was halfway into unwrapping a cupcake. He paused, head tilting slightly.

“Oh,” he said. “Cool coat.”

Joshua smiled, amused. Most people gawked. Some trembled. He wasn’t in his full infernal form, but he wore his aura like expensive cologne—powerful and impossible to ignore. But this human—this tall, broad-shouldered ray of sunshine—was simply… smiling.

Jeonghan’s grin widened. “Joshua, meet Lee Seokmin. Jihoon’s cousin. Also the investor.”

Seokmin wiped his hands on a napkin, extended one towards the demon. “Nice to meet you! I love your boots. Where’d you get them?”

Joshua stared at the hand. Then at the man. Up close, Seokmin was impossibly tanned, with long lashes, a nose like sculpted marble, and the kind of easy beauty that could have anyone begging with one look. But there wasn’t a trace of arrogance on his face. Just a gentle, guileless curiosity.

Joshua took his hand slowly, more out of habit than intent. “Handmade,” he said, because he’d carved them from the hide of a cursed beast centuries ago, but he didn’t think that would go over well with the cupcake boy.

Seokmin gasped, delighted. “Seriously? That’s so cool! Can you get me a pair? I mean, not from a cursed thing! Just like… the fit.”

Joshua blinked. Was this man complimenting his murder boots?

He gave a small smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” And then, just for fun, he leaned closer, let his voice slip deeper into his usual seductive tone, the one that usually made humans blush and stammer. “Though I think you’d look better in nothing at all.”

Seokmin froze.

Joshua’s smile curled with satisfaction. Hooked, he thought.

But then—

Seokmin beamed. Like sunshine on glass. “Aw, thanks! You’re really nice!”

Joshua’s mind halted.

What?

He tried again, narrowing his eyes slightly. “That wasn’t—most people would blush when I say that.”

Seokmin shrugged, genuinely puzzled. “Why? It’s a compliment. Compliments are nice.”

Joshua stared. He had seduced royalty into ruining their dynasties. He had flirted angels out of heaven. He had literally broken a vampire into tears once just by whispering in Latin. But this man? This smiley, golden retriever of a man?

Completely unaffected.

He was… pure. Not just innocent—pure in a way that didn’t compute in Joshua’s corrupted worldview. Like a flower that grew in concrete but still smelled like spring.
Joshua turned to Jeonghan with the kind of disbelieving frown demons rarely wore. Jeonghan, of course, was watching this unfold with the delight of a gremlin watching a marriage implode on reality TV.

“What is he?” Joshua hissed.

Jeonghan raised his brows. “Lee Seokmin.”

“That’s not a human. That’s a Pixar protagonist.”

“Still a human.”

“Why does he look like he’d thank me for cursing him?”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Because he would.”

Joshua turned back. Seokmin was now feeding Soonyoung a second cupcake and complimenting Jihoon’s playlist like he hadn’t just been told by a demon that he’d look good naked.

“I want him,” Joshua said without thinking.

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Really?”

Joshua nodded, eyes narrowing. “I want to corrupt him. I want to make him blush and stammer and fall apart and beg.”

Jeonghan smirked. “You’re into sunshine now?”

“I’m into the impossible.”

Jeonghan stretched his arms, lazy like a cat. “Well, good luck. Because if Lucifer catches wind of another demon forming a human bond, he’ll burst a vein.”

Joshua frowned. “There has to be a loophole.”

“There is.” Jeonghan leaned in, his eyes gleaming. “You don’t form the bond. He does.”

Joshua blinked. “He’s never going to ask for it.”

“Then make him summon you.”

Joshua turned, following Seokmin with his eyes as the man laughed at his own joke and spilled frosting on his own shirt. He caught Joshua watching and waved. “You want one?”

Joshua felt a heat curl in his gut. Yes. He wanted something.

Jeonghan whispered, “Trick him into calling for you. Make him say the words. And you’ll have every right to stay. You’ll be his demon.”

Joshua stared at Seokmin’s smile.

“You better mean it,” Jeonghan added, his tone low. “Because if you try to break him? You’ll have me to deal with.”

Joshua didn’t answer.

He watched Seokmin lick frosting from his own thumb with an oblivious hum of joy, then say something about needing to water Jihoon’s cactus before it “died from emotional neglect.”

Joshua wasn’t sure what the hell was happening to his chest, but he smiled, just a little.

“I’m not going to break him,” he said finally. “I just want to see what happens when sunlight falls in love with the dark.”

The first step was easy: plant the book.

Jeonghan had casually handed the thick, antique leather-bound tome to Joshua before returning to his afternoon of feeding Seungcheol strawberries and sipping bubble tea with a face mask on. “Make it look like a gift. Don’t overplay it. He likes simple things.”

Joshua rolled his eyes. “You say that like he’s a child.”

Jeonghan looked up from his boyfriend’s lap. “He is, emotionally.”

Fair enough.

So Joshua did exactly that—dropped by the next week, under the guise of “just visiting,” and gifted Seokmin the book with a casual, “Thought you’d like it. It’s got recipes.”

Seokmin’s face lit up like someone had handed him a winning lottery ticket and a baby bunny. “You got me a cookbook?! This is so thoughtful, Joshua! Thank you!”

Joshua blinked. “That easy?”

“I love old books,” Seokmin chirped, flipping through the yellowed pages like it was a photo album. “And look at these weird symbols! So aesthetic.”

Joshua nodded, internally smirking. Hook. Line. Sinker.

The second step took a little longer. Because, unfortunately, the sunshine wasn’t just pure—he was also a little slow on the uptake.

“Why does this one have a section called ‘Summoning Sweets’?” Seokmin asked one night during their usual weekend tea meetup. He was flipping through the book, brow furrowed, one foot tucked under him on the couch like a lounging cat.

Joshua sipped his tea. “Maybe it’s, like, a theme. You bake something sweet, and the universe rewards you with… help.”

Seokmin tilted his head. “Magical help?”

Joshua leaned in. “Ever feel like you needed someone to help you? Someone who really listens? Someone who… stays?”

Seokmin blinked, pink dusting his cheeks. “That sounds kind of lonely.”

Joshua smiled gently, biting back the urge to grab that innocent chin and ruin him with a kiss. “It doesn’t have to be. Some people just need a… special connection.”

Seokmin slowly nodded. “Like a roommate that makes good hot chocolate.”

“Exactly.”

And because Seokmin was both painfully sincere and chronically under-supervised, that very week, he baked the summoning cupcakes. Mostly because he thought they were cute. And also, maybe—just maybe—a tiny part of him wondered what it might feel like to have something magical happen to him too.

“I even got the weird candle thingy,” Seokmin said brightly, setting up his coffee table with the ingredients. “I had to go to this really shady shop where the man winked at me three times and gave me a coupon for toe cream.”

Joshua, hiding behind the kitchen wall and cloaked in concealment magic, watched it all unfold with a blend of smugness and very mild guilt.

“You’re not tricking him,” he told himself. “You’re… facilitating fate.”

Then Seokmin lit the candle, whispered the incantation—phonetically perfect despite his horrible pronunciation of French menus—and blinked as the flame turned deep purple and the air shimmered.

Joshua stepped out from the shadows with a dramatic flourish, letting the magic unfold around him as his glamour flickered away and his full demonic form took center stage. Horns, faint glow, eyes like garnet stars.
All of it.

Seokmin gasped. “Oh my gosh,” he whispered, “it does make cupcakes!”

Joshua froze. “What?”

Seokmin pointed behind Joshua. A plate of violet-glazed cupcakes had appeared, steaming slightly.

“I thought the aesthetic was fake,” Seokmin whispered in awe. “But this book is the real deal. Thank you for recommending it.”

Joshua stared.

Seokmin beamed. “Wait, are you part of it too?”

“Yes,” Joshua said slowly, like explaining to a cat that it had set the toaster on fire. “I’m the summon.”

Seokmin blinked. “Oh. Like the… helper?”

Joshua nodded once. “I’m a demon, Seokmin. You summoned me.”

Silence. Seokmin tilted his head again. “But you were already here. Like. In my living room. Last week.”

“That was me visiting. This is me summoned. It’s different.”

More blinking. Joshua sighed and conjured his full infernal visage again—horns tall, coat swirling, boots gleaming in the flickering candlelight.

“Oh,” Seokmin said. “Cool cosplay.”

Joshua growled.

Seokmin put a hand on his chest. “Wait, are you serious?”

“I’m a real demon so yes the summon is real.”

“But you’re so polite!”

“I’m polite because I like you,” Joshua snapped. “Usually I ruin lives.”

“Oh,” Seokmin said faintly. Then, “Oh no.”

Joshua raised a brow. “What?”

“I can’t have you ruin my life,” Seokmin said seriously. “I’m behind on taxes and I haven’t cleaned under the fridge in two years. If something collapses, it'll all collapse. The whole ecosystem.”

Joshua took a deep breath. “I’m not going to ruin your life.”

“Promise?”

Joshua, very demonically, crossed one heartless chest and nodded. “Promise.”

Seokmin seemed to consider. Then his expression brightened. “Okay. Can you help me with my spice rack?”

Joshua blinked. “What?”

“I summoned you! You’re my helper now!”

“I’m a demon, not a temp agency!”

Seokmin gave him a puppy-eyed look that could make angels reconsider their vows. “Please?”

Joshua cursed internally and followed him to the kitchen.

Later that night, when Seokmin had gone to bed—having very casually offered to let Joshua stay on the couch “if he doesn’t have a hell-pod to go back to or whatever”—Joshua sat with the candle still flickering and stared at the summoning sigil glowing faintly on the coffee table.

It was official. He’d been summoned. He had a contract now. With the most honest, ridiculous, beautiful man he had ever met.

