yuyu

“quit your bitching.” ni-ki snarled, the warning barely leaving his lips before he mounted you. he’s pinned you beneath him with little effort, his broad frame swallowing your quivering one. a heavy clawed palm dug straight into your scalp, forcing your flushed cheeks against the hard floor as his weight settled over you. his thick cock plunging into your sopping cunt, the barbed ridges scraping against your gummy walls so good it hurts.

“ah! nononono- stop! i can’t i can’t hah!” you squeaked out, your floppy white ears flattening instinctively against your head as you kick out underneath him in fear. but it was useless. his lips peeled back exposing the sharp canines underneath to clamp down onto the supple skin at the junction between your neck and shoulder. as much as you hate to admit it the feeling of him marking you has you paralysed in his rough grip, cheeks burning and bunny tail twitching as you pant softly.

“yes you can. dumb bunny, just look at you.” he scoffs, his long tail lazily winding around one of your legs before a clawed hand tugs harshly at one of your ears. a sharp yelp leaves your pouty lips as tears prickled your doe eyes in pain. “you were made for this, mm, my cocksleeve.” the words almost purring into your ears, tongue slipping in and out of your sensitive ears that made you squirm at the unfamiliar sensation.

“m-mean! hic, you’re so mean!” you sobbed, foot thumping down uselessly onto the old floor as you try to squirm away from him once more. but you didn’t get far before ni-ki laughed at your pathetic attempt to escape. he hauls you up by the ears as if you weighed nothing, pulling you back until you were trapped against his chest. thick biceps locked beneath your chin, putting you in a chokehold whilst you cling weakly onto the strong muscle. one hand flew to your your mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the stupid moans leaving your mouth but it was hopeless. ni-ki's cock fucking into you sosososo deep you could feel it in your stomach. the urge to fight back was slowly melting away until you found yourself slumping against him instead, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth.

“pretty bunny.” he purred, two clawed fingers hooking into your mouth, forcing your jaw open as they lazily traced over your teeth and along your gums.

“fuck,” he growls, rutting into you harshly, your bunny slick coating your lower halves making the most obscene noises to your embarrassed ears. ni-ki doesn't stop playing with your ears, nipping on them with his canines to pulling on them to make you wince. his blond hair tickling the sides of your face, as he leans round to look at your trembling face. that initial look of fear now melting into a blissed fucked out state, brain turned to mush and eyes glassy. ni-ki groans at the pretty sight before licking up the salty tracks your tears left behind, the rough almost sandpaper like texture making you keen. “gonna fill you up, pretty bunny will bear my cubs, hm? you’ll take it.” he muttered. you shook your head feverishly but the creamy frothy ring at the base of his bulging cock says otherwise.

your tiny pussy couldn’t handle the whole load, ni-ki's hips stuttering as thick spurts of cum filled you up, a bulge forming in your lower stomach at the sheer amount. body twitching in the after effects as he retracted his claws now. one large hand smoothing the hair strands he ruined earlier across your head. a thumb brushing against your damp cheek. almost lovingly? another deep purr, louder than before vibrated through your twitching body before he pulled you off his cock, the bulbous red tip still dribbling out cum. ni-ki's grip on you loosened, his golden eyes lingering on you but it’s ok! because a stupid little bunny like you wouldn’t dare try to run away again, right? ♡

dealer!riki who gets slightly annoyed when jake randomly messages him asking if he can give one of his friends a discount. he reluctantly agrees (after much convincing), only because jake rarely asks him for favours. but he fully expects it to be a quick transaction, he unconsciously assumes to be with a guy too.

dealer!riki who’s caught completely off guard when it's you that meets him on the steps outside one of his lecture halls and not one of the guys that jake usually hangs out with. he’s rendered speechless for a few seconds after hearing your sweet voice, “hi, ‘m jake’s friend,” you muttered out, starting at the floor, obviously nervous. he held back the urge to coo at you after you just asked him for a few prerolls, sheepishly telling him that you never really learned how to roll for yourself. he just smirked before noting the way your gaze dropped to the ground again. he really didn’t want you to feel shy or scared so he told you, in the kindest tone he could muster up, “i’ll give ‘em to you in a few hours, sweetheart,” 

dealer!riki who feels endless enamoured by your trusting nature. to be fair, he did text you to ask for your address to drop them round, but he hadn’t expected you to obey so willingly. he didn’t usually do house calls but he thought he’d make an exception for you :3 after all, he’d have to go home and roll a few up for you anyways…

dealer!riki who knocks quietly on your apartment door at 6pm that same day, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets as he tries to mentally prepare himself to be met with your pretty face again. you open the door with wide eyes and thank him probably more times than you should, shy smile on your face as you take the little sealed bag from his hand, eyes crinkling a little at the corners after noticing the pink paper he’s rolled them in (which he bought especially for you) :p

dealer!riki who starts throwing in random extras whenever you text him. completely unrelated things too. he asks jake for information on you, attempting nonchalance while trying not to sound like an absolute creep, only to hear that you don’t smoke often at all and that you really like cats. he just rolls his eyes at the limited details but doesn’t push, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he’d never asked about any one of jake’s friends before, and jake had many. the next time you text him he throws in a pack of garishly cute kitty sticky notes that sunoo had given him mid-lecture ages ago, previously shoved so far into the back of his drawer that he almost had to unscrew the whole thing to find them. 

dealer!riki who feels like the stupidest guy in the world when you just giggle in the face of (what he thought to be) a very bold declaration of affection. “what the fuck is this?” you exclaim at him through forcibly stifled laughs at the door of your apartment. he shoves away his embarrassment just to tell you, “jake told me you like cats.” a wave of relief washes over him when your face softens, albeit, you were still giggling, but now the back of your hand was pressed over your mouth before you thanked him, eyes shining with a pinky promise that you’ll use them well :)

dealer!riki who wants to abolish every rumour about himself, who wants everyone’s perception of him as this scary and sullen guy to change because he’s still so bothered by the way you continue to seem nervous around him. he notices how you still avoid meeting his gaze, your cheeks pink while your hands fidget. the only explanation for this in his head is that you’re probably a little bit frightened by him, which absolutely upsets him to acknowledge :(

dealer!riki who decides he needs to actively try to become the nicest person alive when it comes to you and you only. he goes out of his way to try and remember the little things about you after he remembers sunghoon telling him about how “girls absolutely lap that shit up,” his notes app is full of your drink orders and your favourite songs and your little mannerisms that he hopes with all of his being that he’s the only one who notices. he smiles more around you. it started out a little forced, as a way to deter you from breaking eye contact or feeling shy around him, but ends up natural. he really can’t keep a straight face in your presence anymore, even if he tried :)

dealer!riki who finds excuses to see you when he realises that you hardly ever buy from him. he waits outside your lecture buildings every now and then, dragging his hand over face, rolling his eyes at himself and imagining how much of an absolute perv he probably looked like to everybody else. it was all worth it though when he got to see your pretty face, backpack slung over one shoulder as you quirked your head in his direction. “wanted to walk you home,” he says simply after you reach the same step he’s on, trying not to look too excited when he realises that you now meet his gaze with ease, looking up at him through your lashes before accepting his quick offer of carrying your bag.

dealer!riki who refuses to let you pay for anything from him after a few weeks of your first meeting, much to your dismay. he thought it was so cute how you insisted on paying in full so desperately, traces of anger in your tone before you gave in, accepting his bullshit excuses about discount stacking and other completely fabricated on the spot rationalisations leading to you getting 20 quid worth of product for free every week :3

dealer!riki who refers to you as his girl to the few of his friends that he's let in on the secret of his childish crush on you. jake and heeseung try their hardest not to act shocked, and to show nothing other than subtle amusement on their faces as to not scare him off from talking about you like this. it’s the first time they’d ever heard him even speak about a girl, let alone with so much reverence and adoration in his tone.

