✧ 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?”
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.
synopsis: A Marriage Law was the last thing you expected to dictate your future, let alone shackle you to Park Jongseong. A pureblood heir, painfully composed, infuriatingly good at everything, and—unfortunately—now your husband.
What starts as reluctant cohabitation, filled with awkward silences and sharp words, slowly unravels into something neither of you can ignore. Stolen glances, fleeting touches, and the illusion of normalcy turn into a dangerous game neither of you meant to play. Is it all for show? Or has the line between pretend and real already disappeared?
But love alone isn’t enough to erase the past—or the law that forced you together. As the Ministry looms over your every move, and whispers of rebellion grow louder, you and Jay must decide: fight the law, or fight for each other.
wc: around 20.5K
warnings: Marriage Law AU, Harry Potter AU, forced marriage, government control, slow burn, forced proximity, awkward domesticity, enemies to lovers, bickering, rivalry, mutual annoyance, emotional angst, hurt/comfort, doubt, insecurities, fear of the future, eventual smut, explicit sexual content, sexual tension, intense intimacy, fear of love, conflicted feelings, vulnerability, mentions of pregnancy, future parenthood, domesticity, soft Jay, pining, repressed feelings, denial, yearning, lingering touches, stolen glances, smut, sexual content, F! receiving.
A/N: PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THINK I'D REALLY APPRECIATE THE FEEDBACK!!!!!
You woke to the sharp tap, tap, tap against your window, the early morning light bleeding through the tattered curtains of your London flat. Sleep still clung to your body, but the incessant tapping forced you upright, rubbing the remnants of last night’s exhaustion from your eyes. You recognized the Ministry’s wax seal before your fingers even touched the envelope. Your stomach dropped.
It was here.
The letter you had been dreading for months. The whispers of the Marriage Law had been circulating for nearly a year, rumors passed between hushed conversations at pubs, in hidden corners of Diagon Alley, and among former classmates who refused to believe that the government could enforce such a thing. But deep down, you had known it was only a matter of time. The Ministry had already been heading in this direction for years, pushing for more control under the guise of restoration.
With a deep breath, you slid your nail under the seal, breaking it with a snap. The parchment unfurled in your hands, the ink dark against the crisp paper.
Dear Miss Y/N,
By decree of the Magical Unity Act, you have been assigned a partner as part of the Ministry’s initiative to preserve and strengthen magical bloodlines.
Your assigned match: Park Jongseong. Pureblood.
You are required to present yourself at the Ministry within 48 hours for the formalization of your union. Failure to comply will result in consequences deemed necessary by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We trust you will uphold your duty to preserve our magical world.
Sincerely,
Matilda Greengrass
Head of the Magical Unity Office
Park Jongseong. Of all the people in the world, it had to be him.
You weren’t sure what to think. You had never hated Jongseong—not really. He had always been there in the background, a constant presence in your classes, a name that lingered on the top of exam scores just above yours. He was the type of person who excelled quietly, never rubbing his victories in your face, but still managing to be infuriating simply by existing. You had no idea what he thought of you. If he had any feelings about your academic rivalry, he had never shown it.
And now, he was going to be your husband.
You hadn’t even processed the letter properly before you found yourself in a booth at The Leaky Cauldron, sitting across from Riki. You had sent an urgent owl the moment you had read the letter, needing to talk to someone—anyone—who might understand.
Riki was younger than you by only a couple of years, but you had always seen him as something of a younger brother—mischievous, quick-witted, and annoyingly perceptive when it came to your emotions. He was the kind of friend who teased you relentlessly but would hex anyone who dared to cross you. If there was anyone you could turn to in a moment like this, it was him.
“You got him?” Riki’s eyebrows shot up when you showed him the parchment. “That’s...sure, yeah.”
You groaned, letting your head fall into your hands. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Well, I mean—it could be worse, " Riki shrugged, taking a sip of his Butterbeer, “He’s not, like, awful. He’s just...Jongseong. A bit awkward, not much of a talker, but not the worst person to be tied to for life.”
You groaned again. “That’s supposed to be comforting?”
He grinned. “A little,”
You shook your head, trying to focus. “I don’t even know how I’m going to tell my parents. They’re barely involved in my life as it is, and now I have to explain to them that I’ve been legally bound to someone they don’t even know?”
Riki’s face softened. He knew how complicated your relationship with your parents was—how they had never truly accepted the magical world, even after you got your Hogwarts letter. “You don’t have to tell them right away,” he said gently. “Focus on getting through this first.”
The Ministry of Magic smelled like ink, parchment, and old magic. The weight of history pressed down upon you as you walked through its grand halls, flanked by Aurors ensuring that every witch and wizard assigned under the Magical Unity Act appeared for their mandated marriage registrations. The building was colder than you remembered, or maybe it was the weight of what was about to happen that made you shiver.
Jongseong was already waiting when you arrived, standing stiffly in the corridor outside the registration chamber. His posture was impeccable, shoulders squared, his hands buried in the pockets of his finely tailored robes. The deep green fabric complimented his sharp features, accentuating the strong lines of his jaw and the dark intensity of his eyes. There was always something enigmatic about Jongseong—he was the type of person who carried an air of quiet authority, a man who never wasted unnecessary words. He rarely let his emotions show, but now, even beneath his composed expression, you could see the subtle signs of tension—the way his fingers tapped idly against the parchment he held, the way his lips pressed together a little too firmly.
You swallowed hard, gripping your own letter tightly. His eyes flickered toward you, assessing.
“Y/N.” His voice was steady, but there was something unreadable beneath it. He gave you a small nod, nothing overly familiar, yet not entirely cold.
The Ministry official cleared his throat, pulling you both out of the awkward moment.
”Park Jongseong and Y/N L/N,” he announced, his voice devoid of emotion, as if he had done this a hundred times before. He motioned toward the chamber doors. “Step inside. We will begin the legal binding process.”
Your breath hitched as you stepped forward, feeling the heat of Jongseong’s presence beside you.
The chamber was larger than you had expected, with high ceilings adorned with ancient runes glowing faintly in the dim light. At the center of the room stood a grand mahogany desk, where stacks of parchment were neatly arranged. Hovering above it was a blood-binding quill, pulsing faintly, attuned to the magic that would soon seal your fates.
“Please, be seated.”
You and Jongseong sat across from each other, the tension between you thick, though neither of you acknowledged it. The official took his place behind the desk, flipping open a massive leather-bound ledger.
“Before we proceed, it is my duty to inform you of the terms and expectations set forth by the Ministry under the Magical Unity Act. This marriage is legally binding under magical law, and both parties are required to uphold their roles as husband and wife.”
Your stomach twisted. You knew this was coming, but hearing it laid out so plainly made it harder to ignore.
“First, you will be required to cohabitate within the next twenty-four hours. The Ministry has provided accommodations, though should you choose to relocate, you must inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within seven days.”
Jongseong’s fingers drummed lightly against the desk, his gaze unreadable. He was listening carefully, though he gave nothing away.
“Second,” the official continued, flipping to another section of the document, “you will be required to consummate the marriage within one year. This will be monitored magically, and failure to do so may result in penalties.”
Your breath caught. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but you couldn’t help the way your fingers curled slightly against your lap.
Jongseong’s face remained calm, though you thought you saw the faintest flicker of tension in his jaw.
“Third,” the official continued, “as part of the act’s goal to maintain the magical bloodline, you are expected to conceive a child within two years. Failure to comply will result in further legal interventions. Exceptions will only be granted under rare circumstances, such as medically confirmed infertility.”
You exhaled slowly, heart pounding. This was the part that had haunted you the most. It wasn’t just about being forced into marriage—it was about being forced to give up control over the future you had always imagined for yourself.
You had wanted children, eventually. You had imagined raising them in a world where they could make choices freely, where they could love and marry without being told when and how. But now, that dream had been reduced to a cold deadline set by the Ministry.
Jongseong finally spoke. “What are our rights in terms of autonomy?” His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.
The official barely looked up. “You are granted limited autonomy. While you may maintain employment and personal activities, your primary duty remains fulfilling the obligations of the act. Any attempt to break the contract is considered an act of defiance against the Ministry.”
Jongseong gave a slow nod, as if he had expected that answer but wanted it spoken aloud regardless. The official placed two scrolls of parchment in front of you, followed by the hovering blood-binding quill.
“By signing this document, you are agreeing to all conditions and responsibilities dictated by the Magical Unity Act. Once signed, the bond is sealed permanently under wizarding law. Any attempts to nullify it without Ministry approval will result in severe consequences.”
Jongseong’s eyes met yours then, and for the first time, there was something there—a quiet understanding, a shared reluctance. Neither of you wanted this. But there was no choice.
With a deep breath, you reached for the quill. The moment your fingers touched it, a sharp, warm sensation prickled against your skin, and the magic within it stirred in response. You watched as your name etched itself onto the parchment in deep crimson ink.
Across from you, Jongseong did the same.
The moment his signature was completed, the parchment glowed gold, sealing the contract. A faint hum of magic filled the air as the binding took effect.
It was done. You were married.
The official gave a brisk nod, gathering the signed documents. “The bond is sealed. You are now husband and wife under magical law.” He closed the ledger with a dull thud before standing. “Congratulations.”
The word felt hollow.
The moment you stepped into the apartment the Ministry had assigned, the full weight of your situation slammed into you. This wasn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare anymore. It was real. It was your life.
The space was larger than you expected, a sleek, magically expanded flat that felt caught between two worlds—modern and traditional, functional and intimate, impersonal yet unsettlingly designed for romance. It was clear that whoever had designed these living quarters had done so with the idea of a happily married couple in mind.
The open-concept living space had softly enchanted lighting, walls painted in neutral, calming tones that could be adjusted to fit the residents' “mood.” A fireplace sat in the center of the lounge, with a plush sofa curved just enough to suggest cozy nights spent tangled together. The kitchen was fully stocked, fitted with both Muggle and magical appliances, making it impossible to avoid the domestic intimacy the Ministry seemed so determined to impose.
Two bedrooms were set at opposite ends of the flat, though one was clearly meant to be temporary. The master bedroom, which you tried to ignore, was the worst of it. The king-sized bed was too large, too luxurious, the silk sheets far too inviting. The enchanted wardrobes had already been merged, both your belongings stored together, blending lives you hadn’t chosen to entwine.
Even the bathroom was designed for two people meant to share everything. The tub was massive, the type built for indulgent baths, fitted with potion-infused oils meant to relax muscles—meant to encourage closeness. The sinks, the mirrors, the counter space—everything was structured with a life of intimacy in mind.
Jongseong was standing stiffly just inside the doorway, his hands still shoved into the pockets of his dark robes. He looked as out of place as you felt. His eyes flickered over the surroundings, lingering on the details, his expression betraying nothing.
“Well,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “This is… something.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Yeah.”
An awkward pause stretched between you. Neither of you moved.
You cleared your throat. “So… Do you want to set some ground rules?”
Jongseong finally looked at you, his head tilting slightly. “Ground rules?”
You shifted uncomfortably. “For… coexisting.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but it disappeared just as quickly. “Fair enough.” He nodded toward the hallway. “You can take the bedroom on the left.”
You hesitated. “The Ministry expects us to share one eventually.”
His jaw tightened slightly, but his voice remained calm. “We don’t have to rush into that.”
You let out a breath of relief. “Good.”
Another silence settled. This was going to be excruciating.
You thought the first night would be easier because you had separate rooms. It wasn’t.
The walls were too thin. Every tiny shift, every creak of the floorboards, every sigh of the bed linens as one of you turned over—it was impossible to forget that you weren’t alone. That there was someone else here, just a few steps away, existing in the same space, adjusting to the same forced reality.
You lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, feeling every inch of the strangeness that had settled into your life. The silence of the apartment was deafening. Somewhere beyond your door, Jongseong was doing the same. Not sleeping. Not moving. Just existing in this same, uncomfortable limbo.
