✧ now playing: Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon ┃ masterlist
laceys note ; idek where I went with this I just though this was FUNNT ASF, anyway the writing is kinda bad but I hope yall like anyway! (kinda left yous on a cliff hanger sorry lol x) comments, reblogs and feedback means so much, plsss don’t be a silent reader cause ily all babies! pls enjoy 😚
Jay had not come to London to fall victim to a pretty face.
He’d come to perform — four nights, sold out, every seat filled with people who knew every word to every song. He’d come to give everything he had to a crowd that gave it right back, to stand under lights so bright they bleached the world white, to feel that particular kind of electric that only existed on stage.
He had not come to get distracted.
Yet.
The club was Heeseung’s idea — we have one night left, we’re in London, we are going out — delivered with the kind of finality that left zero room for arguments.
So here Jay was, drink in hand, bass vibrating through the soles of his shoes, surrounded by his members in a dark corner booth that their manager had quietly secured. No fanfare. No announcement. Just seven boys finally, finally exhaling after months of controlled chaos.
He was happy. Genuinely. The kind of loose, warm happy that only came after weeks of adrenaline finally releasing its grip on your nervous system.
He was also, apparently, very easy to distract.
Because that’s when he saw you.
You weren’t doing anything extraordinary. That was the thing that got him.
You weren’t performing for the room the way some people did — no extravagant hair flips, no eyes scanning for attention, no body angled that said look at me.
You were just — there. Present. Laughing at something your friend had said, head thrown back, completely unbothered by the hundred of sweaty bodies pressing in around you.
You were wearing something that made his mouth go dry but that wasn’t even the thing that got him. It was the way you occupied the space around you. Like you owned it without trying. Like the club had been built specifically to frame you and you alone.
Jay noticed everything about you.
“You’re staring,” Heeseung said into his ear, without even looking up from his drink.
“I’m observing,” Jay said.
“At a specific person.”
“At the area.”
Heeseung finally looked up, followed his eyeline across the dancefloor, and made a sound of quiet understanding. “Ah.”
“Don’t.” Jay said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Heeseung smiled into his drink and said nothing. Which was somehow worse.
Jay looked back at you. You’d moved slightly, swaying now to whatever the DJ had shifted into, your friends forming a loose orbit around you. Still laughing. Still completely unaware of him staring at you like you’re a goddess.
The thing was it was usually him being looked at — cameras, crowds, eyes tracking his every move from pit to balcony. People looked at Jay Park. That was just a fact of his life, as constant and unremarkable as breathing.
You weren’t looking at him and it was driving him insane.
He drained the rest of his drink in one gulp, set the glass down with a quiet click. “Back in a bit,” he said.
Heeseung didn’t even look up. “Sure you are.”
Jay was already moving.
The thing about London clubs was the heat. Thick and immediate, the kind that soaked into your skin the second you stepped onto the floor. You’d stopped noticing it an hour ago, too caught up in the music, in your friends, in the freedom of a night with nowhere to be and nothing to do but exist in it.
Your friend had said something about drinks and disappeared toward the bar. You’d stayed, unbothered, moving easily to the bass line currently vibrating through the floor, through your bones, through everything.
You didn’t hear him coming over, though you wouldn’t have — the music too loud, the crowd too thick. The first thing you registered was warmth. A presence behind you, close but not touching, giving you the choice.
You turned your head slightly. Just enough.
He was tall. Dark eyes catching the strobe light for just a second before the room plunged dim again. Sharp jaw, pretty mouth curved at the corner like he already knew something you didn’t. He smelled expensive — cedar and something warmer underneath, something that made you want to lean in to identify it properly.
A stranger. A very, very attractive stranger.
You faced forward again and didn’t move away. That was all the answer he needed.
His hands found your waist — light at first, barely there, a question more than a statement. When you didn’t pull away he settled them properly, warm and sure against your hips, and moved with you.
He was a good dancer. Effortlessly, annoyingly good. His body found your rhythm without fumbling for it, hips rolling slow and deliberate against yours, chest warm against your back. Not aggressive. Just — assured. Like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it.
You relaxed back into him by degrees, almost without deciding to. His lips found the curve of your ear.
“You’ve been ignoring this whole room all night,” he said, voice low, cutting clean through the noise like it was meant only for you. A trace of an accent you couldn’t quite place. “How come?”
You tipped your head back slightly against his shoulder, glancing up at him from the corner of your eye. “Maybe the room wasn’t worth paying attention to,” you said.
The smile that pulled at his mouth was slow and devastating. His grip on your hips tightened — just slightly. Just enough. “And now?” he asked.
You turned in his hold then, fully, facing him for the first time.
Up close he was even more disarming — something almost familiar about his face that you couldn’t place, like a word on the tip of your tongue. You let your hands rest against his chest and felt the warmth of him through the fabric.
“Jury’s still out,” you said.
He laughed. Low and genuine, surprised like he hadn’t expected that. Like most people didn’t say that to him.
“Jay,” he said, offering his name like something casual. Like it cost him nothing and this case, it didn’t.
You gave him yours. He repeated it back to you once, quiet, testing the shape of it — and something about the way he said it made your stomach pull tight.
The song shifted. Heavier. Slower in a way that wasn’t slow at all.
Jay’s eyes dropped to your mouth for just a second. Came back up.
“Dance with me properly,” he said. Less a question, more like inevitability. You did.
He knew exactly what he was doing — every movement deliberate, every shift of his hips calculated to make your brain short circuit. His hands roamed with confidence, never rushed, tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, the small of your back — like he was learning you by touch alone and intended to be thorough about it.
You’d stopped thinking about your friends approximately four songs ago.
The music was filthy — bass so heavy it felt physical, the kind of track that gave everyone on the floor permission to stop pretending. Bodies pressed in around you both, hot and close, the air thick with sweat and perfume and the particular electricity of a room full of people who’d decided to stop caring.
Jay’s chest was flush against your back, one hand splayed flat across your stomach, the other gripping your hip hard. His mouth was at your ear, your jaw, occasionally brushing the side of your neck without quite committing to it — just enough to make you acutely aware of exactly where his lips weren’t.
You rolled your hips back against him deliberately. His grip tightened. A sharp exhale against your neck.
“Don’t start something you’re not finishing,” he murmured, voice dropped low and rough in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the noise around you.
You turned your head, mouth close to his jaw. “Who said I’m not finishing it?”
The sound he made was barely audible over the music. But you felt it — a low noise in his chest, something unravelling at the edges.
His mouth found your neck properly then and your eyes fell shut for a second, fingers curling into the hand he had splayed across your stomach.
He turned you around in one smooth motion, hands cupping your face, tilting it up. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, all that easy confidence stripped back to something more urgent underneath.
“Tell me to stop,” he said. Giving you the out.
“Jay.” His name in your mouth for the first time, and the way his jaw tightened when you said it — god. “I’m not telling you to stop.”
His thumb traced your lower lip. Just once. “Good,” he said quietly.
He took your hand.
The crowd swallowed you both as he navigated through the bodies with practiced ease, one hand firm in yours, pulling you toward the back corridor of the club where the noise dimmed by degrees — still audible, still thumping through the walls, but muffled now. Distant. Like the rest of the world had agreed to give you both a moment.
The bathroom door. He pushed it open, checked it was empty, pulled you in after him. The lock clicked behind you.
And then he turned around and looked at you in the dim light of the single overhead bulb — chest rising and falling, hair slightly dishevelled from the dancefloor, mouth curving into that same devastating smile from earlier.
Except closer now. So much closer.
“Hi,” he said softly. Almost like he was seeing you properly for the first time.
Something about it made your breath catch.
“Hi,” you said back.
He kissed you.
He kissed different to how you expected. Slower. More deliberate. Like he was in absolutely no rush despite the fact that you were in a club bathroom and the bass was still thumping through the walls like a second heartbeat. His thumbs traced your cheekbones while his mouth moved against yours, drawing you in deep and unhurried until you were gripping the front of his shirt just to have something to hold onto.
He pulled back just enough to look at you. Eyes dark, chest rising and falling, that insufferable almost-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how long I’ve been thinking about doing that.”
“You saw me forty minutes ago,” you managed.
“Long forty minutes.”
You laughed despite yourself and he swallowed it, kissing you again — deeper this time, hungrier, one hand sliding from your jaw into your hair while the other traced the curve of your waist, your hip, the hem of your skirt.
His mouth dropped to your neck. Open and warm, tongue dragging slow across your pulse point while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your underwear — not pushing in yet, just tracing the elastic, back and forth, until you shifted your hips toward him without meaning to.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your throat.
“Jay—”
“Tell me.” Not harsh. Just certain. Like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.
“Touch me,” you breathed. “Please.”
The please seemed to do something to him — jaw tightening against your neck, a low noise in his chest. “Good girl,” he said softly. “Was that so hard?”
His fingers slipped beneath the fabric. The sound you made when he made contact was immediate and mortifying — a sharp gasp that you muffled against his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
He stroked through your folds slowly, gathering the slick heat of you, and made a sound himself — low and reverent, like he’d been handed something precious.
“God,” he breathed. “Already?”
“Don’t,” you started.
“I’m not teasing.” He pulled back to look at you, completely sincere, eyes dark and blown wide. “That’s — you’re incredible. You know that?”
You didn’t know what to do with that. With the way he said it — not performative, not practiced. Just honest.
He pressed a single kiss to the corner of your mouth and then sank two fingers inside you. Your head dropped back against the wall.
He worked you open with devastating patience — fingers curling, pace building slow and deliberate, heel of his palm grinding against your clit while he watched your face with an intensity that felt almost like too much. Like he was cataloguing every micro-expression, every caught breath, storing them somewhere.
“Let me hear you,” he said quietly. “Don’t hold back.”
“People will—”
“Let them.” His fingers curled harder and your argument dissolved into a moan that you couldn’t have swallowed if you tried.
“There.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “There it is. Just like that.” He did it again. Deliberately. Just to hear you repeat it.
“Jay—” His name breaking apart in your mouth, thighs trembling around his hand, the wet obscene sound of his fingers working you open loud in the small tiled space. “Jay, I’m — god, I’m going to—”
“Yeah you are,” he said, almost conversationally, eyes fixed entirely on your face. “Come on. Let me hear it. Want to hear you say my name when you come.”
It hit you like a current — rolling deep and devastating, your whole body shuddering, his name tearing from your throat exactly like he’d asked for it, fingers clenching around his wrist to hold him there while he worked you through every aftershock with merciless patience.
“Perfect,” he breathed, almost to himself. “Absolutely perfect.”
You were still shaking when he withdrew his fingers, brought them to his mouth without breaking eye contact, and sucked them clean. Your brain simply ceased functioning entirely.
“Jay.” Your voice came out wrecked. “If you don’t—”
“I know.” He was already reaching into his back pocket. “I know, I’ve got you.”
He rolled the condom on with steady hands, pushed your skirt up properly, and then his hands found the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up against the wall in one clean motion — your legs locking around his waist automatically, his forearms braced either side of your head.
He looked at you for just a second. Hair wrecked, lips swollen, holding your entire weight like it was nothing. “Still good?” he asked.
“If you don’t move right now—”
He pushed inside.
The stretch was immediate and overwhelming — thick and deep, splitting you open on a slow relentless slide until he was fully seated and you were gasping open mouthed against his jaw, nails marking into his shoulder skin through the fabric of his shirt.
He stilled. Just for a moment. Forehead dropping to yours, jaw tight with the effort of it. “Fuck,” he breathed. Genuine. . “You feel — god, you feel unreal.”
Then he moved.
Long, deep strokes that drove the air from your lungs completely — his hips snapping up into yours with a precision that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing and had zero intention of pretending otherwise. The wall creaked behind you. Your sounds were swallowed by the bass through the walls but barely, barely — every thrust punching a noise out of you that you couldn’t contain.
“Louder,” he said against your ear, low and rough. “Come on. Want to hear you.”
“Jay—”
“Louder.” His pace intensified, one hand gripping your thigh so hard you’d see it tomorrow, the other braced against the wall. “Let me hear how good it feels. Need to hear it.”
You stopped trying to muffle yourself.
The noise that left you was unrestrained — his name, fragmented and desperate, and the effect it had on him was instantaneous. His rhythm stuttered, a rough groan against your neck, hips snapping harder and more erratic.
“Yeah,” he breathed, strained. “Yeah, exactly like that, you’re doing so — fuck—”
He shifted suddenly — lowering you, turning you, bending you forward over the edge of the sink with a gentleness that contradicted the urgency of it entirely. Hands smoothing down your spine like he had all the time in the world while you gripped the porcelain edge and caught your own reflection in the mirror — wrecked and flushed, Jay behind you, jaw set with concentration.
His eyes found yours in the mirror. Held them. “Watch,” he said quietly.
He pushed back inside from this angle and the sound you both made simultaneously was obscene.
Deeper like this. Meaner. His hands gripping your hips, pulling you back onto him with each thrust, the slap of skin loud and rhythmic and filthy. But his eyes never left yours in the mirror — watching every expression cross your face, drinking it in, that same focused intensity like you were the only thing worth looking at in the entire world.
“Tell me how it feels,” he said, breathless now, composure finally fraying at every edge. “Tell me.”
“So good,” you managed, barely. “Jay — god — so good, don’t stop—”
“Not stopping.” His jaw was tight, pace relentless. “Not even close. You’re—” He exhaled roughly. “You’re unbelievable, absolute—”
The second orgasm hit you without warning — sudden and total, clenching around him so hard your vision fractured white, his name coming out of you in a broken keen that echoed off the tiles.
He followed immediately — burying himself deep with a rough groan muffled against your shoulder, hips grinding slow and deliberate while he spilled into the condom, shuddering once, twice, then going completely still.
Silence. Just breathing. And the muffled bass through the walls. And both of you wrecked and trembling and not quite ready to move.
He pressed his lips to the back of your neck. Soft. Unhurried. Like a full stop. “You okay?” he murmured.
“I don’t know what I am,” you said honestly.
He laughed quietly against your skin. Steadied you as he withdrew, disposed of the condom, smoothed your skirt back down with careful hands like you were something worth taking care of.
You turned around. Faced him in the dim light.
His hair was destroyed. His mouth was swollen. His eyes were soft in a way that felt wildly at odds with the last twenty minutes and somehow made it worse.
His phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Three times. Something shifted in his expression — almost imperceptible, there and gone. He glanced at the screen and something complicated moved behind his eyes.
“I have to go,” he said. The words landed soft but final.
You blinked. Searched his face. “Right now?”
“Right now.” He looked genuinely pained about it, nothing like you’d have expected from a stranger in a club bathroom. Just — sorry. Actually sorry. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.”
You studied him for a moment. Believed him, somehow, in a way you couldn’t entirely explain. “Okay,” you said quietly.
He stepped forward, cupped your face in both hands with a tenderness that felt wildly disproportionate to the last twenty minutes, and kissed you — slow and soft and thorough, like he was committing something to memory.
When he pulled back his eyes stayed closed for just a second longer than necessary.
“You were incredible,” he murmured against your lips. “Truly.”
And then he was gone — door swinging shut behind him, footsteps disappearing into the noise of the club, swallowed immediately by the crowd like he’d never been there at all.
You stood in the dim bathroom light. Chest still heaving. Lips still warm.
You didn’t even know his last name.
—
“Why am I here,” you said, trying and unsuccessfully to dig your heels into the pavement to stop Ava from dragging you. “You know I don’t even listen to them.”
“That’s exactly why you need to come,” she shot back, not slowing for a second. “Character development.”
“This is not character development, this is kidnapping.” She ignored you completely, flashing your tickets at the staff and pulling you inside before you could protest further. Trapping you unfortunatly.
The noise hit you immediately — screaming bleeding through the walls, that loud screeching kind that only existed at concerts. You grimaced. “I feel underdressed for this level of commitment.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I might not.”
“You will. And you’re going to thank me later.”
“Unlikely.”
She finally stopped once you were inside, turning to face you with a look that said she was entirely too pleased with herself. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being honest. Why didn’t you just bring Mei? She actually likes them.”
“She bailed.”
“Convenient.”
“Also,” your friend added, narrowing her eyes slightly, “you need to get out more.”
You let out a dry laugh. “I go out.”
“Hooking up with mysterious strangers in clubs does not count as social enrichment.”
Your stomach dropped. Just slightly. Just enough. You forced your expression to stay neutral (you’re almost certain you failed to do so though). “That was one time.”
She wasn’t listening to you anymore, instead she was shoving further through the crowd, hand around your wrist and dragging you with a lot more force than earlier. “Move, move—oh my god, move!”
“Ava—” you stumbled as she yanked you forward again, nearly knocking into a group of girls already screaming near the front. “Ava, we’re going to be squashed.”
“We are not standing in the back like losers,” Ava snapped, squeezing between people with zero shame. “I did not fight for these tickets just to see them as tiny little pixels with my own eyes.”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Worth it for a banging view.”
You barely had time to argue before she finally stopped—right up against the metal barricade, hands gripping until her knuckles were white like she’d reached salvation and was clinging to it. “Oh my god,” she breathed, eyes wide, already completely gone. “We’re so close.”
You looked around, slightly stunned. She’d actually done it. “You’re insane,” you said.
“And yet—” she shot you a grin, breathless, “—you love me.”
You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond the lights cut. The screams that followed felt like they could tear the roof off the building. Ava grabbed your arm instantly, her nails marking crescents into your skin. “THIS IS IT.”
You winced. “You’re yelling directly into my ear.”
“Shut up, they’re coming—”
They walked out. Seven of them. You weren’t really paying attention at first — just shapes, movement, noise — until Ava started yelling next to you, gripping your arm harder now.
“That one—” she shouted over the music, pointing. “That’s Jay, I told you about him—”
You followed her finger. And everything in your body went completely still.
No.
No, that—
That’s not—
But it was.
Same face. Same eyes. Same mouth. Just under stage lights now instead of a dim bathroom light.
Jay. The same Jay that fucked you in a bathroom last night and called you ‘good girl’ and made you come until you saw stars was now standing on stage in front of thousands of people. Singing and dancing like it was normal.
Like he was normal.
Your hand flew to Ava’s sleeve and your grip tightened unconsciously around it. “That’s—” you started, but your voice didn’t come out right.
“What?” she yelled, not looking at you she’s too fixated on them (you couldn’t blame her anymore). “Isn’t he insane?”
You couldn’t breathe properly. He moved closer to the front of the stage and for a split second—
His eyes swept across the crowd. Until they locked right at the barricade. On you.
It was brief. So brief you could’ve convinced yourself you imagined it. Except—
His expression changed. Just slightly, almost barely notable until the glow of the stage lights but you noticed. It was that same flicker you’d seen in the bathroom when his phone buzzed.
— ᨳଓ . In which Jungwon takes "age is just a number" a little too seriously and makes it his personal mission to get Jay’s best friend's best friend to like him back, even if she’s made it painfully clear that younger boys have never been, and never will be, her type.
pairing 🪽 younger!jungwon x older!reader
❤︎ genre ─ smau (w/ written), fluff, angst, crack, strangers 2 lovers
content warnings 🍵 reader is 2yrs older than jw, profanity, sexual/suggestive jokes, kys jokes between friends, mentions of smoking drinking vaping you name it, horrible attempt at humor, sensitive topics
.ᐟ.ᐟ notes ─ ignore timestamps 🥺 finally going out my comfort zone again after quitting genshin tumblr years ago and just reading, we ball! there will be some sensitive topics that will be mentioned in the chapters so pls proceed with caution! please do not disregard any trigger warning if there is one in a chapter, i am not responsible with the content that you consume. happy reading!
다니 ⦂ sorry this has been rotting in my drafts since october
LEE HEESEUNG
you’ve never been one for pda. heeseung knows that. he's used to the way you slip your hand from his when others pass by, the way you brush off kisses with a quiet smile. you’re usually cool, distant, never the type to show affection when eyes are on you. but tonight? oh, tonight was different. some girl was laughing a little too close, her manicured hand brushing his arm, and before he could even blink, you were there. “missed you,” you murmur, fingers curling around his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. your lips press against his. his hands find your waist instinctively, grounding himself because holy shit. when you finally pull back, he’s grinning, eyes half-lidded, voice low. “oh, you missed me, huh?” he teases, smug as hell. you roll your eyes, but your arm stays around him this time, tight.
PARK JAY
when you’re upset, it’s never loud. no raised voice, no sharp sighs like any normal person would. just that calm, steady tone that makes jay’s chest tighten instantly. he finds you sitting on the couch, legs tucked up, scrolling on your phone like nothing’s wrong, but he knows better. you’re silent, eyes glued to your phone, lips pressed tight. “princess, talk to me.” he’s already pulling you closer, his hand resting gently on your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles. when you don’t answer, he kisses the top of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair, "please, baby, don’t be mad.” you finally speak, voice low, “you didn’t text when you said you would.” he blinks, trying not to smile, but his heart aches at how serious you are. he feels a rush of relief that it’s not something bigger, but that doesn’t stop him from being apologetic. his hand moves to cup your cheek. "won’t happen again, promise,” he murmurs.
SIM JAKE
jake’s eyes are locked on you, the rare, soft curve of your lips catching him off guard. you don’t smile much, but when you do, it’s like everything stops for a second. he freezes, his heart stuttering, and for a split second, he forgets how to breathe. he’s trying to play it cool, leaning casually against the wall, but his gaze is fixed on you like he’s trying to memorize the way you look when you smile. “god,” he mutters. he swears it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen, and he can't stop watching you. he leans in closer, voice low and teasing, “you know, princess, you should smile more. it's pretty on you," "don't tease me," you murmur, but he can't help but smile back.
PARK SUNGHOON
you walk half a step ahead of him, hands buried in your coat pockets, expression unreadable, eyes fixed forward. sunghoon knows better. he drifts close anyway. he doesn’t comment on it. his shoulder brushing yours, and casually hooks his pinky around yours like it’s nothing. you don’t look at him. you don’t slow down. you definitely don’t react. he smiles to himself. but you don’t pull away either. later, when he squeezes your hand and calls you his pretty girl, you let him (just this once).
KIM SUNOO
you’re quieter than usual, curled into his side on the couch, fever-warm and tired enough than you gave up pretending you weren't sick. sunoo frowns immediately. “look at me. you’re burning. you didn’t tell me you felt this sick,” he says, fingers already in your hair, brushing it back like it’s muscle memory. you mumble, “didn't want to worry you,” and he clicks his tongue. “that’s not an excuse. you have to drink water. and eat. and rest.” he cups your face anyway, thumbs warm against your cheeks. you huff a weak laugh, and he smiles like he’s won something. “sunoo,” you mumble. “mm?” “can you stay?" he grins. “always.”
YANG JUNGWON
jungwon’s leaning against the counter, arms loose, watching you like he always does. “you’re doing that thing again,” he says, stepping closer. . “what thing,” you reply flatly, not moving, just looking at him. he hums, crowding your space, hands sliding to your waist. “waiting.” you don’t answer. he leans in slowly, teasing, noses brushing, and you tilt your head just a fraction. he smiles and pulls back on purpose. "idiot." you grab his jaw with two fingers and pull him back into a kiss. he laughs against your lips, kissing you slow.
NISHIMURA RIKI
you’re both tangled in blankets, knees bumping, riki poking your side for about the tenth time. “move, you’re stealing all the covers,” he whispers. “cry about it,” you mumble, eyes half closed. he grins in the dark. “say it. say you love me.” you roll your eyes, deadpan, staring at the ceiling. “you talk too much.” “that’s not a no,” he grins. you sigh, barely audible, smooth like it slips out on accident. “i love you.” he hums, distracted, still teasing. then freezes. five seconds pass. “wait.” he props himself up. “what did you say?” you turn away. “nothing.” “no, no, repeat it,” you groan. “shut up and go to sleep, idiot.” he kisses your temple anyway. “whatever you say, love,” he smirks. this asshole.
⌗CHRISTMAS LOVE — you and jay getting cozy after putting the kids down , and then deciding it would be a perfect time to have another…
⧼ ❄️ ⧽ 一 pairing。 ⸝⸝ husband!jay park x fem!reader 𓄵 wc. 1.4k genre。smut contains! fingering , unprotected sex , breeding kink , pregnancy kink{ back to library }
( yeni’s note ). merry christmas to those who celebrate , i’m here to gift you my favorite trope … husband jay
your apartment was warm; the scent of christmas cookies still lingering in the air despite taking them out of the oven hours ago ; your twin girls tucked away in bed , leaving you and jay awake. “did you think we got them enough?” you lie awake in bed , jays arm wrapped around you , kissing your shoulders , squeezing them lightly. “what do you buy kids that get whatever they want 365 days a year?” jay could care less about how many presents were under the tree , he’d worry about that when he took a look at the finances — right now he wanted you.
“baby , i’m sure it’s enough .. there’s two of them and it looks like you shopped for 5.” his hands roaming your body. “did i go overboard? i don’t want to spoil them?” he was losing his mind , already hard in his pajamas , you looked so good in your red and black sheer sleep gown , you skin soft and smelling of vanilla soap — he couldn’t take it anymore , he normally loved when you rambled , but not now. “baby.”
he got on top of you , caging you in his arms. “stop worrying about the presents , it’s already done. they’re wrapped and under the tree , tomorrow they’ll rip into them like savages and we’ll think it’s the cutest thing…” his eyes flickering to your lips. “right now i’m only thinking of unwrapping one thing and it’s not the watch you bought me.” he kissed your lips. “wa-mph… wait how did you know i bought you a watch? you were snoop—.” he interrupted you kissing you deeply once more , his hands going up the night gown as he settled in between your legs. “fuck i need you so bad.”
he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties , pulling them slowly down your legs. “so fucking pretty , dressing up for me.” he kissed your calf. “i love hearing you get just as excited as the kids about christmas.” he whispered against your skin. “you’re so good with them.” pushing the gown up on your hip , your cunt on display. “makes me want to give you another one.”
hearing that you couldn’t help but whimper; thighs squeezing together; he smirked. “is that what you want?” his thumb slowly grazing your clit , rubbing teasing circles. “what another baby for christmas?” jay wasn’t shy with the way he feels when you’re pregnant , he couldn’t keep his hands off you the entire pregnancy — to get you pregnant again , he’d do it in a heartbeat. “fuck baby you want me to give you a baby , i’ll fuck you full , you just gotta tell me.”
“please fuck me jay.” his fingers slipped inside you. “ah fuck.” he curled his fingers inside you , scrapping your velvety walls. “you got so wet just by me mentioning getting you pregnant , you’re dripping all over my hands.” you moaned in response , he shushed. “don’t wanna wake the girls up just yet.” kissing your lips. “not before i breed you.” his words alone were enough to have you cumming hard. “fuck jay!” you gasped out as he helped ride out your orgasm. “good girl , i love watching you cum on my fingers.” he was painfully hard now , he bit down on his lip , pulling the top part down , letting your boobs fall out. “can’t wait to see these all swollen and full.” he brought his lips to your nipples. “gonna be so sensitive , maybe you’ll cum just from me touching them.”
he sat up , pulling his matching red pajamas down just enough to free his cock; it was long and hard , the tip was red and dripping with pre-cum. “got so much cum for you.” he groaned , pumping his cock , teasing your clit with his tip. “ah-ah shit jay.” you moaned. “fuck ple-please put it in.” your hips moved involuntarily. “ple-please.” he pushed only the tip inside. “you want it?” you nodded desperately , he slowly pushed his cock in , your warm walls inviting him in. “fuuuuuck that’s it baby , my pretty wife feels so good.” your hips connecting together. “fuck i love you so much.”
he started to move , holding the plush of your thighs as he fucked into you. “you’re so fucking tight , love fucking this pretty pussy , she’s so responsive.” he grabbed your boobs , pinching your nipples. “jay!” his hands coming up to your mouth. “shh don’t be so loud.” he whispered. “can you be a good girl and keep quiet?” the way he said that as he thrusted deep inside you was cruel , he smirked watching you not down on your lips to keep quiet. “you want me to fill you up?” he whispered , “fuck you full , give you another baby?” his pace went faster , his cock kissing your cervix. “tell me princess , what do you want?”
“i-i want you to breed me.” you moaned out. “i wa-want you to fuck me full pl-please.” you’re eyes rolling to the back of your head; legs shaking as you came , a white ring forming around the base of his cock as he kept fucking you , holding your legs up. “ah sh-shit i’m gonna cum , fuck i’m gonna breed your pretty pussy.” he said trying not to be loud , pushing himself deep into you , cumming with a groan. “ah shit.” he gasped. “fuck fuck fuck.” fucking his load inside of you. “i love you.” he kissed your lips. “i love you too.”
pulling out , he climbed off of you , nuzzling himself behind you , wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. “i can’t wait to grow our family.” he rubbed your stomach. “maybe have a boy this time?” he hummed. “maybe , i don’t think i can financially afford another girls between the gremlins in the room and you , i see the steam coming off my cards after a mall trip with the three of you.” you pushed your elbow into his stomach. “hey you knew what you were getting into when you married me.”
“that i did , and that’s exactly why our livingroom is full of toys for our girls and bags shoes and jewelry for you.” he kissed your neck. “and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”
you sat in jays lap , watching the girls tear into the presents. “next time i won't get the expensive wrapping paper , especially if they’re gonna rip it into it like crazy.” one of the twins shrieking as she opened a gift. “i thought i said she didn’t need that.” jay said , you smiled cheekily. “look at what santa bought you baby.” he shook his head. “what am i gonna do with you.”
jay handed you his gifts to you , you opened them excitedly giving him kisses in appreciation. “thank you , i love them.” he smiled. “mommy.” your daughter tapped your legs. “yes love?” you turned to her. “you know what i really wanted for christmas?” she said , you and jay looking at each other. “what is it? santa got everything on your list and a few extra because you were such a good girl this year.”
“i know mommy , but what i really wanted was a brother or sister.” she said with a frown. “oh?” you said. “princess come here.” jay brought the girl into his lap. “mommy and daddy are sorry santa didn’t bring you a sibling but how about this…” he turned to you. “me and mommy will talk to him personally and see if he could bring you a sibling.” both the girls eyes lighting up. “really!” they jumped around. “yeah.” he said kissing both of their heads. “now go play with your new toys.” they both ran away , laughing. “do you like your watch?” he nodded kissing your temple.
“it’s perfect baby.” he said, getting closer to your ear. “you know my mom is supposed to be coming over to pick them up and take them back to hers to open gifts before dinner …” he said, rubbing your stomach. “how about we continue trying , give them a late christmas present in about a week or two.” he hummed into your ear. “how does that sound princess?”
⋮ ⌗ ┆概要 ⨾ some things are harder to hide under one roof. after moving in with your long-time boyfriend, everything seems to be on the come up...except for the fact that you can't find one box, a box full of the toys specifically meant for jay not to find.