dealer!riki who develops the softest voice imaginable whenever he talks to you. people swear he’s a different person because the same guy that was arguing about prices with someone like his life was on the line ten minutes ago is now quietly asking if you’ve bought a jacket because it’s getting colder outside and he notices you shiver. when you tell him no he’s already draping his own coat around your shoulders, helping you put your arms through the sleeves and cooing at you when he sees how oversized it is on you, you looked as though it was swallowing you up, fabric just barely hanging onto your frame :(

dealer!riki who thinks about asking you out on a real date a month after he’d met you for the first time. he hesitates before asking jake and heeseung how to go about it, before being gently scolded by sunghoon for way overthinking it and then deciding, of his own accord, that he’d skip the formalities and just ask you to be his girlfriend instead. you of course, say yes. but not before asking him to take you on a date first!

nsfw under div🤓

dealer!riki who tries so hard to take it slow with you, content to just make out on the sofa with you perched in his lap, hoping you wouldn’t notice him rock hard under you as he held back his tongue from plunging further into your mouth like he’d like to do. his hands stayed firmly planted on your hips, the instinctual urge to run them up your shirt forced away before he moved one large palm up to cup your cheek :(

dealer!riki who’s convinced you’ll be the death of him when you sheepishly admit that you always thought it was him who was the nervous one. that it was him who was hesitant to take the next step with you. little did you know he’d been trying his absolute hardest to follow your lead, not even bringing up anything remotely sexual until you did first. he would’ve laughed when you’d told him this if it wasn’t for the sinking pit in his stomach, a harsh reminder of all of the things you both could’ve done together in the few weeks you’d been dating, a rude awakening of how well he could’ve learned the ways of your body by now if it wasn’t for this miscommunication.

dealer!riki who’s almost ashamed of how much he loves teaching you new things. how much he loves the way you clench around him when you’re on top for the first time, your legs folded and your hands planted firmly on his shoulders as you bounce up and down, screwing your eyes shut when he reaches a hand up to toy at your nipple. he thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen, even more so because he knows he’s the first one to see it, the thought promoting an involuntary twitch inside of you. and he ends up teaching you more about even your own body. you’d thought for the longest time it was impossible to cum more than once, but he’d quickly proved you wrong with his nimble fingers and his warm, wet tongue :3

dealer!riki who tries to slowly get you out of your shell even more so, who reminds you constantly that it’s okay to ask for what you want when you want it. you’d never been one to ask for help, or even voice the things that you wanted and desired. you knew this and riki knew this, and without your knowledge, he’d made the decision that this would stop, at least with him. he wanted you to feel comfortable enough around him to trust him in knowing the secrets of your needs. and maybe he went about it the wrong way, but it definitely worked! he’d been fingering you for what felt like hours now, your third orgasm threatening to rear it’s head as you clutched desperately at any part of him you could reach, tears brimming in your eyes at the stimulation. “ki…” you whined out with no further explanation. he understood. “you want more, baby? want my cock?” he almost felt a little annoyed at himself for giving in so easily, hoping that you’d be the one to ask him. you just looked up at him with that glassy gaze, assuming he’d take that as a yes like he always did. instead, “well then… you gotta ask me for it. you gotta tell me how bad you want it, sweetheart. if not, you’re gonna have to settle with just my fingers tonight.” typically, you wouldn’t mind. but today, you felt like you’d actually wither away if you couldn’t get him inside of your wet heat. it wasn’t long before you were muttering out borderline nonsensical begging, much to his surprise. he thought i’d take much longer to coax it out of you, but not unusually, he didn’t realise just how bad you needed him :(

dealer!riki who loves when you let him fuck you when you’re high because of how whiny you get. the mewling and whimpers that you’d normally hold back through clenched teeth are let free at full force, making lasting long enough inside of you to get you off too a much more difficult feat for him. but he’d never dream of asking you to be quieter, not in a million years, especially because he thinks you feel as though you have to be high to release your inhibitions in such a way, that being around him isn’t enough of a catalyst. he probably gets really in his head about it, only to come to the sudden realisation a few months later that you now act this way all the time with him, whether you’re pleasantly high or stone cold sober :)

dealer!riki who ALSO loves it when you let him fuck you when you’re high because you’re not afraid to be messier. usually, you’ll grimace slightly when you feel a mix of shared spit run down your chin, almost imperceptible in the way that your face screws up. but of course, he notices. he notices how you wince when you feel the slick from your cunt and his cum running steadily down your thighs. he notices how you cringe when he pulls his body away from yours, the thin sheen of sweat covering both of you now perceptible. so of course, he notices when you pay no mind to any of these things, and sometimes, when you begin to revel in them :p

dealer!riki who absolutely abuses dirty talk when he finds out how much his shy girl loves it. the pink that spreads deeper across your cheeks and neck doesn’t go unnoticed by him when he calls you his filthy girl, when he ducks down to whisper into your ear how he’s never had pussy like this, how nobody’s ever taken him as good as you do. your whines increase tenfold, and now you’re pawing at his chest from below, pussy clenching around him so tight he gets a little dizzy :3

dealer!riki who’s not all that shocked to find out you’re not as shy as you sometimes seem, at least, not in the bedroom. it’s taken him a while to get you to this point, to get you comfortable enough to instigate. but once you start, he can’t get enough, purposefully winding you up, spreading his thighs wide over the couch or winding his arms around your waist in public, lips brushing over your neck just to feel you press your thighs together. just to see your usually wide eyes look up at him, now squinted, gaze ever so slightly distant as you do a bad job of hiding the effect he has on you. as soon as you step through the door you’re all over him, grabbing his face and pulling it down to yours to press a harsh kiss to his lips, ignoring the smirk you could feel spreading across his face and choosing instead to pull at his shirt, signalling that you wanted it off... and who was he to deny you :3

You know that he's always been a respectful alpha, a gentleman through and through. Even that does not change when he's finally dating you. The hug you shared in your nest is the most intimate, closest point of contact the two of you have ever done. Beyond that point, Jay remains the perfect gentleman that he is—and he's damn consistent and running a strict program with it.

A warm hand on your waist to guide you through the crowd. That's it. A kiss on your hands whenever he picks you up. That's it. A lingering smooch on your forehead when he's feeling extra giddy. That's it.

That's. It. Not a even a peck on your lips.

And it's starting to annoy you.

You see, you're an omega alright, but omegas have desires too—especially when it comes to their alpha. It's no denying that you want his touch to linger, his hands to travel further, his mouth to get wilder.

It's not an embarrassing thing to admit, okay? And what an omega to do when they have a partner as handsome and well-built as Jay—someone who'd never raise his voice no matter how bratty you're behaving, someone who never sighs whenever you're met with yet another problem?

Is it so wrong to want him to fuck you?

But no, that alpha just has to be a fucking gentleman. He doesn't dare let his hands do anything more than a respectful touch, a brush of fingers that you think about every night more than you'd like to admit. He even sends you to your family home when your heat is about to hit—saying that he does not want to burden you with the choice of having to spend it with him just because he's finally your boyfriend.

What the fuck is he talking about? You do want his knot!

This feeling of constant sexual frustration on the alpha that you love to death but can't seem to get your hints is accummulating, and it's literally an inevitable canon event when you reach your point one freaking night.

You were having a night out with the rest of Jay's friends. The alpha, as usual, sat close to you, but he never let his hands caress you the way you want him to. It's when Riki had drunkenly joked about Jay being the community gentleman and had, at one point, even been willing to spend his omega's heat with him, that you felt the ticking bomb in your head explode.