Joshua looked at the room—cluttered with warmth and plants and cupcakes. Then he looked toward the bedroom door, where soft humming filtered out. He wasn’t sure who had tricked who anymore.

But he knew one thing: This sunshine? He was staying.

For someone who had been summoned through ancient, infernal scripture and bound by magic older than time, Joshua had a remarkably mundane morning.
He woke up on Seokmin’s couch—blanket folded over him with domestic care, a post-it stuck on the wall above his head that read: “You snore a little. It’s cute. There’s tangerine juice in the fridge if you want! :)”

Joshua stared at the note like it was written in an ancient dead language. Not because he couldn’t read it, but because it made no sense. No one had ever thought anything about him was cute—unless they were about to die in terror or melt under lust.

This… Seokmin was not reacting correctly. He wasn’t supposed to leave tangerine juice. He was supposed to scream, panic, maybe offer up his soul, or at the very least ask about what he’d get in return for summoning a demon from Hell.

Instead?

Joshua walked into the kitchen to find Seokmin singing along (off-key) to a random pop song, flour smudged on his shirt, flipping pancakes like this wasn’t the beginning of a supernatural contract that demanded lust.

“Oh hey, you’re awake!” Seokmin said with a grin bright enough to make Heaven wince. “Do demons like pancakes? I made extra!”

Joshua blinked. “...You're not going to ask for your wish?”

“My what?”

“Your wish. You summoned me. I fulfill a wish. That’s the contract.”

Seokmin blinked. “Oh. I thought the cupcakes were the wish. They were delicious.”

Joshua actually choked.

Over the next three days, Joshua began compiling a very detailed mental list titled: “Things Seokmin Does That Make No Sense But Somehow Make My Chest Feel Funny”
• Laughs at his jokes, even when they’re terrible.
• Offers to help Joshua “decorate his infernal blade with glitter” if he ever needs to “make it less intimidating.”
• Sees a literal demon in full transformation—including swirling shadows, horns, and infernal smoke—and responds with, “You should be a model. Have you ever thought of doing a lookbook shoot in Hell?”
• Makes him tea. Every. Damn. Night.

And still. Still. No lust. Not even a flicker.

Joshua had once had a king beg for him. A sultan break his own crown to kiss his boots. He’d been summoned by priests with forbidden cravings, artists with bleeding passion, and warlords whose desires painted kingdoms red.

But Seokmin? The man asked if he liked banana milk and offered him an extra fluffy pillow.

One night, Joshua snapped. Not in anger. In existential panic. He had slunk out to the balcony after dinner—after Seokmin had made a terrible pasta dish and insisted on feeding Joshua “the perfect bite” like they were filming a cooking show. The demon leaned against the railing, arms crossed, his boots glinting in the soft city light, tail flicking in restless agitation.

“You’re not normal,” he muttered aloud.

Behind him, the sliding glass door opened with a soft hush. Seokmin padded out barefoot, holding two mugs.

“Not to be rude,” Joshua continued before the human could speak, “but people are supposed to want me. That’s the point. Lust. Desire. Want. I show up, they fall to their knees, and either scream or beg or—”

“I made hot cocoa,” Seokmin said, nudging a mug toward him. “You sounded stressed.”

Joshua stared at the mug like it was cursed. Seokmin smiled and leaned next to him on the railing. “Want to talk about it?”

“I just did,” Joshua said, taking the mug despite himself. “You’re not reacting properly.”

“To what?”

“To me. To what I am. I’m literally made of temptation. I’m Hell’s sweetheart. I’m supposed to make you crumble. And instead, you’re giving me cocoa.”

Seokmin frowned slightly. “But… you’re nice.”

“I’m not nice,” Joshua said, voice low and sharp. “I’ve ruined lives.”

“I mean, you helped me with my spice rack,” Seokmin replied, sipping his cocoa. “And you vacuumed.”

Joshua stared.

Seokmin’s eyes sparkled. “You hum when you clean. Did you know that?”

Joshua turned away, muttering, “You’re infuriating.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Still sounds like one.”

Joshua pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose and growled. “I need your lust. It’s the contract. I don’t leave until I fulfill a wish and collect the required amount of lust. So you either have to want something, or want me.” His eyes flashed, infernal glow rippling. “Pick one.”

Seokmin was silent for a moment. Then: “I want you to be happy.”

Joshua short-circuited.

“Does that count?” Seokmin asked, head tilted.

Joshua opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “That’s not— That’s not how it works—”

“Okay,” Seokmin said, thoughtful. “Then… I want to help you with your work.”

Joshua turned his head slowly. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re clearly stressed. If you need lust to finish the job, I’ll help! I can do seductive things!”

“You—what?”

Seokmin set his mug down and raised an eyebrow. “I have tank tops.”

Joshua choked again.

“I mean,” Seokmin continued, straightening his back and attempting to puff his chest, “I do work out.”

“Seokmin—”

“Do you want me to pose dramatically?”

“I—”

Seokmin flexed—like, actually flexed—his arms with the seriousness of a man performing an ancient ritual.

Joshua almost dropped his cocoa. “Please stop.”

“I’m helping!”

“You’re not helping.”

“Wait, let me light candles.”

Joshua grabbed him by the shoulders. “You are the most confusing human I have ever met.”

Seokmin smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

“Not a compliment!”

That night, after Seokmin fell asleep (cocooned in three blankets, hugging a stuffed rabbit, mumbling about cocoa), Joshua stood over him quietly, shadows wrapping his form like a cloak.

He stared at the peaceful face of the man who had unknowingly summoned him, willingly accepted him, and unknowingly wrecked every carefully drawn line Joshua had built around himself.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he whispered.

Seokmin stirred, half-asleep. “Because you’re good.”

Joshua flinched.

“You make good tea,” Seokmin mumbled, lips curling into a smile. “And your eyes are warm.”

Joshua looked away. He didn’t sleep that night. He sat by the balcony instead, listening to Seokmin breathe.

Joshua wasn’t sulking.

Demons didn’t sulk. They brooded. They glowered. They simmered with infernal wrath and ancient bitterness.
But he absolutely wasn’t sulking on the couch, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a Victorian widow, watching Seokmin happily eat strawberry yogurt with a cartoon spoon and laugh at some cat video on his phone.

No, he was strategizing.

“I’ve brought men to their knees,” Joshua muttered into his cup of black coffee, eyes narrowed like a predator watching an unusually cheerful deer prance across a battlefield.

Seokmin hummed. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Joshua said, forcing a smile. “Nice spoon.”

“Thanks,” Seokmin beamed, raising the handle of the little bunny-eared utensil proudly. “Her name’s Bonnie.”
Joshua closed his eyes and whispered a small prayer to the twisted eldritch god of patience. Joshua had a plan.

If Seokmin wouldn’t lust after him naturally (somehow), then he would build it. Tease it. Break down that bubble of rainbow-sparkling innocence with pure, unfiltered, infernal charm. He would crack Seokmin open like a warm peach and make him want—need—Joshua.

And he’d start simple. Shirtless.

He was practically sculpted from sin anyway—long, lean lines, muscle in all the right places, golden skin inked in symbols older than time, eyes like fallen stars. When he walked into the living room the next morning, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and nothing else, he was the picture of temptation.

Seokmin looked up from where he was untangling wires behind the TV.

“Oh, you’re not cold?” he asked cheerfully. “It’s been chilly lately.”

Joshua blinked. “...No. I run hot.”

Seokmin grinned. “Lucky. You look really fit, by the way!”
“...Thanks.”

“I should work out more. Maybe we can train together!”

Joshua’s eye twitched. This was not the reaction he wanted.

The next plan: Water. Moisture. Wet Demon.

He orchestrated it perfectly. Seokmin had returned from a quick store run to find Joshua just stepping out of the shower, towel low, steam billowing like a music video.
The lighting was divine. Skin dripping. Chest gleaming. He even shook his hair out slowly like some shampoo commercial sex god.

Seokmin stared. Then pointed.

“Wait! Don’t move. You have soap on your ear.”

Joshua blinked. “What.”

Seokmin padded over, tugged a dish towel off the counter, and gently wiped his demon ear like he was cleaning a child’s face.

“There! All better.” Then he handed Joshua a second towel. “Don’t catch a cold!”

Joshua stood frozen, naked and furious, towel dripping, hair clinging to his forehead.

A week passed. Joshua tried everything.

Low-cut black tops. Leather pants. That one infernal charm that made him literally glow like golden honey under candlelight. He leaned into Seokmin’s space. He whispered compliments into his ear. He “accidentally” moaned while stretching during yoga. Nothing worked.

Seokmin just smiled, giggled at his jokes, made extra garlic bread, and—worst of all—patted his head. Patted his head.

It was infuriating.

“I am the physical embodiment of every sinful dream,” Joshua hissed to Jeonghan over a mirror call one night. “Men have sold kingdoms to kiss my foot. I had a Roman emperor worship at my temple for decades.”
Jeonghan filed his nails lazily on the other end. “Mmm. Maybe you’re losing your touch.”

“I will end you.”

“You know,” Jeonghan said thoughtfully, “if you want him to want you, maybe stop acting like a cliché and talk to him like a person.”

“I’m not a person,” Joshua spat.

“You’re acting like a brat.”

“Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan sipped a wine glass full of souls. “Then again, maybe you just suck at being seduced, he does feel lust after all. He had sex before. Maybe you need to play the long game.”

Joshua snarled. Then paused.

“Wait. You said he’s not a virgin, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Jeonghan smirked. “He’s surprisingly active, for someone so sunshine-coded.”

Joshua blinked.

“Wait— WHAT?"

It became his new obsession. Seokmin. Had. Had. Sex. With who? How??

He spent the entire day staring at Seokmin like the man was an unsolvable puzzle box.