朴综星 𝔁 𝒻 .ᐟ读者 ── 6.7k
explicit content ⋆ smut (mdni)、established relationship、soft/mean dom!jay、 sub!reader、 crack、 bdsm themes、oral (f. rec)、 use of toys (finger stimulators, cock ring - usage portrayal may be inaccurate、sorry!)、vaginal fingering、degradation/humiliation、 multiple orgasms、overstimulation、daddy kink、impact play、 unprotected sex (don't do this)、 creampie、use of handcuffs & a sex swing、 squirting、petnames used: baby、good girl、honey、needy thing、 princess. guest appearances by: winter (aespa)、 wooyoung (ateez)、soobin (txt)、 ni-ki (enhypen). ⌇ℳ.list
⋮ ⌗ ┆便条 ⨾ finally! ㅜㅜ as much as this was a joy to write, sometimes this really made me debate my existence lmao 😭 fics going past 3k are always such a struggle to write it's so humbling...anyways (!!!) this is the first of my four fics a part of my 500 follower milestone event! around this time next week, i should be posting a haechan fic which i hope you will enjoy, along with this one! some of the dialogue is ridiculous here, but who doesn't love a bit of unseriousness? make sure to let me know your thoughts, much loveeeeee! <3
You tell Jay everything.
He knows about your shady boss who only recognizes you for your looks rather than intellect, affectionately nicknamed 'Luce' for Lucifer. He knows about your ninth grade class choir performance where your solo ended in the worst voice crack known to man, a chorus of aw's and oof's still keeping you up at night. He even knows about younger you so hellbent on impressing your crush, you picked him up bridal-style like some male peacock because who didn't like a strong lady? Though nothing came of the bravado show except an almost kiss, it still makes your skin crawl when you remember, especially when he shows up on your Instagram, a proposal post with his beloved messing with your time perception. The point of the matter is these are all anecdotes of your life you've chosen to share with Jay, no stone left unturned because your relationship has always been like that: a open book, every life-describing sentence on full display, a testament to the safety you regard each other with.
This, however, is something you have to hide. A token kept all to yourself.
Jay is no stranger to your sexual preferences, the near-identical crossover of his own making for sex good enough to make you blush. What he doesn't know, however, is what it's taken to build those fantasies. Starting off as a joke between you and your birthday twin, Winter purchase matching heart-shaped gem butt plugs during your early university years. That same year, another one of your friends puts you on a vibrating dildo from an infamous site holding everything you didn't know existed. It's embarrassing how long you spend scrolling through their catalogue later that night, toys and objects all built for the sole purpose of getting off running your mouth dry. Three days later, your vibrating dildo arrives (albeit delivered to your all-boys neighbours, who are none the wiser due to the site's discreet packaging). However, the dildo is not the only thing rattling in your beat-up box, a 10-function rabbit vibrator coming with a tube of water-based lube you found out wouldn't mess with your pH balance. That night, when your university town is nothing but a whisper, you put the toys to the test, your world forever changed. Not only do you soak your cautionary bed-laid towel, but you have quite possibly the best orgasm no Tinder hookup (nor your medieval method of using your fingers) could ever give you.
It's the start of an unlikely obsession, lulls of your day spent private-browsing The Hot Spot™'s ridiculously cheap deals and raving reviews for graphic products that no longer faze you. Lingerie, toys and the likes, your collection slowly builds over the years, a nightmare to hide when moving back into your family home after university but ultimately something you frequently use once in the comfort of your own place. You subject yourself to purchases on special occasions only, like Black Friday or the promotion Luce gives you for your hardwork. It's the pay-raise affording you the means to move into a nicer apartment with Jay, the upgrades of your life calling for a celebration. Jay takes you to a nice candle-lit dinner, puts you through the mattress then sends you the lease contract the next morning, your only other email notification noting your package is On Its' Way!
It's not like you haven't considered telling Jay. After all, his ego is no where near fragile enough to contest with a battery-powered device. And to some extent, you do tell him. Introduce your select favourites to the bedroom, sheepishness burning your cheeks for all the wrong reasons because Jay is happy to oblige, making you come harder than that one night back at uni. So, really, there's no need for all the secrecy and yet here you are, tucking away your generous collection in another box, full with your plushies. Truly, it's not worth the (literal) back-breaking weight of carrying around but with all the cheap deals through the years and your hereditary hoarding gene (how does one dispose of sex toys anyways?), your stockpile became less of a point to understand, and more so concerning.
Thus, it becomes classified information, cast aside in the busyness of life as you pack your life away to begin a new one. A new office, more visibility at work where senior colleagues see your place isn't earned by Luce's favouring, but your own grit. You have more money to save and spend, adding zeros to the monthly allowance you send your parents while also affording yourself the hobbies and friend-focused events you'd been priced out of.
Like this one, your annual drive up to the coast with your birthday twin. Salt sea breeze blows a chill through your linen clothing, oyster sizzling atop industry-sized open grills as the luscious green of the restaurant's vineyard stretches on for infinity, dipping into the bright blue of the ocean metres away. The quaint, surfer's haven town holds precious memories of your university years, afternoon unfolding like a poetic return back to a former you; cackling at largely inappropriate comments and drinking more than you should. It's desperately what you need after the exhausting marathon that is moving house, box after box spawning from nowhere, blocking most walkways in your apartment.
And how could you forget, the source of most, if not all your misery? The fact that you can't find that box.
No matter how much you rummaged through your plushie box, there is no other box to be found, heart running fast enough to power a small country as you attempt your best non-frazzled face as Jay purposely sings off-key to John Mayer, making you two cocktails while shirtless. It's the silliest, most attractive sight you've seen to date, distracting enough to leave your troubles behind as you christen your new bedroom, no time spared as the following day requires an early rise, a long drive ahead of you.
Winter's voice interrupts your searching thoughts, chestnut hair shimmering in the golden hour. "Wooyoung wants to propose."
Your jaw comes off its hinges, hand smacked down on the table-functioning barrel. "Oh my god! Did he say something or?"
"Nah, I saw him practising getting down on one knee three days ago," she explains, smile creeping onto her tinted lips, cheeks sunkissed. "Thank fuck he didn't get down on both."
"Like someone we know." you simultaneously face-palm, tragically recalling Soobin's spontaneous proposal to another friend, the glee so bright in his eyes, completely oblivious to the internet's commentary tearing him to shreds. Hell, the video even appeared on the seven o'clock news, a hot debate topic eventually calling on him to appear on TV to defend his actions.
"Anyways," You smooth the crease in your forehead, regrouping with a sip of centuries old wine. It goes down smoother than the first. "That's so sweet. I can't wait to get plastered at your wedding."
"Me too. Let's hope my grandma doesn't wear another catsuit to win my grandpa back,"
"I need to meet your circus of your family." you insist, watching the sun dip past the ocean's horizon, a drop in temperature incoming.
"You've already met my dad - that's enough laughter to last a lifetime," she swirls her wine to waft towards her sniffing nose, a pleased nod following. "Anyways, can you believe I might marry my uni sweetheart? Did you ever think I was that soft?"
"He is one of the last above bare-minimum men out there," you volley back. "A man that actually does something about the shit stains in his toilet - you had to lock that shit down."
The reference to your unfortunate experience goes over her head, chin in her palm as she gazes lovingly into the vague distance, fairylights to the evening backdrop dotting specks in her eyes. She looks beautiful like this, happy. It's all you can ask for.
"God, remember when I went to visit him at uni? When we'd just bought those birthday buttplugs?"
"You mean when his roommates found yours in the shared bathroom?" you snicker entirely, a half-hearted hand stifling the obnoxious sound.
"I swear, I took it back to the room with me!" Her expression is densely incredulous, so set in her ways despite her forgetful nature. "How it ended back there beats me."
"Maybe the Ghost of Buttplug Past wanted to make their presence known?" you jokingly offer, shrinking into bad posture at her mean scowl. "I'll shut up now."
"Good call," Her brown eyes unscrew, something kinder crossing her face as she takes another sip, nodding over to you. "Anyways, what's your deal? Still have yours?"
Just what you needed: a reminder of the worst.
"I'd use the word have very loosely here," her head tilts, prompting you to continue. "I do, but I can't fucking find it. Anywhere."
"You just moved house, it's probably lumped in with another box somewhere,"
"Yeah, except the box I distinctly remember using as a decoy didn't have it. Not one single toy," Your throat bobs, hard pulse in your dry throat. You disguise the internal freakout with a sip of your drink, a less than convincing smile in its wake. "How fucked do you think I am?"
"Considering you didn't have movers help you, not at all. Jay's probably going through them wondering why you didn't use his card to pay for them,"
Realisation opens your expression, mouth down-turned in acknowledgement "Huh. I'll keep that in mind next purchase."
"Yeah, let's hope there's no mix-up this time round. Wouldn't want another person nearly open your confetti-themed dildo," she snickers, waving over a waiter for another bottle.
"You're just mad it's pretty, and I bought it first."
"Of course. I can get matching buttplugs with you, but I draw the line at dildos," she concludes, the sizzle of cooking oysters and rich people chatter suddenly gaining decibels. "In any case, your box of goodies will show up — one way or another."
You're trying to increase the chance of your 'goodies' showing up one way, speeding down the highway like you're headed to a fire, only to decelerate to law-abiding speed because your bed's already been made. With Jay having the apartment to himself over the weekend, it's only a matter of time until he's found the box. Initially, the thought clammed up your palms against the steering wheel while Winter dozes off beside you, but the more miles you cross, the more the thought diminishes in size. Maybe it's a good thing he finds it, because you could put a couple toys to good use since some had collected dust due to your unfound fear of judgement.
It wouldn't save you from embarrassment, though.
Through the journey, all your rumination eats away at your energy, an executive decision made to get some pick-me-ups and touch grass if possible. Past the halfway mark, you pull over into a rest stop, a rare occurrence judging by Winter's blinked confusion. The snack run consists of you trying not to obviously dance to the Fall Out Boy song blaring through the sleek grey rest stop's speakers and giving a dirty glare to the kid reaching for your favourite chocolate bar, last in stock. Fueled by sugar and rolled-down windows, Winter hosts a jam session of all your favourite pre-game songs, yelling the lyrics at the top of your lungs while trying to not swerve off the road. Like many moments over your weekend together, it holds a special place in your heart.
Later on, you drop Winter off after she apologizes for not accompanying you further, another family emergency her explanation before you peel off, not ready to go home yet. The local gym sees you work off steam, hauling weights and setting new PB's, a wild dash on the treadmill birthing the remark 'what are you training for?' by the ninety year old lady next to you. Anything at this rate is your honest answer.
To repair the stupid strain your muscles endure, the fast-casual Mexican restaurant down the corner from your apartment witnesses you insist on grilled chicken and reward you with a generous food portion. For once, you eat-in, the dread of seeing all your toys sprawled on the bed with Jay's horrified expression not to your liking. And instead of dinner and Youtube, it's a late-lunch coupled with people watching. Whichever is healthier is still up for debate.
Eventually, you lug your body back to your sky-scrapping apartment, a place amongst the clouds with no sight of Jay and the box. Weird. No time is left to dwindle on the thought though, at least owing yourself a shower after your self-induced long day. Blistering hot water runs down your back, relieving tensed muscles maintained over the week. You've barely dressed yourself - a sorry excuse of shorts and ratty tank top - before frustration starts to rear its head, your hand flinging your bedroom door open.
With good timing too because Jay comes through the front door, kicking off his shoes in a hurry when he sees you. He's sunshine personified as all his tender eyes see is you, innate instinct to barrel towards you as you meet him halfway between kitchen and living room. He picks you off the floor, spinning you round and dotting your skin with kisses, your face scrunched up in faux annoyance.
"Don't leave me again. Having to babysit Ni-ki was everything I didn't bargain for." he mumbles into your skin, placing you back to earth.
Your arms rest around him, wrists crossed over at his nape while a boulder of dread sinks to your feet. "Ni-ki was here?"
"Yeah, I asked him to help out, but he just stuck on his playlist and crip-walked all over the place," he sighs, eyes rolling as his thumb trace patterns against your hip bones. "Remind me to kick him off our Spotify Family Plan."
You breathe a sigh of relief. "Noted."
"How was the coast? What mischief did you and Winter get up to?"
"Beautiful. We drank our weight in wine. Pretty sure she ate shit on the way back to our BnB…then we proceeded to be sick in the same bathroom," you explain, breaking out into a smile. "Like the good old days."
"Yeah, I heard from the voice notes," he laughs, tearing himself from you to venture into the kitchen, fewer boxes littering the area, like the lounge. He'd worked a lot since you'd left.
You face-palm, cringing at the memory. "I thought we agreed you'd never listen to my drunk voice notes."
"I'm sorry but when I get six very urgent notifications from you — a man has to worry," he explains, water bottle retrieved from the fridge. "Then again, I didn't mind hearing how much you miss my coc-"
"Okaaaay, conversation over!" you yell over palms shielding your ears, mirth across Jay's face as he comes from behind the white marble counter towards you, sneaking a kiss on your cheek you try dodge before making some muffled comment about going for a shower.
When the bedroom door closes behind him, your sharp turn loses its edge on the rug Jay laid in your absence, your combined mismatched furniture amidst few boxes. You'd probably checked them before, but it wouldn't hurt checking again, especially after how normal Jay seemed. He would've brought it up if he'd come across it. As such, you take your chance, throwing on one of Ni-ki's playlists as you rummage once again, jitters jolting your hands every time you hit the bottom of a box — no 'goodies' found.
It's only a matter of time before your confusion/dread sharpens with a tinge of frustration. You'd dedicated a good amount of time searching. Surely, it would've turned up by now. You can't miss a box with a confetti-themed dildo - you just couldn't. So, either you need to get your eyes checked or The Ghost of Buttplug Past is out to get you too because this doesn't make any sense.
Less than polite words race through your head as you amble towards your shared bedroom, the very dreaded question at your mind's forefront.
Where the hell is that damn—
Right in front of you. All your belongings. The box nowhere to be found, but each and every toy acquired off The Hot Spot™ spread out in their generous amount. There's so many of them, enough for you to reconsider: Hey, maybe I am a goon—
"Quite the collection you've got."
Sheer horror washes over you, moisture drying out your eyes as they stretch in alarm, your figure so overwhelmed it freezes. As if your stillness would save you from whatever doom awaits you. Too many beats pass, no word from Jay, and certainly no word from you. What could you say, realistically?
"I don't know what you're talking about."
It's a hall of fame cop-out, that much clear in Jay's reaction as he stands beside everything you're not talking about, calm facade breaking. He has the audacity to laugh out loud: doubled over in a hands-on-knees kind of laugh. You're pretty sure you see a tear escape, a misplaced huff of frustration flaring out your nostrils as your body regains some movement, arms crossing over your chest defensively.
Screw him for cornering you, especially looking like that. All slutted out with nothing but sweatpants on, hair barely dried, messy just the way you like it.
"I found it amongst your plushie collection," Jay explains, surprisingly nonchalant, muscles emphasized as his own arms cross over his chest. "Crazy place to stash them."
You cough, looking away. "You didn't have to go through my stuff."
His arms open up in a plea, a grapple at understanding. "I thought I was helping unpack. I didn't think it would upset you," his voice trails, eyes narrowing in appraisal. "Are you…embarrassed?"
You don't reply, an answer in itself. He sees it in your averted gaze, the wobbled pout on your lips. He'd be a madman if he didn't crowd your space, clasping your head like you're something precious.
"Honey, there's nothing to be embarrassed about," he starts off, smile holding all kinds of charm. "May I remind you, I was there when we got that sex swing which - by the way, we haven't used," His brow arches. "What's up with that?"
Your eyes roll, listlessly swatting away his hands. "What's up is that you hovered non-verbally around me whilst I contemplated what nasty freak-adjacent words you were calling me,"
"Baby, you let me spit in your mouth. It doesn't get any freakier than that."
Silence ensues, your eyes looking left then right.
"…You have a point," your shoulder slump, defeated. In a second, you're rearing again, shame a hard emotion to tackle. "Still, this is different. It's…a nasty habit. I mean, I haven't used half of this stuff since we met, so I could've downsized a bit, y'know? Would've saved my back and made me look, uhm less…feral."
Realities belonging to a different universe race through your mind, past moments showing up in times where you could've told Jay and didn't.
"Look," A soft edge cuts through your thoughts, a hot knife into butter as your eyes trail to your boyfriend, comfort in the shape of his lips."The only reason I didn't say anything then was because I was thoroughly confused by the group of teenagers in the store, not because I was calling you freak-adjacent words. I bought the swing, didn't I?"
There were other people in the store? You hadn't noticed, nor remembered. Goes to show how much you'd been in your own head. A moment's silence holds your affirmative nod, rationality skewing your worries so small in the grand scheme of things.
"Lord knows what kind of hell Luce puts you through, not to mention all the other stresses of life. You do what you can to relieve stress, yeah? All in moderation, since I haven't caught you jerking off…yet,"
You punch him for good measure.
He smiles regardless, rubbing his bruised bicep. "My point is, maybe this isn't so terrible. Of course, you can get rid of some toys you don't use anymore but I don't think learning how to pleasure yourself is a bad thing," his lips draw to your ear, the ghost of his breath treading a shudder down your bowed spine. "Just wish you'd told me so I knew what really makes you feel good."
Air disappears out the room in a quick vacuum, skipped beats in the disorganization of your heart's rhythm. Your brain follows the trend, thoughts dashing everywhere, none sticking to the canvas linked to your mouth.
"You already do." is what you manage, eyes carefully examining Jay's wandering hands, nimble fingers playing with your tank top strap.
"We'll come back to that," his low voice asserts, not an inch of space separating you as the outline of his cock buries into the curve of your ass, an automatic push back. "For now, I'm more interested in putting that swing to good use, amongst other things. Why don't you put on that set I've been dying to see, huh?"
He nods to the bed before you can ask, eyes finding the lacey black and blush pink basque crotchless set you'd purchased together, but had been too self-conscious to wear. Nerves ball at the top of your throat, gulped down as Jay bunches your hair to one side, chaste kisses lining your exposed shoulder. Goosebumps make up your skin layer, a trembling breath all that absorbs the silence in the room, save for his teasing kisses. Coldness eats away at your skin the second he leaves, mere steps away yet having all your attention as your mind attempts to catch up to your movements.
Curiosity cast a glance over your shoulder, Jay's defined back to yours, grey sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips as he secures the sleek black swing to your bedroom door. The sight alone is enough to make you come, a pained whimper muffled by pinched lips as you slip on the garment, jittery hands easing over imaginary creases following the black mesh stocking you pull over your knees, garter belt connecting them to your basque. In the disorganization of the shared bedroom, your eyes catch onto a haphazardly placed full-length mirror, eyes brightening at the curves and slopes of yourself moulded perfectly with the beauty of the corset. In stark contrast with the anticipatory insecurity thought to be felt once you slipped this on, all you feel is a bloom in confidence, only egged on by Jay's lack of better words, huffs of disbelief as you meet halfway in the room, his hands outlining your figure.
"How are you so perfect?" he suffocates your face with kisses, giggles your reply. "I'm obsessed with you."
"If I couldn't tell," is your teasing quip, smirk kissed off your face by your beloved.
"What was that, smartass?" he jokes after rendering your breathless, holding you indecently as heat brews low in your belly, sight gaining a hazy film.
With arms circled around his nape, your hands slip down to his broad shoulders, thumb ghosting his heart-shaped birthmark. You want to eat it clean off him.
"Fuck me," you wink, mischief lining your smile. "Need you so bad, Jay."
Your assumption is you've buried him, crushed him under the weight of your raunchy words prying his stunned lips apart as he looks at you, iris dialling several shades darker, switch in demeanour seen in real-time.
"That's not my name."
Oh.
He spies the surprise in your widened eyes, a devilish curve in his lips as he whispers nice and low. "Try again, princess."
All that confidence you had not even a minute ago? Out the window, plummeting to the ground floor because surely he doesn't expect you to say it to his face…right?
Unimpressed is how best you can describe his skeptical face, calling upon a word notching your nails into his shoulders, head turned to save yourself further embarrassment.
"Daddy..." the word nosedives an anchor of lust into your stomach, features pinched together as you give him glossy, begging eyes. "Fuck me — please."
To really bring home your point, you let your nails drag down his skin, knowing how much it turns him on until your hand shadows his, bringing him to where you want him most - dripping, waiting for him.
Nothing else is said, only action taken as Jay captures your lips in a searing kiss, making you feel every shred of want in him as he shuffles you back towards the door, where the swing awaits you. Kissed breathless, your head spins as he helps you into the contraption-like thing, anticipation in its' black straps as he secures you in place.
The swing is…small. Granted you wouldn't be balancing on your ass forever, but the band supporting it isn't the most accommodating and when you settle, your hands can't help with the desperate grips on the straps, grateful the door would support you if things went sideways. Jay's got you—in more ways than one. Nudges you up against the door so not all the tension concentrates in your core, leaving room for the heart-fluttering twist in your stomach as you watch him reach for the ridged finger stimulators, over his index and middle finger. The gulp you do is heard throughout the room.
"Two different textures," Jay muses, lone lip corner lifting. He's so close his presence suffocates you, rich musk scent wafting in a heady embrace. "A bit greedy, no?"
"There was a good deal."
"Sure there was, pervert," he huffs, stealing the air right out your lungs as he leans closer—if possible—cold silicone of the ribbed stimulator gliding down in between your glossed folds, from the top of your clit down to your twitching entrance. The way your body jerks halfway off the swing amuses Jay, smugness written into his features as he takes the opportunity while you're glaring through your eyebrows to slide one finger in, bobble texture of the stimulator pulling your jaw open.
"This one your favourite?" he taunts, watching you squirm as he curls the finger. "Sure looks like it."
Worlds apart is the difference between your own fingers and his in you, his fingers — longer, thicker —reaching places your poor fingers couldn't, finding the spot that makes you detonate so easily before he hits it again and again, other ribbed finger slipping inside your weeping cunt clinging to him like a vice. The scene unfolding before you sears into the fabric of your memory, body running hotter than lava, left without nothing to do except writhe and whine in the contraption reducing you to Jay's whims, his covered fingers bearing the sole responsibility of the raunchy squelch between your legs.
"Still with me, princess?" his voice carries false concern, more amused than anything. Who could blame him, of course? You're putty in his hands, hips bucking to grind harder against the silicone grain, hopeless wails and whimpers flowing from you. They quickly filter into Jay's mouth, something so sweet in stark contrast with his fingers pumping into you, against your sweet spot, you barely able to kiss him back.
He'll be your demise, chuckling into the sad excuse of a kiss, boiling you down to raw need, sucking him in as your lips chase his, lashes fluttering between his. He happily obliges, despite your preoccupied efforts, close to full debilitation as his thumb draws lazy circles on your clit, your approaching orgasm kicked into high gear.
"Aren't you happy I found your toys?" he murmurs, a nibble of your bottom lip between his teeth eliciting a loud moan square in his face, playful yet pained. The large outline in his sweatpants made the latter apparent, your mouth watering at the damp spot staining them shades darker. "Don't have hump yourself silly with the help of these things. Not when I can do it for you."
The mouth on this man. You're almost delirious, mouth hanging open with pants pushing out your laboured chest, the warmth pooling in your tummy enough to exaggerate your squirms, whines dialled up several decibels as slick lines his fingers, dripping onto your newly polished floor.
"Give daddy a kiss." You nearly leap at the opportunity, lips overlapping his in a frenzied, desperate mess, tongue canvasing every inch of his mouth as too much builds in you, seconds away from the end.
"Wait, wait — oh my god, I think I'm gonna," a squeal interrupts you, eyebrows scrunched together as a wild look overtakes the hue in your eyes. "I'm gonna—ah!"
The world comes crashing down in a matter of seconds, body knocking into the hard wall of your orgasm as white streaks by your eyes, mind no longer tethered to your body. In vague consciousness, your cunt clamps down hard on Jay's clothed fingers, ridges of the finger stimulator spraying clear liquid out your cunt, head knocking back onto the door as your hands struggle to hold onto the straps. The puddle beneath you is borderline obscene, juices splattered all over Jay's hand and some on his sweatpants, his gaze transfixed as his slow finger curls help you ride out your orgasm, hips helplessly following the soft circles he draws on your overstimulated clit.
"You made such a mess, baby," the marvel carries over your muffled hearing, hazy film coating your vision being blinked away as you focus on Jay's face, eyes darker than midnight sky. "Must've felt so good. Bet you can give me another one, can't you?"
Before you can slur out a 'What?' Jay is on his knees, peering up at you like you put all the stars in the sky. It's the twinkle in his eyes undoing you all over again, legs thrown over his shoulders with his gaze fluttering back to your cunt, lapping your slick with the flat of his tongue. You suffer through the most violent shudder of your life, loud gasp sucking all the air in the room leaving your throat to feel like sandpaper, cunt stupidly overstimulated. Pain and pleasure do a torturous dance, opposing each other before tension melts and they become one, taut expression morphing to one of relief as Jay eats you out like a five star meal, special devotion dedicated to your throbbing clit, earning him all the shrieks his ego desires.
"Sweetest fucking cunt in the world," he moans into you, vibrations of his voice a shove to the edge. "It's a fucking privilege to eat you out."
Cotton mouth gets you, tongue too heavy to speak, only lolled out as you hold on for dear life, something like a scream ripped out your hoarse throat at his tongue treads deep past your twitching entrance. When your eyes can pry apart longer than a fluttered second, your view fills with Jay, lips and cheeks glistening with eyes closed in bliss, a physical manifestation of his words. It's too much too quickly, coil wound too tight, and you shake like a leaf. Crossing your legs round his shoulders with gratification-obsessed hips grinding into his mouth, smothering the man between thighs he'd be happy to die between. The thought sends you overboard, fully submerged in a sea of euphoria as you come into his mouth, every drop swallowed in the slow return to earth your body does as you ride out your second orgasm.
In the early evening hues of night, Jay stands to meet your limp shell, shit-eating grin across his infuriatingly handsome face. Which still shines with your come, cock straining in the comfort of his sweatpants, so close to your core your hips move to meet it with a pained mewl.
It's unfair, unruly and every other un-accompanying word explaining how devastatingly made Jay is for you, going from strength to strength in the demise of what you thought was the pinnacle of your pleasure. He rewrites the story of your body, hot wiring to whims thought to be your own as he kisses you, deep and longing, a moan birthed to the taste of yourself.
Parting to lean his forehead against yours, you catch his smirk in the scarce lighting, bedroom bare bones as you hear him whisper, "As sexy as you look in this swing, this won't work for the things I wanna do to you,"
He kisses you again, short and sweet. "Let's get you to bed, yeah?"
All you can manage is humming your affirmations, sitting pretty as Jay helps you out of the swing, slinging you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes before you collapse into the plush of the bed, toys pushed aside for more important matters. Hovering over you, Jay's hungry eyes wonder over your body, palming himself shamelessly before his eyes catch onto something behind you. He retrieves it before you can catch a glimpse.
"Do you trust me?" His voices comes out a careful whisper, the jangle of black fluffed handcuffs moving into view. Adrenaline floods your bloodstream, eyes blinking away your surprise to nod your head yes. "Words, princess."
"I trust you - always." And you mean it, reflected in your closed-mouth smile as your wrists are offered on a silver platter. Mirroring your tenderness, he reinforces the cuffs around your wrists, fluff tickling against the sensitive skin.
You're too busy admiring the colour contrast against your skin, you only feel the press of his lips against your forehead, lips grazing as he mumbles into your skin. "On your stomach, baby."
Bewitched, you follow his instructions to a tee, shifting off the edge of the bed and assisted to a softer landing on your knees. Jay's large hand pushes the slump in your back, ass up with a pillow under your hips, wrists bound in front of you, anticipation the start of your undoing.
In the surrender of your body, its sensations heighten, hearing gathering the scope of rustling clothing, its descent to the floor with the string of curse words carrying out Jay's mouth. Live wire transmits through your body as Jay's hot tip collects slick from your leaking entrance, the audacity to glide his cock through your slick-covered folds breaking you down bit by bit, body twitching with every drag. Eventually, he swirls his tip around you enough times to wind himself up, his pulsing length finally entering you with a strangled moan and relieved exhale. Your body instantly relaxes, walls instantly moulding to the shape of him, hot and heavy in you. What your body doesn't recognise is a dull vibration dancing against just above your entrance, a furrow in your eyebrows as your head attempts to turn backwards.
"Did you…?" you're trying to find the words, picture if what you're thinking is actually within realms of possibility. "Are you wearing a cock ring?"
His moan, chopped and surprised, is your reply, his hip accidentally knocking forwards, a harsh clamp down on his length from you at the intrusion.
"I don't think I can, fuck — last long with this thing on," Jay rushes out, the vibrations rippling through skin by flush proximity, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. "I'm gonna fuck you hard. Is that okay?" Your yes might as well be his sentence's question mark, whining out so quick Jay can't help but give a featherlight chuckle as his hands adjust against your hips, a sturdiness your heart flutters at.
"Of course it's okay, you always take everything I give you," a squelch makes itself known as Jay carefully slides back out, a begging pant echoing out your mouth. It blossoms to a full blown squeal as he pushes back inside, burying himself to the hilt before his hips build a toe-curling rhythm. "Such a needy thing, aren't you? Can never have your fill, huh?"
The questions blend to nonsense soup in the thing between your ears, an explosion of fiery pleasure jolting through your bloodstream as Jay's thrusts turn punishing, the indents of his fingertips hard enough to leave their mark come tomorrow. The room fills with indecency, the hard smack of meeting flesh mixing with the abundant slick oozing out of you, drenching Jay's cock as he fills you more than before, thicker to a dizzying degree.
"Oh god," you drawl, nails clawing for a shred of sanity. "You're so — you're so big. I'm full."
"Can't believe how tight you are after I used you like a toy," he grits out, teeth bared as a palm sizzles against your ass, a cry of bliss following. "How dirty are you, really? For me to slip right in?"
His words twist just right in you, slumped figure jutting back to meet his hips, capturing each and every ridge with the drag of his cock as he pumps into you furiously, the pressured coil within you building in no time at all.
"Who's daddy good girl? Who's my pretty princess?"
"Me, meeeeee!" the words pour out you, high-pitched and absolutely wrecked as you're melting into the springs of the mattress, a drooled puddle on the duvet where your mouth is as you moan with every thrust. Jay does his damnedest to push you over the edge, notching himself hard enough to make you twitch all over, the loud smack of your ass against his hipbones making your walls to milk him dry. "I'm daddy's g-good girl."
"Don't you ever-" he thrusts hard, shoving you up the mattress. "-forget it, okay?"