You knew about it. Of course you did. Jay would never hurt you, so he clarified everything that might warrant a misunderstanding or a fight later if not cleared now. You didn't feel jealous—no, it's not that. You love Riki's mate too, she's been one of your best friends now—which is a whole Guinness world record in itself, because you had a seriously ill attitude with female relationships before.

But you felt this tremendous frustration bubbling over, because yes, he is a gentleman, but what does this say about him not wanting to touch you, when he was ready to help a friend in such a way?

You felt so, ridiculously upset. Because you notice everything.

Notice the way his stare lingers on your chest, notice the way his eyes drop to your lips whenever you pout or when the ramyeon is too spicy it makes your lips swell, notice the way his breath hitches when you rest your legs over his thighs during movie nights, notice all of his wants and desires even when he fails to convey them properly.

And he's…holding himself back when you don't even want him to.

You had pouted all the way home, refusing to give him even a response when he had thrown you questions, replying to him with a silent treatment that you know he dislikes. Something about him telling you, 'Please communicate with me whenever you're upset' seemed to fly over your head, and you felt the exact moment Jay left the conversation for when you reach the confines of your walls when he finally went quiet.

Which explains your position now, craddling his hips with your thighs as you sit comfortably in his lap, a protruding pout forming on your lips. Unlike his usual habit of maintaining a respectful distance from you, he had grabbed your wrist the moment you crossed the door earlier and forced you to sit in his lap and talk to him.

It seems like the patient alpha is slowly losing his grip. You smile triumphantly inside.

"What's the matter, hm?" His voice is rougher than usual, pitched lower from exhaustion and the quiet of the night, but is still edged with the softness he reserves only for you. "You ignored me all the way home. You even refused to look at me when I tried to talk to you. What did I say about communication, baby?"

On any other day, you often take pride in how put-together and gentleman your alpha is, compared to the many assholes walking around the campus out there. But sometimes, he's too much of a green flag that it leaves you thirsty for more; desperate to see him just a little loose and rough.

You decide to stretch whatever patience he has thinner and longer, so you throw your face away and do the exact thing he told you not to. Not even your favourite pet name could fix this attitude.

There's a resounding silence, and you could've sworn you heard his jaw tick, before a thumb and a forefinger pinch your chin and turn your face back to him.

"Y/N. Tell me now. What did I do?" Jay demands, tilting your head slightly down. "Why are you being a brat again?"

There. You have it. When Jay starts calling you a brat, it means you have really gotten on his nerves. It's the only time you could catch even a glimpse of a frustrated Jay, an alpha losing his cool and wanting to gather back the air of dominance that seems to dissipate whenever you pull this stunt.

When Jay starts calling you a brat, you know that you finally have him where you want him to be.

With a deeper pout, you finally say. "You don't like me."

It's a simple sentence, but you're sure it drives him crazy. Jay would give his whole heritance to you if you asked him to, so this accusation, you're confident, will strike him where he never expected it to be.

And it's proved to be true when he loses his grip on your chin a fraction. "What?"

"You never want to touch me or kiss me. You don't like me, do you?" You fake another pout, and it seems to be working because right now there's a flash of panic behind his onyx eyes. "You hate me."

"I-I do touch you, baby. I give you kisses everyday," Jay scrambles to explain himself, not understanding fully where you're coming from. "What do you mean I don't like you? I'd take a bullet for you and you know I'm not joking."

You know he's not. But you're unfortunately a brat, so you simply ignore that sentence and say something entirely unexpected—at least to Jay. Poor, poor Jay.

"But you wouldn't fuck me," you say with a whine, "And I think you know I'm not joking."

You feel the breath leave his lungs as he stops moving for a second, staring at you with wide eyes. He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time; the disbelief is so palpable it almost makes you laugh.

"I-I…" Jay visibly swallows. Even in this situation, he keeps his hands to himself, not daring to hold that tempting waist of yours. "Are you drunk, Y/N?"

You almost roll your eyes. "I'm not drunk and you know that, Jay."

Jay is staring at you as though you've just informed him that the Earth has stopped spinning.

"Baby," he licks his lips, fingers flexing on his thighs as he observes your serious expression. "I think you misunderstood. It's not that I didn't want to…touch you—"

"Fuck me," you corrected him helpfully. "Don't twist my words. I explicitly said fuck me."

Jay closes his eyes briefly. Goddess, is this really happening?

"…Okay. It's not that I didn't want to fuck you, baby, it's just…" he trails off but you're no longer following him because your mind has permanently stopped and focused on the sexy way he said the word.

Jay rarely curses, so when he said fuck the way he did just now, it has embarrassingly made you…wet.

You need to see more of that. More of him struggling with his gentleman persona and cursing. More of him trying to remain composed and thinking he has everything figured out when he couldn't even guess what's been running on your mind.

These reckless, unrestrained thoughts are leading you to test him more, taunting the calm wolf residing within him.

"It's just what?" You challenge, bringing your face closer to his until he could feel your hot breath on his mouth. "It's just that you're a virgin, hm? That you never dated anyone so you don't know how to handle me?"

The alpha beneath you freezes, not expecting the words from you. A saccharine smile curls on your lips and your shift closer, taking away every inch of distance between your body and his. You drag a finger on his shoulder, feeling the texture of his Polo shirt with a deliberate touch, and let it travel down his chest. Jay is barely breathing at this moment, hands curling into fists as feels your touch like a trail of fire.

"I'm right, aren't I? You're so inexperienced, never feeling the touch of a woman," you whisper, tone dropping an octave. "That's why you hold back. That's why you only bite your tongue whenever you see me wearing nothing but your shirt in the morning."

Jay's mind is a jumble of frantic words, his breath catching in his throat. You had noticed it—of course you did. It's impossible not to, when you're just attentive towards to him the way he is towards you.

You bring your lips to his ear, playfully blowing into it and giggle when you see the hair on his nape rise. With a sigh, you start whispering again, your hands now coming up to wrap around his neck.

"It's okay, my alpha. I will guide you. I will teach you how to touch me the way I want."

Unseen to you, the alpha's eyes darken at that. The confident lilt in your voice, the sure way your lips muttered those words—it snaps something inside him. Something that he's barely managed to contain; unrestrained want and desire that he's kept at bay in the name of taking things slow with you.

But oh, was he so fucking wrong. Because here you are, in his lap, practically begging him to touch him, asking him to abandon whatever boundaries he has set in his mind and just take you right there on the couch. A request laced in temptation so strong that it's starting to make his head spin—too heady with his carnal desire to have you and sweet fucking scent.

If you think Jay would lose control, you are the one in the wrong here. Because if anything—you have just made me become more obsessed with having the upper hand.

A gasp escapes your lips when you feel his rough hands close on your waist. The alpha grounds you on his lap, locking you in place as he tilts his head sideway, this time it's his lips touching your ears.

"You think I can't handle you, doll?" He whispers, your stomach lurching at the sound of his jagged, sultry voice. "What about you? Can you handle me?"

A triumphant smile touches your lips, vixen eyes glinting in anticipation. You detach yourself from his neck, faking an innocent expression, feeling your heart stutter when you see the bottomless pit of his onyx eyes.

"I have dated people before," you decide to provoke him more, and revel in the way his grip tightens on your waist. "I know how to handle an alpha."

Jay remains quiet, but his jaw moves, ticking in a sudden flare of possessiveness.

His eyes drop to your lips, and then your chest, and he grinds his molars at the image of nameless alphas who had the privilege to be your ex-boyfriends touching your body. Why was he late to find you? The alpha's throat bobs as he swallows, falling into your trap the way you want him to.