Seokmin noticed, of course. “Are you okay?” he asked, mouth full of dumpling. “You’re looking at me like I stole your dessert.”

Joshua sat cross-legged across the table, arms folded, scowling. “You’ve had sex.”

Seokmin blinked, then slowly nodded. “...Yes?”

“Why?”

Seokmin tilted his head. “I dunno. I liked them.”

“You liked them?”

“Yeah?”

“But you don’t want me.”

“I like you too.”

Joshua banged his head on the table. “That’s not the same.”

Seokmin reached over and gently stroked his hair. “Do you want a dumpling?”

Joshua swore, loudly, in a demonic dialect that made the walls sweat.

Later that night, he sat on the kitchen counter watching Seokmin hum while doing dishes.

“I’m cursed,” he muttered.

“No you’re not,” Seokmin said brightly.

Joshua narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even know what I was talking about.”

“You were probably being dramatic,” Seokmin said. “You get that look. It’s very ‘sad prince in exile.’”

Joshua groaned.

Seokmin finished the last plate, dried his hands, and leaned against the counter next to him.

“Hey,” Seokmin said gently. “If it helps… it’s not that I don’t find you attractive.”

Joshua perked. “Really?”

Seokmin nodded. “You’re probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

Joshua’s smile began to stretch, seductive and smug.

“But also,” Seokmin added, “you make great soup and always help with chores and you smell like books sometimes, which is comforting. So, like… I don’t not want you. I just don’t think about it like that.”

The smile died. Joshua stared.

Seokmin offered a small smile. “I just… like being around you.”

That night, Joshua lay on the couch (again), staring at the ceiling. This was worse than failure. It was acceptance.

It wasn’t that Seokmin didn’t care. It was that he cared too much in a way that had nothing to do with lust. He looked at Joshua and saw someone to share breakfast with. Not someone to pin to the wall.

Joshua didn’t know what to do with that.
He was built for desire. For temptation. For fleeting touches and whispered lies. For kisses that made men ruin themselves.

But Seokmin just wanted to hold his hand and ask what his favorite fruit was.

And… Joshua couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he stopped trying to force lust and simply let Seokmin love him the way he wanted.

Of course… he still had to fulfill the contract. And Joshua wasn’t going back to Hell with zero lust collected.

So he would wait. He would win.

And when Seokmin finally cracked, finally gasped his name in need, finally realized what Joshua could give him—

The demon would be ready. Until then, he had soup to finish.

Joshua had seen a lot in his life.

He’d seen emperors bathe in honey while begging for his touch. He’d watched grown men cry over the curve of his mouth, his thigh, the whisper of his name. He’d seen every version of lust — violent, desperate, submissive, devout. He’d played them like a harp.

But none of it prepared him for the living sin that was Lee Seokmin running around the apartment in a towel, fresh from a shower, damp hair curling at the edges, skin bronzed and gleaming like golden sun-god incarnate.

“Where’s my belt? Shit—I mean—sorry, not shit, I meant fudge,” Seokmin yelled, half-shouting from his bedroom, half-naked and flustered, towel slung low on his hips as he ran out again, still rubbing his hair dry with one hand.

“Have you seen my white dress shirt? Or—or the navy one? Wait, doesn’t matter. I’ll take whichever I find—ah! There it is!”

Joshua sat on the couch, still as a statue, eyes wide, jaw slack, half a piece of toast clutched in his hand, unbitten.
Seokmin—Seokmin—was radiant.

His chest was ridiculous. Defined, glowing, a literal Renaissance sculpture in motion. His waist tapered in like some cruel illusion. His arms flexed every time he moved, ropes of muscle and the kind of veins that made lesser men weep. His thighs were obscenely thick under the towel—Joshua could see it gap slightly when he bent to grab his briefcase.

And the worst part? The worst part? Seokmin had no idea.

“Okay, I’m off! Don’t forget to eat something! And maybe open a window, I think the place smells like... demon?” Seokmin laughed, blowing him a kiss as he ran out the door, dress shirt half-buttoned, hair still dripping, eyes bright and smiling.

The door slammed shut. Joshua dropped the toast. He stood up. Walked to the window. Stared into the abyss of a cloudy morning sky. Then he screamed into the void. Loudly. And with his whole chest.

Ten minutes later, he was at Jeonghan’s apartment.

“What the hell is wrong with him?!” Joshua wailed, pacing a circle in Jeonghan’s living room while Seungcheol quietly drank his coffee behind the newspaper. “He’s perfect. He’s beautiful. He smells like honey and sunshine and sandalwood. He has the body of a deity sculpted by an obsessed artist! And I want to ride his face and beg him to kill me with those forearms—and he doesn’t even know it?!”

Jeonghan didn’t look up from his skincare routine. “Hmm.”

Joshua rounded on him. “Did you hear what I said?!”
“I heard,” Jeonghan replied, blotting his cheek gently with toner. “You wanna get railed. Loud and clear.”

“I don’t just wanna get railed— I want to ruin him. Or be ruined. Or both. I don’t even know anymore. My brain has turned to lust stew and I am not okay.”

Seungcheol folded his paper. “You know, we could go back to the original plan and just let him fall for you in his own way—”

“No,” Joshua said, dead serious. “No, Cheol. You don’t understand. I can’t wait anymore. Not after this morning. He was dripping. Dripping. Do you know what I would do to that man if he just gave me one sign he wanted me?”
Jeonghan finally turned. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Josh. That’s the worst part. You’re dealing with a man who walks around looking like a walking thirst trap and thinks a head pat is romantic foreplay.”

“Exactly!” Joshua threw himself dramatically onto the couch. “He eats yogurt with bunny spoons and accidentally shows me enough skin to kill a weaker demon.”

Jeonghan tapped his chin. “Hmm. Have you considered... wearing less clothes?”

Joshua blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Worked on Seungcheol.” Jeonghan shrugged. “Back when he was still pretending not to thirst after me.”

Seungcheol choked on his coffee. “I was not pretending.”

“You were in denial.”

“I was being respectful—”

“You had a folder on your desktop labeled ‘Tax Forms’ full of my my selfies.”

Joshua looked between them. “Okay, ew, but also. You’re saying I should just... flaunt it?”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, pleased. “Put that fine demon body to use. Subtle. But devastating.”

Joshua stared into the middle distance. “Crop tops.”
Jeonghan grinned. “Short shorts.”

“Thigh chain,” Seungcheol added, sipping again.
Joshua sat up, suddenly full of purpose. “I’m going to make that man sin.”

It started subtly.

A looser neckline. A see-through mesh shirt. A casual lounging pose on the couch with one knee bent in just the right angle.

Seokmin noticed. Of course he noticed. But not how Joshua wanted him to notice.

“Did you get new clothes?” Seokmin asked, cheerfully.

“That shirt is very sparkly. You look like a disco ball! But in a hot way.”

Joshua squinted. “Thanks...?”

“I should buy something fun too. Maybe a hat!” Seokmin grinned, mouth full of pancake. “We should go shopping!”

Shopping. With him. Not for him. Joshua wanted to scream.

Instead, he leaned over the table, letting the collar slip slightly off his shoulder. “What do you think I should wear to bed, Seokmin?”

“Hmm. The striped pajamas are cute.”

Joshua stood up and left the room. It didn’t get better.

He wore lace once. Seokmin blinked and said he looked “elegant like a vampire prince.” He wore a tank top and Seokmin offered him sunscreen. He lounged on the bed in nothing but silk shorts and Seokmin gave him a blanket “so he wouldn’t get cold.”

At this point, Joshua was half-tempted to throw himself out the window and hope lust could be extracted from pity.

It was official. He, Demon of Temptation, Master of the Flesh, Breaker of Chastity, had been defeated by a man who called a demon’s horns “cute” and sent him to the grocery store with a list written in pink gel pen.

And yet…

Later that night, as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, Joshua in a robe far too sheer to be decent, and Seokmin gently brushing his wet hair because “you always do mine,” Joshua couldn’t help but go still.
There was something... warm in this.

Not lust. Not desire. But care.

And even if it wasn’t the kind of validation Joshua had been taught to chase — he felt it still. Every gentle touch. Every shared bowl of ice cream. Every time Seokmin threw his head back and laughed like the sun had kissed his lungs.

Maybe...Maybe he wanted more than lust, too.

But he was still going to make Seokmin beg for a kiss. He was a demon, after all. And demons don’t quit.

Joshua had officially gone through all five stages of seduction failure.

Denial was easy. The first few weeks were full of optimism. Surely the boy just hadn’t realized yet that his demon roommate was a walking thirst trap. All Joshua needed was time.

Anger came next — directed mostly at loose pajama pants, pastel cartoon shirts, and Seokmin’s complete and utter indifference to Joshua’s lace mesh shirts. Also, at Seokmin’s inexplicable habit of drinking orange juice straight from the carton, shirtless, without consequence.

Bargaining followed shortly after. Maybe he didn’t need Seokmin to lust after him. Maybe this could be a wholesome summoning, a chaste contract. Maybe he could emotionally seduce him. Make the boy fall in love, then introduce the sex.

It didn’t work. Not when Seokmin asked if Joshua needed anything from the pharmacy and smiled with his eyes all warm like melted gold.

Depression hit quietly, curled under a fuzzy throw blanket, eating rainbow sherbet while watching reruns of reality dating shows and muttering “I’m better than him” every time a shirtless man flexed on screen.

And finally, acceptance. Joshua sat on the floor one Thursday night, folding Seokmin’s laundry like some sad little househusband, listening to the sound of the human humming in the kitchen while trying to toast bread without a toaster, and thought: Fine. I’ll be the friend. I’ll be the roommate. I’ll be the demon who just happens to be pathetically in love.