Your verbal answer comes out in garbled gibberish, the height of your pleasure already surpassed as you let the tears fall, dotting the duvet cover as your lips helplessly part, puffy and pink as your handcuffs provide no escape but into the bottomless pit of ecstasy.
You're close, and it frustrates you to no end because you could stay like forever. Taking Jay's cock, stretching yourself with his length, drenching him over the filthy words he bruises your ears with. It overwhelms you, spilling over in pleas and blinked away tears, cries of your impending climax coming in with swiftness.
"Pleasepleaseplease! I'm coming, I'm coming!" you cry, throat rasped with claw marks running down the duvet. "Gonna come on Daddy's cock!"
Everything within you shatters like glass, body giving in as it burns so bright, it turns to ashes, fragmenting to small pieces floating back to earth as your orgasm dwindles. Behind you, there's vague grunts travelling through your muffled hearing, spasming walls overused but still clinging onto Jay as his hips stutter through their erratic speed, an eventful spill into you making you shiver all over, warming from the inside.
The vibrations die off too, only laboured breaths cycling through the humid air heavily lingering with yours and his scent. Past exhaustion, even blinking your eyes is tiresome, body one with the mattress as Jay's footsteps patter to and from the bed. He's quick to undo your restraints, thumbs easing over glimpses of irritated skin with the kind of concern that makes your heart grow three sizes bigger. He patters back and forth between the bedroom and bathroom, a warm cloth wipes the flooded mess between your legs. Still sensitive, your body recoils in sensitivity before he peppers you in sweet apologies and assurances, the moment a warm glow throughout you as Jay collapses down next to you, pulling your body into his.
"Was that okay? I wasn't too much?" he murmurs against your forehead, kissing it between words.
"Not at all. I think," your eyes catch onto his, a sudden bout of humility washing over you, your eyes going elsewhere as you burrow into his chest. "That was good."
"You're cute," he muses, the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat filling your eardrums. "To think you're the same person who-"
A loud crash cuts his sentence halfway, exhausted eyes prying open in terror as they dart to the source of commotion: the sex swing, a sad mess of straps on the hardwood floor with a door halfway off its hinges. Despite your rigid bodies, you two share a scandalized look, unsure where to even begin.
"Think the landlord will be mad at us?" you end up asking.
"Nah," is Jay's steadfast answer, arms bringing you into his embrace. "Nothing a Hot Spot™ deal can't fix."
thank you for reading („• ֊ •„)੭
comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated.ᐟ ᰔ
Established relationship for all but Niki, idol!reader for Heesung, Sunghoon and Jake, lesserafim 6th member for Jay, petnames. Some are from this list
💫: stole the idea from @svtexe, thank you again <3
Lee Heesung — boop his nose in your face
Despite your relationship with Heesung being rather new, you could already see few changes easily. Like how he started sleeping closer to you than the two first months, his legs caging you against him so you can barely sleep sometimes. How he was getting comfortable around you, like his head resting on yours or when his hands rested a little longer around your waist when he had to let go.
With that came his weird habit of booping his nose into your face at what seemed to be random moments. It can be when his members or yours are around, when he has to leave in a hurry or even between two games when you hang out at his dorm – he calls you to his desk and simply boops his nose into your cheek. You couldn't put a finger on what it means, what he's trying to let you know with this.
"Say Heesung," you called, laying on his bed, your head hanging off the edge.
"Yes babe ?" he was still playing, but had one side of his headset pushed to the side so he could still hear you.
"Why do you always boop your nose in my face ?"
"It's like kissing you," he answered unbothered, as if it was the only answer possible and he didn't really know why you were asking.
When on the other hand, blood rushed to your cheeks and it had nothing to do with your head upside down. Sitting back on his bed, your widened eyes locked on the back of his neck as you did your best to hide the emotion in your voice when you were clearly flustered.
"What do you mean ??" you urged.
"I can't always kiss you," he said calmly but a shy chuckle told you otherwise. "So instead I do this. It's like kissing you in my head."
You swear you could've started crying here and there at how cute he was. Your heart was about to stop. He had this shy smile on his lips while his eyes were still fixed on the screen of his computer and you couldn't help it but to make your way to him.
"What are you doing ?!" he almost yelled but with a smile on his face when you fell into his laps, ruining his game but hiding your head in his neck.
"You're too cute to be true, I want to die !" you whined, holding him closer.
He lost his game, and his teammates were screaming in his ears, but he couldn't care less as he held you closer and left a kiss on your temple.
"You're the cute one here."
Park Jongseong — kissing your forehead
You were exhausted, anyone could figure it out. You stayed up way too late, even after your regular practice time was done because of your constant fear of falling behind. You easily lose track of time, staying in your studio pretty late when you should focus on sleeping to make things easier, but sometimes it's too hard to let go. You felt good there, it was a safe place despite it all and where you will always be found if you disappear for some time.
Yet you're always surprised when someone knocks on your door. It's not like your members don't care about you, Chaewon checks on you all the time and Eunchae makes sure you eat the healthy food you like – but you can't help it. You jump a little every time, not expecting anyone at the late hour and, like always, your whole nervous system relaxes when you see Jay at the door.
A small smile showed on your face and he closed the door behind him without a sound at first, only checking on you as he walked his way to you. His hand rests on the back of the chair as he leans in and kisses your forehead as a hello, before taking a good look at your face.
"You alright ?" he asked, knowing you won't say yes, but he does anyway.
"It's a lot," you answered faintly, with a fake smile on your face, like you did before every comeback.
It's tiring, you never know what is gonna happen and you know Lesserafim's reputation, so a comeback can mean a lot of things and you tend to overthink it more than you should. But Jay always takes some time off for you, meeting you when you lock yourself in, forcing you to talk about it. He squatted down to look in your eyes easily, his hand landing in your thigh to stabilize himself. His glasses hanging low on his nose bridge, he has a perfect view of your tired eyes, heavy eye bags and your heart breaks at the worry in his eyes.
"You should sleep now, it's late already. Wanna come over ? Just for tonight," he knows you're gonna say no, so he insisted before you could even reply.
You scoffed, looking around like he just asked for the moon itself, but you know it's not that much. You know both of your staff members let you two be as long as they're keeping in touch and it's possible. That it'll help.
So after holding his demanding, begging gaze for a few more seconds, you give in and turn around to turn off your computer. A good night in his arm couldn't hurt after all.
Sim Jaehyun — sitting close and knees touching
Jake likes to negotiate so you two get to sit next to each other any chances he's given, it doesn't matter what occasion it is. Fans think you two are close because you're both foreigners, and that's initially what brought you closer to each other, yes – even if it's more than that now. So when he learned you were invited to Paris' fashion week with one of your members at the same time as he was with Jay, he couldn't help it but ask to be seated close to each other, even ir it happens a lot in the fist place anyway.
It was your teammate's first time and being with artists she knows and likes made it easier for her, and you ? You for sure wouldn't argue to sit next to your boyfriend during a stressful event.
All the cameras on you made it harder than ever, you knew you couldn't do any wrong move, that everything was caught kn camera. So you couldn't be too friendly with each others, you couldn't lean into him the way you naturally do, but still stayed close and Jake wanted to die at first.
It was so hard to be barely a few centimeters away from you but being forced to keep his hands for him. You looked amazing, you were breathtaking in this pretty Vuitton dress emphasizing your curves perfectly but that was a matter for later to let you know how much he liked it. For the moment, as the light dimmed for the show to start, Jake could release the breath he was holding in and leaned into you.
"You look beautiful, I don't think I can focus on anything else" he whispered in your ear, honey dripping from his lips.
You thanked the heavy makeup on your face hiding away the possible blush bruning your cheeks at weight in his voice. You did your best to react normally, like a friend would but your breath hitched when his knee brushed against yours as he spoke, making you stumble over your words.
Thank gods the show was starting, so Jake had to act focused for the next following hours. But his knee never moved, never left its spot against yours even if you moved around a little during the runaways.
He was still there, sitting so close his cologne was all you could think of and his knee like a black spot in your vision reminding you he wasn't done with you tonight.
Park Sunghoon — hiding his face in your neck
Waiting in the white room of the Music Bank wasn't unusual, you're actually lost count of how many times you've sat – even slept – on this couch. You've come to see it even more now that your boyfriend, Sunghoon, was the new MC. He was loving it, really, but it still added another layer to his already busy schedules and it started to rest heavy on his shoulders. So you did your best to come see him, when you weren't busy yourself.
Getting up to grab a glass of water, the door opened at the same time, Wonyoung's voice filling the room with positive energy and warmth instantly. You've got to see her a lot since you come whenever you can, and so started to befriend her. You tilted your head as you heard her and turned around to welcome them both with a big smile reaching your eyes as you pushed your mask down to your chin.
You didn't even have time to say a word when Sunghoon's arms reached for you and pulled you into a tight hug, hiding his face deep into your neck.
You almost lost your balance, taking half a step behind to steady yourself, without letting him go rhe slightest. Your hands didn't waste a second to find his back and hugged him close, your nails scratching his back gently, just the way he likes it and you can feel him relax under your touch. His breath tickled your neck as he sighed on your skin, hiding away deeper if that was even possible. A small chuckle left your lips.
"You must be really tired," you commented quietly, not wanting to disturb him when he could finally recharge his social battery.
He nodded, now leaving a few kisses on the soft skin below your jaw to get a pretty giggle out of your mouth he knows he'llget if he does. His arms wrapped tighter around you before he left his hideout and smiled down at you.
"I got you some coffee," you added, smiling back as you got up on your toes and boop your nose into his.
He swore his heart could stop every single time you do this, making it ache in a strange longing he can't really understand since he already got you in his arms. He wished he could grab your face in his hands and secure his lips on yours right now, but he's far too shy to do this here, with all Wonyoong's team there as well.
Instead he let you guide him to the couch so you can enjoy your half cold coffee as you talk about your day so onky had to nod, leaving him rest some more – he never tasted anything better.
Kim Sunoo — putting their head on the other’s chest
When Sunoo passed your door, calling out your name with a pout you could hear, you immediately let your phone slip off your hand onto your bed and opened your arms. It only takes him to get rid of his shoes and leave his bag by your bed before he's laying next to you, sighing in exhaustion. His eyes are shut in a cute frown, his cheeks are flushed and his breathing heavy – you can't help but let the cuteness aggression get the best of you.
Your arms wrapped around him gently despite the squeal leaving your mouth, burying his face into your chest. A light, bubbly laughter left his lips as you pepper his hair with kisses, warming your heart up and surely his as well.
He had a long day, he was drained to the bone and all he wanted was to lay in bed with you. And to take a shower, but that could wait, because nothing in the world would be enough for him to trade his spot with now. He could hear your heart beat quickly now that he was hugged close to you, the steady sound of your breath calming him down without a failure. There's nothing he likes more than to lay into your chest and rest there after a long day. Your hand running down his hair makes him hums happily, laying deeper into the soft skin of your chest.
"Long day, huh," you commented, brushing his hair away, looking for his forehead only to realize he was hidden too deep in your chest.
He nodded again, slowly running out of breath but it was a sacrifice he was ready to make. It felt too nice to give up on it, so when he turned his face away, it felt like a divorce. His whine got muffled with your chest, making you giggle again.
"What I really need right now is a shower, and to die in your arms," he commented dramatically, looking up to you.
A silly giggle left your lips again at his nonsense, one of your hands still in his hair and the other holding him close. "I'll wait here for this then."
"Don't wanna come with me ?" he asked a little too seriously.
"I already took one babe, sorry," you kissed his pouty lips before pushing him away, before he abandoned the idea and never got up again.
Yang Jungwon — gripping your thigh
You knew how Jungwon was so going out to Jake's party wasn't even a question : of course you were coming. What comes with that is that his eyes will never leave you for the night, if he can't follow you, his eyes will.
When you told him you'll get new drinks, he almost narrowed his eyes at you, his hand at this moment in yours tightened before he let go. He was talking with a friend from his history class, and it was indeed really interesting so even his possessive nature let you go when you bat your pretty eyes at him a few times. But he hated the looks you get every time you get up and walk around the party, he never does. Your top is clinging too close to your skin and showing up way more than he likes to share – even if everybody knows who you belong to.
He can't help it but let his hand fall on your thigh when you sit right back next to him, gripping onto the flesh. He didn't even take his cup from your hand, no, instead he leaned in and kissed your cheek, making you blush instantly at the proximity in front of a stranger – for you. Finally taking his cup again, his eyes lingered a little longer on you before coming back to his conversation, his pretty eyes shining despite the dim light and the alcohol.
His hand never left your thigh again, rather drawing patterns on your inner thigh smoothly, enough to hide the few squeeze he gave it just to hear your breath hitch every single time. You had to hold back from hitting his arm to make it stop. You know how he is and honestly never complained about it, finding it quite hot in fact, but it seemed a little too much now.
"Chill out," you whispered into his ear before kissing his cheek, trying to make it look smoother than it was.
He sent a nasty look to the side before leaning into your ear as well, "Say that to the guy over there," he spat out.
His hand started rubbing up and down your thigh gently but surely, steadily, just to prove to every single gaze falling on you that you were taken and he wasn't shy to show it.
"I'm all yours," you assured this time, leaving your hand to trace his jaw as you turned his head your way.
Your smile calmed his nerves immediately, he was convinced you had done some witchcraft on him so he would act the way you want him to – and he wouldn't be the one complaining. Grabbing your face more roughly than he intended to, getting carry away by the alcohol in his system, he almost crashed his lips onto yours. No, he would actually love to be tied to you forever.
Nishimura Riki — back hug
Riki was really trying his best to not reach for you all the time, it really didn't match his nonchalant demeanor. But how could he help it when you looked so small all the time ? Despite everything you can do, you still look so pocket size for him, he was going crazy.
You were simply making some ramyeon when he came back from his dance practice, nothing out of the ordinary since he lived closer to your school and left you a set of keys. You spend half the nights of the week at his place and sleep here more times he can count or even remember now. And yet seeing you there, in his shirt and your hair damp as if you lived here with him always made his heart jump in his ribcage, aching for more.
His bag fell hard on the ground and he barely took a second to shove his shoes off before he made his way to the kitchen faster than he would admit to anyone. It would ruin his image, and so would telling anyone how his arms instantly wrapped around your waist when he barely comes home. His chin resting on your shoulder like it belongs here, you don't even say a word at first, simply letting the moment stretch before any of your talk.
"How was it ?" you asked mindlessly, now mixed the powder with your halfcooked noodles.
"Fine, nothing particular," he answered, unbothered.
His voice was soft close to your ear and his arms tightened around you, bringing you close to his chest. You could feel his chest pressing on your back along with his steady breathing, and did your best to ignore the way his slim fingers grabbed your waist so easily.
His forehead finally rests on your shoulder before he lets out a sigh, taking in the moment, wishing it would never stop and holding back to leave a kiss on your shoulder before letting go unwillingly.
"I'm gonna take a shower, wait for me," his low tone sends a chill down your spine as he steps away from you.
As you hummed, he walked out of the room and you could finally catch your breath, bringing your hands to your burning cheeks and trying to regain your focus after that. You shut your eyes closed for a second, recalling the heat coming from his body and how you wished he didn't let go. Silently begging for more of this.
*pairing: down bad frat boy alpha Jay x omega student girl
*trope: rivals to lovers/sunshine boy x grumpy girl
*synopsis: At the Law Academy, Y/n and Jay have always been rivals: she’s a brilliant scholarship student, and he’s the heir to one of the most powerful families in Korea.
Y/n can’t stand him...to her, Jay represents everything she despises: privilege, arrogance, and a life without struggle, while she had to fight for every opportunity in an academy where most omegas dream of building a better future.
But deep down, Jay loves to tease her: to push her buttons, to make her lose control in class and during debates. Between academic rivalry and fiery arguments, neither of them expected fate to bind them together.
During the Instincts Ceremony, Jay discovers through pheromone and knot compatibility tests that the only person capable of becoming his future mate and continuing the Park bloodline, is none other than Y/n. At first, Jay approaches her out of duty… but soon finds himself caught in his own web of feelings.
Yet what will happen when Y/n finds out it all started as a lie? Through unintentional love bombing, Jay made her believe his feelings were real from the beginning but they weren’t. At least, not at first.
Now, their pheromones and instincts belong to each other, and there’s no turning back.
*tags: Y/n at the beginning you find Jay, rich vibes, different economic classes irritating, Jay at the beginning is a frat boy but little by little he becomes a green flag, Y/n is slightly unsure of her physique, they love teasing each other, lots of kisses, Jay is quite clingy and possessive, masturbation (fingering in front of the mirror) protected sex, unprotected sex with knot, jealousy, +18, pet names (angel,good girl)
(special 2k)
The Academy was steeped in a heavy, tense silence. The leaves were slowly losing their bright green, giving way to browns, reds, and autumnal oranges.
This was the day of the pre-Instinct Ceremony exams, and every alpha and omega was required to undergo physical, psychological, and biological tests to determine their compatibility percentages.
The air inside the Academy’s medical center smelled of disinfectant and the nervous pheromones of the elite students who filled its halls, most of whom avoided the place like the plague. The murmurs of the students echoed through the building, thick with anxiety.
Jay Park, one of the most powerful and wealthy alphas in the Academy, was perched on a metal chair, legs crossed, fingers drumming restlessly on the armrest. He wore a pristine Ralph Lauren white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing defined muscles and golden skin. His jeans clung to his legs, and his shoes were subtly elegant.
The gold family heirloom watch on his wrist read 3:10 PM; they were ten minutes late.
He sighed, bored, especially since his friend Jake had already finished and rushed off to soccer practice. Jay barely knew any of the other students waiting with him. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, there was a faint tension in his dark eyes. He knew these exams would, in some way, shape his future.
The door to Room 7 stood before him. The Doctor: a woman in her fifties with gold-rimmed glasses, her hair pulled into a tight chignon, and a white coat that smelled of lavender and black coffee, motioned for him to enter. Jay stepped inside and took a seat.
Over the past few weeks, he had undergone countless tests: genetic blood exams to determine the purity of his alpha lineage and the presence of rare mutations (like his own knot anomaly); testosterone and pheromone level assessments, measuring the potency of his pheromones and their reaction to external stimuli (excitement, anger, stress).
The results were clear: Jay’s pheromones were of "royal" caliber, rare, powerful, with notes of black amber, leather, and burnt pepper. When aroused, they released a sweet-bitter aroma of scorched amber and tobacco that could disorient weaker omegas.
At the Academy, all students were required to complete physical and athletic exams testing strength, endurance, weightlifting, running, and pain resistance. Jay had aced them all: lifting 150 kg effortlessly, running 10 km in 30 minutes. Though he wasn’t part of any team, unlike Jake with soccer or Heeseung with basketball, he was exceptionally skilled in sports.
Like every alpha, Jay underwent an invasive but necessary knot examination. A device measured its size, shape, and reactivity.
The results were staggering: Jay’s knot was too perfect. It was classified as "Omega-Killer", large, with a spiral shape that locked irreversibly during knotting.
Only an omega with a uniquely strong and compatible internal structure could endure it without physical damage.
Every student also had to complete psychological evaluations, including a mental stability test to ensure the alpha wasn’t overly dominant or unstable, risking abuse of their partner. Jay passed with high marks, though the doctor noted a slight obsessive tendency, a sign that, once bonded, he would never let his mate go. His emotional compatibility test revealed a surface-level coldness, but deep loyalty once bonded, with clingy and communicative vibes toward his partner.
Jay was the kind of alpha 99% of the girls would pay or dream to have as a life partner but there was a catch...one Jay didn’t know about.
As he entered the room with a playful swagger, he leaned toward the doctor. When he sat down, he felt his hands sweating slightly, though he didn’t let it show.
The doctor began typing on her computer without looking up. After a moment, she spoke: "Jay Park. Born in Seattle, April 20, 2002. Law student with excellent grades, a clean criminal record, and a member of one of the most influential families in Korea. Correct?"
Jay nodded. "Perfectly correct."
The doctor nodded back, printed a page from his database, and began reading aloud, her voice devoid of emotion:
"Here we have an alpha specimen in excellent health. Your blood tests are perfect. Your pheromones are potent and pure, with distinctive notes of black pepper, gray amber, and leather when agitated or aroused. Your knotting compatibility percentage is 99%.
This means that when you meet your mate, the chances of conception will be extremely high. Of course, this must be balanced with her own percentages, so until you’re ready for knotting and conception, use condoms, pills, or an IUD. We provide these to both students and girls at the end of each visit."
Jay smirked, snapping his fingers, and leaned back in his chair, feeling slightly less anxious.
"Good. So I can knot any omega without issues. Excellent."
The doctor lowered her glasses and fixed him with a stern gaze. Jay sat up straighter, thinking, Maybe that came out wrong but the doctor spoke again, and his smile vanished instantly.
"No, Jay. It’s not excellent. Your percentage is too high. Compared to the other alphas in the Academy, you’re off the charts." She continued,
"Your friend Jake, for example, has an 84% compatibility rate, one of the highest after yours. But you? You’re at 99%, and that’s a problem."
Jay stiffened. He ran a hand through his hair.
"What do you mean it’s too high? You just said everything was perfect... I don’t understand."
For the first time, the doctor looked at him with something almost maternal.
"It means your knot is too powerful for most omegas. If you were to knot with an incompatible partner, she could suffer... excruciating pain, internal bleeding, or even pheromone shock. Some might not survive knotting with you."
Jay blinked, stunned. He felt himself freeze.
"So... I can’t knot anyone?"
The doctor chuckled softly. Jay shot her a dirty look.
"No. You can....but only with one specific omega. One with an internal structure compatible with your knot, one who can endure your potency without harm. And, looking at the database..." She typed something. "...you’re in luck....there’s one at the Academy."
Jay shot to his feet, the chair clattering to the floor. The doctor looked at him with something like pity. Some alphas could pair with any omega, but he was limited to one girl? This had to be a cruel joke.
"Only one?! What the hell....!" Jay covered his mouth, apologizing for the curse, but the doctor calmly replied with a small smile, "Exactly and, as it turns out, she’s not even of high rank like you."
Jay shook his head. He didn’t care about rank, but his family, especially his grandmother, certainly did. He ran a hand over his face and muttered, "I admit, I’ve always had everything in life...maybe too much. This must be karma biting back."
The doctor chuckled. Jay was seriously a handful, and his future mate would definitely have her work cut out for her. She printed another page and handed it to him. When Jay saw the file and the photo of the only girl who could be his mate, he stood frozen for a full minute, staring at the picture, and especially at the data he already knew by heart. Y/n, his rival since the first day of class. She couldn’t stand him, and he... well, he loved provoking her. But he never imagined she would be the one chosen for him.
"Surprised, Mr. Park?"
Jay clenched the paper, his muscles tense, jaw tight. He growled, "This is a joke. Where are the cameras? She can never be my life partner."
The doctor crossed her arms.
"The tests never lie, Jay. She is the only one. The only one who can accommodate your knot, the only one you can procreate with safely, the only one who can endure your alpha nature without breaking. In other words... she is your perfect match."
Jay fell silent, staring at the photo, fists clenched. He closed his eyes and thought, Damn. Damn it! Of all the girls in the Academy... her? The one who hates me? The one who challenges me every day? The one who never backs down? But a small smile tugged at his lips. "...Maybe that’s why my body chose her."
The doctor stood and offered her hand. "I suggest you reflect, Mr. Park. The Instinct Ceremony is in a week, and there’s no escape. If she isn’t your mate, your lineage will be at risk."
Jay left the room, stunned, clutching her photo. And so, the most powerful alpha in the Academy found himself having to win over the one girl he never wanted.
The Academy’s grand hall was packed with proud families: fathers in suits and ties, mothers in elegant dresses, younger sisters whispering excitedly. Most of the girls were accompanied, hugged, and kissed on the cheek by a family member before stepping onto the stage.
Everyone, except you.
You stood alone at the back of the line, chewing on your already ruined nails, gnawed raw by anxiety. Your parents had two other daughters at different academies, and ever since you were little, they’d treated you like the ugly duckling of the family. To them, you weren’t the picture-perfect omega: your curly hair was tied in a messy braid, with rebellious strands escaping as if defying the polished world that never wanted you. Your makeup was light but well-defined, accentuating your slightly fuller lips with a nude lipstick a few false lashes framed your eyes, and your cheeks were softly flushed. The Academy’s makeup artist had done her best, but you still felt out of place, even though the mirror told a different story.
Your dress was a soft lilac, almost regal in its elegance: the bodice hugged your soft curves, the skirt flowed gracefully over your hips, and the borrowed Jimmy Choo heels (lent by your roommate because your parents would never spend that much on you) brought you to 1.70 meters, just tall enough not to look like a child next to the other omegas.
"You look stunning, Y/n!" Celeste, your roommate, called out, flashing you a thumbs-up. You managed a small smile. You and Celeste had met in your first year and had been inseparable ever since. You chuckled, shaking your head. Thanks, but I know it’s a lie.
When the headmaster called your name: Y/n, your throat tightened. You took a deep breath, lifted your chin, and walked down the center aisle, ignoring the curious stares and whispers of the other girls.
"Look, it’s the scholarship girl…"
"She doesn’t even look like a high-ranking omega…"
"I wonder if she’ll even find a mate…"
You clenched your fists but didn’t slow your pace. When you reached the headmaster, you bowed gracefully, feeling the fabric of your dress slide against your thighs but behind you, two rows back, someone was watching you with keen interest. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, but you remained still, bent before the headmaster.
Jay and Jake were seated in the second row, as befitted their status as powerful, famous alphas. Jay had his arms crossed, his expression bored, while Jake stifled a yawn behind his hand, wishing he were anywhere else.
"God, this is so boring," Jake groaned. "I could be at practice or napping in my room instead. And honestly, I’ve already forgotten the name of the girl who just walked up. None of these girls inspires me, neither in looks nor in personality…"
Before Jake could finish, the headmaster announced your name. Jay turned instantly, as if someone had just reminded him of what he’d discovered a few days earlier. He watched you walk with your head held high, your gaze fixed on the headmaster, but he could sense your reluctance, as if this world didn’t belong to you. His eyes traced the lines of your face, your dress, and his jaw tightened.
You, in that lilac dress that clung to you like a second skin, your wild curls like a rebellious crown, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you walked with steady steps, as if you feared nothing, even though inside, you were trembling.
Jake nudged Jay with an elbow, smirking.
"Hey, look who it is… Your number-one rival doesn’t look half bad in that dress, huh?"
Jay’s jaw clenched, a burning sensation twisting in his stomach. He shot Jake a glare, but Jake just grinned mischievously.
"How much longer are you two going to keep up this act? It’s obvious that beneath all the fighting, you’re both dying to kiss and maybe do a little more."
"Shut up, Jake," Jay snapped. Jake chuckled, but Jay didn’t respond. He couldn’t, because Jake was right. From the first moment he’d seen you, he’d felt something a spark, a mix of stolen glances and endless battles over who was right, who scored higher but the doctor’s words echoed in his mind 24/7, and he didn’t know what to do about you.
The headmaster read your results aloud as you stood bowed before the entire assembly:
"Y/n is an omega in excellent health, a virgin, and has never been knotted. Your exams show exceptional compatibility with the most powerful knots, and your physical and pheromonal traits allow you to accommodate even the rarest and most aggressive knots in the entire Academy and beyond. You are one of the few capable of enduring a royal-level knotting, despite your status barely qualifying as bourgeois."
You lifted your eyes slightly, surprised by the headmaster’s words. You hadn’t expected this; you’d always assumed you were just another omega, far from the magazine-perfect ideal. You didn’t have the delicate frame of the others, nor were you a teacher’s favorite. And yet, the data didn’t lie.
Jay, hearing your traits, lowered his gaze. Jake glanced at you, then back at Jay, his mouth falling open slightly.
He whispered, "You’ve been weirdly quiet all week since you got your results… It’s her, isn’t it? Your perfect match?"
Jay didn’t look away from you. He didn’t answer Jake; he didn’t need to. His best friend understood everything in that silence. The air was cool and scented with wisteria, the afternoon sun filtering through the columns of the portico, casting long shadows on the stone floor. Jay leaned against a column, closed his eyes, and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, as if trying to rip the thoughts from his mind.
Jake stood beside him, nervously tapping his foot, watching his friend with concern. Jay was never like this, always flirtatious, always wearing that lopsided grin, always the one to solve problems, to joke, to keep everything under control. But this time, he was the problem.
"Jay, you don’t have to bottle this up," Jake said, his voice laced with worry.
"Tell me what happened at your check-up. You’ve been unrecognizable for almost a week, five years I’ve known you, and I’ve never seen you this out of it."
Jay sighed, opened his eyes, and pouted almost childishly. "It went to hell… I mean, my results are all fine. I aced every test, physical and mental. But there’s this one percentage… It’s too high."
Jake relaxed slightly, thinking Jay might have some rare disease or something equally serious. His friend was always so dramatic maybe even more than him.
"Damn, Jay, I thought you were sick! Don’t scare me like that, man!" he said, nudging him. Jay nodded but didn’t smile.
"The compatibility percentage of my knot… It’s 99%. That’s why I’m so shocked."
Jake’s eyes widened, and he coughed, stunned.
"W-What?! 99%?! But… at my check-up, they told me I had one of the highest percentages, and I didn’t even hit 85%! 99% is… It’s off the charts! But… what does that mean?"
Jay shot him a glance and looked around, slightly exasperated.
"It means my knot is too powerful for most omegas in the world. If I tried to knot with an incompatible omega, she could suffer… fatal consequences."
Jake sobered, realizing the gravity of the situation. He stepped closer to his best friend.
"Like… what kind of consequences?"
"Chronic pain after knotting, internal bleeding, infertility, and in the worst case… pheromone shock. Her body would reject my seed, my knot… and she could die," Jay said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words pained him.
Jake fell silent, genuinely shocked. He patted Jay’s back reassuringly. "Holy shit… Jay, this is serious, but there’s got to be a solution. It’s 2025...these exams exist for a reason. They found this anomaly."
Jay nodded, clenching his fists. "There is a solution… I found out through these exams that the only one who can take my knot… the only one who can be my mate… the only one who can carry on my lineage…"
He trailed off, as if the words burned his throat. Jake’s eyes widened.
"It’s her. Y/n?"
Jay nodded. Jake burst out laughing, incredulous at how much he’d just learned in such a short time.
"No. You’re joking. You’re seriously messing with me," he said, still laughing. But Jay shook his head.
"I wish I were joking. But the data doesn’t lie. She’s the only one who can be my mate."
"But… you two hate each other! You’ve been rivals for years! How the hell are you compatible?"
Jay pushed off the column and began pacing, visibly agitated. "I don’t know! But it’s true! And now I don’t know what to do! I can’t just walk up to her and say, ' Hey, Y/n, did you know you’re the only one who can handle my knot? So… wanna be my girlfriend?' She’d kill me on the spot!"