You weren’t sure how long you lay there before you heard it—
A soft, almost hesitant knock on your door.
You sat up immediately, heart stammering in your chest. “…Yeah?”
You moved toward the coffee pot, pretending not to notice how he was gripping his quill a little too tightly. The sight of him already reading the regulations booklet made your stomach twist. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know what new absurdities the Ministry had included.
“What’s that?” you asked warily.
Jongseong turned the booklet toward you so you could see the bold title stamped on the front.
A Guide to Magical Marital Expectations: Understanding the Unity Act.
You stared at him. “You’re actually reading that?”
He shrugged, flipping to the next page. “Figured it might be useful to know what we’re legally bound to.”
You sighed, sinking into the chair across from him. “And? What’s in it?”
Jongseong skimmed a few lines before speaking. “Mostly just reinforcing what we were already told. Cohabitation, marital duties, legal ramifications if we break the contract.” He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the page. His jaw tensed slightly, and that was when you knew whatever he had just read wasn’t going to be pleasant.
A beat of silence.
Bravely, you cleared your throat. “What else are you working on?”
Jongseong’s eyes flickered up briefly before he tapped the page with his quill. “Just organizing my work schedule. Trying to figure out how to balance—” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “All of this.”
Right. Work. You hadn’t even thought about how this new life would affect your schedules. You needed to figure out yours, his, how to exist in this space without stepping on each other’s toes.
“I have a morning shift at Flourish and Blotts starting tomorrow,” you said after a pause. “And I have an evening class twice a week.”
Jongseong nodded slowly. “I start work at the Ministry at eight every morning. Sometimes later, depending on meetings. But I’m usually back by seven.”
You absorbed that. That meant you’d have the mornings mostly to yourself, but the evenings… “So we’ll see each other mostly at night.”
“Yeah.” His expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. Maybe he was just as wary of that realization as you were.
You stirred your coffee absentmindedly. “And, uh… weekends?”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t usually work on weekends, but I study. And sometimes I meet up with friends.”
Right. Friends. You almost forgot that, despite everything, he had a life outside of this.
That thought stuck with you longer than it should have. Maybe because you were realizing that your life, your freedom, had been traded in for something else. For something you didn’t get to choose.
“Oh,” he said flatly. “Also.” He looked up at you, his dark eyes unreadable. “The shared bed rule.”
You grimaced. “I was hoping they’d forgotten about that part.”
Jongseong sighed, setting the booklet down with more force than necessary. “Unfortunately, the Ministry doesn’t forget anything.”
The booklet sat between you on the table, the pages filled with carefully worded regulations, all designed to ensure that the couples formed under the Magical Unity Act fulfilled their “duties.” The words seemed too sharp, too final, as if they carried an unspoken command beneath them.
Your fingers curled around the edge of your mug as you read the clause for yourself.
Clause 7.3 - Marital CohabitationIn order to promote a natural and successful union, married partners must reside within a shared living space and engage in consistent physical proximity.
It is required that both parties sleep within the same quarters by the third month of marriage.
Noncompliance will result in Ministry intervention.
You exhaled sharply, closing your eyes for a moment. “They’re really monitoring everything.”
Jongseong tapped his fingers against the table, his expression carefully neutral. “We have three months to figure that part out.”
You rubbed your temples. “Three months is… not a lot of time.”
He looked at you for a long moment before setting the booklet aside. “We’ll deal with it when we have to.”
And for some reason, that stuck with you.
Jongseong—or Jay, as his closest friends called him—was totally unamused by his morning conversation.
He sat at his desk in the Ministry, flipping through paperwork as Jake lounged against the opposite desk, watching him with a knowing look. The blond Auror had a casual ease about him, one leg stretched out, a quill spinning between his fingers as he regarded Jay with mild amusement.
“So,” Jake finally said, dragging out the word. “How’s married life?”
Jay didn’t look up. “It’s fine.”
His friend snorted, adjusting his robes as he leaned in. “Oh, come on. I know you better than that.”
Jay set his quill down with a sigh. “What do you want me to say?”
Jake tilted his head, considering. “I don’t know. That she’s unbearable? That she’s the love of your life? That you’ve realized you actually have a thing for arranged marriages?”
Unamused, Jay shot him a flat look. “None of the above.”
But the blond was relentless, he leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “So, what? You guys are just awkwardly existing in the same space?”
Jay hesitated, fingers tapping against the parchment in front of him. “…Something like that.”
“Is she at least decent company?”
Jay exhaled, stretching his arms before finally looking up. “She’s normal. It’s awkward. We’re trying to figure out how to coexist without making it worse.”
“Makes sense. I mean, you didn’t exactly get a say in this. Neither of you did.”
Jay appreciated that Jake wasn’t trying to force humor into the situation, not like their other friends probably would. Jake had a way of knowing when to joke and when to actually listen, which was why he was one of the few people Jay actually talked to about things that mattered.
the Australian smirked. “Alright, I’ll leave it alone. But tell me one thing.”
Jay raised an eyebrow. “What?”
The blond's grin was slow and knowing. “Do you find her attractive?”
Jay’s hand froze mid-page turn.
Jake caught it immediately. “Ohhh. That’s interesting.”
rolling his eyes, setting the file aside a little too forcefully, the married man in question responds. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Jay pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re insufferable.”
Jake laughed, standing up and stretching. “Well, I’d say welcome to married life, but…” He gave his friend a mockingly sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve already figured out it’s a mess.”
Jay shoved his hand away. “Get out of my office.”
“See you at lunch, hubby.”
Jay groaned as Jake walked away, already regretting every life decision that had led to this conversation.
Jongseong was a morning person. You learned that quickly.
He was always the first to wake up, moving around the apartment with an effortless ease that was frankly annoying to someone like you, who preferred to cling to sleep for as long as possible. You often woke to the sound of the shower running, the smell of coffee brewing, and the faint rustling of parchment as he read through Ministry documents while waiting for breakfast.
This morning was no different a few weeks later.
By the time you groggily dragged yourself out of bed, Jongseong was already fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, a towel slung low around his waist. His toned chest and broad shoulders glowed slightly in the morning light, water droplets still clinging to his skin as he casually walked toward his dresser, seemingly unaware—or unbothered—by your presence.
You immediately averted your eyes, heart stammering in your chest. But you could still feel him, still sense the heat radiating off his skin, and the way the air seemed thicker in his presence.
“Morning,” he greeted smoothly, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep.
Your throat felt impossibly dry. “Yeah. Morning.”
He smirked slightly, as if noticing your discomfort, and continued dressing—slowly. The deliberate way he pulled his shirt over his head before taking it off again, deciding he wanted a different one, the flex of his muscles, the way he pushed his damp hair back… it was infuriatingly distracting.
You turned toward the kitchen in desperation, fingers gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to steady yourself. You were not going to be affected by this.
But then he walked past you, his bare arm brushing against yours, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of your sleeve. You felt the breath hitch in your throat, a sudden rush of awareness sparking along your spine.
You had just taken your first sip of coffee, finally feeling somewhat human, when a loud knock echoed through the apartment. You and Jongseong exchanged a glance.
“Expecting someone?” you asked.
He sighed, setting his mug down. “No. But I have a bad feeling about it.”
The moment Jongseong opened the door, a tall, severe-looking woman in a charcoal robe strode in without invitation. She introduced herself as Ms. Alderton, her expression a mixture of polite authority and thinly veiled scrutiny.
“We’re conducting routine compliance inspections under the Magical Unity Act,” she said, flipping through her clipboard. “It’s a simple process, really. Just verifying that the two of you are… adjusting well to married life.”
Your stomach dropped.
Jongseong had not finished dressing.
He was still only wearing a towel around his waist.
You saw the exact moment Ms. Alderton’s eyes flickered downward—not in a scandalized way, but in a very obvious assessment of the situation.
“Oh.” She blinked, arching an eyebrow. “I see I’ve caught you at a… private moment.”
Jongseong’s entire body tensed. You scrambled to grab his shirt off the chair and shove it at him.
“Right, um, we weren’t expecting company,” you said quickly, willing your face not to burn.
Jongseong took the shirt, clearing his throat as he pulled it on, but not before you saw the way his abs tightened under the scrutiny, the way his fingers twitched as he buttoned his shirt with forced composure.
Ms. Alderton hummed, clearly unimpressed. She began the inspection, moving through the apartment with cold efficiency.
She examined your living quarters, asked too many questions about how often you and Jay were together in the same space, and, of course, dropped the expected question:
“And how are you finding the transition into… intimacy?”
You nearly choked on your tea.
Jongseong, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “We’re taking our time with that,” he said evenly. “As I’m sure the Ministry is aware, not all couples move at the same pace.”
Ms. Alderton gave him a knowing look, scribbling something onto her parchment. “Well, as you both know, there are expectations to be met. We’ll check in again soon.”
And with that, she was gone, leaving the weight of her unspoken warnings hanging in the air.
You let out a long breath, still feeling the residual heat of the morning’s tension clinging to your skin.
At work, Jongseong barely had time to sit at his desk before Jake was on him.
“Alright, listen, I’ve been patient, but you’re dodging, man,” the blond Auror said, plopping down in the chair across from Jay’s desk. “We need to meet her.”
Jay sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”
Jake gave him a pointed look. “You’ve been married for weeks and we haven’t even met your wife. Sunghoon’s convinced you made her up.”
“We’re fine. We’re adjusting. That’s all you need to know.”
Jake smirked. “See, the more you say it’s fine, the less I believe it.”
“You’re impossible.”
Jake shrugged. “That’s why you love me. So, what do you say? A small get-together. Nothing crazy.”
Jay sighed again, but this time, he hesitated. He knew the Blond wouldn’t let this go.
“I’ll… think about it.”
When Jay got home that evening, you could immediately tell something was on his mind.
“What is it?” you asked, watching as he loosened his tie.
“Jake keeps pushing for us to meet up with him and the guys,” Jay admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I told him we were fine, but he wasn’t buying it.”
You thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “Maybe we should.”
Jay raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
You nodded. “I mean, we’re supposed to be building a life together, right? It might help to actually know the people in it. And… if something ever happens, it’d be good to have them as a support system.”
Jay studied you for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. But there’s an issue,” You arched your brow in response, “ They think we’re like them, you know, more settled into our married life”
“Ah, I see.”
He chuckled dryly, “And I haven’t had the chance to correct them.”
And that was how you found yourself getting ready to put on a show.
You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge. It was just a night out with his friends—people who, by all accounts, had no real expectations of you beyond existing at Jongseong’s side. But still, as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the tenth time, something in your chest felt tight.
Jongseong passed by behind you, fastening the cuff of his crisp, navy button-up. The color complemented his complexion unfairly well, the sleeves neatly rolled up to his forearms, just casual enough to look effortless.
His reflection met yours in the mirror. “Are you ready yet?” he asked, smoothing a hand through his hair.
You exhaled through your nose. “You act like getting ready is as simple as putting on a shirt.”
He smirked. “It is, actually.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it. Instead, you turned slightly, watching as he undid the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing just the faintest sliver of his collarbone. It wasn’t intentional, but it made something stir deep in your stomach.
The silence stretched between you as you turned back toward the mirror. He lingered behind you, close enough that the warmth of his body made the air feel heavier.
His voice came softer this time. “You look fine.”
Fine. Not breathtaking, not beautiful—just fine.
You scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”
Jongseong’s gaze flickered over you, his brows drawing together slightly like he wanted to say something else but thought better of it. Instead, he just let out a short exhale and reached for his wand. “Let’s go before Jake tracks me down and drags us there himself.”
As he stepped closer, brushing past you to grab his jacket, your breath caught in your throat. The scent of his cologne—clean, warm, just faintly spiced—wrapped around you before you could react. Your skin prickled as he leaned past you, his fingers grazing the dresser beside you.