He would accept it. Even if he didn’t understand it.

Because nothing—nothing—about Seokmin made sense.
He looked like lust incarnate but acted like a Hallmark lead with ADHD. He had a body that could choke angels but said things like “boop” when he poked Joshua’s nose. He once tripped into Joshua’s arms naked, shouted “I’m sorry for flashing your eyeballs!” and then offered him a cookie to apologize.

And now? Now he was flirting?

It started after Seokmin had lunch with Jihoon. Joshua had half a mind to spy, but Jeonghan told him to sit his dramatic ass down, so he stayed home. He wasn’t worried, exactly. Jihoon was fully demon-bonded to Soonyoung, and had no interest in sunshine-blessed muscle-puppies.

But something had... shifted.

The moment Seokmin came back, something was off.
The boy smiled the same. Talked the same. Still left his shoes half-on, half-off at the door and offered Joshua the last cheese stick from his bag.

But when he touched Joshua’s arm to get past him in the hallway, his fingers lingered. When Joshua leaned in to ask what movie they should watch, Seokmin smiled a little slower. “Whichever makes you sit closer.”

Joshua blinked. “What?”

“What?”

“...What?”

They both paused. Then Seokmin cleared his throat and shoved a chip in his mouth. Joshua spent the rest of the night trying to figure out if he’d hallucinated.

The next day, Joshua woke to coffee on the nightstand.
Black, exactly how he liked it. A small sticky note on the side of the mug read: “You’re always hot but this might help more.”

He knocked the mug over in shock. By the third day, it became undeniable. Seokmin was flirting. Badly. Awkwardly. In his own sunshine-haywire way. But flirting.

Joshua cornered Jeonghan at Mingyu’s apartment, where the crew had gathered for pizza and passive-aggressively chaotic board games.

“Something’s wrong,” he hissed.

Jeonghan, halfway through stealing a pepperoni from Soonyoung’s plate, looked up. “Did you finally seduce him? Good for you.”

“No! That’s the thing. He’s flirting with me.”

Jeonghan blinked. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

“He wasn’t flirting before! I tried everything. I wore mesh. I wore leather. I wore things that would get banned on basic cable. He didn’t bat an eye.”

“Well,” Jeonghan said, dragging out the word with a smirk. “Maybe someone reminded him you’re actually hot.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes. “You told him, didn’t you.”

“Jihoon might have mentioned your tragic seduction spiral.”

“Jeonghan!”

“What?” Jeonghan grinned, unapologetic. “You looked like you needed a win. Jihoonie told him you were feeling a little... unwanted. That you’d been summoned many times before and it always ended the same way. That maybe this time, you just wanted to be wanted.”

Joshua stared. “You manipulative, emotionally manipulative—”

“You’re a demon.” Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “You’ve done worse to people for fun.”

“That’s not the point. I wanted him to want me because he wants me, not because he feels bad.”

“Then don’t tell him,” Jeonghan said, simple. “Just let him try. And maybe, just maybe, he does want you.”

Joshua didn’t say anything. Not that night. Not when Seokmin offered him the warm spot on the couch. Not when he snuck glances at Joshua’s thighs in those silk shorts. Not even when he leaned too close and asked if Joshua “always looked that pretty in candlelight.”

Joshua just watched. And listened. And waited. What he didn’t expect was for Seokmin to confess, days later, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter and drinking apple juice from the carton.

“I’m trying to flirt,” he said, unprompted. “It’s not working, is it?”

Joshua, halfway through an existential crisis over the way Seokmin’s collarbones glistened under the kitchen light, choked on his tea. “You’re—what?”

“I asked Jihoon,” Seokmin said, swinging his legs. “And Soonyoung. I told them I wanted to make you smile. Like the way you smile when I eat your leftovers without asking. That soft, annoyed one.”

Joshua stared. “You’re... flirting because you want to make me smile?”

“Well, yeah.” Seokmin looked sheepish. “And also... I think I like you. Not just like, you know, as a demon. But like, as you.”

Joshua didn’t answer. Because what do you say when the man of your wettest, filthiest, most explicit dreams just confessed to liking you like a crush? When he admits he’s been trying to flirt, even if he doesn’t know how, because he thinks you’re cute when you’re mad?

Joshua didn’t say anything. He just stood there. And smiled. Soft. Quiet. Exactly like Seokmin wanted.

Joshua had never in his long, long, long existence been so painfully aware of space. Specifically, how much of it there was between Seokmin’s hand and his own thigh. Three inches. He measured it twice.

The human sat beside him on the couch — cozy, relaxed, loose in his soft tee and sleep shorts, still smelling like warm citrus and shower gel — and all Joshua could think about was how far his hand was. And how close it could be, if the universe was kind and just. (The universe had never been kind or just. But Joshua was a demon. He could hope. And scheme.)

This… stage — whatever they called this — was killing him softly and slowly. Not in the way humans write poetry about. But in the way demons start wondering if they can bribe heaven for one singular, filthy miracle. Because now they knew.

The flirting wasn’t an accident. The stares weren’t one-sided. The slow, blooming affection that clung to them like a shy perfume — it was mutual. It just hadn’t tipped into anything yet. No kissing. No heavy breaths. No shirtless fumbles or whispered desires. Just soft things.

A head rested on Joshua’s shoulder after movie nights. Seokmin’s hoodie tossed carelessly onto his bed because “it smells like you, it’s comfy.” Quiet cups of tea. Long walks without a purpose. A hand brushing against his back at the sink. A quiet goodnight with lingering glances.

All soft. All sweet. All holy.

Joshua was going insane. Because even though he was a demon, even though his contract permitted it, even though his entire nature was carved from desire and indulgence — he couldn't bring himself to ruin it. Not yet.
He didn’t want Seokmin to give him lust because it was part of the deal.

He wanted Seokmin to want him.

To look at him the way Seungcheol looked at Jeonghan when he thought no one was watching. Or the way Jihoon went still every time Soonyoung laughed shirtless. Or the way Mingyu moaned like a broken prayer when Wonwoo kissed his shoulder.

Joshua wanted that.

Except instead of candlelight and whispers, he wanted to be railed over the balcony of Seokmin’s apartment. Because he was still a demon. And he had needs. He bit down on the tip of his thumb and glared at the still space between them.

Three inches. Three miles. All the same when you’re dying.

Seokmin, for his part, was content. He liked Joshua.
He liked that the demon smiled at his jokes and rolled his eyes when Seokmin put ketchup on his ramen. He liked that Joshua leaned into his touches, even though he pretended he didn’t. He liked that sometimes, when Seokmin woke up at 2 a.m. for a glass of water, he would catch Joshua watching the stars from the living room window — quiet, thoughtful, soft in a way demons weren’t supposed to be.

But more than anything, Seokmin liked the way Joshua denied things.

“I didn’t miss you, I was just checking the time,” Joshua would mutter when Seokmin came home late from work.

Or, “I wasn’t staring, you just walked weird.”

Or the now-famous: “This isn’t flirting, it’s pestering with style.”

Seokmin liked him like that. In tiny glimpses. In small denials. He didn’t need the dramatic swooping seduction or the hellfire sex pacts. He just needed Joshua to be here. And he was. That was enough. Most days.
Joshua tried everything Jeonghan suggested. (Except the thong thing. That was just a bad idea.) He wore his silk robes open to the waist. Seokmin complimented the fabric.

He left his hair down, loose and tempting. Seokmin called him “Princess J.” He made pancakes shaped like hearts. Seokmin said they looked like kidneys, but appreciated the effort. It was infuriating.

Joshua spent one particularly frustrating afternoon laying flat on his stomach on the floor, face in a pillow, while Jeonghan scrolled through a demon database.

“You could ask Lucifer for permission,” Jeonghan offered half-heartedly. “If you want the bond.”

Joshua didn’t lift his face. “He’ll laugh at me.”

“Well, yes. Then probably smite something for drama.”

Joshua groaned. “Three of us already bonded with humans. He’s still mad about Seungcheol. I can’t be the fourth.”

“Who said anything about asking?” Jeonghan smirked. Joshua turned his head, suspicious.

“You could find a loophole.”

“You’re evil.”

“I am.”

“But I like him,” Joshua said softly. “I don’t want to trick him again.”

Jeonghan paused. Then sighed. “Then make him want it. Make him want you. For himself.”

Joshua buried his face again. “I am trying. He just—he keeps hugging me like I’m a teddy bear. It’s not fair.”

Jeonghan chuckled and got up. “Then be a teddy bear in lingerie. And good luck.”

That night, Seokmin returned from work tired, drenched from unexpected rain, and grumbling about the broken elevator. He found Joshua curled on the couch, knees up, reading a book upside down.

The demon glanced up and—Seokmin swore—the room temperature shifted.

“You’re soaked,” Joshua murmured.

“Wasn’t supposed to rain.”

Joshua stood slowly, walked to him, and brushed the damp hair off his forehead with two fingers. “You’ll catch something.”

Seokmin blinked, a little dazed. “Like feelings?”

Joshua smirked. “Too late.” A pause. And then: “Go shower.”

Seokmin did. Quickly. Still flustered. And when he came out in nothing but a towel, Joshua was gone. The couch empty. The room quiet. But on the table, there was a mug of hot cocoa.

And a sticky note.
"I do want you, idiot. I'm just afraid you'll say yes too late."

Seokmin held the note for a long time. He found Joshua asleep on the balcony. Hoodie pulled over his knees, lips parted just slightly, moonlight catching the lines of his face like a painter’s brush.

Seokmin stood there, just watching. And quietly, without waking the demon, sat beside him and held his hand. Joshua stirred. Didn’t open his eyes. But he squeezed back.

The night was quiet. Full of things unsaid. And a promise brewing slowly in the dark.