"Y/N," he breathes out, breathless in budding annoyance and lust. "Are you sure about this?"

Your heart stutters at that, swelling with never-ending affection at the respectful he is still asking you despite you pulling at him all night. You give a sure nod, not an ounce of hesitation in your gaze to ease the doubts in his mind.

"Say it, baby, I need to hear it from you."

"Yes, Jay," you whisper, "I want you to touch me."

Jay doesn't move.Not immediately.

His fingers remain steady against your waist, but the confidence that had momentarily slipped through the cracks settles back into something quieter—something infinitely more dangerous. His forehead rests against yours as he lets out a slow, measured breath, as though he's trying to gather every frayed thread of his composure before it unravels completely.

"You really have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, a rueful smile ghosting across his lips.

The confession catches you off guard.

For the first time since climbing into his lap, you notice it—not the teasing, not the banter, but the restraint. The way his shoulders remain tense beneath your palms. The way he keeps pausing before every decision, giving you room to pull away if you wanted to.

You realise, with a flutter in your chest, that this has never been about whether he wanted you.

It has always been about making sure you never once doubted that the choice was yours.

"I've been terrified," he admits quietly. "Not of you. But of getting this wrong."

His gaze searches yours with the same patience that had followed you through the studio, through the fashion week, through every breakdown and every victory.

"You've spent so much of your life with people taking from you," he says. "I couldn't bear the thought of becoming another person who did."

Your expression softens.

"Jay..."

He gives your waist the gentlest squeeze, his smile small and almost embarrassed.

"I know I'm probably overthinking it." A quiet chuckle escapes him. "Heeseung says I overthink everything."

"He does say that," you whisper with a laugh.

"Probably because he's right."

There's a breath of silence, and you could visibly feel the way he melts beneath you. Jay tilts his head upwards, eyes already set on your lips, and you're so impatient that you waste no time leaning in and catching him with your mouth.

The alpha freezes for half a second before he starts moving his lips, welcoming the warmth of your lips, wet and addictive. His grip on your waist tightens the way your hands around his neck do, and Jay holds back a groan at the taste of you.

You pull back for a second, caressing his shoulders with a reassuring touch. "It's okay, Jay. You can stop worrying now," you leave a kiss on his cheek and stare into his eyes. "I choose you. I want you."

Jay holds your gaze for a slow, agonising minute, before the faintest smile grazes his lips. He leans in again, this time taking the lead as he captures your lips with his.

It starts with a spark. The way he kisses you is careful at first, like he's afraid he might break you, but the moment your tongue darts out and sweeps across his bottom lip, the alpha surges deeper and presses harder, returning your gesture with similar heat. His tongue pokes and pokes, threading past the seam of your lips and invading your mouth with barely restrained hunger and you moan into the kiss.

"Ngh—" Your head jerks slightly backwards from his newfound confidence, losing your breath because Jay is kissing you like he wants to steal your oxygen and makes everything about you his. He holds the back of your head and tilts you into the angle of his desires, deepening the kiss until your head spins. His teeth bites and his tongue soothes, a repeating action that makes your panties dampen with an aching need.

The kiss breaks only when your lungs burn, but even that does not stop the alpha. Jay lets his lips wander down your chin and the column of your neck, stopping briefly to inhale lungfuls of your sweetening scent. You tilt your head up, allowing him more access as the alpha brands you with his wet kisses, marking his way down your neck with every bite into your skin.

"You have no idea how long I've been dreaming of this," Jay pants on your skin, dragging his hot lips on your sensitive skin. "I've wanted to kiss you like this for so long, baby."

"Nobody told you to hold back," you taunt, still giving him that attitude that prompts the alpha to sink his teeth into your neck, earning him a loud gasp from you.

"And you've been such a fucking brat."

Oh, fuck. He just cursed. A gush of slick drips into your panties, the smell potent in the air and Jay could feel his mouth salivate at the faintest taste of your cherry scent.

"You like that, huh?" His rough hands caress up your thighs until your skirt bunches up around your hips, and pulls you down until you can feel the hard outline of his cock on your pussy. You let out a mewl. "Like it when I'm saying bad words to you?"

You nod, a bit too eager for your pride, but you couldn't care less anymore. "Yes, please, please give me more."

Jay chuckles darkly. One big hand travels up your torse, passing the swell of your chest that has your breath hitching before it stops on your lips. The alpha brushes the bitten skin tenderly, a flicker of fondness crossing his eyes before it darkens.

He pushes two fingers into the cavern of your mouth.

"Suck."

Your tongue darts around his digits, obeying him almost instantly that you'd be embarrassed of it on any other day. You hold his wrist, capturing his half-lidded eyes as you hollow your cheeks and suck his fingers deeper. Your tongue swirls slowly, drenching his fingers with your saliva as you take him the way you would his cock.

"Fuck," Jay presses on your tongue, harder and deeper, watching with dark satisfaction as your eyes water slightly. "You look so good stuffed with my fingers like this. So quiet and obedient when you're not acting like a brat."

You moan around his fingers, rubbing yourself on his thighs when your pussy tingles with more slick. The alpha beneath you curls into a smirk, pulling his fingers out, a thin thread of salive connecting them to your lips until it snaps.

"Good fucking girl," he whispers and surges forward, kissing you again, this time with wilder hands as he squeezes and gropes your ass. "Driving me crazy with that tongue of yours. Always so demanding, always testing my patience."

Jay trails his hand upwards and grips the hem of your baby tee in his fist. He breaks the kiss and peppers a wet trail of kisses to your ear, taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking on it until you whimper.

"Let me make this clear to you, baby. I know how to handle you," Jay hotly whispers. "And I'll show you how."

In one swift movement, Jay drags your shirt up, revealing your bare torso to the warming air of the cold apartment. Your stomach flips at the motion, goosebumps erupting, while Jay almost loses his mind at the sight of your strapless bra.

They hold the weight of your breasts so snugly, creating a deep crease of cleavage that has been calling to him since the first night he first met you. His stare is blatant and obvious, tracing a finger up your skin and you immediately squirm, already wanting more.

"Jay, hurry," you demand, gripping at his wrist and directing it to your tits. "Touch me."

Jay clicks his tongue. "So bossy."

He takes both of your hands and twists them gently to your back, careful not to hurt you, and resticts your movement in one fist. You struggle, taken aback from the sudden roughness, and narrow your eyes at him.

"Jay, let me go."

"Shh, baby," he drags the clothes further upward, and a sickening smirk plays at his lips at the look of desperation in your eyes. "I want you to keep quiet. Not even a sound from you, Y/N."

You're about to protest, but the alpha is already shoving the hem of your baby tee into your mouth, forcing you to bite on it like a fake gag. Your eyes widen, heart pounding like a trapped bird at this, and fuck—it makes you so fucking wet.

Satisfied with your obedience, Jay uses his only free hand to unclasp your bra and lets the fabric fall down onto his lap. Your breasts fall free, bouncing from the escape of the confines of your bra, and Jay almost moans at the sight,

"Oh my Goddess, baby," he breathes in awe, greedy hand cupping one tit with a barely contained hunger. "Your tits are so fucking pretty."

Your whine gets muffled by the fabric of your shirt, hips bucking when Jay runs a rough finger over your nipple. The need to just pull his face into your chest and let him feast overweighs any logical thought, but is stopped by the strong grip around your wrists.

"Been dreaming of these tits since that night, baby," Jay mouths at your chest, eyes flicking upward to capture your moist gaze. He latches his mouth on your right nipple, his free hand cupping the other breast. "So full and perfect. Made to be groped like this."