You didn’t move until he pulled back, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with practiced ease. Jongseong glanced at you once more, amusement dancing in his dark eyes, before he disappeared into the Floo Network.
You stepped into the Floo Network, watching as Jongseong disappeared in a swirl of green flames before following suit. The familiar tug of magic sent you tumbling through the space between, and in the next moment, you landed just behind him in the bustling pub.
The scent of warm ale, roasted meat, and burning firewood wrapped around you, the low murmur of conversation filling the air. The pub was lively but not overly packed—just busy enough to feel comfortably distracting.
Jongseong placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. His touch was light, but it lingered, a silent reminder that this was part of the act.
Jake spotted you first, grinning. “There they are!” He leaned back in his chair, tilting his glass toward you both. “The happy couple.”
You tried not to stiffen at the word. Happy. That was the goal, right?
Jongseong slipped into the role easily, his arm around your waist a little firmer now. “You make it sound like we’ve been in hiding.”
Jake clapped him on the back as everyone scooted over to make space. “Well, you have! We needed proof you didn’t just run away.”
The conversation flowed smoothly, the group’s laughter blending into the warm, buzzing atmosphere. But you couldn’t help noticing the way Jongseong’s hand lingered on your waist, the way his thumb traced lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. It was subtle—just enough to be convincing, just enough to make your pulse jump.
Sunghoon smirked, raising a brow. “So, how’s married life? Are you two still in the honeymoon phase?”
Jake chuckled. “Yeah, Jay keeps insisting they’re doing just great.”
You felt Jongseong’s hand tighten slightly on your hip as he hummed in agreement. “We are.”
And then, before you could react, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple.
It was brief, chaste, and yet… oddly intimate. His lips lingered just long enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.
The table burst into cheers.
As the night went on, the conversation shifted from teasing to storytelling. Jake leaned back in his seat, shaking his head fondly. “You know, I still don’t know how the hell Jay managed to get through Hogwarts without completely embarrassing himself.”
Sunghoon chuckled. “That’s because he had us covering for him.”
Jongseong scoffed. “You mean causing more problems than helping?”
Jake smirked. “Call it whatever you want, mate. But let’s not forget that one time you tried to impress a girl by showing off on the Quidditch pitch and almost broke your arm.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Now this sounds like a story I need to hear.”
Jake grinned. “See, back in school, Jay was all business, all the time. But one day, some girl in Ravenclaw was watching him practice, and he got it in his head that he should show off—flew higher than necessary, tried a fancy dive, and nearly knocked himself unconscious.”
Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, young love.”
Sunghoon leaned in. “Speaking of, we should all introduce our wives one day. Maybe have a proper dinner.”
Jongseong stiffened slightly, and you felt it. But before he could say anything, you jumped in.
“That would be nice,” you said, smiling. “Though, I’ll admit, I’d probably be terrible at hosting.”
Jake waved a hand. “Nah, don’t worry about that. Besides, I heard you’re friends with Riki?”
Your brows lifted. “Yeah, I basically treat him like my little brother.”
Jake laughed. “Figures. We were both in the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He was a Seeker, I was a Chaser—best duo ever.”
Sunghoon snorted. “And yet, somehow, Jay was the one always getting all the attention.”
Jake groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
The banter continued, light and warm, and despite yourself, you found that you were enjoying it. The illusion of normalcy was beginning to feel real.
Jongseong wasn’t just your forced husband tonight—he was someone who had a past, who had friends that truly cared about him. And maybe, you were starting to see why people cared about him, too.
The moment the Floo Network spit you both out into the apartment, the spell of the night started to break. Gone was the warm, buzzing atmosphere of the pub. Now, there was only quiet, filled with nothing but the ticking of the enchanted clock on the wall and the soft rustle of Jongseong adjusting his sleeves.
You expected him to make some dry remark about the night, maybe joke about Jake’s relentless teasing. But instead, he just stood there, staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
You blinked, taken aback. “I—yeah. Why?”
He exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “You were… different tonight.”
Your throat felt dry. “We were both acting.”
“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, unreadable. “I know.”
Neither of you moved. Neither of you quite knew what to do now.
The next few days were… different. Not drastic, not obvious, but something had changed. You noticed it in the way Jongseong lingered in rooms a little longer than before, the way his gaze flickered to you more often, the way silence between you no longer felt so hostile—just heavy.
Even the small moments carried weight. The way he passed you a cup of coffee in the mornings without needing to ask how you took it. The way he let his hand linger just a fraction longer than necessary when handing you something. The way your name sounded softer when he spoke it.
It was nothing. It was everything.
And then came the first real break in the routine.
You hadn’t expected to see Jongseong standing outside your workplace that evening. His presence was striking against the backdrop of hurried Ministry employees, his sleeves rolled up, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against a lamppost.
For a moment, you just stared, thrown by the sight of him waiting for you.
It felt unnatural—this wasn’t part of your unspoken agreement. You met in shared spaces at home, interacted when necessary, but waiting for each other? That was… different.
You hesitated before approaching. “What are you doing here?”
Jongseong glanced up, his dark eyes flickering over you before he straightened. “Picking you up.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Since when do we do that?”
Jongseong exhaled, shifting his weight. “Since now.”
You studied him, waiting for an explanation that never came. Instead, he pushed off the lamppost and nodded toward the street. “Come on.”
A flicker of uncertainty settled in your stomach as you fell into step beside him. You weren’t used to this—him reaching out first.
As you walked, the sounds of Diagon Alley surrounded you—shopkeepers closing up for the night, the faint hum of distant chatter, the flickering glow of enchanted street lamps. But the quiet between you was louder.
At some point, he spoke again. “You get along with them.”
You glanced at him. “With who?”
“My friends.”
You hummed. “They’re easy to like.”
Jongseong nodded, his hands tucked into his pockets. His steps were measured, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“They like you too.”
Your fingers tightened slightly around your bag strap. Was that what this was about?
“You fit in well,” he added, his voice lower.
Something warm unfurled in your stomach. “Would it have been a problem if I didn’t?”
Jongseong smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Jake would’ve grilled you until you caved.”
You laughed, and for a moment, things felt effortless.
But as you reached the entrance of your shared home, a thought lingered at the back of your mind.
Why did he come to get you in the first place?
It was well past midnight when you shuffled into the kitchen, craving nothing more than a glass of water. You weren’t expecting to see Jongseong standing there, already by the counter, a mug in his hands.
He turned at the sound of your footsteps, his gaze flickering down your figure.
It wasn’t until you followed his line of sight that you realized exactly what you were wearing.
A nightshirt. Just a nightshirt. One that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs.
You hadn’t thought about it before leaving your room, but now, under his scrutiny, it suddenly felt like the single most scandalous thing you could’ve worn.
Jongseong cleared his throat. “Couldn’t sleep?”
You nodded, stepping closer, reaching for a glass. His presence felt larger in the quiet, like it filled the room in ways you weren’t prepared for. Like he was waiting for something neither of you had the words for.
After a moment, you sighed, staring into your mug as if the swirling liquid inside had all the answers. “I texted my parents about… this,” you finally admitted, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Two weeks ago.”
Jongseong’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t interrupt.
“They never replied,” you continued, voice carefully even. “Not that I was expecting them to.”
Jongseongs fingers tapped lightly against the table, a thoughtful rhythm. “They’re Muggles, right?”
You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I didn’t exactly have the best relationship with them before this. But I thought—” You paused, exhaling sharply. “I thought they’d at least say something.”
He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again, his voice softer than before. “Maybe they just… don’t know how to respond.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “Or maybe they just don’t care.”
Jongseong shifted in his seat, glancing down at his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, to reach for the right words, but he hesitated. Instead, he settled for a careful, almost reluctant, “I’m sorry.”
You lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “It’s fine.”
The silence stretched. The air felt thick. Too thick.
He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering up to yours. And for the first time, you didn’t look away.
His fingers twitched. His jaw tensed. His eyes darkened, just slightly. And then, he took a step back. A deliberate one.
You swallowed. “I should—”
“Yeah.” His voice was lower than before. Rougher. “Me too.”
Neither of you moved for a long moment. And then you did.
The next morning, the reminder came. A letter, crisp and official, waiting for both of you on the breakfast table.
Jongseong opened it first, scanning the words, his jaw tightening. You peered over.
Ministry of Magic Directive 492-B: Cohabitation Progress Assessment
As part of your continued marital integration, you are required to submit a Cohabitation Progress Report detailing shared living arrangements and physical proximity. As per Clause 7.3 of the Unity Act, proof of continued cohabitation will be assessed in the next Ministry visit.
Failure to comply with expectations may result in reassessment and intervention.
You let out a slow breath. “They’re watching us closer now.”
Jongseong scoffed, tossing the letter aside. “Of course they are.”
Your fingers curled around the edge of the table. Something about the wording unsettled you.
“Physical proximity,” you murmured. “They’re pushing for more.”
Jongseong ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you. “Yeah.”
Silence.
The weight of the words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.
“We need to practice.”
You looked up from your book, momentarily caught off guard. “Practice what?”
He closed his own book, exhaling like he had already anticipated your reaction. “Being more… natural with each other. The Ministry is expecting real signs of a relationship, not just two people coexisting in the same space.”
You swallowed, shifting slightly. “You mean touching, kissing, all of that?”
He nodded, meeting your gaze with a calmness that only made your stomach tighten further. He wasn’t wrong, of course. If anything, you should have expected this conversation to happen sooner. But something about the way he said it—so practical, so unaffected—sent a nervous flicker through your chest.
“How do you want to start?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.
Jongseong hesitated for only a moment before he pushed himself off the couch and extended a hand. “Come here.”
You stared at his outstretched fingers, debating, before finally placing your hand in his. His palm was warm, steady, and as he gently pulled you up, you felt your breath catch slightly at how close he was now.
“Hugging first,” he murmured, like he was giving instructions.
You exhaled softly before stepping forward, wrapping your arms around his waist. It felt awkward at first—stiff, calculated—but then, as his arms circled around you in response, something shifted. He was warm, solid, and despite the tension in your shoulders, there was a comfort in the closeness. You felt the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers rested lightly against your back.
“This isn’t terrible,” he muttered, voice lower than usual.
You huffed a small laugh, eyes still pressed against his chest. “High praise.”
He chuckled, a small vibration against your body. The silence stretched between you, no longer heavy with hesitation but something else—something unspoken. You weren’t sure how long you stood like that before he finally murmured, “Next.”
You swallowed, stepping back slightly. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary before dropping away.
“Kissing?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
Jongseong nodded, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “We should get used to it.”
You inhaled, forcing yourself to meet his gaze head-on. “Alright.”
His fingers reached for your chin, tilting it up slightly, and the air in the room seemed to shift. He didn’t move immediately, as if gauging your reaction, waiting for the tension to settle before he finally leaned in.
The first brush of his lips was light, cautious. Testing.
Your breath caught. It was such a simple touch, barely there, and yet it sent a strange warmth curling in your stomach. His lips were soft, warm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he pressed in again—this time firmer, deeper.
A slow, deliberate slide of lips.
Your fingers curled involuntarily into his shirt, as if steadying yourself, as his lips moved against yours with a patience that sent your pulse hammering in your ears. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t merely going through the motions. He was learning you.
There was something unbearably intimate about it, something in the way he lingered, in the way his fingers flexed slightly against your waist. Like he wasn’t sure where to place his hands, but he knew he didn’t want to let go.
Your own breath had turned uneven, the warmth between you making your skin prickle. You weren’t supposed to feel this. It was just practice. Just a test.
And yet, your heart betrayed you with every second he refused to pull away.
Just when you thought he was done, his lips barely parted from yours, he hesitated—and then he pressed a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips, softer than the first, but somehow infinitely more dangerous.
Your eyes snapped open, breath stalling in your throat.