Jake chuckled mischievously. "Dude, the only thing you can do is love bombing."
Jay looked at him skeptically and shook his head.
"Start slow. Don’t pay too much attention to her at first, but at the same time, start observing her. Confuse her. Start 'accidentally' touching her. Release your pheromones when you’re near her. Seduce her without her realizing it. And if she’s truly your omega, she’ll sense it, her body will react to you. When she realizes no one else can give her what you can… the game’s over."
Jay considered this, biting his lip. In a low voice, he asked, "And if it doesn’t work?"
Jake clapped him on the shoulder, fully confident, and laughed. "It’ll work. Because you’re Park Jongseong, and she’s your omega… It’s destiny, man. Destiny. And I’m sure that by the end of the year, you’ll be engaged to her!"
The Constitutional Law lecture hall was one of the most majestic in the Academy: shaped like a beehive, with dark wooden benches arranged in concentric circles and a frescoed dome depicting allegories of justice.
At its center stood the Scales of Justice, crossed with a sword, the symbol of legal power for every alpha, omega, and beta. Nearby, the Tablets of the Law displayed the Ten Commandments in Latin, which all students, even non-law majors, were required to memorize. A genealogical tree traced the most powerful legal dynasties of Korea, with the surname Park prominently at the top, a reminder of who truly held authority. Above it all, a serpent biting its own tail symbolized the eternal struggle between law and corruption.
You sat in the second ring, directly facing the lectern, your laptop open beside your massive constitutional law textbook. As you tried to relax with your warm milk and honey, dusted with cinnamon, your leg tapped nervously. The tie around your neck felt suffocating, an annoying reminder of how much you hated dressing like this. Your outfit was impeccable for the occasion, but painfully uncomfortable:
A stiff white blouse, too tight for your taste (the size clearly too small for your frame), the Academy’s embroidered vest, too formal, too basic, your Vivienne Westwood necklace (a gift from your grandmother, the only one who had ever truly accepted you) resting delicately against your slender neck, and a perfectly pressed skirt that, according to Celeste, "highlighted your legs" (though you never believed it). Your ballet flats pinched your feet; you would have much preferred gym shoes, or better yet, your usual oversized sweaters, baggy hoodies that hid your curves, low-rise jeans, and comfortable sneakers. But the Academy demanded perfection, and you had to comply.
You scanned the room, trying to ignore the anxiety twisting in your stomach, when laughter echoed from the entrance. The professor shouted at the latecomers:
"Get in, students! The lecture is about to begin!"
You looked up and watched as everyone descended the steps until Park Jongseong appeared. Your breath caught.
He wore a white Ralph Lauren shirt that clung to his torso, accentuating every muscle, the Academy vest casually slung over his shoulder (not yet worn), tailored dress pants (reserved only for lectures, since he usually preferred jeans or sweatpants), and a backpack likely stuffed with law books and sheet music.
You expected him to take his usual spot in the fourth ring, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze during debates. But instead, he walked straight to the front row, the ring just below yours giving you, for the first time, the unobstructed view of him.
You shifted in your seat, unsettled. Jay never sat in the front row—he preferred to be admired from a distance, to be looked up to. So why was he sitting so low? And why had he positioned himself directly in front of you?
You wrinkled your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and pheromones filling the hall: the woody, leathery musk of the dominant alphas, the sweet vanilla and floral notes of the popular omegas, and then: black pepper, cherry, and burnt tobacco. Jay. You’d recognize his scent anywhere. It hit you like a jolt, sending a shiver down your spine. You tried not to look at him. At least, you tried.
Jay sat down, dropping his backpack beside him, and shot you a smirk that infuriating, knowing curve of his lips. You pretended not to notice, but you could feel his gaze on you from the moment he’d walked in. The professor began the lecture, but your focus was shattered. You could sense Jay’s eyes on you, burning into your skin.
The lesson started with the laws governing alpha-omega relationships, tracing the historical origins of dynastic regulations.
"The first laws protecting instinctual bonds date back to 1867," the professor began, "when European and Asian royal houses began regulating pairings to prevent abuse and ensure bloodline purity. In Korea, two families pushed for these reforms: the Kims, and above all the Parks."
You lifted your eyes to the board, where key dates were projected:
1867: First pairing law (enacted by the Parks).
1923: Introduction of compatibility tests (again, the Parks).
1989: Omega Protection Act (signed by Jay’s grandfather).
The professor finally asked a question, something basic for anyone with even a passing knowledge of law.
"Who can tell me in which year the first law was passed requiring alphas to register their knots to prevent dangerous pairings?"
Silence. You didn’t want to be the first to answer, but when no one raised a hand, the words slipped out automatically: "1892, Professor. It was enacted by King Gojong under pressure from the Park family after an omega died from pheromone shock caused by an incompatible knotting."
The professor nodded, and for a split second, your gaze flickered to Jay. That smug, crooked smile was still there, as if he’d known you’d jump in if he didn’t. You thought: "What the hell is he doing?"
The professor moved on, displaying more slides, then asked another question: "And who can tell me what the punishment was in 1945 for an alpha who refused a compatible pairing? Remember, back then, the tests had a high accuracy rate but weren’t foolproof. Nowadays, when an alpha discovers which omega they can live with safely and happily, they know the exams are 99.9% accurate."
Everyone nodded. Jay heard those words and thought: "First the doctor, now my professor too? Do they all have to remind me that Y/n and I are a 99% match that sooner or later, we’ll have to be together?"
Lost in his own mental scenarios of you and him, Jay normally would have jumped to answer. You two always competed, first to respond, fastest, most precise. But today? Nothing.
You waited. No answer came. So you raised your hand again: "The penalty was confiscation of family assets and exile for the alpha, Professor. Meanwhile, the omega was placed under state protection and assigned a new compatible mate though it could take years to find one."
The professor chuckled at the sight of your raised hand. "Well done, Y/n. Always prepared."
But your eyes didn’t leave Jay. You noticed how he’d stretched out his legs, crossed his arms over his chest, how his gaze kept flicking between you and the professor. It was as if, in the entire hall, only those two existed in his field of vision. You sensed he was playing some game, and your omega instincts were curious, detail-oriented, sensitive to shifts and Jay was changing.
He wasn’t answering questions. He was watching you like he wanted to say something. His pheromones were stronger than usual black pepper, cherry, something scorched, like freshly lit tobacco.
When the professor dismissed the class, you hastily gathered your things and climbed the steps, exchanging quick goodbyes with a few classmates. But your eyes locked onto Jay, who was walking away at a deliberately slow pace, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he knew you’d eventually stop him. You quickened your steps, falling into stride beside him, arms crossed over your chest, chin lifted.
"What game are you playing, Jay?"
He turned toward you, eyebrows slightly raised, as if genuinely surprised to see you so close.
"Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘game’?"
You jabbed a finger into his chest, your eyes blazing.
"Cut the act. Since the first year, you’ve never missed a chance to show off, to answer before me, to challenge me. And today? Today, you’re in your own little world."
Jay chuckled, then looked at you with those dark, piercing eyes, half-lidded, as if savoring your presence beside him. A wicked smile curled his lips, as if he’d just won a game you didn’t even know you were playing.
"Damn, Y/n… The one time I’m not trying to rile you up, and here you come running to me like a good little omega."
His fingers brushed your cheek, a light, barely-there tap, but enough to make you feel the heat of his skin. His touch burned, as if it had left a mark.
"…And don’t tell me that, deep down, you don’t love it when I provoke you. It makes you feel alive."
You glared at him, stepping even closer, chin still raised, lips pressed tight.
"Oh, who do you think you are? I didn’t come running like one of your fans! I just wanted to ask why, for the first time in years, you weren’t focused and didn’t answer even the simplest questions!"
Jay leaned in slightly, his face so close you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. That crooked smile returned.
"You know, I was just tired… Not everyone spends every hour studying. Last night, I went out to have fun. Not sure if ‘fun’ is even in your biological vocabulary."
His words hit like a punch. "Fun" for him meant one thing: flirting with elite omegas, getting drunk in exclusive clubs, and taking someone home....someone who wasn’t you.
For the first time, you felt something strange in your stomach and your mind. A knot formed in your gut, a sharp pang in your chest, something that felt suspiciously like jealousy. You’d never felt this before, and you thought:
"Why do I care? It’s none of my business who he’s with! He’s just my rival… nothing more."
But Jay noticed your clenched fists. He was so close you could breathe in his scent; it wrapped around you like a second skin, hypnotic, shifting from the sweetness of cherries to the spice of black pepper, to the deep intensity of tobacco. Your omega instincts ached to drown in it, to lean in, to breathe deepe —but your rational mind held you back.
"Yeah, I know what ‘fun’ means," you snapped. "But maybe you don’t know that I’m here on a scholarship. You’re here because of your last name, one of the many privileges that come with being a Park."
Jay smirked, as if he could read your thoughts. "You’re dodging the subject, angel."
When you heard that nickname, your fingers tightened into fists. "Angel." He’d said it so naturally, as if it were obvious, as if he called you that all the time but it was the first. Your eyes widened, your heart pounding wildly.
"W-what did you just call me…?" you stammered, shocked. Jay smiled, satisfied with your reaction.
"I can’t wait for the day you admit that my company excites you… and maybe even makes you nervous, angel."
Then he walked away, slow and confident, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on you. Without looking back, he called out:
"See you at the next lecture. And don’t worry… I’ll start tearing you apart again."
You stood there, frozen, mouth slightly open, your heart hammering. Your mind repeated just one word: Angel. Angel. Angel. Then, as if snapping out of it, you shouted:
"Call me ‘angel’ one more time, and I....I...."
But you didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t know what you’d do if he called you that again because he was already gone, and all you heard was his deep, wicked laughter fading into the distance.
The golden light of your desk lamp illuminated your room as autumn leaves swirled past the window outside. The clock neared 8 PM, and you were still hunched over your Alpha, Omega, and Beta Law textbook a 700-page beast you’d learned to both hate and respect. Beside you, your mug of warm milk with honey and cinnamon filled the air with its sweet, comforting scent, now as much a part of your study sessions as the legal jargon you were reciting aloud.
You repeated the articles on pheromonal consent and compatibility clauses for what felt like the hundredth time, the words blurring together in your mind. Frustrated, you rubbed your temples and sighed. Studying at the Seoul Academy of Law had been a dream you’d chased for years, and sometimes, you still felt like you didn’t deserve to be there. Everyone else had last names that opened doors; you had only your determination and a scholarship.
And yet, you weren’t entirely alone.
Your academic life was shared with Celeste, your roommate, your best friend, and one of the brightest, warmest people you’d ever met. You’d met her on the first day of orientation: she’d been sitting two rows ahead, chatting with everyone, her laughter ringing through the room. You, ever the introvert, had been too nervous to introduce yourself.
You remembered feeling intimidated by her; she looked like she’d stepped out of a summer perfume ad: sun-kissed Australian skin, honey-blonde hair that caught every ray of light, and warm hazel eyes that sparkled when she talked about something she loved. She was stunning, but not in the way of someone who knew it; she had a genuine, infectious warmth, the kind of girl who radiated life and joy. Yet, like you, she had a past that wasn’t all sunshine. And despite your shyness and your simple clothes, she’d smiled at you that day and decided you’d be friends. And just like that, you were.
You shared everything: stolen lunches between classes, rainy nights with old movies and blankets, sudden bursts of laughter over nothing. She’d become like a real family.
You were about to underline a passage on the influence of pheromonal bonds in marital contracts for the hundredth time when the apartment door burst open.
"I’m back!"
Celeste’s bright voice filled the hallway, followed by her signature floral, slightly exotic scent. You smiled to yourself, pen still in hand.
"Y/n, stop torturing yourself with those books!" she said, appearing in your doorway with a paper bag in hand. "It’s gossip time, and I brought something you love."
She wagged a plastic bag, and you laughed, closing your book and stretching. You crossed the tiny hallway to the living room. Your shared apartment wasn’t big, just two bedrooms, an open kitchen, and a slightly lopsided couch, but it was yours, cluttered with scattered notes, colorful mugs, and photos of stolen moments between the two of you.
On the table, she’d already set out dinner: your favorite kimchi and pork dumplings, her veggie dumplings, and a container of both regular and spicy chicken because you could never decide, so you split it every time.
"So?" you asked, sitting down and picking up your chopsticks. "How was your day?"
Celeste made an exaggerated grimace, flopping onto the couch like a dramatic diva. She pressed a hand to her forehead. "Ugh, it was fine....until Jake Sim showed up. Again."
You burst out laughing. Jake, the soccer team captain, the Academy’s golden boy: handsome, charismatic, and dangerously aware of it, had been the center of your conversations for weeks, ever since he’d begged Celeste to tutor him in two subjects he wasn’t exactly excelling in.
"What’d he do this time?" you asked, grinning, always curious about the dynamic between your best friend and him.
Celeste sighed, serving herself a dumpling. "He flirted again in the middle of the field right in front of my dad, his coach, no less! And now, this weekend, I have to go on the team’s away trip to do social media content… and give him extra lessons."
You nearly choked on your bite. "Wait....you? On a trip? With him?"
"Yep… fate is cruel," she laughed, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. You stared at her with a knowing smirk.
"And where, exactly, are you planning to give these lessons if no one’s supposed to know you’re his tutor?"
Celeste rolled her eyes. "Anywhere but our rooms. If my dad or any of his teammates caught an omega in one of the team’s rooms especially me in Jake’s all hell would break loose."
A small smile escaped you, and you felt your cheeks warm. You didn’t say anything, but Celeste’s eyes narrowed playfully. Then she burst out laughing.
"Oh my god, innocent Y/n thinking Jake and I are doing something during our tutoring sessions? Where’s my sweet, shy omega gone?"
You threw a cushion at her, trying to stifle your laughter. "Stop it! I just know Jake has a powerful aura… who knows if your secret tutoring turns into something else that’s secret!"
Celeste gaped at you, then hurled the cushion back. "Never! There will never be anything between me and that inflated soccer ball!"
You both laughed as she started tickling you across the half-pushed table, the chicken forgotten between you. These were the moments you loved—when everything felt easier, even life at the Academy, even the anxious silences before exams, even the constant pressure to prove you belonged.
"You know," Celeste said after a while, her voice softer, "sometimes I forget how different we are, but we get each other better than anyone."
You smiled, watching her profile in the warm lamplight. "Maybe because we balance each other out."
"Or maybe because you’re the only one who doesn’t judge me when I lose my head over Jake Sim," she laughed again.
You shook your head, taking another dumpling. "I totally judge you. I just do it silently."
Celeste giggled, twirling a dumpling with her chopsticks, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Then she suddenly turned to you. "Guess who was waiting outside the field for Jake?"
You tried to play it cool, but your heart already knew the answer. You chewed your spicy chicken slowly, hiding your agitation. "No idea… Jake’s usual fan club?"
Celeste burst out laughing, shaking her head. "Oh, they were there, as always. But your number-one rival was also there, Jay, waiting for Jake after practice."
Your stomach dropped at the mention of Jay’s name. You chewed harder, trying not to betray your emotions. "Oh. And… what did he want?"
Celeste smirked, playing with her food. "He said hi to me… and then told me to say hi to you."
You coughed violently, the spicy chicken burning your throat. Celeste patted your back, concerned as you turned red, tears springing to your eyes. "Damn, Y/n! I didn’t think Jay had this kind of effect on you!"
You shook your head, your eyes watering from both the coughing and embarrassment. "It’s just the spicy chicken! I didn’t cough because of Jay! I swallowed too much sauce!"
But it wasn’t true. When Celeste had said Jay asked her to greet you, your heart had leaped, and you weren’t sure why.
Celeste looked at you with a skeptical little smile. "Sure, sure… the spicy chicken… right." She pointed a chopstick at you, laughing. "You’re such a liar, Y/n! I know you too well! When I talk about Jake, you interrogate me. When I mention Jay, you cough and blush!"
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny she was right.
"Fine, fine… maybe it got to me a little. But only because it’s weird! It’s not like him to send greetings through someone else!"
Celeste giggled, eating another dumpling, her eyes studying you as if she sensed something had shifted between you and Jay.
"Oh, really? Then tell me what’s going on with you two? I told you about Jake, now it’s your turn!"
You sighed, covering your face with your hands. "I don’t know, Celeste… It’s just… lately, he’s not the same. He doesn’t answer questions in class, he keeps looking at me, and every time I answer something, he makes these weird expressions… and then—"
You lifted your eyes, blushing. "He started calling me… ‘angel’."
Celeste burst into laughter, nearly choking on her dumpling. "ANGEL?! That’s adorable! At least it’s not as basic as Jake calling me ‘baby’ or ‘Azul’!"
You smiled. "‘Azul’ means ‘blue’ in Spanish… It’s beautiful."
"Yeah, it’s cute," Celeste admitted, grinning, "but you’re an angel! That’s so sweet!"
You rolled your eyes, your cheeks still pink. "I don’t look like an angel. I look more like a black cat that fell into a bucket of water!"
You both laughed like that for a while, between dumplings and jokes, until Celeste—with the most mischievous look on her face—pointed her chopstick at you.
"You know what? I can totally see you and Jay together."
"What?!" you nearly shrieked, grabbing the nearest cushion and hurling it at her. "Not in a million years! He’s my nightmare, not my dream!"
She dodged the cushion, laughing. "Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that!"
"Celeste!"
"Maybe it’s fate, who knows?" she sang, reaching for another dumpling. "Maybe Jay Park is your alpha, and you just don’t know it yet."
"Stop it!" you protested, laughing, though your heart was beating a little too fast.
She shrugged. "Hey, sometimes life surprises you, angel."
"Don’t call me that!" you complained, but you knew it was too late—she’d said it on purpose.
The law lecture hall was already half-full when you arrived, the usual hum of students blending with the scrape of chairs against the pale marble floor. You knew today wouldn’t be an ordinary debate; it was one of the first major discussions of the academic year, and the topic was economic equality between alphas and omegas, a subject guaranteed to ignite the room.
You settled into your seat in the center of the hall, opening your Constitutional Law of Alphas, Omegas, and Betastextbook. Its pages were crowded with pencil notes, colorful stickers marking key points, and underlined passages. You were eager to debate someone of equal caliber and you already knew who that would be.
The bell rang, and as if on cue, the door swung open. Jay walked in, and every eye in the room turned toward him like he was the star of a perfume ad, more captivating for the model’s beauty than the product itself. He wore a Ralph Lauren white and blue shirt, tailored pants, and carried himself with relaxed confidence. And then, the glasses.
You’d never seen him wear them before. They were sleek, square, and somehow made him look even more dangerous, like an alpha disguised as a scholar. You knew they weren’t for poor eyesight just another calculated detail to draw attention and boost his confidence.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the ripple of giggles that followed him to his seat. Of course, he sat a few rows away from you but with a perfect line of sight.
The professor entered, rapping his knuckles on the lectern. He wrote the debate topic on the board:
"Today, we’ll discuss an omega’s personal assets in relation to her alpha partner’s wealth during marriage. As you know, there are protests nationwide about wage equality. But I want to hear your opinions: Is it fair for an omega bride to access or be ‘influenced’ by her alpha partner’s wealth? Some call it protection; others call it control."
Something inside you ignited at the professor’s question. Your hand shot up instinctively.
"Yes, Miss Y/n, go ahead."
You stood, smoothing your skirt with a nervous gesture. Your voice came out steady, sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. Every eye was on you.
"Article 12, Section B, states that ‘an omega’s personal assets must remain independent until the birth of her child, the heir of her alpha partner.’ But in practice, alpha families exploit legal loopholes to absorb an omega’s assets before marriage, leaving her with nothing if the relationship ends. This isn’t balance, it’s legalized exploitation disguised as tradition. And I’m glad omegas across the country have been protesting for our rights. It’s about time."
Silence fell over the room. Some nodded in agreement, while others shot you disapproving glances. Then, as expected, a voice rose from a few rows back.
"Professor, may I respond?" Jay stood, and the professor gestured for him to proceed.
Jay rose slowly, adjusting his glasses a gesture that sent an unexpected jolt through you. The calm you’d built that morning shattered in an instant. With that smug half-smile, he began:
"Article 12 is clear, Y/n. Assets are unified to ensure stability for the offspring. If an omega marries a high-ranking alpha, she accepts the rules of his world. This isn’t exploitation...it’s protection. An omega without resources can’t properly raise an alpha heir. It’s economic logic: her assets, however modest, are merged with her partner’s to ensure the family’s security."
His words: "protection," "properly," "economic logic" burned like thorns. You hated how they sounded coming from him, especially from the heir of the family that had written these pro-alpha laws. You sighed, then replied with a voice calm but razor-sharp:
"Protection? Don’t make me laugh, Park. What you call ‘protection’ is control. Omegas are stripped of their financial independence under the excuse that alphas ‘manage money better.’ It’s legalized hypocrisy. And if I ever got pregnant by an alpha, I’d make it clear from the start: my salary is mine, his is his. We’re in 2025, most educated omegas can find decent jobs. My money is mine. Of course, I’d contribute to our family, but I won’t be owned."
A murmur rippled through the room. You knew you’d struck a nerve.
"You, Park," you continued, crossing your arms, "should know all about this, shouldn’t you? Your family built an empire on these laws that drain the word ‘equality’ of all meaning. I’d love to see what you’d do if you’d been born an omega. Maybe you’d think differently."
As you spoke, Jay’s fists clenched. His face twisted with rage.
He thought:
"Damn it, she actually said ‘pregnant’ in front of the whole class? Only I can make her a mother. Only she can give me an heir. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know it’s me. She doesn’t know she’s the only one. She doesn’t know her body is made for mine. And now she’s challenging me, accusing me, making me feel guilty for something I didn’t choose. But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know I’m as trapped as she is. That my dream is to go into politics, not law like my father, to change these stupid laws. But she only sees the rot in me, not the possibility."
Jay took a deep breath, struggling to control his anger but he couldn’t, not when you accused him like this, knowing nothing about him. His dark eyes burned with fury, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of his desk.
"Don’t you dare talk about things you don’t understand, Y/n. You know nothing about me, my family, or what it means to be an alpha in this broken system!"
You smirked, leaning forward on the table, locking eyes with him.
"I shouldn’t talk about things I don’t understand? That’s rich, coming from you, someone who’s only here because of your last name, someone whose family has profited off so many people..."
Before you could finish, a loud bang echoed through the room. The professor slammed his fist on the lectern, making everyone jump. His voice was stern as he glared first at you, then at Jay:
"ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU! This was supposed to be a civil debate, not a boxing ring for your personal grudges!"
He turned to you, his expression severe:
"Y/n, I know you’re a brilliant student, but today you’ve seriously crossed a line. I was a scholarship alpha too, but I never overstepped like this and you, Jay, stop acting like a spoiled child who can’t handle criticism. You’re both disqualified from the next debates until I say otherwise!"
You lowered your gaze, clenching your jaw. Across the room, Jay’s fists were still clenched, his knuckles bone-white.
The professor resumed the lesson, but neither of you listened anymore. You were lost in your thoughts, rage burning inside you, while Jay sat in stony silence, his eyes fixed on nothing, his jaw tight. Neither of you would speak. Neither of you would let this go or maybe you would.
For the past four days, the Academy had been buzzing about nothing else: the explosive debate between you and Jay, the heated argument, the sharp words you’d exchanged. You hated being the center of attention, but there was nothing you could do about it. Wherever you went, you felt eyes on you. On one hand, you were proud of the responses you’d given Jay and would have repeated them a thousand times over. On the other hand, you despised the way people gossiped about you, twisting your words and spreading rumors.
Most of the omega and beta girls were on your side. In the hallways, they whispered:
"Y/n is right! The laws are unfair, and omegas always end up losing the most!"
"Jay acts like a spoiled prince, of course, he’d always be against changing these laws!"
"Y/n was so brave to say those things to his face! If I had her courage, I would’ve done the same!"
Even many of the boys, especially the betas and some of the less traditional alphas, supported you. You were pleased, after all, in 2025, there should be, if not perfect equality, at least a basic standard of fairness:
"She said exactly what we’ve all been thinking! Jay has too much power here; someone needed to put him in his place! If we start pushing back, we can help you omegas too!"
But not everyone agreed with you, of course. The more traditional alphas, especially those from powerful families, openly criticized you and mocked you, shouting:
"A scholarship student daring to judge the Parks? That’s absolutely ridiculous! You should be licking Jay’s boots just to be here, and instead, you have the nerve to insult him? If it weren’t for the Parks’ money, you wouldn’t even have the courage to open your mouth!"
Every time you heard those words, your fists clenched, but you didn’t respond. You refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing you lose your temper. But your thoughts always circled back to the same thing:
You should be licking Jay’s boots? Who did they think they were? You were there on your own merit, not just because of a scholarship funded by the elite and not just the Parks!
If you weren’t good enough, you never would have made it this far, and Jay knew it. Everyone knew it. But you couldn’t admit it, not now, not ever.
Wherever you went: the cafeteria, the Academy’s café, or the lawn, you felt eyes on you. You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. You felt like an animal in a cage, watched, judged. But what made you angriest was Jay’s behavior. He was acting like a spoiled brat with you: he hadn’t spoken to you since that day, and whenever you tried to talk to him to resolve things, he’d walk away with some excuse, making you feel guilty as if it were all your fault.
That Saturday evening, as you debated whether you dared to send him a message, you caught sight of one of Jay’s closest friends: Park Sunghoon.
One of the most well-known alphas at the Academy, Sunghoon studied fashion and carried himself with effortless elegance, being impeccable, composed, and possessing that cool, detached air that seemed to hide entire worlds behind his gaze. He was leaning against the railing of the inner garden, and when your eyes met, he smiled as if he’d been waiting for you.
"You’re Y/n, right?" he said in a calm voice, and you nodded, a little uncertain. You’d never really spoken to Sunghoon, only a couple of times with his girlfriend.
"The famous girl who manages to drive Jay Park crazy," he murmured with a smirk, and you froze at his words.
"I… I don’t think I…."
He laughed, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around himself.
"Oh, trust me, you do. I can’t remember the last time someone made him lose his cool like that. Well, except me but we’re like cats and dogs!"
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, genuinely embarrassed, and without thinking, you asked, "Do you happen to know where he is?" trying to change the subject.
Sunghoon replied, "Probably at his parents’ place. He usually has dinner with them on Saturday nights it’s kind of a tradition."
You nodded, ready to leave, but he added something that made you turn back. "Don’t let go of Jay."
You looked at him, surprised and curious. "What do you mean?"
Sunghoon smiled, but his expression had grown serious. "On the surface, he seems like just a stubborn guy, always ready with a comeback. But that’s not all there is to him. He has secrets, fears, and aspirations he won’t even admit to himself."
"In what way?" you asked, curiosity tightening your stomach. He tilted his head slightly.
"Have you ever wondered why he has to excel at everything? Why does he have to win every debate, be the best at everything? Have you ever wondered if he actually likes what he’s studying… or if he’s just doing it to please someone?"
You stared at him, confused and a little irritated by the way he spoke to you. "Don’t play games with me, Sunghoon. What are these words supposed to mean?"
He shrugged, as if it were none of his business, and began to walk away. "You’ll figure it out for yourself. But if I may offer some advice… give him a chance."
You stood there in silence as he disappeared into the evening breeze, which gently stirred the leaves. The campus lights began to flicker on, one by one.
"Give him a chance."
Those words echoed in your mind as you made your way back to the dormitory. Why should I? you asked yourself over and over and yet, deep down, there was a small voice you couldn’t silence because Jay was seriously an enigma to you, and you loved deciphering things, especially people.
That Sunday afternoon dragged on endlessly. You were bored in your room, watching the clouds threaten an impending storm. You’d been locked away reviewing family law between alphas and omegas, but the lines in the textbook blurred before your eyes. Every time you tried to focus, your thoughts drifted back to him, to Jay, to the argument, to the words that had cut too deep, and to the way he’d looked at you before walking out of the classroom.
You snapped the book shut with a sharp thud and sighed. The rational part of you said you should let it go, but the other, the instinctive, irrational one twisted your stomach, whispering that you wouldn’t find peace until you confronted him.
To distract yourself, you washed your hair, turning the act into a ritual of calm, though it quickly became frustrating. Your curls were wild, unruly, alive, stubbornly refusing to behave. They’d stolen over an hour of your time under the shower, yet once dry, they fell softly over your shoulders, smelling of rice milk and honey, the same sweet, teasing fragrance you’d worn for years. It was a scent many people didn’t like.
You pulled on a gray GAP hoodie and a pair of low-rise jeans, and made up your mind: you would find him, and you would talk to him.
The campus was nearly deserted on Sunday. You searched everywhere in the library, the sports bar where they played his beloved F1 races, the basketball and tennis courts, and even the gym.
Jay was nowhere. It was as if he’d vanished from the face of the earth. Only when you reached the music department did you stop. The building was crowded, and as you stepped inside, you saw that four recording studios were dark, but one door was open. Through the glass, a red light filtered out, and inside, the silhouette moved to an invisible rhythm, unmistakable.
Jay sat on a stool, his electric guitar resting against his thigh, his fingers dancing over the strings with effortless confidence. The sound, warm, full, filled the room: Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears. There was nothing academic about this scene, nothing of the arrogant, perfect boy who treated professors like political rivals. There was just him.
You stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move as you watched the red light trace the shadow of his jawline, the profile of his hands. He wore an oversized hoodie, ripped jeans, and a baseball cap from an F1 team. The straight strands of his fringe nearly covered his eyes, and if you hadn’t known him, you’d have thought he was a musician, not the heir to a legal dynasty.
The music ended, but you remained still for a few more seconds, as if trapped in a dream. Then, you clapped—timidly, sincerely. Jay turned abruptly.
"Damn… I didn’t know I had an audience here, too." He glanced up at the red lamp above the door, as if to emphasize your "guilt." "The sign says ‘room occupied’ when the light’s red."
You instinctively lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. "Sorry," you murmured. "I didn’t mean to interrupt. I have to admit… you’re really good."
Jay’s mouth quirked up at one corner. He was used to being told he was good at everything playing, speaking, winning but he didn’t want to hear he was "good." He wanted to be seen, truly seen by someone, though he couldn’t have explained it himself.
"So, what are you doing here, Y/n?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. "Don’t tell me you came just because you felt like it… No one would believe that."
You clenched your hands inside your sleeves, trying to suppress the tension rising within you. Quietly, you said, "I’ve been looking for you all afternoon."
Jay raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise, irony, and something softer, something he tried to smother. "Oh yeah?" He set the guitar down slowly beside the desk. "And why’s that?"