The alpha starts sucking on the darkened skin of your areola, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud like he was starved of it. The contact sends jolts up your spine and down to your core where your cunt is pulsing in an aching need to be touched, slick gushing out ftom arousal.

Jay couldn't get enough of your tits. The soft mounds are so soft and so full, overflowing in his hand and yielding to his touch. He drinks in the taste of your skin on his tongue, drool smearing on the perked up nipple like he was a lost traveller tasting water for the first time.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, switching to the other breast, the supple skin dimpling under his fingertips. His hungry gaze makes your whole body tremble, igniting sparks straight to your cunt. "Love your tits so much. Gonna knock you up until they're full of milk."

That's so dirty. You can't believe Jay is capable of such thoughts. Your body arches into his touch, could feel his tongue swirling over the stiff peak, lapping and tugging until it's sucked raw. Down there, your pussy is a wet mess, producing a disgusting amount of slick until the air is tainted heavily by your aroused scent.

Seeking friction and relief, you move your hips, trying to ease the ache in your core.

"Pf—Pfwease—" You bite onto your tee harder, drool seeping into it until it's soaked. A particular hard pinch on your nipple makes you hiss sharply, pain melting into sparks of pleasure. Nobody has ever kissed your breasts in this way, so utterly devoted with an undertone of obsession that makes you crave for more.

Jay is a relentless force on your chest. He finally lets go of your hands, and then he feels your fingers in his hair, pushing his head further down to devour your tits. It's obscene and sexy, and Jay couldn't care less if he spent a little too long on your breasts tonight. The subject of his lustful wet dreams is moaning wantonly on him, he would suck the milk out of your tits if he could.

Holding his arms for support, you start grinding harder.

"Ahh…Jay…just like that," you bite your lips until you taste copper, your shirt has completely escaped your mouth. Your whole body tingles from the his hot touch, and you don't think you could even produce coherent thoughts anymore when his hard length is poking at your clothed entrance down there, bumping into your peaked clit with every drag. "Please, baby, 'feels so fucking good."

"'M gonna make you cum like this," Jay mumbles with your nipple in his mouth. His hands raise to hold both breasts and squeeze them to the center of your chest, and then he buries his face into your cleavage, inhaling your scent like the greedy alpha that he is. "Wanna see you fall apart just from me sucking your tits."

You couldn't answer to that, not when he's back to suckling your nipples, sharp teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a pleasurable mix of pain. You let out a loud whine, hips getting more frantic and soaking his dress pants.

You feel the taut pull in your abdomen. Jay senses it too, as he could smell the delicious, sultry accent of your pheromone spiking up in arousal.

He brings down one hand and finds your clothed clit, wasting no time to rub tight circles on the bud, pushing you further to the edge. You let out short, staggering breaths, not caring if he suffocated from the the weight of your breasts as you shove his face deeper.

"'M gonna cum, baby, 'm so close—"

"Cum for me pretty girl," he rasps, biting more of your supple flesh, leaving marks of territory that deeply satisfy his alpha. "Come on, give it to me."

You reach the peak with a high-pitched moan, hips grinding down greedily to chase the sensation, slicking up his thighs and the couch with your essence. Jay welcomes it with more kisses on your chest—a bruised, utterly-claimed canvas that has been bitten into the shape of his teeth.

"So fucking good to me," Jay whispers once you come down from your high, gicing you a soft kiss that reignites the fire within you. "Never knew you were such a sensitive brat. Coming from just grinding on my thigh—are you sure you're not the virgin one here, baby?"

"Jay…" You don't know whether to pull or push him, still sensitive from your release, but he's being annoying right now. Jay only chuckles. Strong hands grip your thighs as he lifts you up, carrying you to where your shared bedroom is.

His mouth is still stubbornly devouring yours, hot breath mingling and tongue licking hungrily like he wants to claim every inch of your mouth. Your lips are shiny and swollen, bitten-raw by the alpha currently feasting on you.

Jay lies you down on the mattress gently, situating himself between your legs. His eyes are transfixed on the drenched spot of your pantries, and then his signature smirk comes to life when he catches your flushed face.

"You're soaked."

"You did this to me."

"You begged for it, baby." Jay drawls. He leans back slightly to discard his Polo shirt and your saliva is gathering again at the sight of his well-toned body. The ripple muscle of his abs flexes at the same time his biceps do when he leans over your body to do the same thing to you.

"Oh my Goddess," he whispers, taking in the sight of you all splayed on the mattress for him. Your hair spreads on the sheet like a beautiful halo, and there are littering marks decorating your previously-unblemished skin. Your face, still glowing with post-orgasm, is flushed from heat, matching the swollen lips of your abused lips.

Fuck. He did this to you. Park Jongseong, you hungry monster.

Jay leans down and starts peppering your face with soft kisses. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. I can't get enough of you."

You hold his face in your palms, a small smile grazing your lips when you see the fondness in his eyes. "Thank you, handsome," you peck his nose, "But I really want your cock right now."

There's a chuckle that escapes the alpha's lips, the familiar rich sound that never fails to make your chest flutter. "Ah, baby. You're still so demanding," Jay leans back, now raking over your body with the same dangerous glint that makes you squirm. "What should I do with a brat like you, hm?"

You roll your eyes, which prompt Jay to raise one eyebrow. "Stop talking. Just give it to me."

Jay tongues the inside of his cheek. He takes hold of your wrist and guides it to the raging boner on his pants and lets you feel a shy of a touch of his cock.

"Ask nicely then I'll consider giving it to you."

You visibly gulp. It was easy to beg when you're already so dazed with lust just now. And don't get you wrong, you're still horny—but there's more clarity in your thought process than it was when you had a hungry alpha sucking on your breasts a few minutes ago.

"Come on, baby," his voice is rough, pitched lower from lust. "Think you can handle my virgin cock?"

Jay lets you palm his clothed dick, his head tilting upward to showcase his long neck, eyes closing shut. An obscene moan comes out of his throat at the contact. The sound of him—totally undone and scratched, sends another spark straight to your soaked pussy.

When Jay opens his eyes again, it's filled with a deeper, carnal desire. It's like he's shifted his singular, predatory focus on you—on devouring you like a meal right then and there, and there's absolutely nothing that can stop him tonight.

In a swift motion, Jay detaches your hand from his crotch, and you almost whine. The alpha hovers over you, pinning both of your wrists over your head as he leans down to whisper hotly into your ears.

"Cat got your tongue, baby?" Jay licks the shell of your ear, and you mewl at the wet sensation. Another hand travels south before the rough of his palm cups your pussy. Your entire body jolts at that, the touch awakening the desire that was just about to settle.

"Jay!"

"Mhm," Jay hums. His middle finger trace the outline of tour nether lips, gathering the slick and spreading it across the sensitive skin. "Do you hear that? You're so wet for me."

His thumb, bigger and rougher, flicks over your clit, and the combination of him playing with your slicked cunt and your desperate clit is too much that you want more and him to never stop. You tug your wrists, trying to hold onto something, but the alpha only tightens his grip.

"No, baby, none of that," Jay chuckles coyly, branding the sensual expression of your face, mouth hanging open in a desperate moan when he prods one finger into your gaping hole and pulls out again. "Just use your words, hm?"

"Ahhhh—Jay—moreeee."

"Not that," he fakes a pout. He does it again, and again and again, teasing you by shoving his finger in and dragging it out the moment your walls try to suck him in. "Try again, baby."

"P-Please," you pant, hips bucking up at every brush on your clit and every brief intrusion. "Pleaseee, I want more."

But Jay only smiles. "Not that. Come on, baby, guide me," the alpha blows on your ears and watch the shiver rolls over your body. If you weren't too far gone in your lust, you would've snapped at him for throwing back your words in your face again. "I'm so inexperienced. I don't know what to do."