Jongseong didn’t move for a second, his gaze locked on yours as if waiting for a reaction. Then, he took a small step back, clearing his throat. “See? Not so hard.”
You exhaled shakily, forcing a smirk. “Speak for yourself.”
He smiled slightly, but there was something else there now. Something neither of you were quite ready to address.
That night, long after you had gone to bed, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The feel of his lips hadn’t left you. The warmth of his touch still clung to your skin, lingering in a way that made sleep impossible.
The first morning after the kiss, you had been unsure what to expect. Would he pretend it hadn’t happened? Would the air be awkward between you?
You walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and saw him standing by the stove, making coffee like he always did. The difference was how he looked at you.
"Morning," he said, and before you could respond, he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with an ease that made your stomach turn over. The touch was fleeting, barely there, yet entirely intentional.
By the second day, it was a hand at your waist when he passed by you in the hallway, fingers lingering as if testing his boundaries. You weren’t sure when it started feeling natural, but you knew that by the third day, when Jongseong pressed a small peck to your temple as he handed you your morning coffee, you didn’t freeze.
You accepted it.
Maybe even welcomed it.
By then, you had decided that if he could do it so easily, so could you. That morning, before leaving for work, you turned back to him just as you reached the door.
"See you later," you murmured, before pressing a quick peck to his cheek.
It was supposed to be casual, unthinking, but as soon as you stepped back, you caught the slight widening of his eyes before he composed himself. You had caught him off guard.
You swallowed, feigning nonchalance, before leaving quickly. You were the one initiating now.
It was the second evening when Jongseong offered to pick you up from work again.
"If people see us together more often, it might help with the whole convincing thing," he had reasoned.
Logical. Sensible. Everything Jongseong was.
Except when he showed up outside your building, leaning against the stone wall with his hands in his coat pockets, looking entirely unbothered while your coworkers noticed.
"Your husband’s here again," one of them teased as they nudged you.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the heat crawling up your neck as you stepped outside. He looked good under the streetlights, the cool air turning his skin slightly pink. His gaze met yours, and something flickered in his eyes before he pushed off the wall and walked toward you.
"Long day?" he asked as he fell into step beside you.
"Exhausting," you murmured. "Thanks for picking me up."
He glanced at you, then, as if on impulse, reached for your hand. Not a performance. Just instinct. His fingers laced through yours with the same steadiness he always carried, and even though you told yourself it was just for show, your pulse didn’t get the memo.
Halfway down the street, you spotted a familiar figure across the road—Jake. He caught sight of you at the same time, waving enthusiastically.
Without thinking, you smiled and waved back. "Jake!"
Jongseong’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, just barely noticeable, but he didn’t say anything.
Jake grinned, giving a knowing look before disappearing into the crowd. You cleared your throat, hoping Jongseong didn’t read into anything. But of course, he had noticed.
The morning of the visit felt different. Heavier.
You woke up to the quiet sounds of Jongseong moving around the flat, the faint scent of coffee drifting through the air. The weight of the upcoming meeting sat in your chest like a stone—there was no ignoring the fact that today, the Ministry would scrutinize everything you and Jongseong had been working toward.
You lingered in bed for a moment longer than usual, staring at the ceiling, feeling the heat of your own overactive thoughts. Had you practiced enough? Would they believe you? Would they catch on that some of these moments had started feeling far too real?
You sighed, forcing yourself up, and padded into the kitchen. Jongseong was leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he sipped from his mug. His hair was still damp from his shower, sticking to his forehead slightly, and—
You blinked. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Again.
Jongseong barely acknowledged you as he took another sip of coffee, then set the mug down with an exhale. “We should go over a few things before they get here.”
You were still staring at his bare chest, lips slightly parted. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this—Merlin, you lived together now—but something about it felt different today.
“Uh,” you said eloquently. “You’re—”
“I know,” he replied, completely unbothered. “I forgot to grab my shirt from the other room.”
Before you could respond, a loud knock at the door shattered the moment.
Panic seized your chest.
“They’re early?” you hissed.
Jongseong swore under his breath, grabbing for the nearest thing—your cardigan, which had been draped over a chair. He threw it at you before sprinting toward the bedroom, leaving you standing there, gripping the fabric uselessly as another knock sounded.
Forcing down your nerves, you rushed to the door, opening it just enough to see the official standing there, a clipboard in hand.
“Mrs. Park?” the man asked in a clipped tone.
“Yes,” you said, trying to sound composed.
“We’re here for the cohabitation assessment,” he continued, adjusting his glasses as he glanced down at his paperwork. “May we come in?”
You stepped aside, letting them in, just as Jongseong reappeared—this time fully dressed, but slightly breathless. The Ministry official’s gaze flickered between you both, already taking notes.
The official took a seat at the dining table, motioning for both of you to do the same. His assistant, a younger witch with keen eyes, remained standing near the bookshelf, observing.
“We’ll start with some basic questions,” the man said, clicking his quill against the parchment. “How has married life been treating you both?”
Jongseong leaned back slightly, arm draping over the back of your chair in a practiced motion. “It’s been an adjustment,” he said smoothly, glancing at you with what looked like amusement. “But we’re settling in well.”
The official hummed, eyes narrowing. “What would you say has been the biggest change since getting married?”
You hesitated, heart pounding. What was a normal answer?
Jongseong, of course, had no problem answering. “Waking up to each other in the house.”
You nearly choked on air.
The official scribbled something down. “And how do you usually spend your evenings together?”
Your mind raced. Jongseong was the first to respond, again, far too at ease with all of this. “Dinner, talking about our days, sometimes reading together on the couch.”
That was true. But the way he was selling it so smoothly made heat creep up your neck.
The assistant tilted her head. “And your sleeping arrangements?”
The air in the room thickened.
Jongseong barely hesitated. “We have separate rooms for now, but we’re adjusting.”
The official’s quill paused. A bad sign.
“That will need to change,” he said briskly. “As you know, starting next week, it will be mandatory for all married couples under this law to share a bedroom. The Ministry will have enchantments in place to verify compliance. Any deviation from this could result in a reevaluation of your union.”
Your stomach twisted. They were going to monitor your sleeping arrangements?
The assistant added, “It’s a common concern among couples who haven’t previously lived together, but physical closeness is a necessary step toward a successful marriage.”
Your hands clenched beneath the table. Necessary? Successful? What did that even mean in a marriage you hadn’t chosen?
The official leaned forward slightly. “Are you prepared for that transition?”
Jongseong’s grip on the back of your chair tightened just slightly before he nodded. “Of course.”
The official’s gaze flickered between you two, scrutinizing every reaction, every hesitation. “Then we will expect that adjustment to be complete by the next check-in.”
The assistant cleared her throat. “One last thing. We need to verify your comfort with one another.”
You barely had time to process before Jongseong’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face toward him.
You should’ve seen it coming.
His lips brushed against yours softly, gently at first. But the moment your breath caught, the moment he felt your fingers instinctively tighten around his, he pressed in just a little more—lingering, deepening, turning what should have been just for show into something you didn’t know how to categorize.
By the time he pulled away, your pulse was hammering.
The official seemed satisfied. “That will do.”
Jongseong didn’t let go of your hand.
The Ministry left shortly after, having seen enough. The moment the door shut behind them, you turned to Jongseong, heart still racing.
“That was—”
“Convincing?” he supplied, arching an eyebrow. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.
You swallowed. “You didn’t have to—”
He cut you off, voice lower. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”
You had no answer to that.
Because the truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.
And, worse still, in just a few days, you wouldn’t be able to avoid the reality of what the Ministry expected from you.
You weren’t just playing house anymore. You were about to start living in it.
You remained standing by the door, arms crossed, still feeling the weight of their scrutiny on your skin. The words lingered between you and Jongseong like an unspoken curse.
You must share a bedroom. You must be physically close. The Ministry will verify.
You turned slowly, eyes meeting Jongseong’s. He was still standing near the table, fingers drumming against the wood. He looked composed—too composed, like he hadn’t just promised the officials something neither of you had fully prepared for.
“You said it so easily,” you muttered.
Jongseong raised a brow. “Would you rather I had hesitated?”
Your arms tightened around yourself. “I don’t know.”
His expression remained impassive, but something in the air shifted—thick, charged with something unspoken.
You swallowed. “We have a week.”
“Six days.”
Your gaze snapped up. “You’re counting?”
He shrugged. “It’s important.”
You exhaled sharply and turned toward the hallway. The flat wasn’t huge, but it had two bedrooms. Your bedroom and his. The safe distance you had clung to was suddenly about to vanish.
You crossed your arms tighter over your chest. “We need to figure out how to do this.”
Jongseong ran a hand through his hair, considering. “We should start by deciding how to—”
“Who’s moving?” you interrupted. “You or me?”
He blinked. You hadn’t even let him finish.
For some reason, the question flustered him more than he expected. He looked toward his room, then toward yours, then back at you. “I… I guess it makes sense for one of us to move into the other’s space.”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s obvious.”
His jaw tensed. “Then why do you sound upset?”
You inhaled sharply. “Because this isn’t normal. None of this is normal.”
Silence. The tension was razor-thin, tight enough to snap, but just as the air felt like it might crack open with unspoken frustration, Jongseong suddenly stepped forward.
Your breath hitched as he reached up, fingers brushing lightly against your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. His touch was barely there—soft, lingering, as if grounding you before the moment could spiral too far.
Your stomach flipped. The anger, the frustration—it melted in an instant, leaving something quieter in its place.
“I know,” he murmured. “But we don’t have a choice.”
He hesitated for a beat before his thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his fingers barely ghosting your jawline.
“Baby,” he murmured softly, testing the word, letting it hang between you. His eyes searched yours. “Is that okay?”
Your lips parted, but no words came. You weren’t sure what shocked you more—the nickname, or the fact that you didn’t mind it.
You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest, but eventually, you nodded.
Jongseong held your gaze for a second longer before his hand dropped, tension breaking just enough for you to exhale again.
You cleared your throat, stepping back slightly. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“It matters,” he murmured again. His gaze flickered with something unreadable before he turned and walked toward his room. He pushed the door open, revealing a clean and modern space—a bed that somehow seemed too big, a desk neatly arranged, shelves lined with things you hadn’t paid attention to before.
“This will work,” he said simply, like it was nothing. Like moving you into his space wasn’t going to alter everything.
You stepped into the room cautiously, running your fingers along the edge of his desk. This was real now.
Jongseong moved beside you, hands slipping into his pockets. “You’ll take the bed, obviously.”
Your head snapped toward him. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“The couch.”
“No.” The word left you before you could think about it. Because that would be too obvious. Too much space. Too much defiance against what they were expecting.
Jongseong tilted his head. “No?”
You swallowed. “If they’re monitoring, we can’t make it look fake.”
His expression was unreadable. Then, after a long silence, he said, “We’ll take sides.”
You nodded slowly. “Sides.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Neither of you moved.
The weight of the agreement pressed in around you. You would share a bed. You would be inches apart at night. The pretense of distance was officially gone.
Jongseong finally sighed. “I’ll move your things in tomorrow.”
You nodded. Then, after a pause, you took a small step toward him. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”
He smirked faintly. “Nothing about this has been.”
You exhaled slowly. “Then we should make it look real.”
Jongseong’s smirk faded slightly. He tilted his head, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. That look. That tension.
Without thinking, you reached for his wrist, fingers curling around it just briefly before pulling away. Something about touching him first felt necessary.
Jongseong didn’t pull back. Instead, he lifted a hand, his fingers brushing against yours before he murmured, “We’ll figure it out.”
You nodded, stepping back. “We have six days.”
His lips quirked. “Five and a half.”
You huffed a laugh despite yourself. Then, before you could change your mind, you turned and left the room, your pulse still unsteady in your chest.
The first night in the same room felt heavier than you had expected. You sat at the edge of the bed, fingers gripping the sheets as the reality of the situation fully settled over you.