It was a Tuesday.

Which was already a cursed day of the week. Nothing good had ever happened on a Tuesday. Not to humans. Not to demons. Not even to the gods, if Joshua remembered history correctly. He was pretty sure one minor god had been yeeted into a bush on a Tuesday for getting too handsy.

But this particular Tuesday? Joshua woke up to the smell of pancakes. Which was fine. Seokmin had made pancakes before. Pancakes were not the problem. The problem was that these pancakes were shaped like hearts. With smiley faces. And Seokmin was shirtless.

Joshua stood in the doorway, bedhead tangled, hoodie half-zipped, looking very much like a demon who just woke up from a dream about thighs and disappointment. He blinked once. Twice.

“Seokmin?” he said slowly, carefully, like the human might explode if startled. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Oh,” Seokmin said brightly, flipping a pancake. “Got syrup on my shirt.”

Joshua stared. Seokmin turned, grinning wide, cheek smudged with flour, towel over one shoulder, abs glistening in the light like he moisturized with coconut oil and divinity.

Joshua needed to sit down. He did not. He stood very still and thought about taxes. And fish. And that one time a succubus choked on a gummy bear during a hell orgy. Anything to distract him from the man who looked like a Calvin Klein billboard for domestic fantasy.

“I made breakfast,” Seokmin added cheerfully.

Joshua nodded, dead-eyed. “Yeah. I noticed. Is this a celebration? Did we win something?”

“No. Just wanted to.”

Wanted to what? Kill him slowly? Drive him insane with apronless domesticity? Seokmin, why do you hate me? Joshua shuffled in, very calmly, and sat at the kitchen counter. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Great. I’m fine.”

He was not fine.

Seokmin slid a plate in front of him and leaned a little too close. “I made your favorite.”

Joshua looked at the pancakes. They smiled back at him. Tauntingly.

Then Seokmin said it. In that devastatingly casual tone, like he wasn’t actively committing murder. “You looked really cute when you were sleeping.”

Joshua choked. Literally. On a heart-shaped banana pancake. Seokmin patted his back, laughing, while Joshua wheezed like a dying kettle.

“Don’t die! I didn’t even get to kiss you yet!”

Silence. Complete and utter, record-scratch silence.

Joshua froze, one pancake halfway in his mouth. Seokmin froze, hand mid-pat. Both stared at each other.

“…I mean,” Seokmin said, slowly retracting his hand like he’d just grabbed a flaming sword. “Hypothetically.”

Joshua was still making wheezing noises, but now it was unclear if it was from choking or sheer, catastrophic lust overload.

“You want to kiss me,” Joshua managed, hoarse.

Seokmin, bright red now, nodded. “I mean—yeah? A little? Like… maybe a lot. But also not if you don’t want to. Unless you do. In which case—I’m free. My lips are free. For you. Only.”

Joshua blinked. Twice. Then a third time for clarity. Then he screamed. Out loud. In demon. Which sounded like a cross between a banshee with strep throat and an opera singer on acid.

Seokmin jumped and knocked over the syrup. Joshua flailed, fell off the barstool, scrambled upright like a rabid meerkat and then shouted, “YOU WANT TO KISS ME?”

“YES?!”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’RE SAYING?!”

“I THINK SO?!”

“I HAVE BEEN WEARING LINGERIE UNDER MY ROBES FOR TWO WEEKS!”

“…Wait what—”
“TWO WEEKS, SEOKMIN. LACE. BLACK. DEMON-TAILORED.”

Seokmin’s ears went so red, they could have summoned emergency vehicles.

Joshua flung his arms dramatically. “You cannot just say ‘I want to kiss you’ after giving me goddamn cherubic pancakes and expect me to be NORMAL.”

Seokmin blinked. “You’ve never been normal?”

Joshua stomped once. “That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?!”

“The point,” Joshua snapped, storming forward and poking Seokmin in the chest, “is that you—you, human Adonis with the emotional intelligence of a golden retriever—have been cuddling me and sleeping next to me and accidentally stripping in front of me for WEEKS and you never told me you wanted to kiss me!”

“…You didn’t either!”

“I’m a DEMON! I don’t confess things! I appear in a puff of smoke and seduce things!”

“…You’ve been wearing lace?”

Joshua paused, scowled, then hissed, “Yes.”

Seokmin bit his lip. Then laughed. A full, doubled-over, sunshine-laced, pure-hearted laugh that made Joshua forget what oxygen was.

“You’re so dramatic,” Seokmin said fondly, once he caught his breath.

Joshua’s scowl deepened. “You’re so oblivious.”

“Okay.” Seokmin stepped closer. “So now that we’ve both screamed and admitted lace and breakfast kisses…”

Joshua narrowed his eyes. Seokmin cupped Joshua’s cheek gently, like he was holding something made of stars. “Can I kiss you now?”

Joshua’s brain blue-screened. “Yes,” he said weakly. “Please. Do it before I explode.”

Seokmin did. It was sweet. Gentle. A little clumsy. A little giddy. Joshua melted.

And when it ended, Seokmin rested his forehead against Joshua’s and whispered, “You’re wearing lace right now, aren’t you?”

Joshua scowled. “Shut up.”

Joshua didn’t realize how much he needed to be broken until Seokmin—grinning like a warrior god—did exactly that.

It happened after a late-night wander through the city turned into a stumble back to the apartment drenched in rain and adrenaline. Seokmin, soaked through, bare-legged and jacket falling open, looked… irresistible. Too much skin, too much intent. Joshua’s plans to wait had collapsed under the weight of his own pulse. He should have been in control, guiding Seokmin to yielding knees, collecting the lust like cold, bureaucratic tolls… but watching that man tilt his head, eyes glistening with challenge? Ancient demon instincts unraveled instantly.

They entered the apartment like two ships colliding in a storm—heavy breathing in corridors, fumbling closings of doors, jackets dropped like discarded armour. Clothing, too, fell one piece at a time until the only light came from the city glow and the aftertaste of storm. The balcony window opened with a drawn breath of cold air.

“Here,” Joshua whispered, trembling. He didn’t mean to offer the balcony. He didn’t mean anything anymore. Words dissolved, replaced by pressure: Seokmin brushed against him, shoulders to thigh, fingertips grazing his waist. Heat expanded in Joshua’s chest until he had to step back—or so he thought.

Instead, he wrapped Seokmin around him, arms cradling him like fragile relics. The rain made his skin glimmer; so did the raw need shining in his eyes.

“Can I touch you… like this?” Joshua’s voice was a raw rumble, half question, half plea.

Seokmin leaned up, pressed his mouth to Joshua’s, and answered that question, every exhaled kiss a claim as fingers curled into fabric and sought bare skin. The balcony became a world of its own—raindrops tipping off his jaw, bodies entwined beneath the roar of the city wind, shouting desire that needed no words. And then Seokmin took the lead.

It wasn’t sloppy. It wasn’t frantic. Something in the rain-charred night coaxed a divine symmetry out of them. Seokmin’s hands shifted from gentle tug on Joshua’s belt to strong presses on his thighs, grounding Joshua even as he lifted them off their feet. Joshua’s arms locked around Seokmin’s hips, trusting him to carry him across wet concrete.

Their lips met, breath melting together beneath night thunder. Everything else was noise. People. Rules. Consequences.

Seokmin mounted him against the railing—bare back against wet metal and Joshua’s arm lock tight over his thigh. And then with a fluid, unforgiving motion, Seokmin claimed him. With each stroke, Joshua’s mind tumbled deeper: lust lines blurred into emotional thresholds he’d never expected to cross. Seokmin ground into him, wordlessly, urgent and deliberate, and Joshua’s breath shattered in his chest.

He clasped the balcony rail to hold himself upright. The world spun off-axis. The moon bounced off rain, creating stars in the night like secret witnesses. Seokmin’s voice — low, hoarse, filled with a possessive possession — forced Joshua’s head back. His body stuttered, arched, truth whispered in every whimper.
Joshua’s hands tangled in Seokmin’s hair as he took control, needing more, wanting to feel the man who’d toppled him so thoroughly. The rain came harder, cold edges of wind against burning skin, and Joshua felt parts of himself unfurling, shattering, reconfiguring around that man. Lust was already done. They’d served the contract. Now it was something else. Something brutal, sacred, terrifying.

When it ended, it wasn’t gentle. But it was soft—like aftershocks, collapsing into each other, trembling breaths and quiet sobs masked beneath kisses to lips, chest, hair.

Seokmin cradled Joshua’s face. “Are you okay?”

Joshua’s voice cracked. “I’m… alive.” His hands lingered on bare collarbones, as though he’d spent centuries searching for them. "You… you are unbelievable."

Seokmin smiled, right then: warmth like sunrise. “Only because I get to keep you.”

They stood like that—naked, soaked, hearts louder than the storm—until the city sighed, dawn trembling at the edges of night.

After they crawled inside—Seokmin going to shower first, Joshua staying to rest—everything felt different. Quiet. Heavy.

Joshua didn’t go back to his demon glamour. He wore Seokmin’s hoodie as they lay side by side. The sleeves swallowed his hands. He should’ve been satisfied. He’d gotten his lust quota tenfold. He’d ridden demons. He’d taught empires to kneel to him.

But in the four-figure heartbeats since dawn, he realized he wanted more than lust. He wanted softness. He wanted mornings. He wanted Seokmin’s hand on his thigh, a soft hum to wake him. He wanted bonding.

That word felt dangerous. After what Lucifer had done—after how he had gone haywire at the other three bonds—Joshua felt fragile at the thought of Sigil Marking. He recognized what it meant: permanence. Pledge. A crossing line that might unleash every heavenly, hellish bureaucracy toward them.