This time, Jay thrusts in two of his girthy fingers, and your eyes squeeze shut from the sudden burst of pleasure. "Should I do it like this?"

They curl and wiggle, dragging deliberately on your walls before he pulls back again, leaving your hole more soaked and needier.

"Or should I just leave it to dry?"

Your face flushes in frustration. "Nghhh Jay!" You whine, thrashing in his hold from the denied pleasure, tears gathering in your eyes. "Please! Just fuck me already!"

Jay heaves out a long exhale, tracing your lips with his slick-coated fingers before shoving them into your mouth again. "You sure you can take it?" You hum around his digits, eagerly sucking him in and his gaze darkens at that. "I may be a virgin, but I am still big, baby."

You nod, mouth still full of his fingers, and Jay couldn't resist the urge to thrust in a third finger. Without a second thought, you spread your legs, an open invitation for the alpha to just take you and use you as he pleases.

"Such a pretty mouth, oh my fucking Goddess," Jay pulls out and leans in to kiss you, slotting himself between your thighs. "'m gonna make you suck me off one day. Choke on my big knot like the good omega you are, hm?"

"Yes, please," you whisper wetly, lips still coated with saliva. "Please, gonna suck you off later. Just fuck me already."

The sound of a belt unbuckling echoes inside the room. You wait with ragged breaths as Jay skillfully undoes his pants, pushing it down to his mid-thigh. The sight of his protruding cock againts the thin material of his boxes has your mind spinning. Immediately, a burst scent of his pheromone—sour citrus turning sweet and saccharine, along with the hint of metals—spreads into the air.

Saliva fills your mouth at the sight of the wet patch, and when Jay fully discards his pants with a hiss, you're already drooling for his girthy cock.

Fuck. He wasn't joking when he told you that he was big.

"Mmmm," Jay moans quietly as he pumps his dick. It swells from neglection, and upon contact with his palm, bead by sticky bead of precum starts oozing out of its flushed tip.

"Y/N," his voice is firmer this time, catching your immediate attention. For a short moment, the haziness in his eyes clears up, replaced by a seriousness that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Are you sure about this?" Jay asks quietly. "We don't have to rush. I can take my time with you."

You shake your head, appreciating his concern all over again. "I know what I can handle, Jay," you murmur. "It's okay."

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "No protection?"

You give him a timid nod. "Just...pull out."

Jay falls silent. His gaze lingers on you for a long moment, searching your expression one last time before he looks away, his thoughts unreadable. The sheets rustle as he goes back to hovering over you, one hand tugging at his dick while he descends to capture your lips.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?" Jay murmurs on your lips. You give him a hum, feeling the tip of his cock lining up your cock. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to another kiss the moment you feel the blunt tip nudging at your entrance.

The stretch burns—you underestimated the period of time you have gone without having sex. It stings until your eyes moisten, but Jay is so gentle despite his persona just now. He's taking it slow with every inch of intrusion, bruising your lips with his kisses to distract you from the pain.

"Are you okay, baby?" Jay hums on your skin.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, letting your walls adjust to the size of his cock. When the sting eases into flutters of budding pleasure, you give him a nod, lips brushing on his ears.

"You can move now."

Jay starts slow, moving his hips with hesitation, eyes flicking to your face every two seconds. Both of his hands hold your waist down in a gentle grip, this time afraid of actually causing you pain.

But when your hitched breathing turns into quiet sighs, and then gradually grows into loud, high-pitched moans, he knows that he's breached part the line of discomfort.

"Ahhh, ahh, mmm," your hands find purchase on his back. Every drag of his cock against your walls is causing a delicious friction that your nerves tingle in pleasure. Your cunt is oozing out more slick, getting wetter and wetter with every thrust of his cock.

"Go faster, Jay."

Ah. That bratty tone is back.

"Yeah?" Instead of complying, he does the exact opposite. Jay slows down his movement, pulling back until only tip of his cock catching your hole, before lazily pushing back inside, giving you a slow torture. "That's not the way to ask your alpha, you fucking brat."'

Nails digging into his back, you bite your lips as you try to fuck yourself on his dick. But Jay is quick to stop you, his grip on your waist tightening in bruising hold that'll marks in the shape of his fingertips soon.

"Please…" you beg, pleading eyes peering up at the alpha panting on top of you. "Please, Jay. Just do it—faster, please."

Jay chances a small smile and peck your lips. "As you wish, baby."

The alpha sits on his heels and grabs your thighs, forcing open an access as he adjusts you to another angle. With one clean thrust, he shoves his length into your hole, running it across your inner walls, earning cute noises from you in return.

Jay just feels so damn big. The blunt head of his cock keeps hitting that spot, that sweet, sweet spot that has your mind blurring for a second before a surge of pleasure bursts in your system. Your hands scramble for the sheets, trying to keep yourself grounded when it feels like you're floating from ecstacy.

"Oh—oh—oh—" The familiar pressure is fast building in your tummy, and you know that you're getting close again. "Jay—ahhh, fuck, baby—'M so close!"

"Just cum," he groans, feeling your walls spasming around him as you reach another high. But the alpha refuses to slow down. He grabs the underside of your thighs and pushes them to your chest, folding you in half as his crazen eyes catch the sight of your cum frothing around his cock.

"Jay! Too sensitive!"

"More," the alpha growls, his hips pistoning relentlessly. The air heats up with the smell of sweat and sex, coated with the mix of your cherry scent and his citrusy pheromones. It's heady and potent, pulling you under into a haziness that makes your eyes water.

"Give me more, baby, I know you can."

Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.

"J-Jay—ahhhh—" you hold an arm over your mouth, trying to dampen down the noises escaping your lips. But Jay only pulls your hand away, his cock splitting you open like a spear. "Let me hear you baby. Let me hear you say my name."

"Nghh, nghh, Jay-ah—"

"Such a shame you're not in heat," the alpha grumbles as he pushes deeper, changing his rhythm into slow, hard thrusts that push you up the bed until it rattles against the wall. "I would fuck you until my seed catches. Pump you full of my pups you can't even walk."

Your body is reacting to his every thrust, shivering at his every word as you feel more slick coating his dick wet until it's the only filthy sound you could hear. An obscene moan leaves your lips every second, and that same heat is gathering inside you again.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes. Jay's has his sharp eyes narrowed like a predator, his jaw locked in a tight clench as he focuses on the way your body ripples with every sharp thrust. He bares his neck when you give his cock a deliberate squeeze, breath stuttering as pleasure consumes him.

And Jay being Jay, he could never resist the temptation to hold your tits. They keep bouncing, soft and so, so fucking yielding to every thrust, a temptation that nobody could refuse. The alpha sneaks an arm up your torso and gives your left breast one harsh, posessive squeeze.

"Ffffuck, I could come just from watching your tits bounce like that, baby." Jay whispers, one hand fondling with your breast without losing his tempo. He grinds into you, then pulls out and slams back in with a fervor of a man desperate for release. "Perfect fucking tits. Gonna fuck these tits one day."

"Jay—Jay—ah,"

"I'm close, I'm close, baby, fuck," he chants like a mantra. A lewd moan slips past his lips when your pussy grips him tighter, indicating the approaching of your third orgasm. "'M close baby, gonna cum on your tits. Shit, let me cum on your tits."

A ripping pleasure crashes into you as you squirt a violent spurt of slick into the mattress, your back arching into a bow as you cum so hard. Jay follows not long after, pulling out just in time to let out rope after rope of hot release on your chest, painting over the bruises and hickeys with white cum.