Jay was in the bathroom, the faint sound of running water filling the silence of the bedroom. Your bedroom now. Your bed, which was suddenly meant for two.
When he stepped out, towel drying his hair, you didn’t look up immediately. Instead, you focused on the shifting space around you—the way your books now lined part of his shelf, your blanket was folded at the foot of the bed beside his, your perfume lingered in the air now.
The room was no longer just his. It was becoming yours, too.
Jay let out a slow exhale as he tossed his towel over a chair. When you finally looked up, your gaze caught on the fact that he was shirtless. He had no intention of sleeping in one, it seemed.
“I don’t sleep with a shirt on,” he said casually, noticing your stare.
You swallowed and cleared your throat. “Can you—just for tonight?”
Jay’s brows lifted slightly before he let out a quiet chuckle. “You really think a shirt’s gonna make a difference, baby?”
Your stomach flipped at the nickname, the casual way it rolled off his tongue. The second time tonight.
You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Just for tonight.”
He sighed, but didn’t argue, grabbing a t-shirt from the dresser and slipping it on before climbing into bed. “Happy?”
You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck and nodded.
“You okay?” he asked after a beat, watching you.
You blinked. That was the first time he’d asked you that all night.
“Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than intended. “Just… adjusting.”
He hummed, turning onto his back. “You’ll get used to it.”
Would you?
You inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “We should set some ground rules.”
He nodded, shifting to get comfortable. “Okay. Like what?”
You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “No unnecessary touching while sleeping.”
Jay smirked. “You think I’m gonna be all over you in my sleep?”
Your stomach flipped at the teasing edge in his voice. “I think accidents happen,” you countered, narrowing your eyes.
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. No unnecessary touching.”
You nodded, though the warmth in your cheeks refused to fade.
“Anything else?” he asked, glancing toward you as he adjusted the pillows.
You hesitated again. “What if, what if one of us wakes up first?”
Jay raised a brow. “Then the other keeps sleeping? That’s usually how waking up works.”
You glared. “I mean, do we pretend to still be asleep? Do we—do we greet each other? What’s the etiquette here?”
Jay let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused. “I dunno. Do you want me to say good morning all soft and sweet? Maybe kiss your forehead while I’m at it?”
You shot him a look, but the mental image sent something warm curling in your stomach.
He grinned. “I’ll just say ‘morning’ and get out of bed. Sound good?”
You nodded. “Okay. That works.”
Jay leaned back against the headboard, watching you for a moment before tilting his head. "By the way," he murmured, "you don’t have to keep calling me Jongseong. Jay is fine."
You hesitated. "Are you sure?"
He smirked slightly. "Yeah. Sounds better when you say it."
Your stomach did an odd little flip at that, but you masked it with a nod. "Alright. Jay."
“You sure you’re comfortable?”
You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”
He hummed again, like he didn’t fully believe you, but didn’t push.
Then, just as you were about to shift under the covers, he reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.
Your breath hitched slightly at the unexpected softness of the gesture. It was casual, like something natural, something instinctive.
“Relax,” he murmured, voice lower now, almost drowsy. “It’s just me.”
Just him.
The realization settled somewhere deep in your chest as you nodded slowly. You lay back, facing the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the quiet rhythm of the room. Eventually, Jay flicked the bedside lamp off, and darkness swallowed the space between you both.
After a long stretch of silence, you swallowed and, almost in a whisper, asked, "Are you already used to it?"
There was a pause before Jay shifted slightly beside you. His voice was softer than before when he finally answered. "Not yet."
Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. You had spilled coffee on your only clean work shirt, and barely made it to your job on time. Meetings ran over, projects piled up, and no matter how much you tried to get ahead, the day kept dragging you down.
Then, to top it all off, the train home was delayed, and your wand flickered weakly when you tried to summon your keys at the door. By the time you finally stepped inside the apartment, exhaustion clung to your bones, irritation simmering beneath your skin.
You kicked off your shoes with more force than necessary, throwing your bag onto the chair with a frustrated huff. Everything sucked. Absolutely everything.
Then you looked toward the bed.
Jay was already there, half-asleep, his head turned toward the door as if he had been waiting for you. His hair was messy, his bare shoulders peeking out from beneath the covers. The dim lighting made his features softer, relaxed in a way that nearly made you forget how awful your day had been.
“Took you long enough,” he mumbled sleepily.
Your frustration flickered, the sharp edges of it dulling almost instantly. You sighed, running a hand over your face. “Yeah. Today was hell.”
Jay hummed, eyes barely open as he shifted, making just enough space for you. “C’mere, baby.”
Your heart clenched at the way he said it, voice thick with sleep, laced with a quiet warmth that had no right making you feel better.
You sighed again, but this time it wasn’t frustration—it was something softer, something that melted under the weight of his tired gaze.
You moved toward the closet to change, but Jay groaned softly, burying his face in the pillow. “No, just talk to me. I wanna hear about your day.”
You shook your head, exhaling as you unbuttoned your shirt. “You’re barely awake.”
“So?” he muttered, voice muffled. “Still wanna hear you.”
His insistence chipped away at whatever was left of your bad mood. As you moved through your night routine, you found yourself telling him everything—the stupid meetings, the unbearable commute, the way your boss kept mispronouncing your name even after working together for months.
Jay hummed occasionally, nodding in half-conscious agreement, eyes drifting shut between your sentences. But every time you stopped, thinking he had finally fallen asleep, his voice would break the silence.
“What happened after that?”
“Did you tell them off?”
“Bet you rolled your eyes at least five times.”
By the time you finally crawled into bed, most of the weight from the day had lifted, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled deep in your bones. As you exhaled, sinking into the sheets, Jay shifted beside you. His eyes were barely open, sleep pressing heavy against him, but he still reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek.
Without thinking, he murmured, "C’mere," and before you could register what was happening, he pulled you in, pressing a firm, lingering kiss against your lips. It was warm, slow, edged with sleep and something softer, something that made your chest tighten.
By the time he pulled away, his lips barely ghosting against yours, he was already halfway asleep again. "Better?" he mumbled, his voice slurred.
You swallowed, your pulse unsteady. "Yeah," you whispered. Jay’s fingers brushed against your arm as he exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
You huffed, shaking your head. “Me talking about my day was more for your entertainment than comfort, wasn’t it?”
Jay’s lips curled lazily. “Maybe.”
You rolled your eyes, shifting under the covers. But then Jay mumbled, “No shirt, no pants? I know you don’t like to wear your pants to sleep.”
You exhaled, already feeling the exhaustion tug at your limbs. “Fine.”
His fingers flexed against the sheets, satisfied. “Good. Together, we make one whole pajama set.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Jay hummed in agreement, already drifting off. Only when you settled beside him, feeling the shared warmth beneath the blankets, did he finally stop fighting sleep. But before he did, his hand found your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.
Without thinking, he leaned in again, this time pressing a softer, lingering kiss against your jaw. You exhaled slowly, your hands hesitating for only a moment before one of them lifted, fingers grazing the bare skin of his chest, feeling the warmth beneath your touch. His breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted closer, his lips trailing down to brush a barely-there kiss against the curve of your neck, his hand moving up to cradle the side of your face.
"Sleep," he mumbled against your skin, voice fading into exhaustion, before finally letting go.
You woke up to warmth. A slow, steady heat radiating from beside you, the blankets feeling heavier than usual.
Your eyes blinked open to see him still asleep, lying on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other stretched out lazily, fingers grazing your side. His breathing was even, his face completely relaxed in sleep.
You hesitated, watching him for just a moment longer than necessary, before attempting to shift away.
The second you moved, Jay groaned low in his throat. “Stay,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His fingers flexed against your hip before retracting as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you yet.
You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at his drowsy tone. “I need coffee.”
Jay cracked one eye open. “You always need coffee.”
You huffed. “And you always wake up in a good mood. How?”
He smirked sleepily, rolling onto his back with a slow stretch, his toned stomach peeking out from under the sheets. “It’s a gift, baby.”
The nickname sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you pushed the covers off before he could catch your expression. “I’m making coffee.”
Jay hummed, still blinking away sleep. “You’re really just gonna get up and leave me like this?”
You paused, turning to glance at him. “Like what?”
He grinned lazily. “Cold and abandoned.”
You scoffed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re so dramatic in the morning.”
Jay only smirked as you made your way to the kitchen, the comfortable ease between you lingering even as you started your morning routine.
Moments later, he joined you, still shirtless, hair a mess, moving to grab a mug from the cupboard. As you handed him his coffee, he leaned in absentmindedly, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder before taking the cup. The motion was so casual, so natural, that it took you a second to process.
You blinked, turning to face him. "Aren’t you kissing me too much?"
Jay stiffened slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. But then his lips quirked, and he leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee.
You watched him for a beat before setting your mug down. "Fine."
Before he could ask what you meant, you leaned in, arms lifting to loosely wrap around his neck as you pressed a soft kiss just beneath his jaw, your lips grazing the warm skin of his neck. You felt the slight shudder run through him, the way his grip on his coffee mug tightened just a fraction. Jay's breath hitched slightly, his fingers tightening around his mug.
When you pulled back, you smirked at the way his ears had turned red. "Happy now?"
"You should kiss me more," he teased.
You shot him a look, passing him a cup of coffee. “You’re lucky I made extra.”
Jay took a sip, sighing in content. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, baby.”
You pretended not to react to the name, but the warmth stayed with you longer than your coffee did.
As you took another sip of your coffee, the quiet hum of the morning was interrupted by the sound of fluttering wings. An owl swooped in through the open kitchen window, landing gracefully on the counter, a neatly tied envelope clutched in its beak.
Jay sighed, setting his mug down as he reached for the letter. "That'll be from my parents."
You watched as he untied the parchment, unfolding it with a slight frown. The owl hooted softly, waiting for a response.
Jay's eyes scanned the page, his expression unreadable at first. Then, with a small exhale, he muttered, "They want to see us."
Your fingers tightened slightly around your mug. Us.
“You’re staring at it like it’s gonna bite,” he mused, taking a sip of his coffee.
You huffed. “I just don’t know what to expect.”
Jay exhaled through his nose, setting his mug down. “My parents… they’re not bad. Just… traditional. They’ll expect things to look a certain way.”
Your fingers curled around your cup. “And what if they don’t?”
He tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Then we make sure they do.”
There was something unreadable in his expression, something both reassuring and unsettling all at once. He was taking this seriously—not just the Ministry part, but the part where you both had to convince his family, too.
You bit your lip. “One thing at a time?”
Jay smirked slightly, tapping his fingers against the counter. “One thing at a time.”
You weren’t sure why the thought made your stomach twist, but something about meeting Jay’s parents, about having to present this marriage as real to them, felt heavier than anything you had prepared for.
Jay looked at you then, tilting his head slightly. "I can write back later. No rush. Honestly, let’s just get through the last Ministry visit for a while first—then we can deal with my parents."
You swallowed, nodding. "Right. No rush."
The owl flapped its wings, as if impatient, but Jay simply placed the letter aside, returning his focus to his coffee. The weight of the letter lingered in the air between you, unspoken but present.
The morning had started normally enough. Work had been relatively uneventful, save for your coworker Mina pulling you aside as you both sorted through some files in the break room. She leaned against the counter, stirring sugar into her tea with a knowing look in her eyes.
"So," she drawled, "how's married life treating you?"
You blinked. "It’s… an adjustment."
Mina scoffed, taking a sip of her tea. "Adjustment? That’s a diplomatic way of putting it. You barely look married. No ring marks on your fingers, no swooning over your husband’s lunch visits."
You huffed. "He doesn’t visit me at work, but he does pick me up after. And we do kiss and stuff."
Mina’s brows shot up, interest piqued. "Kiss and stuff? So, what, like a peck on the lips? A lingering moment? You making out against the nearest wall?"
Your face burned. "Not making out. Just… normal kissing."