He remembered his first bond. He’d been a newly minted demon—year one, naïve and stupid, convinced a human’s devotion was a game worth gambling his fate over. He gave them half a heartbeat of hope. They fed him love in return. Then he walked away, needing freedom. He left them shattered, broken—an empty vessel in ruin. He’d never forgiven himself. Lucifer had punished him for years with nightmares of their face, pleading, fracturing.

"I won't—"

Seokmin found him at breakfast. Joshua had mashed avocado with shaking fingers, still wearing Seokmin’s hoodie. He wasn’t hungry.

Seokmin reached over and squeezed his hand. "You okay?"

Joshua swallowed. "…Maybe I want… to be that man, too. The one to stay with you at sunrise and sunset."

Seokmin looked at him gently. "Promise?"

Joshua’s gaze cracked. "To not break you? To… let us keep it?"

Seokmin nodded. "I think we can. Both of us did a lot already."

Joshua’s chest burned. "…So you want it, too?"

Seokmin studied him. Then leaned across the table and pressed their lips together. Quiet and confident. Full of trust.

"Yes," he whispered. "I want you. All of you."

The moment they kissed, something trembled somewhere he couldn’t see. Not in heaven. Not in Hell. Not among whispers of demons.

Lucifer’s passive-aggressive click-click-click of red hot footsteps echoed through Joshua’s warping mind-space. An angry godblade unleashed an avalanche of rage and betrayal.

Another one? Lucifer’s voice crackled through the metaphysical void. After Seungcheol, Jihoon, Mingyu… and him? You dip into humanity again? Enough breaking hearts, Joshua! No damn fourth!

Joshua tried to stand his ground. “We… we built it differently.”

“Different?!” Lucifer screamed. “You promised me you learned. You swore this wouldn’t happen again. You nearly destroyed him instead of just draining lust. You… changed.”

Joshua’s heart pounded. “We are bonded by choice, not desperation. I love him. I won’t break him.”

There was a horrible silence that rattled through souls.
Then: Fine. But the consequences? You will answer for this. I’m watching. We both are.

The connection severed. Joshua collapsed to his knees. He could feel Lucifer’s glare still slicing at the edges of his reality. But he looked at Seokmin—the man breathing beside him, a tender lifeline.

He closed his eyes. "I choose you," he whispered softly.

Nothing exploded. No war locks activated. The world didn’t collapse. Heaven didn’t interrupt brunch to protest. But everything was different.

Lingerie under robes was now swapped for shirts that wouldn’t cover but would stay. They held hands, walked through mornings like they owned the sun. Lust remained—smoking, bitter, hungry—but trust, laughter, and quiet stayed, too.

They moved slowly: breakfast, shoulder touches, quiet days full of noise and chores. And then at night, sometimes… the balcony was where they lost the world again. Rain or shine.

Because what demons knew? Sometimes sin was a surrender, love a battlefield—or a safe harbor. They rested there. Healed there.

They spoke softly to each other. Built trust like brickwork—fragile, yes, but cemented in ten thousand tender moments. And every morning, Joshua woke up in that hoodie, chest wrapped in comfort, every muscle tensing with how much he’d kill to never let it go.

Joshua had stopped sleeping.
Well, demons didn’t really sleep, but he stopped resting, stopped curling into the soft pillows of Seokmin’s bed, stopped listening to the way the human's heartbeat lulled him into a sense of safety. Something had shifted. Something old had cracked inside his chest and now it leaked doubt into everything they touched.

He wanted to mark Seokmin.

Devil help him, he wanted it bad. That ancient, cursed ritual. A sigil—a blood bond that tied a demon to a human, body and spirit. Permanent. Terrifying. But as the urge to mark Seokmin grew stronger, the memory of that night from centuries ago—the night he marked a human and left them to burn—began returning with punishing clarity.

The past didn’t knock politely. It clawed its way through his dreams. It started the same every time: a pair of human hands reaching toward him, trembling. Joshua had marked them—a different time, a different face. He’d been young, barely out of his infernal training. They'd begged for the bond, and he had agreed, foolish and flush with ego.

He didn’t know how easily humans fell in love. Or how deeply. So when he left—as demons often did—it didn’t feel like cruelty. It felt like procedure.

But the next time he’d visited their plane, they’d already fallen into madness. Lonely. Broken. Marked, bound, and then abandoned. He remembered how their body had looked curled on the ground, crying and muttering prayers to nothing. He remembered fire. He remembered guilt only decades later, when he finally understood what he had done.

He’d never marked anyone again. Until Seokmin. Except he hadn’t. Not yet.

Because this time, the fear wasn’t just for the human. This time, it was himself he feared. Because if he marked Seokmin—if he tied them together—and he somehow failed again, left again, hurt him again? He’d never recover. So Joshua did the only thing he could think of. He disappeared.

He didn’t pack. Just faded at sunrise—left behind the hoodie Seokmin had given him, still warm from the dryer, folded on the bed. A note wouldn't help. Words were too small.

He went to Hell.

Slid back into duties like nothing had happened.
He spent the days processing damned petitions and overseeing punishment logistics. Clean work. Mindless. Effective. He spoke less. Smiled never.

Inside, he was drying out. Shrinking. Slowly dying, as all demons do when they tear out their own tether. But it was better, this way. It had to be.

The moment Seokmin woke and found Joshua gone, the world tilted.

Not a “oh-he-stepped-out-for-coffee” gone. But gone-gone. No glamour clothes, no scent in the air, no energy left behind. Just that damned folded hoodie on the bed and the emptiness that followed.

The tears came quickly. Loud and panicked. “JOSHUA?!” he called out through the apartment, over and over, then again in the stairwell, then even in the mirror.

He called Jeonghan mid-panic. “He left. I woke up and he was—he was—why would he just—he didn’t even—Jeonghan-hyung, he was just gone!”

Jeonghan arrived in under ten minutes. He found Seokmin still barefoot, red-eyed, gripping Joshua’s hoodie like a lifeline.

Jeonghan looked at Seokmin once, sighed deeply, and said, “He better be dead, or I’m going to kill him.”

In Hell, Joshua was quietly cataloguing sinner quotas when Jeonghan arrived with a burst of forbidden magic that made every flame flicker. The demon workers fled.

Joshua didn’t look up. “I’m busy, Jeonghan.”

“You’re insufferable,” Jeonghan replied, arms crossed. “You look like you’ve been chewing on sadness and regret all week.”

Joshua’s jaw twitched. “I had to leave. I was protecting him. You know what happened last time I marked a human.”

“Yes. You were stupid. And young. And you’re still stupid, apparently,” Jeonghan drawled. “But now you love him. So leaving doesn’t protect anyone. It just turns you into the very thing you’re scared of becoming again.”

Joshua exhaled harshly. “I can’t hurt him.”

“Too late,” Jeonghan said simply. “He’s crying. In other realm. In my living room. He’s been curled up in your hoodie like a kicked puppy. Do you have any idea what it takes to break Seokmin? That boy shines like the damn sun. And you dimmed him.”

Joshua flinched.

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Want to know what I did next?”

Joshua looked up cautiously.

“I went to Lucifer.”

Lucifer, lounging across a throne made of teeth and sin, grinned when Jeonghan appeared.

“Ah, my favorite nightmare,” he purred. “Come to join the rebellion again?”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Cut the charm. I want to know what you did to Joshua.”

Lucifer blinked innocently. “Me? Nothing! The idiot came crawling down on his own like a whipped dog. I haven’t even spoken to him yet. I thought his sunshine coded crush kicked him out."

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “Swear it.”

Lucifer placed a hand on his own heart. “Hell’s honor.”

“…And if I find out you’re lying—”

“—You’ll throw me into Heaven, yes, yes, very creative threat,” Lucifer yawned. “I didn’t scare your broken-hearted evil. He scared himself.”

Jeonghan watched him a beat longer. Then smiled sweetly.

“Great. Because I’m about to illegally abduct him back to Earth using a little banned sigil magic. Just so you can’t blame me when he doesn’t come back.”

Lucifer's smile faltered. “…You wouldn't dare.”

“Watch me,” Jeonghan sang.

Joshua didn’t expect the pull.

One moment he was halfway through a punishment appeal for a lying baron, the next he was ripped through dimensions and dumped straight into the living room he’d left behind.

Into Seokmin’s arms. The human didn’t say anything at first. He just launched himself forward, tackled Joshua to the floor in a sobbing, trembling hug that made Joshua’s knees buckle.

He felt the warm hands clinging to him like he was something precious. Like he’d never been gone.

“You idiot,” Seokmin whispered against his throat, voice raw. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

Joshua held him like he’d never let go. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

They stayed like that on the floor, wrapped around each other, until the tears dried and hearts steadied. Seokmin eventually pulled back just enough to cup Joshua’s face.

“You left to protect me. But it just hurt more. We fight things together. You hear me?”

Joshua nodded. Words wouldn’t come yet. But that was okay. He was home.

Back in the boardroom of some boring human conglomerate, Seungcheol was presenting a marketing strategy to ten men in suits when Jeonghan appeared mid-sentence, sprawled across the conference table in leather pants and zero shame. The scene freezed already.

“Hey, babe. Guess who just fixed another infernal mess?”

Seungcheol blinked. “Jeonghan—what—how—this is a meeting—”

“I know. You left me to do dishes,” Jeonghan pouted. “So I needed something to entertain me. Also, Joshua's back, Seokmin's forgiven him, and they're probably doing it right now in that obnoxious sunlight-drenched apartment.”

The suits stared. Seungcheol scrubbed a hand down his face. “Jeonghan, please.”

“Oh relax. I didn’t kill anyone. This time.”

And with that, Jeonghan vanished—leaving Seungcheol flustered, his coworkers oblivious, and a stack of sugar cookies on the table that spelled “YOU OWE ME.”