You took a few steps closer. Both of you knew why you were there, but Jay loved to provoke you, to test you. "Because I don’t like leaving things unresolved," you replied, crossing your arms, though inside, you didn’t feel as confident as you tried to appear. "And what happened in class the other day… it can’t happen again."
Jay let out a low, deep chuckle that seemed to hit you right in the stomach. With a slight pout, he said, "Really? I thought you liked having the last word."
"Only when I’m right," you shot back.
He turned slightly to the side, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Relax, I don’t want your apology. I already know we’ll be back to square one in a week."
His tone was half-serious, half-provocative, but you couldn’t quite read him. Your lips curled into an involuntary pout, and you dropped your gaze. Jay caught your reflection in the mirror in front of him, and something inside him reignited a primal satisfaction at seeing you seek him out for days. He’d struck the right chord, and your little frown was the most tender, irresistible thing in the world to him.
You tried to regain control, as always, walking toward the desk, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. "Come on, Jay, seriously," you said, your voice firmer. "I came here in peace. I don’t want to argue in front of the whole class again like last time… and I’m sorry if I went too far. I didn’t mean to offend you."
He didn’t answer immediately. He lowered his gaze, picked up a pencil, and began scribbling on a sheet of paper. His fringe fell over his eyes, hiding them, and he smirked slightly, he wanted to provoke you further. His voice came out rough. "You didn’t just offend me," he said, leaning closer to the paper. "You offended my last name… and my family."
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You hadn’t expected that. Yet, in the way he’d spoken, there was more pain than anger. You stepped closer, almost without realizing it. "I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jay, but you can’t deny there’s something wrong with that system… You know it. You won’t say it."
He slowly lifted his gaze, and for the first time, your eyes truly met. There were no jokes, no quips just two people, too different yet too similar, frozen in the same moment.
Jay swallowed, his eyes locked on yours as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to argue with you or step closer. For the first time, the thought in his head was painfully clear: He couldn’t tell if he wanted to fight you or understand you.
Your gazes clashed, danced as they always did, neither of you willing to yield. It was a silent challenge a duel of wills and as always, neither of you would have the last word.
Jay broke the silence, his voice lower than usual. "Everything my ancestors did was wrong," he admitted. "Not just them, but the whole system. I’m here, I want to change the rules, but my life isn’t as perfect as you think, Y/n." His fingers stopped drumming against the desk, frozen as if he were wrestling with his own words.
"I just want to be understood," he continued, his voice rough. "Not seen as Park Jongseon, but as Jay. The guy my friends see. The guy you see, angel."
You raised an eyebrow, confused by his words. You didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how to interpret what he’d just said. Your instinct, to fight, to defend yourself, to never back down, was suddenly faced with something you couldn’t decipher. It was as if, for the first time, Jay had dropped his mask, and you didn’t know how to react.
You didn’t know if it was a trick, a trap, or if, just this once, it was real. But there was something inside you that had been growing for months maybe even years. A curiosity. A desire to understand who Jay really was beyond the arrogant alpha facade, beyond the boy who drove you crazy, who challenged you, who made you feel alive.
And without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him.
Your lips brushed against his, hesitant and almost uncertain a gesture driven by something you couldn’t explain. Jay remained still for a second, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.
Why were you kissing him? What had he done to deserve it?
You didn’t know either. You didn’t understand why you were kissing him, why now, but you didn’t stop. Deep down, it was something you’d wanted to do, and he was the first boy you’d ever kissed. You were giving him your first kiss.
Jay slowly raised a hand and cupped your soft cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as if afraid you might vanish. His lips parted, and you followed his movement, closing your eyes. He realized this was your first kiss, and you were giving it to the one person you’d always pretended to despise but who, in truth, had always drawn you in.
Jay exhaled against your lips, and his scent wrapped around you, black pepper, gray amber, and the unmistakable notes of cherry and tobacco blending with the sweet honey of your lip balm. His pheromones flared instantly, and your omega instincts exploded in a cascade of overwhelming sensations: your heart racing, the warmth spreading through your stomach that all omegas talked about, your legs trembling slightly. It was as if your body recognized his, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment to awaken.
Your fingers slid over his shoulder, clinging to him. Jay smiled against your lips not his usual arrogant smirk, but something different, something sweet and intimate, as if he’d finally found what he’d been searching for.
He deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a slowness that drove you wild, as if he wanted to savor the feeling of your lips on his, as if he couldn’t believe you were actually kissing. When he pulled away, your cheeks were burning, and you lowered your gaze, your fingers trembling as you touched your lips, still scorched by his kiss.
"I...I don’t know what came over me… I shouldn’t have..."
You were in complete shock. You’d done something you never thought you’d do, and you’d given him that gift.
He looked at you with dark eyes that shimmered with something new. There was no arrogance, only wonder, as if he couldn’t believe you had made the first move. Without a word, he lifted you off the table, his hands gripping your hips.
"Sit on my lap, angel."
Your eyes widened, your heart pounding. You glanced around as if someone might see you, as if the entire Academy could burst in at any moment. Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you shook your head. "Jay, I....I don’t think we should...."
You were afraid he’d think you were too heavy, or that you weren’t as graceful as the cheerleaders he dated or the elite girls he was used to. His voice was gentle, that small command leaving no room for argument, but it wasn’t harsh. Jay saw your uncertainty, that moment of panic where you wondered if you were too much, too clumsy, too wrong. But he didn’t let you dwell on it.
He pulled you toward him with a force that left no room for doubt, his hands naturally parting your legs as he settled you astride him. His hands slid firmly over your hips, and he whispered in your ear, "Tell me I can kiss you this time, angel?"
You were breathless. You’d always despised Jay, found him arrogant and controlling, but in that moment, you saw him kneel before you, asking for permission as if you held the power. And you did. In that moment, you could decide whether to let him kiss you again or run away. Without thinking, you nodded slowly.
You felt his large hands cup your cheeks, the warmth radiating from them. This time, he kissed you. This time, he set the pace.
His lips moved against yours with excruciating slowness, as if he feared you might regret it. But then you sighed against his mouth, and without realizing it, you parted your lips. Jay didn’t hesitate. He slid his tongue against yours, and you moaned softly a sound that, to Jay, was like the siren’s call. He wanted to hear you moan and sigh for him forever, as if it were a whisper of surrender and bliss that only he could give you.
Your hands didn’t know where to rest. With your eyes still closed, they clung to his hoodie, your fingers gripping the fabric as if afraid he might disappear. He pulled you even closer, your bodies pressed together, your tongues seeking and playing in a duel of desire that had nothing to do with words or the rules society imposed.
When you pulled back slightly to catch your breath, Jay looked at you intensely, his dark eyes devouring you. Then he leaned in and gently sucked on your lower lip. You moaned again, the sound higher this time, your cheeks flushing even deeper, like ripe cherries. Jay sighed against your lips, "Angel… from now on, I’m never letting you go."
You opened your mouth to argue, unsure if these were just words to tease you, another one of his manipulative games. But you didn’t realize that by kissing him first, you had unleashed something in him. Without meaning to, you had started his game of love bombing. You had made Jay realize that you and only you, could make him feel this way. You were the only one who could break down his walls, the only one who could be his true match.
Ever since you kissed Jay, the world around you seemed to have flipped upside down. Every time you closed your eyes, you relived the moment, his hands on your hips, the sound of your own soft moans and sighs against his lips. Like a teenager with her first crush, you screamed into your pillow, desperate to turn off your mind and stop thinking about it. But Jay had completely ignored you for days ignored you in the hallways, during lectures, even when your eyes met by chance. He’d look away as if you were invisible. You didn’t understand why. He was the one who had said he’d never let you go after that kiss.
His name echoed everywhere: laughter, voices, the usual circle of friends surrounding him like an aura of superiority. You weren’t part of that world, and deep down, you never really had been. You were only there because of a scholarship, nothing more.
The rational part of you tried to make sense of it: "For Jay, that kiss meant nothing. It was just a game." But a deeper, uncontrollable part of you refused to believe it. You’d seen the way he looked at you, the way he smiled against your lips.
The truth was, Jay knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t the type to admit his feelings easily, he was too proud, too used to controlling every situation. But this time, it was different. He wanted you in his world, but on his terms. He provoked you without ever crossing the line, confused you with the same precision he used to win debates: one move at a time, always staying one step ahead of everyone.
One day, as you opened your locker, you found an energy bar resting on top of your books. A note was taped to it, and you recognized the handwriting instantly:
"Stop skipping meals to study. :) — J."
You stood frozen for a few seconds, your heart beating faster than it should. You glanced down the hallway in both directions, but no one was there. Still, you knew, you knew exactly who had left it. You felt foolish for smiling to yourself, as if that small gesture had made you forget, even for a moment, all your proud determination.
You tried to suppress the feeling. You couldn’t let yourself go, not with him. You were there for your goals: to graduate, find a job worthy of your studies, and maybe, just maybe, find a partner who would love you for who you truly were.
Another time, you were outside the campus in the pouring rain, the autumn had arrived, and the bus stop was deserted. You’d been at an English class off-campus, and a gray Aston Martin pulled up beside the shelter, its windshield wipers moving in rhythm with the storm. You thought it was waiting for someone else, but then the window rolled down, and a familiar voice cut through the sound of the rain.
"Angel, get in the car. I’ll drive you to the Academy… we both need to go."
You spun around, and there was Jay, sitting in the driver’s seat with an expression somewhere between impatient and amused as he watched your tiny hands clutching your phone, your hood swallowing your head, your shivering frame, and your soaked jeans. You bit your cheek and glanced around, but there was no sign of your bus. Before you could overthink it, you opened the door and slid inside.
The moment you closed the door, a wave of warmth enveloped you, and the rich scent of cherry and tobacco; sweet and spicy all at once made your head spin for a second. Jay turned up the heat, and without a word, he reached out and gently tucked a damp curl behind your ear. His voice was almost distracted as he murmured, "With the heat on, they’ll dry soon. You’ll be warm, angel. I wouldn’t want you missing class just because you caught a cold, who else would I argue with?"
You stared at him, slightly stunned by the way his fingers had brushed through your curls and how delicate his touch was against your skin. Your cheeks burned, and he smirked, small, but full of knowing.
From that moment on, Jay started touching yo, —not really, but in that way that leaves a mark. His fingers would brush against you like a ghost, there one second and gone the next, as if his presence alone was enough to graze your skin.
One time, as you were climbing the stairs with Celeste, he "accidentally" bumped into you. His hand grazed your waist to "steady" you, and his warm breath brushed your ear: "Sorry, angel… didn’t see you there."
His tone was perfectly innocent to anyone else, but you both knew he’d seen you just fine. He wanted to unsettle you.
Another time, during the Academy’s soccer match, he sat next to you for the first time ever. You weren’t there to cheer for the team, you were only there for Celeste and you held a drink in one hand and a box of caramel popcorn in the other. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, then reached into your popcorn and grabbed a handful. Of course, your hand was still inside, and your fingers brushed just barely. He chuckled softly, tilting his head toward you.
"Are you trying to steal my popcorn, or is this an invitation to share?" he asked, wearing that smirk you wanted to slap off his face. With your hands still tangled halfway, you didn’t know whether to pull away or stay, your heart pounding in your chest, warmth rising to your ears.
"If I wanted to share, I would’ve asked. If you want some, go buy your own at the stand, Jay."
You wanted to be a little sharp with him, but Jay, of course, just chuckled. After a few more minutes, he kept stealing your popcorn, and you sighed because with him, it was impossible to win.
From then on, you started noticing the details: how he’d walk too close to you in the hallways, how he’d seek you out with his gaze during lectures only to pretend he’d never looked at you at all. How just the sound of him murmuring "angel" could make everything inside you stutter for a second, your cheeks flushing like ripe cherries. Jay found it adorable. You cursed him 24/7.
The sensual rhythm of If You Do by Got7 pulsed through the room, blending with your ragged breath. You sat on the edge of the bed, your fingers drumming nervously against your thighs, anxiety eating you alive. You weren’t used to any of this, the tight clothes, the attention, the idea of putting on a show in front of a crowd of judging eyes. If it weren’t for Celeste, you never would’ve been invited to the Academy’s Halloween party in the Garden of Love’s Labyrinth.
Celeste stood in front of the mirror, already dressed as her monstrous Rapunzel, a purple corset clinging to her body, a flowing white skirt swaying with every movement, towering heels making her look even taller, and a bloody frying pan gripped in her hand. Her sweet makeup was ruined by fake blood splatters on her décolletage and neck.
"Perfect for scaring and seducing at the same time," she’d laughed, but she knew as well as you did that she had to be careful, being the coach’s daughter meant all eyes would be on her.
And then there was you, dressed in a black corset with red lace that accentuated every curve, a tight skirt hugging your hips, and high boots that made your legs look endless. But you didn’t recognize yourself. Your full chest bounced with every movement, your slightly wide hips, the ones you hated, were on full display, and your cherry-red, chubby cheeks made you feel too soft in a world of sculpted bodies. Your curls were left loose except for two side braids, and the eyepatch Celeste had insisted on for your sexy pirate costume gave you an air of mystery.
"This lip combo plum on the outside and red in the center will give you that sexy, mysterious vibe," she’d said as she meticulously applied your lipstick while you rolled your eyes.
"The ‘sexy’ part of the night ends the second I get back to my room and put on my comfy pajamas," you’d grumbled, trying to hide your embarrassment as she studied you. Celeste had just giggled and booped your cheek.
"Who knows? Maybe neither of us will make it back to our rooms tonight!"
You’d grown up in a family where Halloween was frowned upon, where every year you’d hear on the news about people disappearing, overdosing, or getting their drinks spiked with those clear pills. You’d mutter under your breath about accidents and dangers, whispering, "Don’t make me be the mom of the night, Celeste. We’re coming back safe and sound."
She shook her head, laughing. "Silly, I meant we might not come back because we’ll be having fun with some guys, not because something bad will happen!"
You huffed, ready to argue, but she cut you off with a mischievous smirk.
"Mmm, I think someone will be very interested in your presence tonight… and we both know who I’m talking about. The guy who calls you ‘angel.’"
You’d thrown a pillow at her, but she caught it midair, laughing. "Stop reminding me Jay exists," you’d grumbled, but she’d just beamed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Celeste, stop!" you’d exclaimed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "No one’s going to pay attention to a pirate… I’m too… me."
"Too sexy?" she’d teased. "Or too shy to admit you like it when a certain someone looks at you like you’re the only one in the room?"
What you didn’t know was that Celeste had already talked to Jake, and Jake, in turn, had told Jay you’d be at the party and that you’d be dressed as a pirate.
Jay, never one to miss an opportunity to tease you, had decided to beat you to the punch. And now, as you stared at yourself in the mirror, you had no idea that he, too, would arrive dressed as a pirate.
You and Celeste stepped into the Labyrinth of Love, giggling under your breath. The narrow, winding corridor was lined with fake cobwebs, and glowing green slime arrows pointed the way. Somewhere ahead, the thumping music already vibrated through the air.
You clung to Celeste’s arm, and every time a glowing arrow lit up behind you, she pretended to jump, making you laugh even harder. At the end of the maze, the university’s greenhouse unfolded before you, completely transformed for the party. Neon lights shot purple and blue beams across the space, massive spiderwebs hung from the glass ceiling, and a giant spider loomed over the central dome. Smoking cauldrons at the entrance belched out sweet, burnt sugar and cinnamon-scented vapor. The line moved quickly, and as soon as you stepped through the archway, a wave of pheromones hit you like a tidal wave.
It was as if someone had dumped an overwhelmingly sweet yet sharp perfume over your head. Your vision swam slightly, and you pressed a hand to your temple, breathing carefully.
"Damn," Celeste chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "Ninety percent of the guys in here seem… extremely excited." Even without your sensitivity, she could tell the alpha pheromone levels were through the roof. You burst out laughing, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.
"So, what do we do? Dance or drink?" you asked, trying to focus on something concrete instead of the intoxicating scents around you.
"Drink, obviously," she replied with that mischievous grin that always spelled trouble. "I want to see what kind of potions they’ve come up with this year. Last year’s drinks were actually good."
She grabbed your hand, and you both pushed through the crowd as Jump by BLACKPINK started pulsing through the greenhouse. Strobe lights flashed through colored smoke, and in the chaos, it was nearly impossible to make out faces.
When you finally reached the drink stand, the bar looked like an alchemy lab, bottles and vials of every color, handwritten labels, and glowing decorations.
"Look at these names, it’s like we’re in a Harry Potter movie!" Celeste commented, leaning over a tray. You curiously read the drink names aloud.
"Cursed Angel" was a deep plum color with silver shimmers. It smelled of blueberry, lavender, and a hint of burnt vanilla, sweet but strangely melancholic. Celeste looked at you and said, "That’s totally your kind of cocktail. Gorgeous, mysterious, and probably makes you lose your mind!" You laughed and read the next one aloud:
"Love Witchcraft" was a deep red, almost fake-looking, with flavors of pomegranate, cinnamon, and rum. And then there was the disgusting "Slime Vomit", a pale yellow drink that, according to the bartender, tasted of lime, ginger, and a drop of wasabi. Just hearing about it made your skin crawl.
"I’m going with the Love Witchcraft," Celeste said without hesitation, grabbing the red vial. You, however, chose the Cursed Angel and clinked it against hers before downing it in one gulp.
"Let’s go find someone interesting," she suggested in a tone that brooked no refusal. You rolled your eyes, already knowing where she’d drag you, and sure enough, minutes later, you found yourself following her through the crowd toward the back of the greenhouse, where the music was louder and the lights more intense.
There, leaning against a tall table, were Jake, Sunghoon, Heeseung and, of course, Jay.
You recognized them instantly.
Sunghoon, as always, was flawless in his aristocratic vampire costume a black jacket, a silk shirt, and a Love Witchcraft drink in hand. Beside him stood a girl dressed as a student from All of Us Are Dead, his girlfriend.
Heeseung had gone for the classic Ghostface look, but his relaxed demeanor as he chatted with two girls made him anything but scary. Jake was a "monstrous" Flynn Rider, shirt unbuttoned, fake scars, and a roguish smirk. But what made your breath catch was Jay.
When your eyes found him, your breath hitched. He was dressed as Jack Sparrow but in a way that was more elegant, more… him. His hair was deliberately tousled, his white shirt unbuttoned at the chest, a fitted black vest hugging his torso, and a red scarf tied around his wrist. His gaze was half ironic, half dangerous. You turned to Celeste and hissed, "Please tell me you didn’t know he’d be dressed as a pirate. Tell me this is just a coincidence, or I swear I’m disowning you as a friend."
Your voice was a mix of exasperation and panic. Celeste burst out laughing, drink still in hand, and replied with a teasing grin, "Oh, of course I didn’t know!" her tone dramatically exaggerated "But I have to admit, you two would look amazing together on the deck of a ship."
"Celeste!" you protested, shoving her arm lightly, but she was already halfway to the group, leaving you there with your heart pounding and your drink still in hand as the music shifted and the neon lights reflected off Jay’s face.
You walked toward Celeste, trying to gather your courage. She, of course, wasted no time, greeting Sunghoon’s girlfriend with her usual disarming confidence, exchanging words with Jake and Heeseung, who welcomed her as if she were one of them. You hung back a step, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze, but Celeste had other plans.
"This is Y/n, my best friend," she announced, pulling you beside her and taking your hand. "But maybe you already know her—she’s Jay’s rival!"
Your cheeks burned, and you felt the heat rise to your ears. Before you could react, all the guys turned to look at you. Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, and his girlfriend introduced themselves, and Jake said, "Finally, the pleasure of meeting the girl who drives Jay crazy!" Your cheeks flushed even deeper when Jay looked up and nearly choked on his vial.
For a moment, he froze, his drink suspended halfway between his mouth and chest, his eyes devouring you.
The way your curls framed your face, the soft little braids that made you look sweet but not too sweet. The corset hugging your soft curves, the fabric clinging to every movement, the skirt that was maybe a little too short for his sanity, swaying with every breath you took. The high boots elongate your legs, outlining them as if they’d been designed to drive him mad.
And you noticed. You shot him a half-glare, a mix of challenge and embarrassment, but he couldn’t stop looking at you. Only when he coughed and ran a hand over his mouth did he manage to compose himself.
"Damn, angel… what a surprise," he said, nodding with a smug little smile. "Never thought I’d see you here… at a party, no less." He gestured around, and you tried to make yourself smaller beside Celeste, replying, "Well, even ‘nerds’ leave their book caves sometimes, no? Wouldn’t want my presence to ruin your natural habitat, Park."
Jay tilted his head, amused. There was a glint in his eyes, somewhere between sarcasm and admiration and his smile slowed as he leaned slightly toward you to whisper, "You look cute, Y/n. Really cute tonight."
You felt his scent wrap around you, felt his gaze lingering, and your cheeks flushed again. You lifted your chin and rolled your eyes. "Go say that to someone else… I don’t need your compliments."
He chuckled softly, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Wow, you really are a pirate with guts. But maybe this pirate, today’s Jack Sparrow, likes girls like that."
Jake and Heeseung burst out laughing at the scene unfolding before them. Jake leaned forward, slapping Jay on the shoulder. "Jack Sparrow, huh? All you’re missing is the compass and your dignity, bro."
Heeseung added, laughing as he watched the dance floor, "Judging by the way you’re looking at her, I’d say you’ve lost that too, buddy." He gave Jay a light shove, but Jay just retorted, "You’re just jealous you don’t have my charm."
Meanwhile, you’d already turned away, trying to ignore their laughter. You joined Celeste and Sunghoon’s girlfriend in the center of the dance floor, where the music exploded in a wave of lights and bass. You let yourself be carried away, your hips moving to the rhythm, the corset rising and falling with every breath. For a moment, the world dissolved into the beat of the music.
From across the dance floor, Jay watched you. The girl in front of him was the same studious, fiery rival but she was also the one who could drive him mad. He bit his lip almost unconsciously, his mind filling with thoughts too loud to ignore.
He wanted to be behind you, dancing. He tried to slide his arms around you, to kiss you right there in front of everyone, to make it clear you were his. He tried to pull you off that dance floor and have you all to himself for the rest of the night. But he knew you still resented him, just a little. He took a sip of his drink, trying to ignore the tightness in his stomach every time your hips swayed to the music.
And then, suddenly, the cheerleaders arrived, and the volume of the male voices rose as if an entire pack of alphas had just caught the scent of prey.
The captain of the cheerleaders, dressed in a sexy bunny costume that screamed Regina George, sauntered straight toward their table. All eyes shifted to her but you were still on the dance floor, laughing with Celeste, when you noticed Jay laughing with the cheerleader captain. Something sharp pricked inside you.
It wasn’t jealousy… or at least, you convinced yourself it wasn’t. It was something deeper, more instinctive a tension that started in your chest and spread slowly, as if your omega side recognized something in him that you tried to deny. You paused for a moment, the music pulsing around you, watching him from afar.
Jay chuckled, but his eyes, though hidden behind his smile, searched for you. When they finally met again, that feeling inside you reignited like a flame but you shook your head. Even if he’d called you "cute," you knew perfectly well that he’d always liked the elite girls: flawless, confident, with polished smiles and expensive perfume. Not girls like you, girls who hid behind books, sarcasm, and last-minute outfits.
You watched him for another second. Jay leaned toward the cheerleader, laughing at something she’d whispered in his ear. That smile, the same one that once made you feel light—now weighed on your chest.
You rolled your eyes and turned back to Celeste, who pointed out a group of monstrous clowns breathing fire to the beat of the music. You tried to distract yourself, to let go, to stop thinking about him. But when your eyes instinctively flickered back to where Jay had been… he was gone.
A knot tightened in your stomach. You lowered your gaze, trying not to dwell on it, but deep down, you knew what you were thinking: He probably left with that girl, the classic, perfect girl everyone liked, the one who was actually perfect for someone like Jay. For nearly half an hour, you tried to ignore that strange feeling.
Dance after dance, laugh after laugh, you tried to focus on Celeste, the rhythm, anything that wasn’t him. But you couldn’t help it. Even Heeseung and Jake were nowhere to be seen, and that gnawing feeling inside you had a name you refused to admit, even to yourself. Jealousy.
God, were you actually jealous of Jay? You, jealous of the guy you did nothing but bicker with? You should’ve been jealous of his grades, his effortless success not some girl talking to him.
"Celeste, I’m going outside for some air!" you shouted over the music. She leaned in, concerned.
"Want me to come with you?"
You shook your head. "No, I’ll just be outside the greenhouse. I’ve got a bit of a headache, too many pheromones… I feel like I’m suffocating in there."
It was a half-truth, and she nodded, knowing not to push. "Okay, but text me if you need anything or if you’re heading home, got it? My phone’s always on me, you know how my dad is…" You nodded and gave her a small hug before weakly making your way toward the exit.
The cool air hit your face, and you finally breathed. You stopped in front of the greenhouse windows, watching your reflection in the colored neon lights sliding over your skin. For a moment, you saw only yourself.
"God, I look ridiculous dressed like this…" you whispered, almost talking to your reflection. "Why did I even dress like this? I look—"
You didn’t finish the sentence before a voice, far too familiar interrupted you, dripping with his usual sarcasm.
"I knew you were weird, but talking to yourself? Or wait, talking to your reflection? Now that’s new, Y/n."
His tone was mocking, but there was something soft in his laugh. "You haven’t even had two drinks, and yet you look drunk!"
You rolled your eyes in exasperation. "Not in the mood, Jay. Leave me alone and go back inside to your cheerleaders."
Jay smirked with that crooked grin you knew all too well, following you at a slow pace as you stepped back into the lit maze. "Mmm… I think you’re way more fun than any cheerleader in there, angel…" he added, his tone laced with mischievous curiosity. "By the way, what were you saying? ‘Why did I dress like this?’ What’s wrong with the pirate outfit?"
You stopped dead in your tracks, nearly making him bump into you from behind. You felt his warmth brush against your back, and for a second, your breath caught. You spun around abruptly:
"God, Jay, you’re infuriating!" you snapped, trying not to yell. "I told you to go back inside, but no, you follow me now? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks after… after what happened between us, and now you’re just here to mock me? Are you bipolar?"
Jay’s eyes widened, surprised by your outburst. "Wait, wait… don’t tell me you missed my company these past few days, huh?" His smirk returned, sharper than ever. "I knew you couldn’t live without me."
You huffed and ripped off the black eyepatch, throwing it at him. "God, you’re so insufferable!" you spat, clenching your fists. "Out of everything I just said, the only thing you care about is whether I’ve been thinking about you or missing you?"
Jay chuckled, picking up the eyepatch and tucking it into his pocket. "Hard to admit or not, but I bet you can’t stop thinking about me, angel!"
You turned on your heel and stormed away, furious, and of course, he followed—until he noticed you were heading deeper into the maze in the wrong direction. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed your jacket, pulling you back with a firm tug.
"Angel, I’ll say it again: you’re not drunk, and you can’t even follow the slime arrows!" he laughed, pointing at them. "Where’s the good girl I know?"
"She left the second you decided to drive me crazy!" you snapped, yanking free from his grip and marching ahead of him. When you finally found the maze exit, you stopped and turned to face him.
"Alright, our paths split here. I’m going home, and you, go back wherever you want, to the party or your fans..."
Before you could finish, Jay grabbed your hand—firm but gentle. His gaze suddenly turned serious, almost tender.
"I’m taking you somewhere, angel." His fingers tightened slightly around yours, as if afraid you might run. "I want to show you something… something beautiful, in my eyes."
You hesitated. "Jay, I don’t...."
"Trust me, angel," he said softly. There was something in the way he said your nickname that disarmed you. You tried to protest, shaking your head, but he was stubborn.
"I’m not in the mood for your games tonight, Jay. I just need to...."
"Trust me," he repeated, his voice rough. "Just this once, please, Y/n."
His gaze softened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were seeing Jay, not Park Jongseon, not the popular guy, not the brilliant rival, just him, a boy of a thousand facets, with a thousand strengths and flaws.
The door to Jay’s apartment closed behind you with a definitive click, and for a moment, you stood frozen, your hand still intertwined with his. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand why you were there, why he had brought you to this place, and most of all, why your heart was beating so wildly. Why had he brought you into his territory?
"If this is one of your usual jokes, Jay, I don’t have time to waste," you said, your voice shaky.
He chuckled, pulling you into his room. When you stepped inside, you caught your breath, not just because it smelled so distinctly like him, but because it was a mix of luxury and organized chaos. Two open wardrobes stood side by side: one filled with high-end designer pieces: Tom Ford, Balmain, Saint Laurent and the other packed with streetwear: Supreme, Off-White, Bape, and a few vintage Ralph Lauren items.
A massive bed was covered in shelves full of Formula 1 helmet models and cars, and a small cabinet held expensive liquor bottles. An enormous desk held a gaming PC, a mechanical keyboard, and two stacks of books, law texts on one side, musical scores on the other, with a guitar leaning nearby. But what truly caught your attention was the giant mirror against the wall, covered in Formula 1 tickets, concert stubs, Polaroids, and other mementos. It was as if that wall told the story of his entire life and now, you were inside his world.
Jay positioned you in front of the mirror, and you looked at him, confused. "I don’t get it, Jay. What’s this beautiful thing you wanted to show me? Your fanboy room?" you asked, gesturing around, and he rolled his eyes with a smirk that was equal parts challenge and tenderness.
"If you think my room is a fanboy shrine, you have no idea what a real fanboy is. I’m a collector of experiences and hobbies, angel… not things."
You nodded and shrugged until he tapped the mirror right where your reflection stood.
"I don’t get it, Jay… why are you tapping the mirror? Am I the beautiful thing? I know you have a massive ego, but I didn’t think you were this narcissistic!"
His laughter echoed through the room, and your heart beat faster than it should at the sound of that warm, sweet laugh. He looked at you and said, "You’re the thing I find beautiful, Y/n."
You swallowed, lowering your gaze because you weren’t used to hearing things like that, especially not from him.
"Stop joking, Jay," you warned, your voice trembling slightly. "I shouldn’t have followed you. I’m leaving."
You tried to walk away, but his hand tightened slightly around your wrist, pulling you back against him. Now you were in front of the mirror, with him behind you, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.
"Look," he whispered, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear. "I don’t know who made you think you’re not beautiful, but they seriously don’t have eyes."
You felt his arm slide along your waist, pulling you even closer, and your cheeks and ears, flushed red.
"I see how uncomfortable you get in tight clothes, how you always wear oversized hoodies to hide… but seriously, Y/n…"His voice was low, rough, right by your ear, and he stopped abruptly, as if struggling to find the right words. "In my eyes and in the eyes of many others you’re beautiful. Fuck, tonight… I couldn’t stop looking at you. It’s so stressful not being able to touch you the way I want… I want to show you how beautiful you are to me… how sexy you look dressed like this."