You go lax on the mattress, too spent and stretched thin to even move a muscle, as you feel his cum trickle down the side of your torse. Jay stares, too taken with the indecent look in front of him, almost wishing he had a camera in his hand.

"Holy Goddess," the alpha smiles, "You squirted on me, baby."

"Shut up," you hiss weakly with closed eyes, exhaustion already crawling up your sticky body.

You hear a rustle of movement and the clinking of his belt, before your body is suddenly scooped up into a pair of strong arms. Jay's warm lips press on your forehead as the alpha carries you to the bedroom.

"Let's clean up, baby," he whispers as he turns out the faucet of your bathtub. "I need to change the sheets before we can sleep on it."

You only hum, too tired to respond, and let him do everything for you. The alpha is so gentle with his hands, soaping your body with your favourite vanilla-scented bodywash, and scrubbing off all traces of the night down the drain. He's especially careful with the space between your legs, aware of its oversensitivity after three consecutive orgasms.

When your back hits the mattress, the sheets smells of laundry and Jay's chosen detergent. You're buried inside his oversized tee shirt—the scent of his pheromone clinging to every thread of the fabric.

It is a perfect setting to sleep.

Jay engulf you in a tight hug, pulling you closer into a cuddling position and leaves more kisses on the crown of your hair.

"Sleep tight, baby."

Long into the night, when the pale silver of the Moon is still casting the room with thin stripes of light, Jay is still awake, listening to your calm breathing. His thumb rubs an endless loop of circle on your shoulders, his pheromone wafting gently to soothe you in your sleep.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, playing with the strands of your hair before dropping it with a smile.

Watching you sleep like this, utterly safe and secure in his arms, fills his chest with that familiar swell of dripping affection that is borderline devastating. His eyes, only ever hold love for you, gaze at you softly, the tenderness of it would make you ache had you been conscious to see it.

"I understand Sunoo now, Y/N."

I wish to always hold you like this.

Jay leans down and bumps his nose with yours, eyes closing in a resignation akin to a man surrendering to love.

'There is someone out there who needs your kindness, hyung,' Sunoo's voice echoes in his mind. Jay gives the gentlest, most devastating smile.

"I think I've found my purpose."

I wish to always love you, Y/N.

"You are my purpose."

don't play with future ceo rich millionaire park jongseong! >:(

see you again in my next work <3

divider from @/cursed-carmine

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula @sugarcwtie @whiskymiller @buttersoob @girliepop-is-in-the-house @jaeyunluvr14

The atmosphere at the dining table is the lightest it has ever been, except for the dark, ominous aura swirling around you like a bad omen.

The steak on your plate has died the twentieth time when you stab at it again, glaring at Jay who's sitting demurely right in front of you. He's the perfect picture of a gentleman, cutting the meat with unrivaled elegance, not even a scrap could be heard from his movement. When he's being addressed, he'll put the cutlery down and engage politely, that damn infuriating smile always present on his face.

Tch. So annoying.

You stab the steak harder.

You have lost your appetite ever since your discovery of Jay's identity as the alpha that your parents like so much. Your mom was confident that you'd like him, but for the first time ever, you think she's mistaken.

You don't like Jay. Hell, you even agreed to this dinner to avoid him!

And yet here you are, sitting across from the very man you'd rather kill than kiss, sulking with your poor steak. What a plot twist from the Goddess of the Moon. You're not sure if you should laugh or cry.

A hand reaches out. In a split second, your plate is suddenly being swapped with another plate filled with neatly-cut meat, still juicy and shiny. Taken aback, you lift your head, only to be met with a sheepish smile from Jay.

What the hell? Why is he suddenly being so kind?

'Eat up,' he mouths at you, then directs his focus back on your beaten steak, already mushy from your previous stabbing. He doesn't complain, doesn't even make a face and just simply cuts it carefully like it was any other perfect dish.

The grip on your knife and fork tightens. This is a scheme! He's trying to—to win your heart and it's definitely not working!

With a huff, you stab one of the cuts and shove it into your mouth. Hm. It tasted so good. Your personal chef never disappoints.

Around you, conversation carries on smoothly. Despite acting sulky and salty, you had managed to learn a thing or two about the friendship that your parents share with Jay's. Apparently, your mother and his mother used to study together in the UK before losing contact after graduation. According to your mom, they met again last year at a charity gala and that's how they rekindled their friendship and planned this grand scheme of getting their son and daughter to get to know each other.

Fuh. What a tragic story for the daughter.

You haven't uttered a single word voluntarily unless when being spoken to, putting on your best smile when the Park couple turn to look at you. They don't deserve your cold treatment. The one who's at fault for being a pervert is Jay, or Park Jongseong, as what you had found out.

"Jongseong-ah, I heard you're already in your final year. What are you gonna do?"

Ah. So he is your senior. It's the first time you're going to date someone older—wait, Y/N, are you crazy? You're already thinking of dating him?

You mentally shake your head. No!

Jay dabs his mouth with a napkin before replying. "For now I'm just helping Mom at the warehouse when I don't have classes. Sometimes I still join the basketball team. I haven't decided what I'm gonna do after graduation though, because Mom and Dad are still fighting over me."

There's a chorus of laughter across the table. Mrs. Park puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it affectionately.

"How could I not? My son is so reliable that everything just goes so smoothly at the warehouse."

"But it's because of that exact reason that I need him at the firm," Mr.Park interferes with a fond smile. "We shouldn't have stopped at just one child if I knew we were going to raise such a good child like him."

"Ah," your mother chuckles, "Such a capable and hardworking alpha."

You almost choke.

The memory of your last conversation with Jay flashes in your mind. A heat of embarrassment crawls up your neck, painting your skin a deep blush of pink.

'My mom said that he's very capable and hardworking. I can't wait to marry him!'

You close your eyes and fight the urge to slam your head on the table. Seriously, why'd you have to say that?!

Amidst the laughter and the teasing joke between the parents, Jay darts his gaze away to you, a knowing smile curling on his lips. Seeing that, you have the sudden urge to stab his face instead.

That dummy alpha. He's mocking you!

The rest of dinner becomes a cruel game orchestrated by fate itself. Every compliment you had thrown at that mysterious arranged alpha is now tossed back across the table—straight into your face.

'Isn't Jongseong so handsome, Y/N?'

'Jongseong is the most perfect gentleman for you, darling.'

'You need not worry about anything. We have enough wealth to last you for generations. Jongseong can provide for you more than what you might need.'

It is indeed, the most embarrassing moment of your life. It almost feels like you were eating rocks from how humiliated you are. Jay doesn't help either. No matter how hard he tries to tone down his knowing smile, it still feels mocking in your eyes.

You can't believe you had complimented him in his face. That's the lowest of the lows you have ever reached.

"Ah, I think it's better we move our discussion to the library. The couple needs private time to get to know each other, too."

Actually, you don't. But before you could even protest, your enemies (your parents and his parents) are already standing up, talking about something related to your dad's newest project and whatnot, leaving you alone with Jay at the dining table.

What a sense of humour you have, dear Goddess!

Your thoughts are interrupted when the maids come to clean up. You move aside to give them room, already itching to bolt from the place, only to hear distinct chatters between Jay and the maids. You glance at him.

The alpha has already discarded his suit. Now with rolled-up sleeves and a few undone buttons, he helps them stack the plates, the cutlery arranged nicely at the top. A big part of you wants to scoff at the performance he's putting on, but the way he moves—the sure way of him moving every leftovers to the top plate, the familiar way of him gathering the knives and forks in one place—it screams routine and instinct.

Like something he's already used to do. Something taught in his system, which is quite strange when it comes from an alpha like him.

You quietly clear your throat and start helping with the glasses, silently speeding up the cleaning up process so you can escape faster. The maids thank the both of you, with a lingering stare on Jay, before they excuse themselves to the kitchen.