Seokmin had been thinking. Dangerously, as Jeonghan would later say.

The marks started it all.

He’d seen them before. First on Seungcheol—faint and gold, peeking out from beneath his collar one summer day when the man stretched after lunch. Then on Jihoon, when he changed his shirt after getting wine spilled on him during Soonyoung’s celebration night. Mingyu’s glowed once when he laughed too hard with Wonwoo sprawled across his lap.

Each one different, like fingerprints burned into flesh. But warm. Alive.

Seokmin hadn’t asked at first. He didn’t need to. He knew what they were. Demon Sigils. Markings of the bond. The kind that said mine, the kind that glowed when their demon was nearby, the kind that never faded. Eventually, he did ask—more out of curiosity than anything.

“Did it hurt?” he whispered once, eyes on Jihoon’s mark as it flickered faintly under his skin.

Jihoon just smiled. “No. It felt like... coming home.”

Seungcheol had only grinned, patting his own over his heart. “It’s like being claimed. In the best way.”

Mingyu—ever the romantic—had said, “I didn’t even know I needed it until I had it.”

And Seokmin, with his wide, earnest eyes, had nodded quietly and tucked the information away like a pearl in his pocket.

Joshua didn’t know what hit him. One moment he was lounging on the couch, going over Hell correspondence, looking unreasonably attractive in a black tank top, and the next—Seokmin was standing over him, frowning. Determined.

“I want it.”

Joshua blinked. “Want what?”

“The Sigil.”

Joshua froze. “...Seokmin—”

“I want yours,” Seokmin clarified, expression unwavering. “The way Mingyu has Wonwoo’s. The way Seungcheol has Jeonghan’s. Jihoon and Soonyoung. All of them.”

Joshua sat up slowly. “You don’t need it. We’re together, aren’t we? You have me.”

Seokmin crossed his arms. “No. I have half of you. The other half keeps getting dragged back down.”

“Seokmin—”

“You can’t say no to Lucifer’s summons,” he said flatly. “You can’t skip work days like Wonwoo does. You come back exhausted, Joshua. Every time. And it’s happening more often.”

Joshua’s jaw clenched. “That’s my job.”

“But it shouldn’t be,” Seokmin snapped. “Not at the cost of you. I’m not asking for it because I need proof you love me. I know you love me. I want it because you deserve the choice to stay.”

Joshua looked away, lips pressed into a flat line. The silence stretched. Then he said quietly, “It’s not a simple mark, Seokmin. It’s permanent. Deeper than just a stamp. It ties us. Our essence. My power. You’ll feel me even when you’re asleep. And if anything happens to me... you’ll feel that too.”

Seokmin’s shoulders squared. “Then I’ll carry it. I’m not afraid of pain,” he added. “But I am afraid of losing you every time Lucifer calls.”

Joshua exhaled slowly. The idea of marking Seokmin—of finally giving in—still terrified him. Not for the pain. But because once it was done, there would be no undoing. It would mean, in every infernal law and language, this was it. The final soul.

The one he could never walk away from.It was Soonyoung who gave Seokmin the idea.

Over dinner—sprawled under Jihoon working like a man possessed, grinning like the troublemaker he was—Soonyoung casually said, “If he tricked you into summoning him, why can’t you trick him into marking you?”

Seokmin blinked. “I...what?”

“Turn the tables,” Soonyoung said simply, licking curry off his thumb. “Play the demon's game. Flip the spell. Same way Jeonghan taught him. It’s poetic, really.”

Jihoon muttered something about chaotic symmetries and went back to typing. So Seokmin did.

A week later, Seokmin waited until Joshua had returned from another long shift. The demon looked tired, temples pressed with tension, and a haunted edge in his eyes. Hell was weighing on him more than usual.

Perfect.

Seokmin coaxed him into tea. Made him sit on the floor. Dimmed the lights. Lit a candle. “I want to try something,” he said casually. “Something magical.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “What kind of magical?”

“Just a thing Jeonghan showed me,” Seokmin replied innocently. “To help demons rest better. It’s harmless.”

Joshua snorted. “There’s no such thing as a harmless Jeonghan spell.”

But he let Seokmin draw a circle anyway. Let him place a sigil under the candle. Let him chant the words Seokmin pretended not to know were old infernal commands for offering and binding. Joshua didn’t realize what was happening until halfway through.

His eyes snapped open when he felt the familiar shimmer and the meaning of the words. “Seokmin—what are you doing—”

“Exactly what you did to me,” Seokmin said, firm now. “Except this time, I’m summoning you. I’m choosing this.”

The candle flared golden. And so did Joshua’s chest. The mark spread across his skin first, a molten glow that sizzled and curled and spiraled into existence. It took the shape of an open sun, pulsing like a second heart.

And then it mirrored—because Sigils do that—branding itself over Seokmin’s own heart like a soft, radiant twin.
Their eyes met.

It was done.

Joshua collapsed forward, grabbing Seokmin’s face in his hands. “Why—why would you—”

“Because you never would,” Seokmin whispered.

Joshua’s eyes were wide and glistening. “You’re not scared?”

“Terrified,” Seokmin admitted chuckling. “But I’d rather be terrified with you than brave and alone.”

The demon let out a long, shaky laugh, burying his face into Seokmin’s shoulder. His wings—usually hidden—shivered into existence behind him, curling like blankets. “You tricked me,” he muttered into his collarbone.

“You started it,” Seokmin replied smugly.

Lucifer found out two days later. Because the minute a Sigil is formed, Hell registers it. Lucifer screeched. In public.

Jeonghan, sitting across from him sipping wine, didn't even look up. “Oh hush. You like him better bonded anyway. He complains less when he’s happy.”

Lucifer growled. “You’re all going to be the death of my command chain.”

“You say that like it's new.”

Seokmin traced the mark that night while Joshua lay half-asleep in his lap. “You glow sometimes,” he whispered.

Joshua smiled sleepily. “So do you.”

They didn’t need to say more. The Sigil pulsed gently under their skin. Their bond didn’t burn. It didn’t hurt. It held. Like all real things do.

It was official.

The golden Sigil on Seokmin’s chest glowed like a divine toaster setting: slightly singed but beautiful.

Joshua’s was more dramatic, obviously. It curled over his heart like a spiral of sin and sentiment, and absolutely refused to fade even when he layered five hoodies to cover it. (Because he was embarrassed. Seokmin kissed it every time he caught sight of it. Which was often.)

But back to the night it happened.

Joshua, panting, collapsed onto the mattress like he had been exorcised, sanctified, and emotionally filleted all in the span of fifteen minutes.

Because he had been.

Seokmin, the human golden retriever of sunshine and oddly sinful hands, just hummed and pulled the covers over them, eyes twinkling like a smug bastard.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Joshua blinked up at the ceiling. “I think I saw God.”

“You can’t,” Seokmin whispered, smug cranked to maximum, “you’re a demon.”

Joshua threw a pillow at him.

Elsewhere: Lucifer Screams in Middle Management Hell

Lucifer was sipping a whiskey-infused matcha in a Hell boardroom when he felt the disturbance.

A golden ripple.

A BOND.

Another. Fucking. Bond.

Lucifer let out a guttural scream so loud that two interns exploded.

Jeonghan, across the table, didn’t even look up from his nails. “What now?”

“YOUR—YOUR CHERUB RAT BEST FRIEND—” Lucifer choked, pointing to a glowing infernal scroll. “HE DID IT. HE MARKED THE SUNSHINE HIMBO.”

Jeonghan blinked. “You mean Seokmin?”

“HE BURNED THE BOND INTO HIS CHEST.”

“And?” Jeonghan said, sipping demonic red wine. “You let Seungcheol keep me. You let Jihoon keep Soonyoung. You’ve already given up like three demons to love.”

Lucifer stood, knocking over five chairs with his wings. “I AM THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS, I DO NOT GIVE UP DEMONS TO LOVE—”

“I think you do,” Jeonghan said.

Lucifer snarled, “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

In celebration (read: chaos), Jeonghan and Soonyoung decided to throw a “casual bonding dinner.”

Which translated to: every demon and their chaotic boyfriends crammed into Seungcheol’s too-small apartment, surrounded by enough hellfire aura to cook meat from across the room.

Mingyu was crying over Wonwoo cutting tomatoes with deadly precision. Jihoon was trying to keep Soonyoung from lighting the curtains on fire by tackling him every time he got excited. Seungcheol was in the kitchen, regretting every life choice from the day he decided to flirt with a demon in pink silk.

Lucifer showed up halfway through. In sunglasses. At 9PM. With a bottle of top-shelf hellfire whisky and a single bag of pizza rolls.

“Where the hell is my Sigil bonding tax?” he announced.

Joshua hissed from the couch, covered in a fluffy blanket probably shirtless underneath and clinging to Seokmin like a sulky cat. “You don’t get tax.”

“I should!” Lucifer snapped. “I’m losing minions left and right to glowy chest branding and stupid love! Look at you! You look like a freshly roasted marshmallow.”

Seokmin waved sweetly. “Hi, Mr. Devil.”

“Don’t ‘Mr. Devil’ me, golden abs.” Lucifer pointed at Joshua. “And YOU. You manipulated a human. AGAIN.”

“Technically,” Jeonghan chimed in, “he manipulated Joshua back. Full circle. Cute, right?”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “You are a gremlin.”

“Thanks,” Jeonghan said proudly.

“So...” Mingyu leaned across the table, whispering to Seokmin. “How was it? The Sigil bonding?”

Seokmin blinked. Then smiled. “He cried.”
Mingyu nearly dropped his drink.

“You made the demon cry?!”

“Emotionally,” Seokmin clarified. Then paused. “And once from... well. Physical overwhelm.”