Your eyes filled with tears because no one had ever said anything like that to you. Part of you didn’t believe it, but the omega side of you was going wild, surrendering to the lust you couldn’t control.
Jay slid his hand down your thigh, over your stockings, and small shivers ran up your spine.
"Say you’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice a soft, irresistible command. "And this hand will show you and make you feel, how beautiful you are to me, angel."
You swallowed, feeling his fingers trace perfect circles up your thighs, slowly reaching the edge of your panties, which were already damp and warm. Jay whispered in your ear again, his voice low and velvety, but with a tone that brooked no argument:
"Say you’re beautiful, Y/n."
You shook your head slightly, embarrassed and confused. You’d never thought it, let alone said it out loud. But when you lifted your gaze, you saw him looking at you with an intensity that burned: his eyes were dark, hungry, filled with a desire he no longer hid. It wasn’t just lust, it was possessiveness, a need to make you see that only he could make you feel beautiful for who you were. It was as if he wanted to devour you with his gaze, as if you were the only thing he truly desired.
You took a trembling breath, and in a voice so quiet it was almost inaudible, you whispered: "I’m beautiful."
Jay smiled, a satisfied, triumphant smirk, as if he’d just won the most important game of his life.
"That’s my good girl," he said, his voice rough with approval.
He moved in front of the mirror, his hands slightly trembling, a detail that struck you as strange yet tender. He lifted your skirt, and you raised your hands to help. His hands settled on your hips, and with torturous slowness, he slid your stockings down without tearing them. When he removed them, you felt the room’s air caress your skin, and Jay stepped behind you again, his body pressed against yours. You tried to turn, but he stopped you with a whisper:
"Look at yourself, Y/n. See how beautiful you are to me… but also how beautiful you can be to yourself."
His lips pressed against your neck, and he began placing small kisses that started at the base of your neck, trailed up to your earlobe, and then descended toward the top of your breasts. Every touch was a wave of pleasure, and every breath against your skin sent a fire consuming you. Small sighs and moans escaped your lips, muffled and trembling, as if you were losing control of yourself.
"Ah… J-Jay…" you moaned, your fingers clinging to his forearm, your nails digging slightly into his skin.
His hand held you firm against him, sliding down your thighs, his voice a soft but relentless command:
"Spread your legs a little, angel."
You felt your cheeks burn, no one had ever touched or seen you like this before. You hesitated, but finally, you parted your legs, though you closed your eyes because you were too embarrassed to look. But Jay clicked his tongue in playful disapproval.
"No, no, Y/n… I want you to watch. Don’t close your eyes."
You huffed and shook your head, completely embarrassed. "Jay, stop… I can’t—" But the words dissolved into a moanwhen you felt his fingers tease the edge of your panties.
He moved a hand to the back of your neck, forcing you to look in the mirror. "Open your eyes, angel. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you’re turned on for me."
You opened your eyes as his fingers brushed your clit through the black lace of your panties. The little red bow at the front was the only innocent detail in that moment, while the rest of you burned, and your omega instincts rejoiced at having Jay so close.
"Damn, I haven’t even really touched you, and you’re already soaked just from my words, angel…" His hand shifted the lace, and his fingers grazed your swollen clit, making you moan in pleasure.
"Where’s the girl who always had to have the last word in class? The one who acted so high and mighty?"
You moaned, the growing pleasure making it impossible to think: "J-Jay… you’re… a bastard…" was all you could manage, your voice broken with desire, and he chuckled.
"Behave, angel… or I’ll make you come instead of scolding you."
You tried to clench your legs together, but without warning, he guided you backward until your legs bumped against the bed. Jay sat down, his legs spread wide, and you stood there, frozen, watching him with a mix of curiosity and desire.
"Lean against my chest and sit on my bed," he said, his voice deep and irresistible.
"I want to watch you come because of me. And I want you to see how beautiful you are when you’re turned on and lost for me, angel."
Your body trembled, but you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t say no, not when his fingers were already pushing you to the edge of something you’d never felt before. So you obeyed.
You sank back against his chest, your legs spread wide, the corset barely containing your breasts. You didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror, legs parted, Jay behind you, his cherry-and-tobacco pheromones flooding your senses, mingling with your own milk-and-honey scent. It was a symphony of sensations that made you feel out of control but, at the same time, more alive than ever.
Jay slid his finger over your clit again, pushing your panties aside, and you felt his hot breath tickling your neck. His voice was rough, raw:
"I’m the first one to make you feel this good, aren’t I, Y/n?"
You nodded, unable to speak, and felt his alpha aura explode around you. He praised you with a voice that was a mix of pride and possessiveness:
"Good girl, angel. You’re perfect, so beautiful and warm for me."
Then, without warning, his finger slid inside you, and you moaned at the strange sensation of being opened, the intrusion of his finger slowly pushing into you. A mix of pain and pleasure made you arch your back. Your hands clenched, one against his forearm, the other behind his head, as if you needed to anchor yourself to him to keep from falling into that whirlpool of sensations.
"Fuck, Y/n…" Jay groaned, feeling how tight and soaked you were around his fingers. "You’re so tight…"
Your legs tried to close instinctively, but he stopped you with a tone that was half-command, half-plea:
"No, angel… Don’t close your legs. Let go. I want to watch you come while you scream my name."
Your eyes filled with tears, not just from excitement, but from the emotion of seeing yourself so abandoned, so beautiful in the mirror. His thumb began circling your clit, while his other hand slid up to your breast, pulling it free from the corset. He teased your left breast gently, his thumb rubbing your hardened nipple, while his mouth sucked at your neck.
"Look how soft and full they are against my hand, angel," he murmured against your ear. "Imagine how perfect these milk-filled breasts would be for our future pups."
You shook your head, embarrassed and aroused at the same time, and your omega side exploded under the assault of his pheromones. His thumb kept teasing your clit while his fingers pumped inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"It’s… too good," you stammered, your words lost between moans in the room. Jay touched you masterfully, his fingers moving inside you while his other hand played with your breasts. He sighed behind you, his voice warm and thick with desire:
"Keep your eyes open, angel. I want to watch you come on my fingers. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you’re turned on and lost for me."
Your eyes, filled with tears of excitement, stayed open, fixed on your reflection: legs spread, breasts exposed, face flushed with pleasure. You’d never felt so desired, so vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
"Don’t you dare close your eyes, Y/n. I see you trying, but if you do, these fingers come out in a flash, and you won’t come," you heard his warning behind you. You spread your legs even wider as you felt him pumping harder inside you. With a voice broken by desire, you cried out:
"No, no… I want to come."
Jay increased the pace, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the peak. And when you finally came, moaning in pleasure, his fingers kept teasing you, prolonging the orgasm until you collapsed against him, exhausted and satisfied.
"Good girl, angel," Jay whispered, holding you tight against him. "That’s what I meant when I said those words to you after we kissed. I’ll never let you go again, I’m obsessed with you."
And in that moment, you couldn’t help but believe him.
Since Jay had finally broken down your walls, he hadn’t left you alone but not in a suffocating way. No, he just made sure you remembered he was always there, that you had crept into his thoughts without meaning to.
One day, when you arrived at your usual spot in the library, you found your honey milk with a sprinkle of cocoa and vanilla, and a banana bread wrapped in a napkin he had folded himself. In his slightly messy handwriting, it read:
"Have a good breakfast, angel. You need energy to study… and to beat me ;)"
You mentally cursed him, but your cheeks flushed pink, no one had ever thought of you like that, no one had ever spoiled you like this. Maybe only Celeste knew you better than Jay, but little by little, he was making his way into your heart without you even realizing it.
Another time, you had just finished a class with Jay and watched him walk away without even saying goodbye. For a moment, you feared he might start ignoring you again, but as you turned the corner, a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a room filled with archived documents. Before you could protest, Jay’s lips pressed against yours, and a moan escaped you as you felt his teeth gently suck your lower lip, as if he wanted to mark you. You timidly wrapped your arms around his neck.
When he pulled away, he looked at you with a mischievous yet sweet smirk and said:
"Hey, angel, I missed you."
You scolded him, giving him a light slap, even though your heart was racing. You whispered against his lips:
"Jay, you’re bipolar! One minute you ignore me, and the next, you kiss me like you’ve missed my lips!"
He chuckled, backing you up until you found yourself sitting on a desk. He wrapped his arms around your neck and his legs around your waist, and you kissed for ten whole minutes. His hands played with the exposed skin of your thighs, making you tremble with desire. As you pulled him closer to feel more of his warmth and scent, he teased the edge of your panties but, as always, Jay was a little brat and suddenly pulled away, saying: "Maybe I am bipolar, but you spoke the truth, I almost always miss your lips." He started kissing you again, as if he were addicted to the feeling of your lips against his. But just as you wanted more, he chuckled against your lips and said:
"I never thought the girl who pretended to hate me would be so eager for me. But in ten minutes, French class starts, and I have to go. I’d love to stay here with you!"
He whispered, kissing you on the forehead before rushing off to class. You stayed there, flushed, aroused, and cursing him because you craved his touch, but he had left, leaving you wanting him even more.
Another time, during a lesson, you had your usual "argument", though it was more like playful bickering, and this time, there was even more tension between you. Everyone in the room could tell something had changed. Every word was a challenge, and every glance was a duel.
"You say the laws are unfair, Y/n, but you never propose a real solution!" Jay said, leaning back in his chair with a provocative smirk.
"Because real solutions require actual change, Park, not just words!" you shot back, crossing your arms. Jay leaned toward you, his voice low: "So tell me, angel… what’s your solution?"
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and glared at him. "For you to stop interrupting me!"
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with challenge and desire, and said softly: "I can’t. You’re too interesting and cute when you’re angry."
You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, making him laugh.
Another time, Jay had seen you talking to another alpha for a political project. He didn’t waste time before striding over to you, his casual demeanor hiding something far more possessive. He hated seeing you interact and, worse, laugh at some boring joke the guy had made.
As you talked to the guy, Jay slid his arm around your waist and gave you a small kiss on the neck while pulling you against him. Your cheeks turned bright red, and you felt frozen yet warm as you felt his body pressed against yours. He said: "Good morning, angel," his voice warm yet slightly possessive. "I missed you."
The other alpha looked slightly embarrassed, his eyes widening as he saw Jay kiss your neck, an extremely intimate gesture, especially since everyone thought you two hated each other. The guy coughed, and Jay smirked, thoroughly satisfied.
"Oh, hey," Jay said, looking at the other guy with a mischievous grin.
"I didn’t even see you there. Nice to meet you, I’m her boyfriend."
You were speechless when you heard him openly claim you as his girlfriend, even though you’d never actually talked about it. When the guy left, you turned to Jay, furious, and said:
"Jay! You and I are not dating!"
He looked at you with an amused, confident expression and leaned in to say:
"Oh, really? It seemed logical to me that we were. But if you want it to be official, we can do something cute… like a ring or a bite to let everyone know you’re mine."
You glared at him, but he just chuckled, stepping closer. You backed up against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest for at least some personal space.
"Or we can just keep going like this, angel. Until you’re ready to admit you’re mine."
He said this while giving you a soft kiss on the lips, then walked away, leaving you standing there with your hands clenched into fists, mentally cursing him.
That Sunday morning, when you woke up, you soon received a message from him:
"Come at 6 PM to the music room. Where we had our first kiss ;)"
You smiled like a teenager with her first crush, and Celeste giggled when she saw you grinning at your phone. When she saw you scream into your pillow, she said: "Someone’s falling in love with someone, I see."
You told her it wasn’t true, but your heart leaped into your throat, and you knew exactly what that message meant. Jay wasn’t just courting you… He was winning you over.
The recording room door was slightly ajar, and there you stood, pausing to check your reflection in the dark glass of the hallway. You were wearing simple black jeans, a soft dusty pink sweater over a black thermal top, and your unruly curls, wild from the humidity, were left loose. You felt nervous, excited, and a little intimidated, because this was the same room where you’d shared your first kiss, and you wondered: What did he want to do in here with you?
You took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Jay was there, bent over his guitar, playing something sweet and melancholic. At the sound of the door creaking, he looked up, and a soft smile spread across his lips. He stood abruptly, as if he couldn’t wait to be near you.
"Finally, angel. I was starting to think you weren’t coming… I was already imagining having to come get you at your place." He chuckled with his usual sarcasm, but his eyes shone with genuine happiness.
You blushed as his hand slid around your waist, pulling you close. "What are we doing here?" you asked, trying to mask the embarrassment and anxiety swirling inside you.
Jay gestured to the guitar leaning against a chair. "For our first date, I want to teach you at least the basics of guitar. I’d like for us to take turns showing each other our passions on each date."
"Date?" You nearly choked on your own saliva, eyes wide.
He shrugged, a small smirk forming on his lips as he picked up the guitar and another chair for you to sit on. "Yeah, this is our first official date, Y/n." Your cheeks flushed, and you nodded, feeling your heart race.
"I wanted to take you out to some fancy restaurant, but that didn’t feel authentic… and I know you like simple things, just like me. So I thought, why not do something simple, but also…" He paused, searching for the right words. "Special. Here, where everything started, where we had our first kiss."
You smiled, remembering how much had changed between you in just a few months. "It’s perfect. It’s sweet that you chose this place."
Jay nodded with a small smile and had you sit on a chair. He settled behind you, placing the guitar against your chest, and leaned in, his warm breath on your neck.
"For now, you’ll learn the basics. Try playing, get familiar with the guitar, and don’t be afraid if you make mistakes, it’s normal."
You tried playing, but only a choked sound came out. Jay chuckled, his large hand almost completely covering yours as he corrected your grip. "Like this, slow… feel how the string vibrates?" Every touch was an excuse to be close to you, and your heart raced as his hands covered yours to guide you.
"Try to follow my movements," he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. "And I promise, sooner or later, you’ll hit the right note."
But you messed up again and grew frustrated. Jay saw your cute pout in the mirror and sighed. "I can’t do it! It’s too hard!"
He laughed, leaning in even closer, giving your nose a playful tap. "I sounded like a choked cat at first too, but I kept going because I loved it too much to quit." And as he said it, he thought of you. He didn’t want to quit on you—he wanted to impress you, to make you see that you were meant to be together.
He pulled back slightly, and you immediately missed his warmth as you tried playing again. Jay watched you, his thoughts oscillating between pure desire and tenderness.
"She’s so damn cute when she’s trying… those curls, those flushed cheeks, the way she bites her lip when she messes up, and that pink sweater… I want to rip it off her, but at the same time, I want to wrap her in a blanket and protect her from everything. She’s mine, even if she hasn’t admitted it yet, even if she’s scared to. Every time she gets frustrated, I want to kiss her until she forgets everything. And that scent… milk and honey, it’s been driving me crazy for years now. I want to lick every inch of her, mark her with my scent, make her understand she can’t run. But it’s not just desire… it’s the way she looks at me, like I’m the only one in the world. I’m so happy to see her slowly trusting me, like I’m the only one worthy of it. And that mouth… damn, that mouth… I want to hear her talk, to hear her say she’s mine."
When you finally played a correct note, Jay stopped and leaned in, his warm breath on your neck. "See? When you let go, you’re perfect."
You looked at each other in the mirror, him behind you, his arms around you, your gazes locked and it reminded you of the image from Halloween night, when he’d made you see yourself differently. It was a sight that stole your breath.
"Maybe that’s the problem, angel…" he murmured in a husky voice. "You never really let go. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."
You felt his scent of cherry and tobacco wrap around you, and your body responded instinctively, leaning into him. Jay smiled, satisfied, because he knew you were giving in, little by little.
"Play again," he said, but his fingers didn’t just guide yours on the guitar. They slid down your arm, caressed your waist, and you shivered, because you knew he was claiming something more than just a guitar lesson.
"Try again," he whispered, but his touch was a promise: "And when you’re ready, I’ll teach you the rest."
After another half-hour of stumbling through guitar chords, laughter tangled with off-key notes, you stretched with a sigh, your fingers aching in the best way. "Maybe I’m better at other things than playing guitar," you admitted, a smirk tugging at your lips.
Jay chuckled, his gaze tracing the curve of your cheek before his calloused but impossibly soft fingers brushed against your skin. You widened your eyes, frozen by the unexpected touch, and he leaned in, his voice a low, rough murmur: "Come here, Y/n."
He spread his legs in silent invitation, just like that first time in this very room, and you obeyed without hesitation, straddling his lap. The moment you settled against him, Jay inhaled deeply against your scent glands, eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat. "Fuck, this smell… it’s becoming my damn addiction," he muttered, more to himself than to you, and you laughed, winding your arms around his neck.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses along your collarbone that made you sigh, the sensation sweet and overwhelming, like every touch was a promise, every breath a bond tightening between you. Against his arms, you felt safe, protected as if nothing and no one could reach you here. Your fingers traced the strands of his hair, and with a voice both curious and trembling, you asked:
"Why didn’t you choose the arts? I can see how much you love music, Jay. You and Heeseung spend so much time writing, creating…"
Jay exhaled, still nuzzling your neck, his voice low, almost a whisper, like he was confessing something he’d carried for too long. "My father wants me to be a lawyer. Perfect. Cold. Distant. Like him." His arms tightened around you, his kisses on your neck growing more insistent. "The guitar was my silent rebellion. Still is. I’d have preferred studying music a thousand times over, but I’m a Park. Privileged, sure, but that comes with… expectations. Rules."
You lowered your gaze, moved by his confession, and pulled him closer. He lifted his eyes, meeting yours. "I’m sorry,"you whispered. "I hope you don’t lose your passion for music after graduation, because I can see how much it means to you."
Jay nodded, a smile mingling determination and melancholy. "I won’t. Because… I don’t want to be a lawyer." Your eyes widened in shock, as if he’d just admitted to burning down the family estate. "Wait...you’ve been competing with me for years to be top of the class, and you don’t want to be a lawyer?!"
He chuckled, poking your side playfully. "Even if I don’t want to be a lawyer, I still want to be the best at something, angel." His fingers danced along your waist, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I want to be a politician. Fight the laws my ancestors made. I know my parents will be against it, but maybe it’s time to grow a spine and show them I’m not their puppet."
You smiled, touched by his determination, and hugged him tightly, feeling his heartbeat sync with yours. "You’ll do great things, Jay. With that stubbornness of yours," you whispered, pride thick in your voice.
He grinned, until your foreheads pressed together and you smiled shyly. His voice was barely a thread: "And you’ll be by my side, angel."
Your cheeks warmed under his intense gaze, your trembling fingers brushing his sharp jawline. "Don’t say things you can’t promise, Jay," you murmured, looking down, uncertain. You gestured upward, where you imagined him, his world of privilege and perfection—then downward. "I’m here. I’ll never be enough for you. I’m not like the other girls you...."
Your words died in your throat, because you couldn’t bring yourself to say what you really thought: I’m not worthy.
Jay wouldn’t let you finish. With a firm motion, he pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. His eyes, usually sharp with sarcasm and challenge, were serious, intense, almost pained by your words. He didn’t understand why you had so little confidence outside the classroom. "In class, you’re a lioness, and half the school’s scared of you, well, except me,"he muttered, thumbs tracing your soft cheeks, sending shivers down your spine.
"Don’t talk nonsense, Y/n," he continued, twirling a curl around his finger. "You’re on the same level as anyone else. Hell, to me, you’re above them. Because you’ve worked your ass off to be here."
His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "I don’t want anyone else," he said, playing with another curl. "I want you, your wild curls, your oversized hoodies, the way you look at me like you could destroy me with a single word."
Your heart pounded, your eyes glistening as you stammered, "But I-I-I’m not..."
Jay wouldn’t let you escape. "Y/n," he said, his voice rough and deep, "I’m not good with sweet words. I’ve never had a serious relationship before, but I know that when you’re here, everything else disappears. And I want it to stay that way."
His fingers traced down your cheek, lingering at your neck where your milk-and-honey scent was strongest. "I want you to be mine. Really mine...not just stolen kisses or challenging glances in class. I want everyone to know you’re my girl. I want to take you to F1 races, drive you crazy with my pheromones, fight with you every damn day… and kiss you whenever I want." His lips brushed yours as he spoke. "And eventually… make you mine for real. Tie you to me. Bite you so everyone knows you’re mine."
Your breath hitched, a liquid heat pooling in your veins, and you whispered, "What if I’m scared?" Your voice trembled, fingers tangling in his hair as if you needed something real to hold onto.
Jay smiled, a shy, sincere one, so different from his usual sarcastic grins and replied, "Then I’ll make sure you’re never afraid of me, angel. I’ll make you feel, make you know how much I really like you." He paused, his eyes shining with determination as he toyed with another curl. "Will you be my girlfriend, Y/n?"
Your eyes widened, your heart threatening to burst, your fingers clutching his hair as you breathed, "Yes… I’d like to be your girlfriend, Jay."
You didn’t even finish the sentence before his lips crashed into yours, not a sweet kiss, not a shy one like before, but hungry, possessive, loaded with every unspoken word and every repressed desire.
Jay gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him until you could feel every inch of him pressed to you. His lips explored yours with torturous slowness, as if memorizing every breath, every moan, and his tongue teased your lips, asking for entrance. You couldn’t resist, opening for him, letting the fire between you consume you both.
His hands slid under your sweater, his calloused fingers tracing circles on your bare skin, making you arch into him with a sigh. "Damn, Y/n," he groaned against your lips, "you’re so fucking perfect."
You moaned, your hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his shirt, and Jay took advantage of your surrender, nipping at your lower lip, then your jaw, then your neck where your scent was strongest. "I want to hear you moan only for me," he growled, his voice rough with desire.
You didn’t stop for minutes, each kiss more intense than the last, each touch more possessive, and you stayed like that for another hour, kissing as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if there were only the two of you, tangled in each other, in this room where everything had begun.
Ever since Jay had asked you to be his girlfriend, everything felt more like ours. Even though we still turned into rivals in class, ready to challenge each other over every answer given to the professors, outside those walls, we were complices, lovers, and partners in chaos. With the arrival of winter break, the last exams before Christmas kept us busy, but not too busy to steal those little moments that made everything sweeter.
That routine had become our ritual: meeting at the café overlooking the Labyrinth of Love, where he always ordered his black coffee and I, my unmissable latte with honey and cinnamon, paired with a warm muffin or brioche.
One afternoon, as steam rose from our cups, Jay looked at me with that smirk of his, playing with the straw of his drink.
"So, angel, ready to get humiliated in tomorrow’s exam?" he asked, his eyes glinting with challenge.
you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile.
"You know I’ll beat you, Park. You should stop deluding yourself."
"Oh, really?" Jay leaned toward me, his voice low. "Then let’s make a bet. If I win, I decide how we spend tonight. If you win…" He paused, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "…I’ll take you wherever you want."
"Deal," you replied, already knowing he’d find a way to win or change your mind.
After class, as usual, we had lunch with his friends: Jake, Sunghoon, his girlfriend, and Heeseung. Slowly, I’d started to bond with them, and even though I’d felt a bit out of place at first, now I laughed with them like I’d known them forever.
One evening, instead of studying, Jay dragged me to a place with F1 simulators in downtown Seoul. He held the door open for me with an excited grin.
"You absolutely have to see my favorite drivers," he said, his eyes shining like a kid’s. "Max Verstappen, the Red Bull king, and Carlos Sainz…" He paused, looking at me with an amused expression. "Who, by the way, I know you find attractive."
your eyes widened, you cheeks warming.
"What? I never said anything!"
Jay laughed, stepping closer. "You didn’t have to. I saw it in your eyes last week when he was on screen after podiuming in Baku."
"But don’t worry, angel…" he added, with a smirk that promised trouble, "I know you prefer me in the end."
"You’re insufferable," you grumbled, but you couldn’t deny that Sainz had something of Jay, that mix of determination, charisma, and a dash of arrogance that made them both irresistible.
"Come on, admit it," Jay insisted, sitting down at the simulator. "Sainz is a phenomenal driver, but I’m way better at other things."
"Better than an F1 driver at what?" you asked, curious and giggling.
"At making you blush and lose your mind at the most inconvenient times!" he replied with a smirk that spelled trouble.
you, of course, blushed, but I couldn’t help laughing.
"You’re impossible."
And yet, you still want me," he said, starting the race.
Another evening, you found ourselves at a ravioli-making masterclass. you'd seen the ad on Instagram, and since both of us loved cooking, you thought it’d be nice to spend an evening trying to cook together. Jay was great at cooking meat and desserts, but when it came to manual dexterity, he was a bit less skilled. You watched him trying hard to keep up with me as the chef explained.
"Okay, the pasta needs to be thin, but not too thin!" you explained as he tried to seal a ravioli with his flour-dusted fingers.
"Angel, I’m making a mess," he admitted, laughing as he watched me carefully close the ravioli with precision.
"Here, let me help," you said, taking his hands in mine to guide him. "Like this, gently… you have to press the edges delicately. And you need to put less filling, or it’ll spill out."
Jay leaned in, his warm breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmm, I like it when you give me orders," he murmured. "Maybe we should have more of these private lessons."
"Jay, we’re cooking!" you protested, though your tone wasn’t convincing.
In the end, we made a mountain of ravioli, which we took to Jake, Hoon, and Heeseung after the class. That, too, was a special moment, because for the first time, I truly felt like part of their group.
That afternoon, you were leaning against the headboard of Jay’s bed, legs crossed, with your laptop balanced on your knees. A PDF on media law was open in front of you. Fake news has become an increasingly massive problem in modern society, especially the violation of privacy between omegas, alphas, and betas. For example:
Fake pregnancy announcements of famous omegas are used to manipulate the stock market of pharmaceutical companies producing pheromone inhibitors.
Doctored videos of alphas in positions of power, falsely accused of abusing omegas to discredit them politically.
Trafficking of sensitive data on betas who were passed off as "neutral" and therefore "uninteresting," when in reality they were used as guinea pigs for illegal medical tests—because yes, even today, there was still human trafficking.
Jay was sitting beside you, surrounded by highlight-covered notes and his laptop open. He wore those nerdy glasses that gave him an intellectual and sexy vibe at the same time, his hair split into two fluffy sections that fell over his forehead. Now and then, he made little pouts when he didn’t immediately grasp a concept. One hand played with the fabric of your shorts, while the other held his papers. You, pure and innocent in everyone’s eyes, had a mind that was anything but pure, your thoughts wandering to how it would feel if those hands explored every inch of your body, how it would feel to have them grip your hips while he kissed you, or worse, how it would feel to have them slide under your shorts while he whispered in your ear how beautiful you were.
You’d been there for almost three hours, and Jay wasn’t helping your concentration at all. When you felt him turn toward you, you blushed instantly and dropped your gaze to the laptop, pretending to be absorbed in studying so he wouldn’t catch you staring. But after a few seconds, you heard his deep, low laugh.
"Why are you laughing?" you mumbled, trying to sound indifferent, but he leaned in, placing a finger under your chin and gently turning your face toward him. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you, all flushed from being caught staring.
"Are you tired, angel?" he asked with a knowing smirk, and you shrugged, trying to play it cool, but then nodded because, honestly, you were exhausted.
Jay stretched, and the T-shirt he was wearing a vintage ’80s band tee, lifted, revealing not just his golden skin but also that faint V-line and the toned muscles of his stomach. You turned away sharply, your cheeks burning, but you heard his laugh get even louder.
"Come on, angel, don’t be shy," he teased. "If you want to look, you can just ask… I don’t bite… well, unless you want me to."
You glared at him, but inside, you were thrilled, and you shot back, "We should keep studying. I don’t want to get a bad grade because of you."
Jay leaned in even closer, his warm breath tickling your ear.
"Angel, we’ve been here since three o’clock, and it’s almost 6:30. Outside, there’s nothing but snow and wind. Close that laptop and let’s relax a little."
You were hesitant, but in the end, you nodded and closed your laptop, placing it on his desk. But just as you were about to sit beside him, Jay pulled you onto his lap in one fluid motion, making you straddle him.
"Jay...!" you protested, but he silenced you with a soft kiss, his lips moving against yours with torturous slowness.
"Shhh, angel," he whispered against your mouth. "Now it’s time to relax."
Jay’s lips were soft and enveloping against yours, and they were literally sweet torment, making you lose your breath every time you nibbled on his lower lip or when he sucked on yours, as if he wanted to drink in every sigh. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers lost in his fluffy hair, while he chuckled every time a moan or a sigh escaped your lips. You couldn’t help but lean in even closer until your legs timidly wrapped around his, feeling all the warmth of his body against yours. He was hard where you were soft, muscular where you were sinuous, and that contrast made you feel alive in a way you’d never experienced before.
But then, something broke. Your mind, as always, spiraled into dark thoughts about yourself, and you pulled away, lost in thought:
How could someone like him, beautiful, confident, charismatic, full of life, desired by everyone, really find you attractive? You, with your wide hips, your not-flat stomach, your full breasts that you’d always hated, who had spent a lifetime envying girls who felt sexy, who looked in the mirror and smiled, while you’d always felt out of place, the ugly duckling of the family, the one they told to eat less, to take up less space, to never be enough.
Jay noticed immediately how you’d grown cold and distant. He pulled back, his worried eyes searching for yours.
"What’s wrong, angel?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle, his lips still brushing against yours.
You shook your head, trying to downplay it, and said in a low voice:
"It’s something stupid."
Jay didn’t accept that answer. He made a little pout, his eyebrows furrowing in an expression of genuine concern.
"It’s not stupid. Tell me what’s going on in that little head of yours."
You bit your lip, your heart racing wildly.
"I don’t understand how someone like you could like someone like me," you admitted, gesturing to yourself with a helpless, frustrated motion. "Jay, seriously, open your eyes. I… I’m not that pretty. There are so many beautiful, thin, perfect girls out there, and no one has ever looked at me with desire. At home, I was...still am....the ugly duckling, the one who preferred studying over finding an alpha. My parents told me to eat less because I wasn’t in shape like my sisters. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way you do, and I don’t understand what you see in me that’s so special."
Jay fell silent for a long moment, as if your words had struck him right in the heart. Then, with a tenderness that stole your breath, he pulled you close, his hands cupping your face with desperate gentleness, his forehead pressing against yours.
"Angel, I’d tell you a thousand times over if I had to. You don’t have less than anyone else. In fact, you have so much more. Damn, you drive me crazy. You’re real, because you’re not one of those perfect, fake girls who think they’re superior just because they like what they see in the mirror. I like you because you have flaws, yes, but they’re what make you you. I love the way you blush when you see me, the way your eyes light up when you find the little gifts I leave for you, whether they’re stupid or food or your favorite drinks, because I know you’re the only one who truly appreciates them. I love the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating, the way you get mad when you don’t understand something, the way you challenge me even when you know I’m right. And yes, damn it, I like you because you have wide hips that make me want to hold you tight, a soft stomach that drives me crazy just thinking about kissing every inch of it, and full breasts that make me lose my mind every time I look at them. You’re perfect just the way you are, and if someone hasn’t seen that, it’s only because they didn’t have the eyes to see you."
