When you accepted him as your client, you hadn’t anticipated working for the most infuriatingly flirtatious man you’d ever encountered in this line of work. Being Otoya’s physical therapist felt like surviving a nonstop battle of cringe-worthy pickup lines, his smooth smile, and jokes that somehow bordered between genuinely funny and plain obnoxious.

You didn’t usually do house calls, but Otoya always pushed the deal with a few extra dollars. How could you say no? Still, every visit tested your patience to the brink.

Settling back in his favorite chair, Otoya leaned casually, arms folded behind his head as he watched you prepare for the session with amusement. “You know, I thought physical therapists were supposed to be old and… not exactly easy on the eyes,” he said, feigning innocence.

Less than ten minutes in, and he was already on his game. You glared at him, tempted to snap back.

“Hey!” he called, leaning forward with a playful grin, “That was my roundabout way of calling you attractive, you know?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to resist the urge to wipe that smug, flirty grin off his face. Maybe even throw a soccer ball at him.