Joshua, on the other side of the room, covered his face. “STOP TALKING ABOUT IT.”

“Never,” Jeonghan grinned. “You’re one of us now.”

“Seungcheol has a spreadsheet of our trauma,” Jihoon added helpfully.

“Group therapy’s next week,” Soonyoung piped. “There’s snacks!”

Lucifer took one look around the room—at his dignified punishers curled on couches, feeding each other snacks, comparing bond marks, Soju drooling in a fruit bowl—and sighed like the weight of Hell was on his shoulders.

“I hate you all.”

“Group photo!” Jeonghan declared.

The demons groaned. The humans posed. The photo was crooked. Lucifer was stuck in the corner with a pizza slice and an existential crisis. The glow of the sigils lit the room like fairy lights.

Love burned. And Hell? Hell could wait.

Joshua had always thought the concept of “domestic life” was beneath him.

Like, what did a demon of his caliber need with morning cuddles, soft blanket sharing, and cute texts like "come home safe or I'll cry and then haunt you with love"?

Gross. Sentimental. Stupid.

And now, sitting on Seokmin’s couch wearing his oversized hoodie, holding a mug that said “I ❤️ My Demon Boyfriend” (customized by Seokmin), Joshua realized one horrifying, painful truth:

He was whipped.

Whipped and ruined and one sweet kiss away from dissolving into sugar himself. And the worst part? Seokmin didn’t even know what he was doing to him.

Exhibit A: Walking Pornography
Seokmin, for example, came out of the shower every morning like a Greek statue freshly rinsed by angels and never put clothes on fast enough.

Nope. Not when you had a demon boyfriend with the libido of an unsupervised college student and the restraint of an underfed kitten.

“Morning, baby,” Seokmin said, all chirpy sunshine, towel slung low on his hips and his hair wet, dripping against tanned, veiny shoulders. “Want eggs?”

Joshua dropped his spoon. “I want death.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. I said yes, sunny-side up.”

Sunny-side up. Like you, he thought bitterly. You sexy golden menace.

And then Seokmin bent to get something from the fridge.
That towel?

It shifted.

Joshua briefly forgot how to breathe.

Exhibit B: Sweet Talk That Should Be Illegal
Seokmin had this thing. A way of flirting that shouldn’t work, that defied all logic.

He could grab Joshua’s ass—firmly, possessively, with intent—and then immediately smile like he’d just given him a bouquet of daisies.

“Pretty,” Seokmin would whisper, voice dipped in sugar. “You’re like a soft dandelion.”

Joshua, demon of sin, scourge of souls, has blown up entire cities for less.

But when Seokmin says it? He melts.

“I’m not a dandelion,” Joshua had hissed, face red. “I’m the Crowned Vice-Lord of Lust.”

“You’re my little demon flower,” Seokmin grinned, kissing his nose. Joshua had to lie down for forty minutes.

Exhibit C: Boyfriend Brainrot
Joshua couldn’t focus anymore. He couldn’t do work. He couldn’t torture minor souls properly because every second of his hell-shift he was thinking:
• Did Seokmin eat lunch?
• Did he wear that one too-tight shirt?
• What if someone called him pretty and he smiled back???

It was maddening. Seokmin, meanwhile, sent pictures of his meals. Of Joshua’s demon hoodie draped over his chair. Of stray cats. Of the cursed toaster. He once wrote, “Thinking of you. Miss ur pretty horns.” Joshua actually whimpered.

“You’re useless,” Lucifer snapped, watching Joshua sigh for the fiftieth time in Hell’s upper court.

“I’m in love,” Joshua muttered.

“You’re in heat.”

“Same thing,” Joshua sniffled.

Lucifer slapped a report against his chest. “Go back. You're creeping out the poltergeists. One of them offered you soup.”

Jeonghan, watching from his side of the boardroom, sipped his demonic latte. “You’re welcome. Told you love would ruin your efficiency.”

“I hate you,” Lucifer muttered.

“No, you don’t,” Jeonghan winked.

That evening, Joshua returned to Seokmin making dinner. In an apron. With no shirt underneath.
Joshua stared.

“What’s wrong?” Seokmin asked, tilting his head, genuinely curious. “You look... red.”

Joshua opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“You’re cute,” Seokmin said, then reached over, groped his butt, and added gently, “Like a flustered peach.”

Joshua screamed into a dish towel. He. Was. Losing. It.

Later, in bed, tangled in sheets and affection, Seokmin stroked Joshua’s cheek. “I love you, you know?” he whispered.

Joshua blinked, then whispered back: “I’ve killed people for less.”

Seokmin laughed. Joshua grumbled, “I’m serious. You’re ruining me.”

“Good.”

Joshua turned, curled into him, and muttered into his chest, “Next time you grab my ass, do it with intent.”

Seokmin grinned. “Always do.”

Joshua realized then that no matter how much he planned, schemed, or pouted... he had lost.

And honestly? It wasn’t even a fair fight.

It was a Tuesday when Jeonghan got summoned. He had just painted his nails a soft iridescent pink, was curled on Seungcheol’s lap while the man dutifully filed taxes, and had started sipping his second chai latte of the day when the ground rumbled ominously and a circle of black fire appeared at his feet.

“Lucifer,” he sighed, without even opening his eyes. “I told you to stop doing this in the middle of my work hours.”

Seungcheol glanced up, unsurprised. “We’re literally at home. You’re not working.”

“I’m working on me, Cheol. Which is harder than running hell.”

Before Lucifer could even rise fully from the flames, Jeonghan had already stood, dusted off his silk pajama pants, grabbed his latte, and stepped into the circle like he was boarding first-class.

Lucifer was pacing.

Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness, the Morning Star, the Fallen One, was wearing a velvet smoking robe and pacing like a disgruntled middle manager three hours before quarterly reports were due.

“Jeonghan,” he snapped, eyes glowing molten red. “You will explain this—this phenomenon.”

Jeonghan sat on the armrest of Lucifer’s throne and propped his chin on his hand. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I cause a lot of phenomena.”

Lucifer threw a parchment scroll onto the floor. It unrolled dramatically down the steps of the dais.

Jeonghan leaned over and read aloud:

“List of Demons Currently Unavailable Due to Human Entanglement”
• Jeonghan (Technically self-entangled. Also he’s him.)
• Soonyoung – Still no formal bond report filed. Refuses to answer HR summons.
• Wonwoo – Semi-bonded. Still somehow working part-time.
• Joshua – Under investigation for rogue sigil placement intent.
• Soju and Kimchi – Filed for domestic human adoption. Application in limbo.

Jeonghan whistled. “Busy month.”

Lucifer’s wings flared. “The humans are stealing my demons,” he roared. “They’ve taken the best ones!”

“Well,” Jeonghan said, crossing one leg over the other, “they do have great taste.”

“Soonyoung,” Lucifer continued, voice rising, “was our most enthusiastic soul collector! Jihoon flirts once and now Soonyoung goes by ‘baby’ and knits at home. He still hasn't submitted a bonding request form!”

“To be fair, Jihoon threatened to burn the form if Soonyoung tried,” Jeonghan said helpfully. “Said he doesn’t like bureaucracy in bed.”

“AND JOSHUA!” Lucifer howled.

“Joshua's in love,” Jeonghan deadpanned.

“I KNOW,” Lucifer spat. “He's in love with a golden-retriever-adjacent human HIMBO who smells like cinnamon and chooses optimism as a personality trait! It’s disgusting!”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jeonghan said, checking his nails. “Seokmin calls him ‘dandelion’. He nearly died from blushing.”

“I nearly died from cringe!”

Lucifer slumped onto his throne, horns drooping like a sad deer. “What happened, Jeonghan? This realm used to be feared. Now my most ruthless punishers are playing UNO with mortals and going on IKEA trips. IKEA, Jeonghan.”

“I like IKEA,” Jeonghan said.

“Of course you do.”

Lucifer rubbed his temples. “Wonwoo still reports for punishment collection, but that’s only because he’s dramatically loyal and probably into that weird moral kink thing.”

Jeonghan nodded. “Mingyu calls it ‘Hell Officer Daddy Mode’.”

Lucifer made a strangled noise.

“And Soju and Kimchi?” Lucifer added, glaring.

“They’re on Mingyu’s couch watching K-Dramas and eating shrimp chips,” Jeonghan said cheerfully. “They’ve applied to be part of Earth’s domestic creatures union.”

“Rejected?”

“Pending.”

Lucifer looked like he aged three centuries. Which, in demon years, meant about twenty minutes.

“I don’t understand,” Lucifer groaned. “When did love become more important than infernal legacy? I offered them power. Chaos. Unlimited plane travel.”

“You also offered mandatory 666 hours of overtime and dental coverage that only covered fangs,” Jeonghan muttered.

Lucifer glared. “What do you propose I do, Jeonghan?”

“Let them be.”

“I am letting them be!”

“You summoned me from Seungcheol’s lap.”

“I didn’t say I’m happy about letting them be!”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Look. Soonyoung will file. Eventually. After he stops feeding Jihoon strawberries and having semi-public makeouts.”

Lucifer gagged.

“Joshua? He’s practically bonded already. Sigil or not. You can’t undo that level of dandelion-based emotional attachment.”

Lucifer looked at Jeonghan with betrayal. “You were my most corrupt creation. My perfect twin. The worst of the worst. And now look at you.”

Jeonghan patted Lucifer’s cheek. “Still the worst. Just moisturized.”

“Let them be happy,” Jeonghan said calmly, standing. “Because if you interfere again—”

Lucifer raised a brow.

“—I’ll march into Heaven myself and let them know who’s been rerouting their harp shipments. Let’s see how long your peace treaty lasts when they’re all playing banjos in the clouds.”

Lucifer paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”