Mina gave you a deadpan look before taking another sip of her tea. "Okay, listen. Make out. Suck his dick. Get laid. In that order."
You nearly choked. "Mina!"
She smirked, unbothered. "What? Jongseong is a total hottie, you’re stressed, and all this weird tension you’re feeling will go away the moment you two start properly acting like husband and wife."
You groaned, rubbing your temples. "You are actually the worst."
Mina shrugged, grinning. "I’m just saying, sweetheart, at some point, you’re gonna have to stop pretending this is a polite roommate situation. Might as well enjoy yourself in the process."
She only laughed, patting your shoulder. "I’m just saying, if you’re already forced to live together, might as well enjoy the perks, right? Bet he’s not bad in bed either."
Mina shrugged, clearly unfazed. "I’m the realist. You’re the one making this more complicated than it needs to be."
You rolled your eyes but couldn't fully shake her words from your mind as the day went on.
Jay had suggested going out for lunch—something about fresh air being good for you, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to get you out of your own head. The tension of the upcoming dinner with his parents had been lingering between you both, and he was trying to shift the focus.
The café was cozy, tucked into a quiet corner of the city, the kind of place that blurred the line between magical and Muggle. Small, levitating candles hovered above each table, but there was also a very prominent espresso machine steaming in the background, giving the place a strange but warm blend of both worlds.
Jay was different today. More touchy.
The first time he reached for your hand, it caught you off guard. You had been gesturing while explaining something, only to have his fingers wrap around yours mid-sentence, lacing them together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You blinked down at your joined hands, but he only smirked, continuing to listen as if nothing had changed.
Jay tilted his head slightly. "By the way, you always talk about Niki, but what about your other friends? Jungwon, right?"
You blinked. "Yeah. Jungwon and I have been friends for a while now."
Jay hummed. "Funny. I actually tutored him for like a week back in school."
Your eyes widened. "You? Tutoring Jungwon?"
He smirked. "Yeah. He was struggling with Charms. Thought he could figure everything out by himself, but he kept botching the spellwork."
You laughed. "That does sound like him. How did it go?"
Jay shrugged. "He quit after a week. Said he learned better by messing up on his own."
You snorted. "That sounds even more like him."
Jay smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Guess we’ve had more overlapping connections than I thought."
It wasn’t until later that evening, back at the apartment, that you realized just how much more comfortable Jay had gotten with you.
You were sitting on the couch, legs curled up beneath you as you skimmed through a book, when Jay walked in, plopping down beside you with absolutely no regard for personal space. Without hesitation, he reached for your arm and tugged gently, signaling for you to shift.
You raised a brow. “What?”
Jay smirked. “Come here.”
You scoffed. “Why?”
He sighed, as if you were exhausting, before simply pulling you toward him. You barely had time to react before you were settled against his chest, your back pressed against him as he stretched his legs out comfortably. His arms caged you in, warm and steady.
“Jay,” you muttered, stiffening slightly. “What are you doing?”
“Relaxing.” His voice was easy, like this was normal. Like you hadn’t just settled directly into his lap.
You swallowed, unsure of what to do with yourself. “I—”
“You’re warm,” he murmured, voice dropping slightly.
Your heartbeat stuttered.
The worst part was that he was warm too.
After a few seconds, you exhaled, finally allowing yourself to relax into him. Jay hummed in approval, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear as he shifted slightly, adjusting his grip around you. The touch was fleeting but intentional.
“You really don’t mind all this?” you asked quietly.
Jay chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Mind it? I’m starting to think I like it too much.”
You sucked in a breath, but before you could respond, he nuzzled against your shoulder, his teeth grazing your ear before closing lightly around it in a teasing nibble. Your breath hitched, and your fingers instinctively gripped his arm.
"Jay—"
He didn't pull back. Instead, his arms tightened around you, and his lips moved lower, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the curve of your neck. The warmth of it sent a sharp jolt through your spine, and before you could second-guess yourself, you turned slightly in his lap, tilting your head toward him.
It happened naturally—his mouth met yours in a kiss that was slower, deeper than either of you had intended. The shift in energy was unmistakable, tension curling between you like an unspoken understanding neither of you wanted to break.
Jay's hands splayed against your back, pulling you closer as your fingers curled into his shirt, anchoring yourself. When he bit at your bottom lip, a quiet noise escaped you, and he responded by deepening the kiss, tilting his head as if he couldn't get enough.
By the time you finally pulled away, breath uneven, his forehead rested against yours, his lips just barely brushing over yours again in a lingering tease. Your heart was still racing, your hands still lightly curled against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
Jay's breath was still uneven against your skin, his hands resting against your lower back, keeping you close. You could still feel the warmth of his lips, the lingering tension settling between you both like an unspoken acknowledgment.
His arms tightened slightly, and he nuzzled against your cheek, pressing a barely-there kiss against your temple. "You feel safe," he murmured, his voice lower, softer.
Your breath hitched. "What?"
Jay exhaled slowly, as if grounding himself in your presence. "With you. I feel safe with you."
The confession sent a warmth through your chest that you weren’t prepared for. Your fingers twitched slightly against his shirt, caught between the instinct to pull away and the need to stay exactly where you were.
Jay tilted his head, his nose brushing against your cheek. "You like taking care of me, don’t you?" he mused, teasing but sincere.
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. "You’re impossible."
His smirk returned, albeit softer this time. "Maybe. But I think you like me this way."
You huffed, shaking your head, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let yourself sink just a little further into his embrace, knowing—deep down—you weren’t quite ready to let go yet.
"Told you you'd get used to it," he murmured, his voice husky.
“Jay,” you warned, though your voice came out softer than intended.
He only smirked, resting his chin on your shoulder like he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive. “You’re overthinking again, baby.”
And you hated that he was right.
You had been dreading the Ministry’s visit from the moment the letter arrived, confirming the final scheduled check-in before a long evaluation period. It was supposed to be a relief—this was the last time, for a while at least, that an official would come snooping around, dissecting your marriage like it was an experiment instead of your actual life.
But relief was the last thing you felt.
There was something suffocating about the expectation of passing. You and Jay had gotten good at playing your roles, good at the casual touches, the familiarity, the easy, teasing back-and-forth that had started feeling more real than pretend. But today, something felt… off.
Maybe it was because the words still echoed in your mind.
You should kiss me more.
You feel safe.
Jay had said it so easily, as if it was second nature to him now, to be comfortable around you. But comfort didn’t mean security, and today, everything felt like it was hanging by a thread.
The Ministry official, a stern-looking woman with wire-rimmed glasses, sat across from you both in the living room. A notepad in her hands, quill poised. Watching. Always watching.
“So,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “We’ve received positive reports so far on your integration as a married couple. How has the transition been?”
Jay, as always, was calm, composed, charming. “It’s been good. We’ve built a routine, settled into daily life together.”
Her eyes flickered to you. “And you?”
You swallowed. “It’s… an adjustment, but I think we’re getting there.”
The Ministry woman nodded, making a note. “Good, good. And the cohabitation aspect? Shared space, sleeping arrangements?”
Jay didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”
You nodded, feeling the walls close in around you. You wondered if she could sense the strange weight in the air, the tension neither of you had fully addressed.
She glanced down at the file in her lap. “As you know, by the next evaluation period, the Ministry will be monitoring this aspect through magical verification. We must ensure that your union progresses naturally.”
Naturally. As if any of this had been natural from the start.
Her gaze sharpened. “And, of course, I must remind you that by the second year of marriage, procreation is expected. The Ministry understands that adjustments take time, but ultimately, your union is meant to strengthen the magical bloodlines.”
Your stomach clenched. Jay’s jaw tensed.
“Understood,” Jay finally said, his tone even.
You managed a nod, even though your heart was pounding in your ears. The official studied you both for a moment longer before standing, closing her folder.
“I believe that will be all for now,” she said, giving a tight smile. “We will check in again at the next scheduled period. Until then, I suggest you continue settling into your roles as husband and wife.”
And just like that, she was gone. But her words lingered, thick like smoke in the room.
Neither of you spoke for a long moment.
Then, Jay let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, that was fun.”
Your jaw clenched. “Fun.”
He glanced at you, sensing the shift in your tone. “What?”
You stood abruptly, pacing toward the kitchen, needing space. “Nothing.”
Jay sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Come on, baby, just say it.”
And maybe it was the way he said it—so effortlessly, so casually, as if nothing had just happened—that made something in you snap.
“Say what, Jay?” You whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “That I hate this? That I hate how the Ministry talks about children like we’re required to breed for them? That I hate how we have to act like our lives are some scripted performance?”
Jay exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You think I don’t hate it too?”
“Do you?” The words were out before you could stop them, sharp, biting. “Because sometimes it feels like you’re perfectly fine pretending.”
Jay’s expression darkened. "I’m trying to make the best of this, but you act like I’m the enemy. We’re in this together, or have you forgotten that?"
You let out a bitter laugh. "Together? Jay, sometimes it feels like you don't even care. Like you're just rolling with this because it's easier for you."
Jay’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, his posture stiffening. "What do you mean I don't care? Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wake up every morning thrilled about the fact that my life got rewritten by some Ministry law?"
You exhaled sharply. "I never said that."
"No, but you sure as hell act like I’m the one who forced you into this." His voice was sharper now, frustration laced into every word. "I’ve been trying, okay? Trying to make this livable, trying to make it easier for both of us. But every time I do, you push back like you’d rather pretend I don’t exist."
You crossed your arms, hating the way his words stung. "I don’t pretend you don’t exist, Jay. I just—" You swallowed hard. "I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to balance what’s real and what’s not," Your heart pounded, "I haven’t forgotten that we're in this together. But maybe I wish we weren’t."
Jay’s entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter, but no less sharp. "What do you mean, you wish we weren’t?"
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. "Jay—"
"No, say it," he pressed, his voice laced with something raw. "Has this all just been an inconvenience to you? Have I just been another part of the mess?"
You inhaled shakily. "That’s not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" His eyes bore into yours, frustration and something else—something closer to hurt—bleeding into his gaze.
You hesitated. "I just meant… I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore."
Jay’s expression darkened further, his frustration spilling over. "It’s all real, because this is our life now! This isn’t some fantasy, or some nightmare you can wake up from. This is it. We’re here, together, and no amount of wishing it away is going to change that."
Jay let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe it isn’t normal, but it’s ours. And if we keep tearing it apart every time something doesn’t go the way we want, then what the hell are we even doing?"
Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Neither of you willing to be the first to break it.
The silence that followed was deafening. Jay’s face didn’t change, but something behind his eyes did. A flicker of something that looked like hurt.
And then, just like that, the moment passed.
His jaw clenched, his voice measured. “We have dinner with my parents tonight.”
You inhaled sharply, your stomach twisting. You had completely forgotten in the middle of the chaos.
“Great,” you muttered. “Can’t wait.”
Jay exhaled, stepping back. “Just… get ready. We’ll deal with this later.”
The carriage ride to Jay’s family estate was quiet, tense. You barely spoke, both still reeling from the heated argument earlier. Jay’s gaze was fixed outside the window, jaw tight, and though you knew this dinner was important, you couldn’t shake the unease crawling under your skin.
By the time you arrived, the grandeur of the Park estate was impossible to ignore. The house—no, the manor—was a striking example of old magic, the kind of wealth that had been passed down for generations.
Tall wrought-iron gates opened with a soft creak, revealing sprawling courtyards lined with lantern-lit pathways, their glow flickering in the cool evening air. The mansion itself was regal, its high stone walls blanketed in ivy, windows aglow with warm golden light.
Jay straightened the moment the carriage stopped, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by something practiced. Reserved. This was his world, and you were only stepping into it.
A house-elf opened the massive front doors before either of you could knock, ushering you into a vast foyer lined with polished marble floors and an intricately carved staircase leading to the upper levels. The walls were adorned with enchanted portraits, all featuring past generations of the Park family—stoic figures in rich robes watching you with unsettling scrutiny.