His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, sweeping away years of insecurities in an instant. And then, without hesitation, you pulled him to you with more fervor, more desire, more need than ever before. Your lips crashed against his, as if you wanted to show him that you wanted him too, that you desired him with every fiber of your being. Your hands dug into his hair, pulling slightly, while your tongue challenged his, demanding and possessive. A low, rough moan escaped his throat, and you felt his hands tighten on your hips, as if he wanted to fuse with you, to mark you forever.
"Please, Jay," you whispered against his lips. "Show me how much you like me… make me feel that this isn’t a dream, that this is all real."
Jay didn’t need to be asked twice. With a guttural, possessive growl, he pushed you back onto the bed, his massive frame covering you like a protective shadow. His lips trailed down your neck, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave marks that would last for days, his way of telling the world you were his, but also of showing you that only he could make you feel this desired, this cherished.
"See these?" he whispered against your throat, his fingers tracing the red marks he’d just left. "Now everyone will know you’re mine."
He didn’t wait for an answer. His lips blazed a trail across every inch of your skin, leaving fiery kisses along your collarbone, your shoulders, then descending toward your chest.
"Every time you look in the mirror, you’ll remember this moment," he murmured, his voice rough with need.
"You’re perfect," he groaned against your skin, his fingers sliding under your shirt, caressing the softness of your stomach, the very part of you you’d always hated. "Damn, angel, you have no idea how crazy you drive me." His voice was low, almost reverent. "Every time I look at you, every time I touch you, every time I smell you… I just want to devour you. To make you understand that you’re made for me and no one else."
You nodded, breathless, never imagining that the boy you’d once hated in class could be so desperate for you, so careful in asking for your consent, so determined to make you feel wanted and protected.
Jay lifted your shirt with deliberate slowness, as if he were unwrapping the most precious gift. When his eyes fell on your full, lush breasts, a shiver of desire ran down your spine.
"Look how beautiful you are," he whispered, his voice hoarse with adoration, as his hands cupped and gently kneaded them, his thumbs circling your already hard nipples. With a fluid motion, his hands slid behind your back, and in one swift movement, he unclasped your bra, letting it fall away. Your breasts bounced slightly, and Jay swallowed hard at the sight of you, so pure, so unguarded in what you were doing, his eyes devouring every detail.
"God, angel, you’re so damn sexy," he said, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, making you arch your back as a stifled moan escaped your lips. His mouth closed over one, his tongue tracing slow, torturous circles beforesucking hard, driving you wild. Your fingers dug into his hair, pulling slightly as a burning pleasure coursed through you.
"Do you like that, angel?" Jay asked, his voice low and rough, as his mouth moved to the other breast, sucking with a force that made you cry out.
"J-Jay…" you stammered, your fingers clutching his hair, your body trembling beneath his touch.
"Tell me," he commanded, his mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses down your chest. "Tell me, or I’ll stop."
"I like it…" you moaned, your voice broken with desire. "Don’t stop, please…"
Jay chuckled, satisfied with your answer, and said, "Good girl," his lips returning to suck even harder. "You drive me crazy, you know? Every time I touch you, every time I hear you moan…" His fingers traced down your body, following the curve of your hips, your stomach, until they reached the waistband of your sweatpants.
"I want to show you," he said, his voice thick with promise and desire, his fingers brushing against the elastic. "I want you to feel how desired you are… how you’re mine."
His fingers slipped beneath the waistband, gliding over your warm skin, and he felt how damp your panties already were. A smirk formed on his lips because the doctor had been right, only you could take him in, only you could drive him this wild, and only he could make you this desperate for him.
"Already so wet for me, angel?" he asked, his fingers teasing you through the fabric of your panties. You moaned, your body arching toward him, your legs parting instinctively.
"Yes…" You admitted in a low, slightly embarrassed voice at how quickly your body responded to him. Jay smiled, that smug, satisfied smirk of his. "Good girl," he whispered, his fingers pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. "Now let’s see how good you are at following orders."
With a quick motion, he pulled down your sweatpants, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties. He felt you tremble, felt how your pheromones and his were mingling in the air, thick with desire.
"God, angel," he groaned, his eyes devouring every inch of you. He didn’t understand why you didn’t see it. You were so damn beautiful, lying there in his bed, moaning because of him. He’d remember this moment forever, the way you looked, the way you sounded, the way you responded only to him.
His fingers brushed over the damp lace of your panties, making you shiver. He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if making sure you were truly okay with this.
"Can I make you feel good?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "I want to taste you, Y/n. Would you let me?"
Your eyes widened slightly because, for the first time, someone would see you naked, with all the flaws you hated: your soft stomach, your wide hips, your thighs touching. But in his eyes, there was no judgment, only hunger, as if you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
"You’re so damn perfect," he whispered, as if he could read your thoughts. "Every curve, every imperfection… It’s all mine."
You nodded, your heart racing wildly. "Yes," you whispered, and he smiled, that proud, satisfied smirk of his.
His fingers hooked into the lace, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled your panties down, leaving you completely bare before him. His breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, so wet, so ready, just for him.
"Fuck, angel," he groaned, his voice thick with awe. "You’re so fucking perfect."
And then, without another word, his mouth descended, his tongue tracing slow, teasing circles before finally giving you what you’d been craving him.
Jay’s voice was a low, possessive growl as he deliberately slid your lace panties down your legs. When he saw your swollen, glistening clit, he let out a deep, hungry groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his large hands gripping your hips. "Now I get to taste and make this perfect pussy feel good."
Your eyes widened—you hadn’t expected Jay to talk so filthy, and for a second, you were speechless. "J-Jay, I didn’t think you—" you stammered, but before you could finish, you felt his hot, wet tongue lick along your folds, and a breathless moan escaped your lips.
"Oh… my god," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, now completely tousled from your grip. Jay chuckled against you, feeling how shy and excited you were at the same time.
"Fuck, Y/n, you taste so good," he murmured before diving in deeper, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles, alternating between figure-eights and deep sucks that made your back arch off the bed.
"D-don’t stop…" you stammered, your fingers pulling his hair as your body trembled beneath his touch.
"Wasn’t planning to, angel," he replied, his tongue continuing to tease you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "I want to hear you scream. I want everyone to know how good I make you feel."
Then, without warning, he lifted his gaze slightly as he slid a finger inside you. "Can I?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. You nodded, unable to speak, and he smiled, satisfied by how much you wanted him.
"Good girl," he whispered as his finger pushed inside you, tight between your hot, slick folds, while his other hand traced up your stomach and reached your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple until you moaned in pleasure.
"Ah—! J-Jay…!" you cried out, your body arching beneath him, your legs clamping around his shoulders. He chuckled, clearly pleased.
"Didn’t think you were so loud, angel," he said as he added a second finger, pumping them inside you and making you lose your mind completely.
"I-I’m not loud!" you protested, though your body betrayed every word, moaning and trembling beneath him. Jay shook his head with a smug smirk.
"To think you seem so innocent and quiet in class while studying," he mused, his fingers moving deep inside you. "But here, bent and naked, you’re moaning for more… Feel how well you take my fingers, angel? Feel how your pussy clenches around me?"
You tried to retort, but the words dissolved into a long, broken moan as his fingers hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. You’d never have thought the boy you hated most in the world could make you feel this good, this desired, this completely his.
His fingers pumped inside you, slow and deep, while his tongue sucked your clit with a precision that drove you wild. Every time he alternated between gentle licks and deep kisses, a broken moan escaped your lips like a sigh you couldn’t hold back.
"Ah… fuck… Jay…" you panted, your fingers clutching the sheets, your body trembling beneath his touch. Every time his tongue pressed right there, your legs turned to jelly, and a desperate sound something between a whimper and a moan, escaped your throat. "P-please… harder…"
Jay felt your body tremble beneath him and paused for just a second, his mouth wet and glistening as he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes. "Close, angel?" he asked, and you nodded, unable to speak. He intensified everything, his licks became faster and deeper, his fingers pumped harder, and his hands teased your hardened nipples, making your back arch into a perfect curve.
"Come for me, angel," he commanded, his voice soft but firm.
Your fingers dug into his hair, pulling hard as your body contracted around his fingers, and pleasure washed over you in endless waves. You felt your thighs tremble, your pheromones flooding the air, sweet and intense. Jay inhaled deeply, his eyes darkening with desire.
"Fuck, angel…" he groaned. "You’re so damn perfect when you come…"
He lifted himself slightly, and when his eyes met your completely relaxed body, he felt your pheromones flood his senses. He wanted to mark you, to sink his teeth into those soft thighs you hated so much, to knot you, to breed you, to fill you with himself until you passed out from pleasure. He already imagined how it would feel to hear you scream as he took you, how your wide hips would fit perfectly in his hands as he pushed you down onto the bed, how your scent would mingle with his, creating a symphony only the two of you could hear.
But deep down, he knew you weren’t ready, not yet, not for his knot, not for breeding, not for all the chaos it would bring. And yet, the mere thought drove him wild.
Jay pulled back completely and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You blinked up at him, still dazed from pleasure, your cheeks flushed and breath ragged.
"You okay, angel?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned. You nodded, cheeks still pink and breath shaky, then glanced down and realized he was still fully dressed. A shy laugh escaped you.
"I’m the only one naked in this room," you pointed out, gesturing to him. "Why aren’t you undressed?"
Jay looked genuinely surprised, as if he hadn’t realized how unfair that was. "Wait… you actually want to… do this with me for the first time?" His voice was uncertain, like he couldn’t believe his ears.
You laughed nervously, your cheeks flaming even redder, and nodded. "Yeah," you admitted, dropping your gaze. "I just want it to be with you… because I can tell you care about me. You look at me like I’m… wanted. And…" You swallowed, nervous but determined. "…I trust you."
Jay’s cheeks flushed pink, and a small, sweet smile tugged at his lips. "I’m glad you’re starting to trust me, angel," he murmured, cupping your cheek.
You giggled, your heart racing wildly. "Well…?" you teased, smirking. "Aren’t you gonna take off your shirt… and everything else?"
Your hands hovered in front of your face for a second—almost like you were hiding, before reaching out with trembling fingers to grip the hem of his shirt. When you pulled it up, your breath caught.
His golden skin was smooth and warm, his faint V-line perfectly defined, even if he didn’t have chiseled abs like a model, he was real and perfect in your eyes. You swallowed as his forearms flexed while he lifted himself to avoid crushing you, his broad shoulders completely shielding you, making you feel small and protected. Then your gaze dropped, and you saw the bulge pressing against his pants.
"You sure, angel?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.
You nodded. "Yes," you said firmly.
Jay smirked, dark and hungry, and unbuckled his belt in one swift motion. "Well then…" he said, eyes dark and ravenous, "…now it’s your turn to take them off."
With shaking hands and your heart in your throat, you obeyed, tugging his pants down in a clumsy motion, trying to mask your nervousness with a joke. "Wow, Park, Calvin Klein boxers? Really, the peak of alpha cliché," you teased.
Jay raised an eyebrow, that smug, satisfied smirk spreading across his lips because he could see you were literally blushing, trying to ease the tension. But his eyes were watchful, noticing how your fingers trembled as you tried to act confident. He knew this was your first time, and even though he didn’t care about your jokes, he cared about you. More than he’d ever admit out loud. He just wanted everything to be perfect.
When his boxers slid down, his length slapped against his abs, long, thick, slightly veined, already glistening at the tip. Your cheeks and ears burned crimson, and you bit your lip, lifting your gaze to meet his, completely flushed.
"I… I’ve never done this before," you stammered, dropping your eyes before finding the courage to look at him again. "And I’m not… not on birth control. So until I am, can we use a condom?"
Jay nodded immediately, no hesitation. "Of course, angel," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring. "I’ve never done it without one either, so I’m fine with precautions… until you’re ready for the rest." He brushed your cheek with his thumb, grazing your lower lip, and whispered against your mouth: "I’m not in a rush. I just want you to be safe when you’re with me, Y/n."
You gave him a small smile, and you’d heard from other girls that you were supposed to be gentle, that you should move your hand up and down, so you looked at his length and, with a trembling hand, tried to do just that, your fingers wrapping around him and pumping lightly.
But Jay growled, gripping your wrist with a firm but not painful hold. "Angel," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "I’d love to watch you play with me, get you comfortable… but right now, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you. I need to make you mine."
Your eyes widened at how serious he was in that moment, and you nodded. Jay tore open the condom and rolled it on with a quick, practiced motion, then slid a pillow under you, adjusting you so you were comfortable and open for him.
"Spread your legs, Y/n," he commanded, his voice rough and dominant, and you obeyed, your body trembling with excitement and fear.
Jay guided his tip between your slick, swollen folds, teasing your entrance before leaning down, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot and ragged.
"Angel, promise me something," he said, his voice rough and desperate. "If it hurts, if it’s too much… tell me. Or pinch me. Because once I’m inside you, I don’t know how much control I’ll have."
You looked at him with glistening eyes, full of emotion. "I promise," you whispered. "But I trust you, Jay."
Jay growled, his voice dark and hungry. "I’m no saint, Y/n," he said, his eyes ravenous. "I’m an alpha, and I have my limits. When I’m inside you, I’m gonna want to take you hard. I’m gonna want to hear you scream. I’m gonna want to mark you so deep no one else can ever touch you without knowing you’re mine." His fingers dug into your hips, almost leaving marks. "But if you tell me to stop… I will. Always."
You didn’t give him time to finish. You crashed your lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss, and against his mouth, you whispered: "I trust you," repeating it like a vow.
Slowly, inch by inch, Jay pushed inside you, your slick folds stretching to welcome him, and a broken moan escaped your lips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as your body adjusted around him, tight and warm.
"Mnnh… Jay…" you gasped, breath ragged, your body tense between pain and pleasure. Jay pushed almost all the way in, then paused, his forehead pressed to yours, his dark eyes watching every flicker of emotion on your face as your body adjusted to him.
"You okay, angel?" he asked, and you nodded, even though it was a strange, new sensation a mix of burning and pleasure you’d never felt before.
"Yeah… but it’s… weird," you admitted, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement.
Jay chuckled, his lips brushing your scent glands, inhaling your fragrance. "It’s normal, angel," he murmured. "First time’s always like this. But I promise, soon it’ll just be pleasure." Then, after a few seconds, as you began to relax, he asked, "Can I move?"
You nodded, and he pulled out slowly, then pushed back in with a controlled, deliberate thrust. A low moan slipped from your lips, and your fingers clutched his hair as, without realizing it, your legs wrapped around his waist, as if trying to keep him inside you.
Jay swallowed hard, his eyes devouring the way your body took him in, and he whispered, bold and possessive, "Look how well you take me, angel." His voice was filled with pride. "You were made for me. Every inch of you is perfect for me."
His thrusts grew deeper, and that initial sting melted into overwhelming pleasure. You stammered, words lost between moans.
"J-Jay… it’s… fuck, it’s too.." you panted, nails digging into his shoulders, but he grinned as he shifted your thigh higher, changing the angle and in that moment, his cock hit that spot inside you that made you see stars.
"Too good, you mean," he said, his voice low and rough, as he pushed deeper. "It’s not too much for you, angel… not when you’re full of my knot."
His words made you tremble, and tears of pleasure slipped from your eyes. Jay noticed and paused for a second, his forehead resting against yours.
"You look so beautiful when you cry from pleasure, angel," he whispered, his voice soft yet possessive.
"Remember: Only I can do this to you. Only I can make you feel this way."
Then he resumed his movements, and when his cock brushed your G-spot, you cried out, a broken, desperate scream, tearing through the air.
"JAY!" Your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin as pleasure consumed you.
"Look how well you’re taking me, Y/n," he growled, his hands gripping your hips, leaving red marks on your skin, while your fingers scratched his golden flesh. "Who would’ve thought my number one rival could take me so well?"
You shook your head, unable to speak, your body vibrating beneath him.
"Jay, I… I want to come…" You whispered, tears stinging your eyes from pleasure, and he didn’t hesitate. His thumb slid to your clit, beginning to circle it with firm, deliberate strokes.
"Come on, angel, come for me again. I love watching you fall apart because of me."
And it was too much, your body contracted around him, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you came around his cock, your moans mixing with his growls. In that room, there was only the sound of your gasps, the slap of skin, and the heady scent of your pheromones blending.
But Jay wasn’t done yet. Jay began to fuck you properly, his cock filling you deeper and deeper, as if it were made just for you. Each thrust was deep and possessive, and your little moans filled the room a mix of "too much" and "so good" that made him smirk in satisfaction.
"I can’t wait to fill you with my knot, angel," he growled against your ear, his voice rough and full of promise. "I can’t wait to see you swollen with me, to feel you as mine in a way no one can ever erase. And I can’t wait to breed you, because only I can do that… only I can give you pups that are half you and half me. Remember these words, angel, because I’m never letting you go."
You couldn’t think straight, his words were too intense, too real, yet perfect. You saw how both of you were sweaty, how your body took him completely, as if you were made only for him. And when Jay groaned, "Fuck, I’m about to come, angel," you felt that final, deep thrust before he spilled into the condom.
He stayed inside you for a full minute, as if he didn’t want to leave, as if he wanted to imprint himself on you forever. Then, slowly, he pulled out, and you felt a void you’d never known before. He tied off the condom and tossed it aside before opening his arms in a silent invitation.
You melted into him, feeling his hands trace gentle circles on your back as you hid in the crook of his neck. You stayed like that in silence for a while, until he asked, "You okay, angel?"
You nodded, and he continued, his voice concerned but sweet, "Does it hurt anywhere?"
"No," you shook your head, still too embarrassed to look at him, but Jay chuckled softly at how shy you were now, after taking him so well just moments ago.
"No need to be shy now, angel," he said, removing your hands from your face. And when he saw you—flushed, hair stuck to your forehead, eyes glistening from pleasure—he smiled, as if you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. "Beautiful," he whispered, and you rolled your eyes, though inside, you glowed.
"It was… amazing," you admitted, and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You were perfect, angel," he said, his voice full of pride. "I couldn’t have asked for a better first time with you."
Then he slid his shirt around your body, as if he wanted to wrap you in his essence, and put his boxers back on before pulling you back into his arms. "You’re staying here to sleep, right, angel?" he asked, and you nodded, snuggling closer.
"I don’t want to go anywhere… unless you’re with me," you admitted, and you felt his heart beat faster against yours. Jay smiled, his thoughts weaving between sweetness and alpha possessiveness.
"Good," he said, his voice low and firm. "Because now that I’ve had you, I’m never letting you go. You’re mine, angel. Your body, your scent, your moans… all of it is mine, and I can’t wait to fill you again, to hear you scream my name every time I touch you, because no one will ever make you feel this way… only me."
And you fell into a deep sleep wrapped in his warm body, a small smile on your lips.
Weeks had passed since you’d given yourself to Jay completely, and things between you were better than ever. Between the last exams of the term before Christmas break and evenings spent at holiday markets, dinners with friends, and stolen moments on the couch, time seemed to fly by.
Jay had this annoying habit of falling asleep on you or against you like a koala while you watched movies. The next morning, still half-asleep, he’d claim the film had been "fascinating," as if he hadn’t passed out ten minutes in.
"Oh, really? Then tell me the plot," you’d tease, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.
"Uh… there was a guy, a girl, and… some kind of conflict?" he’d say, scratching the back of his neck with a guilty look.
"Brilliant, Park. You just described 90% of all movies," you’d laugh, poking his shoulder. "You should pay for your own snoring ticket." And he’d always insist he didn’t snore, which, okay, was technically true.
In class, you were still rivals, but the tension between you had softened. Now you teased each other out of habit rather than real competition, and every so often, you’d exchange knowing glances when the other nailed an answer. Everyone had noticed...something between you had shifted.
That afternoon, you’d decided to spend some time with Celeste: face masks, skincare, a good bottle of wine, snacks, and a romantic K-drama playing in the background. As you both smeared green clay masks onto your faces, Celeste turned to you with a mischievous grin, twirling her little mask spatula.
"So, Y/n…" she started, "playing" with her spoon, "how’s it going with Jay? I mean… really going?"
Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you tried to hide behind your mask because you knew exactly what that smirk meant. "W-What do you mean?" you stammered.
"Oh, come on!" she laughed, "pinching" your arm. "Don’t play shy! I know you guys had sex, and I know you liked it… So? How was it?"
"CELESTE!" you yelped, throwing a pillow at her face. She dodged it, giggling. "You’re impossible!"
She laughed, raising her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! But tell me one thing…" She leaned in, lowering her voice like she was about to reveal a secret. "Was it good? Tell me you used protection, right?"
You nodded, your cheeks burning, and admitted, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt: "Yeah… but honestly, I’d like to start taking the pill."
Celeste’s eyes widened, then she smiled. "I think that’s the right move! I did the same when I was dating my ex." Her smile faltered for a second—you knew she still hadn’t fully gotten over that breakup, especially since her dad had warned her off athletes but she shook it off.
"And you know what? It helps significantly with hormonal fluctuations during hot weather. No more headaches, mood swings, or bad cramps. Plus, it regulates your cycle, so you always know when it’s coming…" She leaned in even closer, "whispering" like it was a conspiracy: "…and it makes you feel safer. No worries, just… enjoying Jay without stress. And hey—" She paused dramatically. "...if you guys ever decide to have pups someday, you can stop taking it and… well. You know how it goes!"
You nodded, biting your lip. "But… it’s only prescribed if you have a partner, right? Or a medical condition…"
"Exactly!" Celeste confirmed. "But if you go to the gynecologist and say you have a steady partner, they’ll prescribe it no problem. Jay’s already registered you as his partner with the university’s medical system!" She winked. "And hey...I’ll go with you! That’s what friends are for. No need to be embarrassed, okay? It’s totally normal, and I really like Jay! I accept him as your boyfriend, and I’m happy you’re happy!"
She pulled you into a hug, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly, deeply happy with your life. You couldn’t wait to see what would happen next between you and Jay.
The air in the medical center reeked of antiseptic and too many agitated pheromones, just like yours. Every year, you’d come here for routine exams to confirm your omega biology was intact, normal, just like everyone else’s. But today wasn’t routine. Today, you were here to ask for the pill, for Jay, for the bond you thought was special, unique, real.
Celeste sat beside you, her encouraging smile faltering as you fidgeted with your fingers. "Don’t worry, Y/n," she said, snapping her fingers playfully. "It’s just a pill. It’s not like they’re operating on you! And I’m sure they’ll find the perfect one for you!" She smiled, but your stomach was a knot of nerves. It wasn’t just a pill. It was a step toward something bigger, something you’d started to believe was love, because deep down, you were falling for Jay.
Soon, the doctor a woman in her fifties with gold-rimmed glasses, a perfect chignon, and a white coat smelling of lavender and black coffee, called you into her office. The walls were lined with diplomas, and her desk was buried under files and medical journals. She glanced at her screen.
"Y/n, born in [City] on [Date]," she read, then looked up at you with a warm smile. "Your tests are all in order. What brings you in today?"
Your cheeks flushed. "I I-I’d like to start taking the pill," you admitted, fidgeting with your shirt hem. "I’ve found an alpha, and I’d like to start taking it… both to prevent pregnancy and to help with my heat symptoms and cycle pain."
The doctor removed her glasses, studying your bloodwork carefully. "Everything looks perfect in your omega biology," she said. "I’d recommend a low-dose estrogen-progestin pill—it’ll minimize side effects. You should know there’s a very low pregnancy risk if taken correctly, and you’ll need to take it at the same time every day."
You nodded as she reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small pink box.
"It’ll have positive effects on your heat and cycle pain, many omegas report fewer cramps, more stable moods, and easier-to-manage heats. But there are negative side effects to consider: increased appetite, heightened arousal, possible decreased libido in the first few months or, conversely, an exaggerated increase."
You swallowed, nodding as you signed the forms she handed you. Then, the doctor leaned back in her chair, her expression knowing.
"You’re Jay Park’s omega, aren’t you?"
You froze, then nodded slightly, surprised. "Y-Yes…"
"Interesting," she said, crossing her arms. "Jay is a very special case an alpha with an extremely rare biological compatibility."
You furrowed your brows, pretending at a confidence you didn’t feel. "Oh, yeah… I know," you lied, waving a hand. "He mentioned it. It’s just… chemistry, right?"
The doctor studied you carefully, as if gauging how much you really knew. Then she nodded. "In a sense," she said, tapping her fingers on the desk. "But I don’t think you understand exactly what that means."
Your stomach twisted, but you kept up the act. "Of course I do. It’s just… Jay’s a little shy about talking about it."
The doctor shook her head, as if she’d seen right through you. "Y/n," she began, her voice low and serious, "Jay Park cannot knot with most omegas. His body rejects them. It’s an extremely rare condition. But with you? It’s different. He’s incredibly lucky to have found you, because the chances of him finding another compatible omega were astronomically low. You’re the only one who can fully take his knot, who could one day carry his young. It’s a miracle you’re compatible with him at all."
You went still, your heart pounding wildly. The words hit you like a physical blow.
"W-What?" you stammered, your mask cracking.
The doctor watched you carefully. "You didn’t know?"
You shook your head, feeling tears sting your eyes. "No… I thought he chose me because… because he liked me."
The doctor sighed, as if realizing she’d made a mistake. "I’m sorry, Y/n. I thought you knew."
The world crashed down around you. You thought back to every time he’d said you were his, that you were the only one who could take his knot someday. And now you understand: you weren’t special. You were just compatible. A biological solution, not a choice.
"So… I’m just his only option?" you asked, your voice trembling.
The doctor tried to continue "It’s not that simple, Y/n..." but you stood abruptly, your chair scraping back.
"It’s exactly that simple," you said, your voice cold. "I’m not special… I’m just compatible."
The doctor looked down, as if realizing too late she’d said too much. "Y/n, Jay cares about you. It’s not just about compatibility. I know for a fact he would’ve chosen you even if he hadn’t known you were compatible."
But her words didn’t comfort you. They just made you angrier.
"Then why didn’t he tell me?!" you demanded, tears spilling over.
The doctor’s voice was gentle. "Probably because he was afraid. Afraid you’d think he was using you. Afraid you’d run. Afraid you wouldn’t understand his situation."
You shook your head, tears streaming freely. "So… all this time… I was just a biological solution to him?"
The doctor didn’t answer because she didn’t need to.
You signed the papers in silence, took the prescription, and left—your legs shaking, your vision blurred with tears.
Celeste saw you and stood up, smiling, but then she saw your tear-streaked face and rushed to you. You clung to her, sobbing.
"It was all a lie," you whispered. "I was just a percentage to him. He never really liked me…I....I was stupid enough to fall in love with him."
Jay stood frozen outside your apartment door, his jaw clenched, fingers gripping his phone with your unread messages glowing on the screen. He’d tried calling, texting, even reaching out to Celeste—but no answer. The silence was deafening, and the emptiness twisted his stomach into a knot of anxiety. You’d said you were going out with Celeste, just like every other evening for the past week—texts, FaceTime, your usual routine. But tonight? Nothing. So he knocked on your shared apartment door, and when it finally opened, it wasn’t your smile that greeted him, nor your pouts about your unruly curls or complaints about the cold making your nose red or the boring movie you’d forced him to watch the night before. Instead, it was Celeste, her expression hard and protective, blocking his path.
"Maybe you should leave, Jay," she said, her voice cold.
Jay furrowed his brows, his heart pounding wildly because he didn’t understand what was happening. "What do you mean? Why would I leave? Where’s Y/n?" he asked, his voice tense. Celeste crossed her arms, glaring at him. "It’s not the time, Jay."
But before she could finish, he caught your scent: sweet milk, honey, and cinnamon flooding his senses. He’d recognize your fragrance among a thousand others. His eyes locked onto yours, and the world stopped. You were wrapped in an oversized hoodie, your leggings hiding your curves, but nothing could hide the pain in your eyes—red, swollen, and lips chapped. You looked broken, and Jay’s heart shattered.
"Celeste, thank you… but I think I need to talk to Jay," you said, your voice low and trembling.
Jay felt his heart crack because you’d never been this distant, this cold with him. And you wouldn’t even look at him. When you stepped into your room, he tried to follow, but you raised a hand, stopping him.
"Stay away from me, Jay," you said, your voice shaking.
He swallowed hard, panic choking his throat. "Angel, I don’t understand…" he began, but you laughed bitterly, your voice broken.
"You don’t understand?" you repeated, pulling the pill box from your hoodie pocket. "This morning, I went to get the pill, so happy, thinking we were taking a step forward, that we were really a couple." Your voice cracked, your fingers clutching the box like it could save you from falling apart. "But you know what I found out? The guy I thought loved me for who I am has a knot compatibility disorder. And guess what? Only I can take his knot. Only I can give him pups. Only I’m his fucking perfect percentage!"
Jay froze, his eyes wide because you weren’t supposed to find out like this. He’d had so many chances to tell you, but he’d failed. And now you knew the whole truth.
"Y/n…" he whispered, but you cut him off.
"IS IT TRUE?!" you screamed, tears streaming uncontrollably. "All this time… was I just your only option?!"
He couldn’t lie. Not now. Not to you. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low. "But it’s not what you think—"
"THEN EXPLAIN!" you shouted, wiping your nose, your body trembling, your heart breaking.
"Tell me I’m not just a biological data point to you! Tell me you love me and it’s not just that your body tolerates me!"
Jay stepped closer, his hands trembling, his eyes glossy. "I chose you because you’re you, Y/n," he said, his voice broken with pain. "Not because you’re the only compatible one… because you’ve driven me crazy since the first time I saw you in class, because when I look at you, I don’t see a percentage...I see you… the only girl who can challenge me but also the only girl who sees me for who I am…"
But his words sounded empty, false after everything you’d just learned. "Then why didn’t you tell me?!" you demanded, your voice shattered by sobs.
"Because I was afraid," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Afraid you’d think I was using you. Afraid you’d run. Afraid you wouldn’t believe me."
But you shook your head, tears streaming endlessly. "And now? What am I supposed to think, Jay? That this was real? Or that I’m just the one your body doesn’t reject and you’ve been manipulating me this whole time?"
He reached out, but you flinched away as if his touch could burn you.
Jay dropped his hand, his eyes filled with infinite pain, and whispered, "I never wanted to hurt you, I swear it’s not like that—you’re not my girlfriend just because of some fucking percentage. I already liked you before I found out you were compatible with me."
But right now, none of that mattered because the pain was there, and you didn’t know if it would ever fade. You motioned for him to leave.