Jay’s mother was waiting in the grand entrance hall, regal as ever. Her dark hair was elegantly styled, her robes immaculate, her presence exuding the effortless grace of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
"Jongseong," she greeted, her voice smooth but edged with expectation. "It’s been too long."
Jay nodded, a polite smile barely reaching his eyes. "You know how it is."
His father stood just behind her, taller than Jay, his presence commanding even in silence. His features were sharp, his stare assessing, but there was a flicker of curiosity when he glanced at you.
His mother’s gaze shifted toward you, scanning with the precision of someone accustomed to weighing worth. "And you must be my daughter-in-law."
The title landed heavily. Daughter-in-law. It sounded more binding coming from her than it ever had from a Ministry official.
You dipped your head slightly. "It’s lovely to meet you."
She studied you for a long moment before giving a small nod. "Come in. Dinner is ready."
The dining room was ornate and intimidating, the kind of place where silence held weight. A long, polished table stretched across the room, set with fine china and gleaming silverware. Floating candles hovered overhead, casting a warm but almost oppressive glow on the deep mahogany walls lined with more ancestral portraits.
Dinner was served in meticulously timed courses, each plate appearing at the perfect moment as house-elves moved soundlessly through the space. The food was exquisite, but you barely tasted it—your mind too occupied with the undercurrent of tension between you and Jay.
His parents, though polite, were assessing you, their questions carefully crafted to evaluate rather than genuinely get to know you.
"Tell me," his mother finally said, dabbing her lips with a pristine napkin, "how have you been adjusting to married life?"
You forced a smile. "It’s been an adjustment, but we’re finding our way."
Jay’s father hummed, swirling his wine glass. "Finding your way?" His sharp eyes flickered between the two of you. "That’s an interesting choice of words."
You felt Jay tense beside you. "We’re managing just fine."
His mother tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharper than before. "Did you two have a fight?"
Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt smaller. Had they already noticed?
Jay let out a measured sigh, fingers tightening slightly around his fork. "It’s nothing. Just—" he exhaled, sparing you a quick glance, "a disagreement."
His mother hummed thoughtfully, setting her napkin down beside her plate. "Marriage isn’t about never fighting. It’s about how you handle the fights."
His father nodded, his deep voice breaking the tense silence. "A marriage built on avoidance will always crumble. Disagreements are inevitable, but how you choose to move forward from them is what matters."
The weight of their words settled heavily between you and Jay, a third presence at the table. It wasn’t accusatory, nor was it particularly comforting—it was simply fact. And it left you feeling exposed.
His mother’s gaze lingered on Jay for a moment longer before softening just a fraction as she turned back to you. "It will take time, but if you are both willing to build something real from this, then you must learn to meet each other halfway."
You swallowed, nodding slowly. Halfway.
After dinner, as the plates vanished and the dining room emptied, Jay’s mother turned to you with a calm, knowing expression. "Come," she said, rising gracefully from her seat. "Let’s wash our hands before dessert."
You hesitated for only a moment before following her, feeling Jay’s gaze linger on you as you exited the room. The air in the corridor was cool, laced with the scent of fresh linen and aged parchment. You expected her to lead you directly to the washroom, but instead, after you rinsed your hands, she gestured toward a side door that opened into a moonlit garden.
"A walk will do us both some good," she murmured, stepping outside.
The estate grounds were vast, illuminated by the soft glow of floating lanterns. The paths were lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and arching trellises of enchanted flowers that bloomed faintly in the evening air. It was quiet, serene, the opposite of the tension you had felt all night.
She walked beside you in silence for a few moments before speaking. "I can see the weight you’re carrying, dear. You don’t need to hide it from me."
You exhaled slowly. "It’s just… a lot. Adjusting, trying to understand what all of this means, what’s expected of me… and Jay."
Her lips curled slightly, not unkindly. "My son is… difficult at times. But I know him well."
You glanced at her, uncertain. "You seem to know a lot about us already."
She chuckled. "I know marriage is not easy, especially one like yours. But I also know that my son is not as indifferent as he pretends to be. He may act as though he’s handling everything well, but I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look at him, even when you don’t realize it."
You swallowed. "I don’t know how to make this work."
She stopped walking, turning to you. In the dim light, her gaze was softer than before. "Then start by meeting him where he is. And let him meet you there, too."
You nodded slowly, her words settling deep within you.
Then, as if sensing your next question, she offered a small smile. "If I know my son—and I do—he’s waiting for you upstairs. In his old bedroom. He may be stubborn, but he won’t go to sleep without trying to fix things."
The warmth in her voice was unexpected, and when she placed a gentle hand on your arm, she added, "Call me Mom. Family is built over time, but you’re part of ours now."
Something in your chest tightened, but you found yourself nodding, feeling the smallest bit lighter.
"Go to him," she murmured, stepping back toward the house. "The night is long, but love is patient."
The hallways of the Park estate were quiet, dimly lit by sconces casting soft, flickering light. The house smelled like old parchment, polished mahogany, and something herbal—like a potion left brewing long enough to become part of the walls. The weight of history pressed in on you as you followed the familiar path to Jay’s childhood bedroom.
Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as you stood outside his door, slightly ajar, warm lamplight spilling onto the dark floorboards. Your heart was a riot in your chest, each beat slamming against your ribs.
You pushed the door open.
Jay was there. Waiting.
He sat on the edge of his bed, one elbow propped on his knee, fingers pressed to his temple like he had the beginnings of a headache. His sleeves were still rolled up, exposing the lean muscle of his forearms, and his shirt hung loosely over his frame, collar slightly undone like he’d been tugging at it in frustration. His hair was tousled—from his hands, or maybe from the weight of the night.
He looked up as you entered. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders tensed.
The room was suffocatingly personal. The bed, bigger than you expected, was covered in dark gray sheets that had long lost their crispness. The walls, lined with old Quidditch posters and bookshelves crammed with textbooks and novels, spoke of a younger, more ambitious Jay—one you had never known.
Your throat tightened. This was his space. His past. And now you were stepping into it.
You shut the door behind you, your breath unsteady.
“Your mom told me you’d be here,” you said softly.
Jay scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. "Of course, she did."
The silence that stretched between you was thick with unspoken things. You shifted on your feet, nerves crawling up your spine. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to him.
You exhaled. "She also told me to call her Mom."
That got his attention. His brow furrowed slightly, his gaze flickering over you like he was trying to decide if you were serious. "Yeah?"
You nodded. "She gave me some advice, too. About meeting halfway."
Jay inhaled deeply, rubbing at his temple before looking at you fully. "Sounds like her."
More silence. It wasn’t cold anymore, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Just hesitant. Fragile.
Finally, he sighed. "I don’t like fighting with you."
The words hit you harder than they should have. A lump formed in your throat. "Me neither."
Jay’s eyes softened just slightly, his posture relaxing the smallest bit. "I meant what I said earlier. This… us. It’s real, whether we wanted it to be or not."
You swallowed against the sudden sting behind your eyes. Real. That word lodged itself deep in your chest, making it hard to breathe.
You took a slow step forward. Then another. And another, until you were standing between his knees.
Jay’s hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.
"I don’t know how to do this," you whispered, voice tight.
Jay’s throat bobbed as he exhaled, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up your hips, fingers digging into your waist just enough to make you feel it.
“Then let’s figure it out together,” he murmured.
A small, broken sound escaped you before you could stop it. His grip tightened.
Tears slipped past your lashes, and Jay’s entire expression shifted. His fingers brushed up, cradling your face, wiping them away.
"Baby, hey—" his voice dropped lower, raw. "Why are you crying?"
You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t know. I just—" You sucked in a breath. "You call me baby like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like we’re normal. And I don’t know what to do with that."
Jay studied you for a long moment, then tilted his head forward, pressing his forehead to yours.
His warmth seeped into your skin, anchoring you. He smelled like home.
"You don’t have to do anything with it," he murmured. "Just let me hold you."
You let out another shaky breath before you did something you hadn’t done before.
You settled into his lap.
Jay’s entire body stiffened, but he didn’t stop you. His arms came up instinctively, wrapping around your waist, holding you tighter, like he was afraid you’d disappear.
Your fingers toyed with the edges of his collar, trailing along the warm skin just beneath it. His pulse thrummed under your fingertips, fast but steady.
Then, without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him.
It was soft at first, hesitant—a brush of lips meant to test the waters. But when Jay sighed against your mouth and pulled you flush against him, the hesitation melted away.
He kissed you deeper.
You could feel everything in the way he held you—his hands sliding up your spine, his fingers tracing your ribs, the weight of every moment leading up to this one.
By the time you pulled away, you were breathless. Your forehead rested against his, lips still tingling.
Then, in a hushed, teasing voice, you whispered, "I love it when you smother me with yourself. It makes me feel beautiful."
Jay froze.
Then—a deep, rich laugh rumbled in his chest. He tipped his head back, grinning. "What?"
Your cheeks burned. "It sounded better in my head."
Jay’s arms tightened around you, his lips brushing over your temple as he chuckled. "God, you’re ridiculous."
You hummed, tracing absent patterns over his chest. "But you love it."
Jay exhaled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as if he belonged there. "Yeah, baby," he murmured against your skin. "I do."
For the first time that night, everything felt right.
The morning sun poured through the windows the next morning, casting golden streaks across the bedroom floor. You stirred slightly, feeling warmth wrapped around you—solid, firm, undeniably Jay.
His arm was draped over your waist, his breath hot against the back of your neck, slow and steady. His entire body was flush against yours, the weight of his leg thrown over yours, as if he had unconsciously tangled himself around you in the night.
You froze, hyper-aware of every point of contact. His hand splayed low on your stomach, fingers curled just barely under the hem of your shirt. His breath fanned over the shell of your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine.
Then, he tightened his grip.
You sucked in a breath as his fingers flexed against your skin, pulling you back against him. A low hum rumbled in his chest, deep and sleepy.
"Mmm. Stay," he muttered, voice thick with sleep, gravelly in a way that made your stomach flip.
You should move. You should pull away. But you don’t.
Instead, you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, just for a second. The feel of him—his bare skin against yours, the solid press of his body—had your mind spiraling into dangerous places. He was so warm, so strong, so impossibly close.
Your breath stuttered as you felt his fingers slide just a little lower, his palm pressing just a little firmer.
And then, realization hit.
You jerked away, heart hammering, but Jay barely reacted. He let out a tired groan, stretching his arm over his head before blinking at you through half-lidded eyes.
"What’s wrong?" His voice was hoarse, his gaze still heavy with sleep.
You cleared your throat, forcing your voice to stay even. "Nothing. Just… we should get up."
Jay smirked, lazy and knowing.
"If you say so, baby."
The walk home was silent, but thick. Every brush of your arms, every accidental glance, every moment of quiet between you carried an unbearable weight.
You weren’t sure when it had started—this undercurrent of something more, something dangerous. But you could feel it burning beneath the surface.
When you stepped inside the apartment, the air changed.
Jay lingered near the kitchen, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. He watched you, gaze heavy, unreadable. You could feel it—the tension crackling between you like a live wire.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You’re different."
You glanced at him. "So are you."
His lips quirked. "That a bad thing?"
You didn’t answer. Because no, it wasn’t. And that was the problem.
It started small. A test. A game.
You began pushing his buttons—on purpose.
Brushing past him with too much force. Leaning in just a little too close when speaking. Letting your fingers trail over his wrist absentmindedly, just to see if he’d react.
And Jay? He played back.
His palm ghosting over the small of your back when he passed behind you. His lips brushing your ear as he murmured something teasing. His fingers trailing down your spine for just a second too long.
Then came the moment when he finally called you out.
One night, as you passed him in the hallway, his hand shot out, catching your wrist.
He turned to face you, his eyes dark, smirk sharp.
"What’s this, baby? Trying to get my attention?"
Your breath caught in your throat. You had been. But you weren’t about to admit it.
You scoffed. "In your dreams."
Jay chuckled, but there was something dangerous in his expression now.
"Oh, I think you’ve been in my dreams, too."
Your heart slammed against your ribs. He was winning. And you couldn’t have that.
So, you did something reckless.
As you moved past him, you let your fingers drag over his stomach, just barely skimming the skin exposed by his loose shirt.
Jay stiffened.
For the first time, he looked affected. His jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his sides.
Then, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You keep playing with fire, baby."
You turned, eyes locking onto his. "And what if I am?"
His lips parted. His fingers curled into fists.
He was so, so close to losing it.
It happened in the smallest, most ridiculous way.
You were reaching for something on the top shelf in the kitchen when Jay stepped behind you, his body pressing up against yours, his hand effortlessly grabbing it before you could.
"Let me," he murmured, his voice low and deep in your ear.
You froze. Every inch of him was against you. His chest, his hips, his hands.
Then, you pressed back against him.
Jay let out a quiet, shaky breath. His fingers dug into your waist.
"You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he whispered. His lips brushed your ear, his breath warm.
You turned slightly, your lips just barely grazing his.
"Then show me."
And that was it. That was the moment. Jay grabbed you, spun you, backed you against the counter.
His mouth crashed against yours—needy, desperate, hungry. A gasp escaped you, swallowed instantly by his lips. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the counter with ease.
You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, so, so close.
Jay broke the kiss, panting, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands shook as they held onto you. "Tell me to stop."
You shook your head. "Don’t you dare.".
The air between you and Jay was electric, charged with unspoken desire that had been simmering for far too long. It was too much now, a weight pressing down on you both, demanding to be released. When his lips finally claimed yours, it was with urgency, with hunger, as if he had been holding back for months.
The kitchen—such a normal, mundane setting—was suddenly transformed into something far more intimate, more dangerous. The cool granite countertop pressed into your back as Jay’s lips crushed against yours, sending shockwaves through your body.
At first, your lips parted in surprise, but the moment you surrendered, it was over. His kiss was hungry, his mouth moving fervently against yours, tasting, exploring, claiming. His tongue swept inside, demanding, possessive, like he was marking you as his own.
A soft moan escaped you, a sound of surrender, of need.
It seemed to unleash something in him.
His hands, which had been resting gently on your thighs, tightened with fierce intensity. His long fingers dug into the soft flesh, leaving imprints as he pushed you further into the counter, molding you against him. Your back arched instinctively, pressing your body closer, craving more of the heat between you.
The kiss deepened, turning hotter, messier. A whimper slipped from your lips, and Jay responded with a deep, primal growl, his mouth leaving yours to trail fire along your jaw, your neck.
“God, baby,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, wrecked. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, curling in your stomach. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
Your thoughts were incoherent, lost in the sheer intensity of him.
Your hands, which had been resting against his broad shoulders, now tangled in his dark hair, tugging, pulling him closer. You needed more, needed to be consumed by him, needed to drown in the way he was touching, kissing, ruining you.
"Do something about it," you whispered, your voice thick with want, raw with need.
It was a challenge, a dare—one that Jay was more than willing to accept.
With a feral grin, he pulled back, his eyes dark with pure desire. “Oh, I will.” His voice was low, dripping with promise.
In a swift motion, his hands gripped your waist, strong fingers spanning your sides as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips on instinct, as if you had done this dance with him a thousand times before.
And then, you felt it.
His hardness pressing against you, just enough to make your breath hitch, just enough to send a delicious thrill racing down your spine.
Jay devoured your mouth as he carried you out of the kitchen, his footsteps unsteady, his grip unrelenting. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, matching his fervor with your own.
The urgency between you both was palpable, nearly unbearable.
By the time Jay kicked open the bedroom door, his lips never leaving yours, his hands never loosening their grip on you, your entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out.
He stumbled inside, kicked the door shut with his foot, and suddenly, everything blurred.
You barely had time to register the bed before you were falling onto it, your body sinking into the mattress as he followed, covering you, pressing you down, making sure you felt every inch of him.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growled, his voice thick, rough with need. “Every fucking day, I’ve fantasized about having you, about claiming you like this.”
Your fingers traced the strong lines of his jaw, relishing the roughness of his unshaven skin.
"Then take me," you whispered, a boldness you didn’t even know you possessed. “Make me yours.”
Jay’s response was immediate.
His fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head, his grip firm but careful. His free hand roamed, tracing your curves, exploring, memorizing.
His thumb brushed over the peak of your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, your body arching instinctively.
“I want to see you,” he murmured, his voice like gravel, heavy with restraint. “All of you.”
Your heart pounded as you sat up, pulling your shirt over your head, revealing the delicate black lace beneath.
Jay’s eyes darkened. His breath hitched.
Releasing your wrists, his hands moved to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing the hardened peaks, rolling, stroking, watching you squirm beneath him.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips finding yours again, a searing, devastating kiss.
His mouth trailed down, down, down, leaving a path of kisses, nipping, sucking, making you tremble beneath him.
His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, and you arched into him, desperate.
"Please, Jay," you begged, your voice a breathless plea. "I need you."
He let out a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Oh, you’ll have me, baby. But first… I want to taste you."
And then, he did.
His lips, his tongue, his fingers—all of him, taking his time, taking you apart.
You were a trembling, gasping mess beneath him, gripping the sheets, crying out his name.
And when you finally shattered, when he pulled every last moan from your lips, he moved back over you, watching you, waiting, drinking in the sight of you undone beneath him.
You reached for him, pulling him down, wrapping yourself around him, whispering his name.
And when he finally slid into you, deep and slow, filling you in one smooth stroke, you knew. This wasn’t just need. This wasn’t just hunger.
This was everything.
Jay buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning as your body clenched around him, gripping him perfectly. He moved slow, deep, deliberate. Like he wanted to make sure you felt everything. Like he wanted to ruin you.
And he did. He whispered your name against your skin.
And when you both tumbled over the edge together, it wasn’t just ecstasy. It was something more.
Something terrifying, something dangerous, something neither of you were ready to name. Afterward, Jay didn’t move.
He just held you, his lips pressing absentminded kisses against your temple, your jaw.
The sheets were a tangled mess beneath you, the room still thick with the remnants of last night—the heat, the whispered names, the overwhelming need.
But morning had arrived, and with it, clarity.
You lay still, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, stomach twisting. You could feel him beside you, the warmth of his body still clinging to yours, the weight of his arm draped lazily over your waist.
You should move. You should get up.
Instead, you stayed still, afraid to break the moment. Afraid of what came next.
Then, Jay stirred.
A slow inhale. A shift of weight. Then, his hold on you tightened.
“Baby, you know I'm in love with you right?” he murmured, his voice thick, raspy from sleep.
Your stomach flipped, heat rising to your cheeks at the way the word slipped so effortlessly from his lips.
Then, he pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder.
Something inside you clenched at the tenderness of it. The way his lips lingered, soft and warm, like he was memorizing you, grounding himself in the feel of you.
It was so different from last night. Last night had been fire, hunger, pure desire. But this? This was something else entirely.
Something terrifying.
You swallowed hard, your body going stiff beneath his touch. He noticed.
Jay let out a quiet exhale, his fingers tracing soothing circles over your hip. Then, finally, he spoke.
“I meant what I said.”
Your breath caught in your throat. His words. The confession you hadn’t acknowledged.
“I know,” you whispered.
He shifted, his grip tightening just slightly, as if afraid you’d slip away. His lips found your bare shoulder again, pressing another slow, lingering kiss.
“My Doll,” he murmured, his voice softer this time, but still weighted with emotion. “You don’t have to say anything. Not yet.”
You turned your head slightly, eyes meeting his for the first time that morning. He looked different.
Softer. More open. But just as intense. Your lips parted, but no words came. Because what could you say? You weren’t ready. You weren’t sure what this was.
But Jay just smiled, small and knowing, like he understood anyway.
“You don’t have to figure it out right now,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… let me be here with you.”
Your chest tightened. That was the problem. He was already here. Closer than he had ever been. You didn’t know if you had it in you to push him away.
It took days. Maybe longer. But it was always there, lingering between you.
Jay never said it again, but you could feel it in everything he did.
The way he pulled you close when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he touched you—not just with heat, but with reverence. The way he whispered "Baby" like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But the moment it finally hit you, it was almost embarrassing how obvious it had been all along.
It wasn’t in the quiet nights, or the way he held you in his sleep.
It was something as simple as Jay waiting for you outside of work.
It had been a rough day. One of those days where everything felt heavy. And when you stepped outside, seeing him leaning against the lamppost, hands in his pockets, waiting for you like it was the most natural thing in the world—
It hit you like a train.
He smiled the second he saw you, pushing off the post and walking over like he couldn’t get to you fast enough. “Hey, babe. You okay?”
And instead of answering, you just stood there, staring at him—this man who had somehow become everything.
Jay frowned slightly, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
You let out a breath, and before you could stop yourself, the words just slipped out “I love you.”
Jay stilled. His fingers twitched against your cheek, his expression unreadable.
Then, his lips parted. “Y/N…”
You panicked. “I—I mean it too I-”
But before you could take it back, Jay was already moving, already kissing you like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear you say those words.
And when he finally pulled back, breathless, a little dazed, he just grinned.
“You can say it again, you know.”
You rolled your eyes, but when he leaned in and whispered, “Say it again, baby,” you did.
Because you meant it.
Months later, the apartment felt different. Warmer. More like a home than a place you had been forced into.
The nursery had been Jay’s latest obsession. He had spent the entire day painting the walls, rearranging furniture, making sure everything was perfect. And now, he was sprawled across your bed, half-asleep, waiting for you.
You stood in the doorway, hand resting on your six-months-pregnant belly, watching him with amusement. His shirtless form was stretched across the mattress, hair still messy from the day’s work, an arm thrown over his eyes.
“Babe,” you called softly.
He groaned. “Mmm.”
You stepped forward, nudging his foot with yours. “You’re hogging the bed.”
Jay cracked one eye open, a slow, sleepy grin spreading across his lips. “And you’re glowing, mama.”
You rolled your eyes, crawling into bed beside him, letting out a relieved sigh as you sank into his warmth. Jay turned onto his side, one large hand coming to rest on your belly, thumb rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your shirt.
“Tired?” you asked.
“Exhausted,” he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “But you’re worth it.”
You smiled, letting your fingers trace the ridges of his forearm. “You’ve been working too hard.”
Jay hummed, shifting closer, his lips grazing your jaw, your cheek. “You’re carrying my kid. I’d build a whole damn castle if you wanted one.”
You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
He nuzzled against your cheek, voice growing drowsy. “Only for you, my Doll”
You turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.
Jay smiled into it, whispering, “Can’t wait to meet them.”
Your heart squeezed, warmth flooding through you.
“Me too,” you whispered, letting yourself sink into him. “Me too.”
Then, in his half-asleep state, he muttered, “But if they have your stubborn streak, we’re doomed.”
You snorted. “Then you better start preparing now.”
He pulled you in tighter, his lips brushing your forehead. “I already have everything I need.”
You yawned, stretching your fingers along his bare chest before whispering, “Come here, baby.”
Jay let out a pleased hum, shifting fully into your arms, resting his head against your shoulder. His strong arms wrapped around you, careful yet firm, his warmth seeping into your skin as he melted into you.
“Mm, I like it when you call me that,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion.
You smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Good. Because I’m not stopping.”
As sleep began to claim you both, Jay murmured, “You know, I hated every second of that damn law.”
You sighed, your fingers tightening against his chest. “Me too.”
“But…” he continued, his voice soft and full of something deep, something real, “I’ve loved every second with you.”
You smiled, pressing a final kiss to his skin. “Me too, Jay. Me too."