"Just go, Jay. Please… I don’t want to deal with you, and I don’t want to hear your bullshit."
He felt the world crash down around him and tried to say something, anything but nothing came out. "Y/n, please, let me explain…" But Celeste grabbed his arm, shaking her head, and led him out of your room.
"You should go, Jay," she said firmly.
And just like that, he found himself outside your door, alone, with tears burning his eyes and the realization that he’d lost the only person he’d ever truly loved.
Since you discovered the truth, a chasm had opened between you and Jay, not anger, but disappointment. A disappointment so deep it left a void you couldn’t even explain. You’d never felt anything like it before. The boy you’d once despised, then trusted blindly, had betrayed you in the worst way. And now, every glance, every unspoken word, every flower left on your desk felt like poison.
Jay waited for you outside the classroom every day, his expression desperate, clutching a bouquet of white roses and pink peonies, your favorites. You, as always, put on your headphones, avoided his eyes, and walked past him like he didn’t exist.
But that day, when you entered the classroom, the flowers were already on your desk. Beautiful. Toxic.
With a bitter smile, you picked them up and approached your professor, a kind, middle-aged man, married with two kids.
"Professor," you said, handing him the flowers, "you’re married, right?"
He looked at you, curious, then at the bouquet. "Yes, for twenty-five years. Why?" he asked, his smile warm.
"I don’t want to throw these away… they’re beautiful, but I don’t want to keep them either," you said, holding them out to him.
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Did the person who gave them to you hurt you?"
You nodded slowly, placing them on his desk. "He… lied to me. Made me believe I could trust him completely. But I couldn’t."
The professor took them, sympathy in his eyes. "I’ll give them to my wife tonight, then."
You gave a half-smile. "At least they’ll make someone happy."
Jay had just stepped into the classroom, his heart in his throat, hoping to at least exchange a glance with you, hoping you’d smell the flowers he’d picked that morning from his favorite florist. Instead, he saw you handing them to someone else, heard every word:
"He lied to me."
It gutted him. Because it was true. And it was all his fault.
Jay hadn’t dared approach you since he saw the way you looked at him. But every morning, he left something small on your desk:
"Please eat something this morning… I know you’re not sleeping well." (With your favorite banana bread, homemade.)
"I’m not asking you to forgive me. Just… don’t hate me forever." (With a Polaroid from your cooking class, both of you covered in flour.)
"I’m sorry for everything that hurt you." (With a single chocolate.)
"I wish I could go back and tell you everything from the start. And even if you ignore me… I’m here." (With a playlist he’d written for you.)
But today, the last day before Christmas break—he arrived early in the library, his heart racing. He’d spent sleepless nights writing and rewriting a thousand ways to stop you before the holidays. He even had a small gift in his coat pocket. But he’d never found the courage to give it to you because every time he tried, you pushed him away.
And then he smelled you, milk, honey, cinnamon, before he saw you. When you walked into the library, he stood abruptly, watching as you stopped in front of him. He tried to speak:
"Y/n… can we...."
But you glared at him, icy, and thrust a stack of his notes—every single one he’d left you—back into his hands, along with the chocolates and trinkets.
"Keep them. I don’t want them."
Jay’s heart cracked as he saw the playlist paper among them. "Please… just give me a minute to explain..."
But you cut him off, your voice sharp:
"Jay, stop. Stop wasting your time on me. I don’t want to find anything on my desk or at my door anymore. If it happens again, next time I’ll throw it all away and you know how much I hate wasting things, even if they’re cheap."
He stepped toward you, his eyes glossy. "I’m not wasting my time. I’m trying to fix this. I’m trying to...."
But you didn’t let him finish. A tear slid down your cheek.
"I don’t want to hear you. Like everyone else in my life, you disrespected me. And I was so stupid not to see it."
Jay reached for you, but you ran up the stairs, leaving him frozen, his fist clenched around the notes, the playlist crumpled in his grip. And for the first time in his life, Jay didn’t follow you.
Christmas came. Jay spent the day with his family, wearing a fake smile, because all he could think about was you. Jake had told him you were spending Christmas with your family, the one that had always made you feel small, the one that had broken you down. And then you’d be spending New Year’s in the mountains with Celeste.
Jay felt excluded.
Excluded from your life and excluded from your future memories. And for the first time, he realized how much he should’ve told you he loved you. He should’ve said it weeks ago, when he first knew. He should’ve told you when he couldn’t sleep at night because of you. But most of all… he should’ve told you the truth about his knot’s genetics.
The truth he’d hidden to avoid scaring you. To avoid losing you.
And now, without that explanation, without that crucial piece, you’d never understand. And he knew that if he didn’t speak soon, he might lose you forever.
The holidays had been torture from the very first day—not just because of Jay, but because your mind was a whirlind of anger, betrayal, and the aching absence of him. His messages flooded your phone asking how you were, what you were doing, even sending a handwritten letter for Christmas. Every night, he wrote recaps of his days, ending each one with: "I miss your presence, your smile, your pouts, your teasing, your reasoning, your scent."
And then there was home.
Stepping through the door of your childhood house felt like walking into a cage. The silence reeked of judgment, the glances from your mother and sisters weighed like stones, and every word they spoke had a hidden blade. Christmas lunch was worse than you’d imagined.
Your sisters had been bragging for half an hour—how many alphas had asked them out, how many luxury gifts they’d received, how many designer bags they’d bought. Your mother watched them with pride, then turned to you with that fake, venomous smile.
"And you, Y/n?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Have you at least gone out with a beta? I’m not expecting an alpha from you, just look at yourself—but surely some beta would take you as a mate? You’re not stillalone, are you?"
Something inside you snapped.
You placed your utensils down slowly, your voice icy.
"Mom." You looked her dead in the eye. "I don’t care about being anyone’s mate."
Your sister snickered, thinking you were joking. But then you turned to her, your gaze cold and unyielding in a way they’d never seen before.
"Not an alpha’s. Not a beta’s. Not an omega’s. No one’s. Because at least I know how to be alone without desperately needing someone to validate me...unlike some people at this table."
Your mother’s smile vanished, her jaw clenching.
"Y/n, don’t be..."
"Ridiculous?" You laughed, standing up slowly, your hands pressing into the table. "You know what’s ridiculous? That every time I come home, the only thing that matters is whether some alpha wants me, as if my life is only worth something if I’m on someone’s arm."
Your sisters shifted uncomfortably, your father crossed his arms, and your mother’s face twisted in disdain.
"I wasn’t born to please some powerful alpha. I wasn’t born to make you all look good at your fancy dinners. I’m here to graduate. To become a lawyer. To defend people who get crushed by those with more power. And yes..." your voice cracked for just a second before you lifted your chin. "I did find someone. Someone who I thought respected me. Someone who actually sees me."
You lowered your gaze for just a moment, then locked eyes with your mother again.
"But as always… you’ve managed to remind me that surrounding myself with people who hurt me is a choice. And I’m not making it anymore."
The chair scraped loudly against the floor as you stood. Your father barked:
"Where do you think you’re going?" You grabbed your coat, your voice steady.
"Somewhere I don’t have to feel wrong just because I don’t live the way you want me to."
Your mother snapped:
"Y/n, sit back down right now!" You turned one last time, your gaze harder than it had ever been before.
"For years, I let you all make me believe I was worth less. For years, I let you decide who I should be. But not anymore. Because I’m a woman with values and desires you don’t even begin to understand, because you’ve always been too busy overshadowing me to notice."
You paused, then said, loud, clear, final: "So. Merry Christmas."
And you walked out, leaving behind the deafening silence of a house that had finally heard you and the smile on your lips, because for the first time, you’d chosen yourself.
The days dragged for Jay, as if time had stopped in an endless loop of pain and regret. He’d returned to his parents’ home, hoping the familiar air might distract him, but nothing worked. Seeing his parents happy and in love only made him think of you. His mother, with her sharp maternal instinct, noticed something was wrong immediately.
"Son," she said one evening as they sat on the porch with cups of tea, "don’t tell me you’re lovesick?"
Jay forced a laugh, trying to mask the pain with a fake chuckle. "Mom, don’t be dramatic. If I were in love, I’d tell you."
But she wasn’t fooled. She placed her hand on his, her gaze soft and knowing. "Jay, you’re a Park. If you know she’s your mate, one way or another, you have to win her back. And I can’t wait to meet her." She caressed his cheek, and Jay smiled, touched, hugging her. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing filled the void inside him.
He tried to distract himself, even going to the go-kart track, hoping the speed would clear his mind. But every time he stopped, every time he was left alone with his thoughts, his mind drifted back to you. He remembered how you’d looked at him with disdain, how you’d thrown away his gifts, how you’d said you never wanted to see him again. Each memory made his alpha instincts snarl, furious and desperate. He knew where you were but didn’t want to force you. He wanted to give you space, give you time. But that time was killing him.
One evening, as he scrolled absentmindedly through his phone, he came across a photo of you on Instagram. You were doubled over with laughter after falling on your skis, snow framing your face, your eyes sparkling with joy. Seeing your smile destroyed him, it had been weeks since you’d given him one. Weeks since he’d heard your laughter, smelled your scent, felt your touch. And slowly, without even realizing it, he slid into heat.
This wasn’t a normal heat. It wasn’t pure desire. It was pain. It was longing. It was his body screaming your absence, both physically and mentally. The symptoms worsened day by day. Even though he was a strong alpha, his alpha instincts ached for you, and it felt like a punishing heat because he felt:
Cold sweats that left him shivering even under three blankets.
Muscle pain so intense it felt like someone was tearing his bones apart, one by one.
Obsession with your scent: In his room at the Academy, you’d left a shirt, a hoodie, and a small bottle of your Miu Miu milk perfume. Now, Jay lay on his bed, crying, inhaling the bottle as if it could bring you back. He whispered against your hoodie, "God, angel…" his fingers clutching the fabric, his face buried in your scent. "I miss you so much…"
Jake and Heeseung had tried to talk to him, to tell him he needed to call you, to explain everything. But Jay had snapped at them, his eyes red from tears.
"I don’t need your help!" he shouted, his jaw clenched. "I’ll handle it myself, like always!"
But Jake, grabbing his shoulders, had said, "Jay, you’re a stubborn idiot! You’re suffering, damn it, you need to talk to her and make her understand she needs to come here!"
Jay had shaken his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "No. If she doesn’t want me, I won’t force her… I’m not that kind of alpha."
Heeseung had sighed, frustrated, and did the only right thing in that moment, he called you, trying to bring you back to your mate.
Your phone vibrated in your fingers, and Heeseung’s name flashed on the screen. A strange chill ran down your spine.
Heeseung?
He’d never called you before, maybe a few texts, a dumb meme here and there but a call? Never. You answered, your voice cautious.
"Heeseung? What’s going on?"
"Y/n, Jay’s not okay," he said, cutting straight to the point. A sudden shiver shot through you.
"If this is some excuse to get me back to him, Heeseung, I’m not..."
"Damn it, Y/n," he growled, cutting you off. "Jay’s right—you are stubborn." You huffed, but you couldn’t deny those words stung.
"Listen to me," he continued, his voice dead serious. "Jay’s really bad off. He’s been in abandonment heat for five days now, and it’s a mess. He’s always angry, he’s got cold sweats that turn into heat waves, he’s obsessed with your scent… He even sleeps with your hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. I’ve never seen him like this, Y/n. And you know Jay, he’s strong. But right now? Right now, he’s broken. He needs you."
Your eyes stung with tears as you thought of Jay. Your voice softened.
"Heeseung…"
"I’m not joking," he insisted. "Jay’s really bad, and you need to come back. Even just to talk, to fix this once and for all. Because right now, both of you are suffering. You know I’m not one to beg or pull stunts like this as a joke. Jay and I have known each other forever, I’m like his older brother. So, Y/n… come back to the Academy."
"Okay," you whispered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "I’ll come back to the Academy as soon as I can."
Heeseung exhaled, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. "Good," he said. But then his voice turned serious, almost warning.
"But I’m telling you right now, Y/n: it won’t be easy."
You swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"
"I mean it won’t be sweet. This isn’t the Jay you know. He’s in abandonment heat, Y/n. He’s desperate. He’s furious. He’s hurt. And when an alpha like him is this far gone, he’s not rational. He might yell. He might beg. He might break everything. He might hate me for calling you. He might hate himself for hurting you. But he won’t be sweet."
"I’ll handle it," you said. And for the first time in your life, you knew you were about to face something bigger than anything else.
Jay was sprawled on his stomach across his bed, his eyes glued to the screen replaying an old Formula 1 race, but his mind was anywhere but there. His body and mind were a wreck—he wore a rumpled pajama set clinging to his sweat-slicked skin, a black tank top stuck to his chest despite the two cold showers he’d taken. His fingers twisted through his messy, damp hair every few minutes, a tic he couldn’t control.
Beside him on the pillow lay your hoodie, as if it could replace you. He’d hoped that after five days of extreme heat, the symptoms would start to fade, and they had—but his body was still hyper-sensitive, every sense amplified beyond reason.
Every time he inhales your scent from your things, his fingers tighten around his phone, tempted to text you, call you, beg you to come back. But he was stubborn. He didn’t want to smother you. He didn’t want to force you to return.
He groaned, pressing his face into the pillow, and your scent hit him like a gust of fresh air—milk, honey, cinnamon.
"Damn it, I hoped my hallucinations were gone," he muttered to himself.
But then, a few seconds later, your scent hit him again—stronger, realer. His scent glands pulsed, his body tensing all at once, muscles contracted with desire and pain.
"No… It’s not possible…" he moaned, pulling the blanket over his face as if it could block the sensation. He buried his face deeper into the pillow but then he heard the door creak open.
He lifted his eyes slightly, assuming it was his friends but then he heard a soft noise, a movement, and then, your scent. Unmistakable. Milk, honey, cinnamon. So strong, so real, that for a second, he thought he was losing his mind.
"Heeseung, I don’t wanna see anyone, and I’m not hungry," he mumbled, his voice hoarse. But no one answered. He heard another breath, another movement, and slowly, Jay pulled the blanket from his eyes—and his breath caught when he saw you.
There you were, standing in his room, just a few steps from the bed. Your curls were messy, your eyes slightly red and swollen, your lips pressed into a tense line. And your scent hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath, bringing tears to his eyes—because this wasn’t a hallucination. You were really there.
"Y… Y/n…?" he stammered, his hands trembling. He didn’t wait for an answer—he shot up from the bed, his legs weak but determined, and pulled you into his arms, holding you desperately, as if he feared you might disappear.
"Angel…" he moaned, burying his face in your neck, right where your scent glands released that fragrance that had tortured him for days. "You’re here… you’re really here…"
You hugged him back, your arms timidly wrapping around his waist, feeling how much you’d missed having him close.
"Jay…" you whispered, and he pulled you even tighter, as if he wanted to fuse with you. After a moment, you heard a sob escape him, and he spoke:
"You’ve been so cruel, Y/n… you don’t understand how much we’ve both suffered… I know I should’ve told you the truth sooner, but I was scared. But you… you shouldn’t have just… left like that…"
Small sobs escaped his lips as he kissed your neck, your scent glands, as if he wanted to mark every inch of you. You held him close, feeling his body tremble against yours, until he knelt on the floor, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face pressed against your stomach, as if he wanted to hide inside you.
"Jay, don’t be silly… get up, let’s talk like adults…"
But he shook his head, holding you even tighter. "No. Not until you forgive me," he said, his voice desperate. "I’m begging you to forgive me, Y/n… I need you so much…"
You tried to pull him up, but he clung to you harder. "Please, forgive me, angel…" he whispered against your shirt.
You sighed, your fingers stroking his hair. "Jay, don’t act like a child… get up…"
But he shook his head again, holding you as if his life depended on that contact. "Not until you forgive me," he mumbled.
After a few minutes, you finally knelt too, your hands cupping his face. Your foreheads and noses brushed, and he lifted his gaze, his eyes glossy and red, and whispered against your lips:
"I’ve missed you so much, angel…" he murmured, nuzzling into your hand as you stroked his face. You gave him a timid smile, then leaned in slowly and kissed him.
Your lips brushed against his, and Jay melted instantly, one hand pulling you closer, the other cupping the back of your head as if he feared you might slip away again. It started as a timid, sweet kiss, almost hesitant, as if both of you were afraid of doing something wrong. But then, slowly, that spark that had ignited months ago flared back to life, transforming into something more sensual, more desperate. You two were meant to be together, and every second apart had only made that clearer.
Your tongues danced together, the room filled with nothing but your sighs and soft moans. Your kisses were slow and greedy, as if you were trying to make up for lost time. Jay groaned against your lips, his teeth gently nipping your lower lip, your lips sucking each other as if they couldn’t bear to lose contact. It was as if that distance had made you both realize you couldn’t stay apart.
You sighed against his mouth, your hands tangling in each other’s hair, pulling lightly as if you wanted to merge into one.
"Fuck, angel…" Jay whispered between kisses, his lips brushing yours. "I’ve been dreaming of having you back for weeks… It feels like a lifetime…"
You tried to pull away, you’d come here to talk, to resolve things, even if your body trembled with desire at the scent of his spiking pheromones. Your omega instincts ached to give yourself to him completely.
"Jay," you whispered, your fingers playing with his hair. "We need to talk…"
But he didn’t listen. With a quick, decisive movement, he sat up on the bed and pulled you onto his lap, straddling him. You immediately felt his hard length pressing against your core, and a shiver ran down your spine.
"Damn, angel…" he groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh. "You’re driving me crazy…"
You chuckled, grinding slightly against him just to tease him. "Really?" you asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the heart-shaped birthmark (or butterfly) on the side of his neck.
Jay moaned at the sensation of your lips on his neck, his head tilting to give you full access, his hands tightening even more on your hips. "Y/n… if you keep this up, I won’t be responsible for my actions…" he panted, feeling you move slowly against his hardness while leaving a trail of kisses and love bites along his neck.
You smiled against his skin, your lips tracing a path to his collarbone. "It’s really nice to have the upper hand for once…" You whispered, licking his skin lightly. "Look at the state you’re in, Jay…"
He tried to growl, but he was too weak from the heat, not lucid at all in that moment. "Angel…" he warned, almost in a muffled growl, but you didn’t stop. With slightly trembling fingers, you slid his tank top up, revealing his golden skin, slightly sweaty, his muscles tensing every time your fingers brushed them. His abs flexed under your touch, and he tilted his head to give you access to his neck, inviting you to kiss and suck every inch of him.
Jay was gorgeous, but he wanted to play your game too. Despite being in heat, he was still an alpha, and he wouldn’t allow you to have all the control. With a quick movement, his slightly calloused hands slid under your sweater, caressing your hips, and he whispered against your lips:
"Lift your arms, angel," he ordered, but you looked at him with a mischievous smirk.
"I don’t think you deserve it, Jay," you whispered, challenging him.
He huffed, his eyes flaring with desire, and repeated: "Lift your arms, angel… or I’ll rip this sweater off you."
Your gazes locked for a few seconds, charged with tension, and finally, you nodded and lifted your arms, allowing him to pull off your sweater.
When he saw you were only wearing a thin cami, your nipples already hard beneath the fabric, he couldn’t resist. With a low groan, his fingers brushed your breast, then he leaned in, burying his face between them, his thick hair tickling your skin. You chuckled, watching him so devoted to you as his hands caressed your breasts. "This needs to go too," he murmured, and you heard the click of your bra unfastening. With a quick motion, he tossed it somewhere across the room.
When your breasts bounced free, Jay groaned, his eyes glued to them. "Damn, angel… I’ve missed you so much… and you’ll never run from me again…"
Then, without warning, he dived for you, his mouth enclosing a nipple, his tongue tracing circles before sucking hard, while his other hand teased your other breast, his fingers playing with your nipple, pinching lightly.
You moaned, your back arching under his touch, your fingers digging into his hair until a thread of saliva escaped his lips when he pulled back for a second, just to admire how your body arched under his touch.
"God, you’re perfect…" he groaned before diving back to suck your nipples, his mouth moving from one to the other as if he couldn’t get enough.
Your fingers played with the drawstring of his pajama pants, feeling how hard he was beneath the fabric. His pheromones wrapped around you—a mix of ripe cherry, burnt tobacco, and something animalistic and possessive—making your head spin. The intensity of his scent mixed with his heat was overwhelming, suffocating, making you ache to be knotted by him.
Jay looked at you with half-lidded eyes as he felt you teasing him with your fingers.
"Angel…" he panted, feeling how weak he was under your touch. "I don’t know if… I can control myself…" But you had an idea, and gently, you whispered:
"Sit up a little, Jay."
He nodded, obedient, and you slid his pants down. His Calvin Klein boxers were tight, the fabric straining over his erection. With trembling fingers, you began to stroke him through the fabric, feeling how he pulsed beneath your touch.
"Fuck, angel… it hurts a little…" he panted, but it wasn’t real pain, it was the desperate need to be touched, to be yours, to make you his.
You bit your lip, your heart racing because you’d never done anything like this before—let alone pleasuring someone this way. But you wanted to try, not just to make him feel good, but to see him broken, submitted, just for you.
"I want to…" you whispered, your voice timid. "I want to make you feel good, but you have to… help me a little."Your cheeks were flushed, and Jay shook his head, his eyes glossy.
"You don’t have to, angel. You don’t..."
"I want to," you interrupted. "It’s not for you… It’s for me. I want to see you lose control… just for me."
He swallowed hard, then slid his boxers down. His length sprang free, thicker and more swollen than usual because of the heat, the reddish tip already glistening with pre-cum, the veins standing out like tight ropes beneath his skin. You could see how much he was holding back in that moment.
When you touched him, Jay moaned, his body tensing.
"God, Y/n… I’m too… it’s too sensitive…"
But you began to stroke him lightly, your fingers gliding up and down, slow and curious. After a moment, he guided you with a rough voice:
"You can… You can squeeze a little harder, angel, but gently…"
You nodded and did as he said, your fingers closing around him with measured pressure, feeling how he pulsed beneath your touch. Jay moaned, his head falling back, his lips parted.
Then you leaned in slightly, your lips brushing his length, and you pressed small kisses along his shaft. When your tongue flicked the tip, Jay growled, his fingers digging into your curls.
"Fuck, Y/n…" he panted, his voice broken with pleasure. "If you keep this up, I won’t last…"
You chuckled softly, your curls falling slightly over your face, but Jay gathered them in one hand, holding them back in a fist while you continued to kiss and lick his tip. You began to alternate between light sucks and flicks of your tongue, and Jay started to moan, his body tensing more and more.
"God, angel… who would’ve thought you, of all people, would be the one to drive me this crazy…"
Your tongue traced small circles around the tip, then you sucked harder, feeling how his breath became ragged. Suddenly, Jay lost control, and with a growl, he pulled your hair harder.
"Go slower with your hand…" he ordered, "but suck harder with those pretty lips… and breathe through your nose, angel…"
You nodded, obedient, and followed his instructions: your lips closed around him, your tongue tracing circles while your hand stroked him with slow, steady movements. Jay began to thrust his hips in small, controlled strokes, his length sliding deeper into your mouth. It was so beautiful to see you there, kneeling for him, even in his wildest fantasies, you’d never looked so perfect taking him like this.
You felt your legs grow weak, your thighs clenching with excitement, and his cock pushing deeper into your mouth. You felt a gag rise in your throat, but Jay held you still with his hand in your hair.
"Fuck, angel… you take me so well… such a good girl…"
Those words made you suck harder, as if you wanted to prove how capable you were, your tongue continuing to move. Jay moaned, his hips thrusting harder.
"I’m gonna… I’m gonna come, angel…" he panted, his voice broken, and with one final thrust, you felt his cum spill into your throat, hot and thick, while small spurts hit your lips and chin. Jay growled, his body contracting in orgasm, his fingers holding you still as he came inside you.
When he pulled out, he praised you with a satisfied groan, but at the same time, he degraded you with a smug smile, wiping your lips with his thumb. His fingers trailed down your neck, then he pulled you up with a sharp motion, and your lips crashed together again in a possessive kiss.
Jay lay you down on his massive bed with a rough but gentle motion, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants and sliding them down your legs. When he saw your white and sky-blue lace panties, already soaked with excitement, he chuckled darkly, his voice rough and satisfied.
"Look how wet you are, angel…" he murmured, his finger tracing the damp fabric between your legs. "And I haven’teven touched you yet."
You stammered, trying to regain control, even as your body trembled with desire.
"Jay, we need to talk about what’s happening between us—"
But he didn’t care. With a quick motion, he pulled your panties down, and when he saw the glistening threads of arousal between your thighs, he groaned, your scent hitting him like a drug. His eyes locked onto you.
"We’ll talk later," he whispered, his nose brushing your folds. "Right now, I want to make you mine."
You warned him, trying to hold onto some shred of clarity:
"Jay, listen to me..." But your words dissolved into a moan as, without warning, he slid a finger inside you, deep and unyielding.
"Ah...!" you gasped, your back arching, your fingers clutching the sheets.
Jay smirked, watching you struggle but it was a lost battle the moment you stepped into his room.
"You don’t even need to get ready, angel," he murmured, his finger curling inside you. "You’re already wet and ready… ready for my knot."
The word "knot" triggered your pheromones, your body reacting instinctively to that promise of being his forever. Your cheeks flushed.
Jay lifted himself slightly, his face buried in your neck as the tip of his cock teased your entrance, wet and ready for him.
"Tell me you’ve started taking the anti-knot pill," he whispered, "or this belly will be full of my pups before you can say ‘no’."
You stammered, your heart racing:
"Y-Yes… I...I started it because I wanted to be yours." Jay cupped your cheek, his voice tender but possessive:
"Good girl," he murmured, the tip of his cock teasing you, making you lose your mind. "Now tell me I can knot you, angel. Tell me I can make you mine forever."
As he spoke, your eyes met his,glossy, desperate, full of need. You wrapped your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, and nodded.
"Yes," you whispered, your lips brushing his. "I want to be your mate."
Jay didn’t need to hear it twice. With a decisive thrust, he pushed inside you in one deep, powerful motion, and you cried out in pleasure, feeling how big he was—bigger than the first time because of his heat.
"Fuck, angel…!" Jay groaned against you, "You’re so tight… so perfect…"
You panted, your nails digging into his shoulders.
"Jay… you’re so big…" you whimpered, feeling how deep and thick he was inside you, how perfectly your body took him.
He stroked your hair, his voice soft:
"Yes, a good girl… like you always are," he whispered, his hips starting to move with a steady rhythm. "You were made for this, angel: to be mine, to be knotted by me, and someday…" he paused, his lips brushing your earlobe, "…you’ll carry my young in this belly."
His words made you tremble, tears filling your eyes—not from sadness, but from excitement, submission, need.
"You can… you can move," you whispered, your lips against his, his cock filling you perfectly, as if it was made just for you. You felt his hand rise along your stomach, his fingers pressing lightly right above your pubis, where you could feel his length filling you.
"Feel this, angel?" he growled against your ear, his fingers pressing harder. "Feel how my cock reaches all the way to your belly? How does it feel to you? How does it own you?"
You whimpered, your breath ragged, your fingers clutching his shoulders.
"J-Jay… it’s too much…" you moaned, feeling how every thrust hit that spot that made you see stars. "I can’t… I can’t resist…"
He smiled as his hand slid down again, his fingers slipping between your folds, teasing your already swollen clit.
"You don’t have to resist, angel. You have to take me, because you’re mine, and I’m yours."
His words made you shiver, and without realizing it, your legs tightened around him, your heels pressing against his ass, pulling him deeper. His thrusts became more frantic, harder, his length pounding into you with increasing rhythm, hitting your cervix with a precision that made you scream.
The room was filled with your moans and gasps, a mix of pants, growls, and broken words blending into a symphony of pleasure and possession. It was your nest, made by two people who once couldn’t stand each other, but now lived for one another.
"Jay… fuck, it feels so good," you cried out, your nails scratching his back, your body arching beneath him.
"Yes, angel…" he panted, his hips slapping against yours with increasing force. "Come for me… come only for me… because no one will ever make you feel like this… only me."
You felt the tip of his cock grow thicker, his body tense above you, his muscles contracted with the effort of holding back. A primal heat rushed through you, adrenaline and excitement overwhelming you as your pheromones mixed with his, intensifying the desire.
"Feel this, angel?" he growled as his knot began to swell inside you. "Feel how my cock is knotting you? How does it not let you go?"
You moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body trembling with excitement.
"Jay…!" you panted, feeling how his knot swelled gradually, locking you together, trapped as one and it was such a supernatural feeling, there was no better sensation than being knotted to him.
Without thinking, you pulled him to you, and your lips claimed the heart-shaped mark on his neck, sucking and biting slowly. His pheromones exploded, his scent glands activating even more, and you felt how his body responded to your bite, his knot pulsing inside you.
"You’ve knotted me to you…" you whispered against his skin, your lips tracing a path to his mouth. "But I’ve made you mine, Jay… forever."
He kissed your sweaty forehead as his fingers continued to play with your clit, making you jolt with pleasure.
"That’s my good girl… I like seeing you so territorial with me…"
You gave him a shy smile, and slowly, you felt his cum filling you, hot and thick, while his knot kept you prisoner, his thrusts becoming shorter and deeper, as if he wanted to make sure every drop of him was inside you.
"You’re so beautiful like this," he groaned, his hand caressing the spot where his knot was forming, while the other continued to tease your clit. "Seeing you swollen and full of me… It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."
You panted, your body shaken by orgasms, tears filling your eyes from the mix of pleasure and submission, and you whispered:
"Jay…" your lips searching for his, your body moving against him.
He kissed you in return, his lips capturing yours in a possessive, desperate kiss, while his knot slowly deflated inside you.
"You’re mine, Y/n," he growled against your lips, his hand still caressing your belly, as if he wanted to feel you still full of him. "And I’m yours."
When his knot fully deflated, Jay pulled out of you slowly, and you felt threads of cum drip from both of you. But he wasn’t done, because okay, he’d knotted you, but an alpha’s bite was inevitable when you’d knotted your mate.
"Now I have to mark you," he whispered, turning you slightly to expose your neck.
You tried to say something, but he didn’t give you time, with a quick motion, his teeth sank into your skin right above your scent gland, marking you definitively. You cried out, the pain mixing with pleasure, your fingers clutching his shoulders.
"Now everyone will know you’re mine," he growled, his lips licking the spot where he’d marked you, while his fingers continued to tease your clit until you came again.
"And you…" you panted, your lips searching for his, "…you’re mine."
He smiled, kissing you again.
"Yes, I’m yours, angel… from the first moment I saw you," he whispered, pushing you back onto the bed, his body positioning over yours as he entered you again and this time, it wasn’t just sex...it was possession, it was love, it was forever.