The silence is too much for you to bear. Without waiting for him, you walk to the patio door and slide it open, revealing a neatly manicured garden beyond. There's a medium-sized pool glowing in light blue in your backyard, casting a cerulean shadow on your face.

You hear faint footsteps from behind, followed by the trail of the citrusy pheromone that has started branding itself as Jay in your head.

You dislike the way your body begin to get familiar with his presence.

He stands beside you, not too close that you would feel uncomfortable, yet not too far that you could still feel the heat of his body radiating from him. It reminds you so much of that night at the porch of the fraternity.

"So…" he begins, but you cut him off quickly.

"Don't start."

"I haven't said anything." You could hear the smile in his voice.

You side-eye him, hating the easy way his features settle. "I know that face."

Jay lifts one eyebrow. "What face?"

"That smug face. I know you're making fun of me!"

"I'm not!"

"You are literally smiling," you points an accusing finger. "You have been smiling!"

"How could I not? You look so beautiful tonight, Y/N."

Your heart stutters, taken aback by the sudden compliment delivered in such a delicate tone that it catches you off-guard.

But of course, Jay would say something that shatters the almost-romantic atmosphere instantly the next minute.

"And you also couldn't wait to marry me, or so I heard."

Your face flames a bright red as you hit his shoulder. "I knew it! You are enjoying this!"

Jay finally lets out a chuckle. It sounds free, like he's deeply amused by the whole situation. You pout and throw your face away, not wanting to humour him further. You're already the most embarrassed you have ever felt in your life, you're not going to add to it.

Beside you, Jay's face melts into a soft smile as he takes in your side profile.

"For what it's worth…I'm glad that I am that alpha for you."

You may be an asshole sometimes, might even be in chronic denial when it comes to the alpha standing next to you, but tonight, you can't seem to deny the fact anymore.

Every little thing your mother had praised about him turns out to be true.

Capable. Hardworking. Gentle.

You hate that she isn't wrong. You hate it even more that you're beginning to understand why.

It's obvious in the tan of his skin, so different from his parents', that you know must come from standing under the sun to manage the warehouse and the shipment. It's apparent in the way he carries himself, so sure and so accommodating, like he knows the effect he has on people but still wants to be humble about it. It's evident in the soft way he speaks to everyone around him, the jokes that know boundaries—just like how he stopped teasing you the moment he saw your pout just now.

It's annoying. It's so, so infuriating that when you've finally met someone like him, it is when you're at the most fucked-up point of your life. Still an omega with a ghost of Maki, whose words seem to cling to you like a second skin of insecurity. Still an omega barely able to stand on your own two feet without spiraling like a fucking loser. Still an omega without a nest.

"Cancel the date."

Jay freezes. "I'm sorry?"

"Cancel the date and tell your parents that you don't like me," you mutter, refusing to look at him. "It'll save you time and the trouble."

Jay doesn't say anything. His brain works hard to interpret the meaning of your sudden words, trying to find the right way to approach this.

"Is there something wrong?" He tries, fully turning his body to face you. "Did I do something wrong?"

You bite your lip. "You barely know me."

Jay nods. "I know. We can work on that."

"You think you like me because you've seen the good parts," you grit through your teeth. This time, you brave yourself to return his gaze, and the look he gives you near damn make you run.

It's so…full of understanding. It's so heavy with his feelings that you almost laugh. For such a big alpha, Jay surely wears his heart on his sleeve.

"You don't know the rest about me."

The ugly parts. The difficult-me, the rude-me, the lonely-me, the hurtful-me.

You'll get tired of me. Just like everyone did.

Gosh, you really hate how emotional you can get sometimes. You're probably blowing the only chance you'll ever get a good mate, but does it really matter when your mind is your own enemy that every kind gesture from Jay is being seen with scrutiny?

That every time he smiles and treats you kindly, you think it's just something driven with a hidden motivation?

Not wanting to let him catch you at your most vulnerable, you turn to leave. But before you go, you say something that you think he at least deserves to know.

"I can see that you're a good alpha, Jay." Gosh, look at your lowering your pride for him after just one dinner. This man is bad for you.

"But maybe not for me."

Not now. Not tomorrow.

Not ever.

Jay fights the urge to grab your wrist when you walk away, his wolf forcing him to take that damn step and chase after you, but he holds himself back. He lets himself catch the final whiff of your cherry and coffee, souring like silent doubt and regret.

He's confused. Had he acted too brashly? Had he scared you off by acting too soon? The atmosphere was light when he was teasing you just now.

But the look in your eyes…

The unspoken weighs heavy on his heart. As he watches you disappear into the house, Sunoo's voice drifts back into his mind with startling clarity.

'You are with this kindness not without a purpose, hyung. There's someone out there who needs it.'

For the first time since that night, Jay wonders if Sunoo had been talking about you all along.

Upstairs, you hide behind the curtain of your childhood bedroom as you watch the Park family take their leave. You turn the light off on purpose to give the idea that you've already gone asleep, when truly you just have fallen into another episode of self-doubt.

Your eyes are fixed on Jay. The alpha seems more tense than when he had first arrived, and you hate to know that it has everything to do with you. Before he could catch you staring, you harshly close the curtain and throw yourself on the mattress.

This is the right decision. Just like Maki had said, there's nothing unforgettable about you, so Jay will be moving on just fine and this is nothing more than a short episode of a silly rom-com. He will forget whatever infatuation he seems to have for you and find another omega.

A less difficult omega, with a perfect nest that they can invite him into. A less insecure omega who doesn't let words get to them despite acting so strong.

Before you know it, tears are already dripping down the side of your face and into the mattress. You weep quietly, drowning in self-pity as you listen to your omega cry for comfort.

Nest. Need a nest.

"We don't have that anymore…" You whisper to your wolf, voice cracking at the end.

I destroyed it.

I'm sorry.

Jay has been out of it since morning.

It doesn't take a genius to see that the alpha hasn't been acting like his usual self. His focus is frayed, concentrating on everything and nothing at all. Even during practice, he barely catches the ball passed by his teammates until the coach benches him for his poor performance.

It gets to the point where Riki and Heeseung exchange worried glances, misunderstanding the reason behind the alpha's brooding energy.

"Jay-hyung," Riki stops him from leaving once they're in the locker room. It's just the three of them at that time. The alpha seems to finally snap out of his thoughts, eyes gaining clarity when they land on the younger alpha.

"Oh, Riki-yah," he musters up a small smile. "What's the matter?"

Riki, usually a wall of solid muscle and alpha energy, is suddenly pouting with trembling lips. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Jay's neck, taking advantage of his height to nuzzle his cheek on the older alpha's head. Jay lets out a yelp, tasting Riki's floral bodywash on his tongue.

"Hyung! You're finally smiling at me. I'm so, so sorry!"

"Riki-yah, wait, I can't breathe," Jay chokes. His eyes frantically look for Heeseung, but the eldest alpha only watches with a solemn smile. "Riki—wait—why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry, Jay-hyung," Riki loosens his hold slightly when he sees the struggle Jay's facing in his crushing embrace, then quickly hides his face in his shoulder. "I've been such an asshole when all you wanted to do was help me and my omega out."

Hearing that, Jay finally melts. Ah, they must've thought that he was giving them the cold shoulders for what happened back then. Jay raises a hand to pat the taller's shoulders gently.

"I'm sorry, hyung. I am really just an insecure alpha. But it's all because I look up to you all the time—there's no ill intentions, I swear."

"I know, Riki, I know," Jay replies. "It's okay, I'm not mad anymore. But maybe please let me go first? I can't breathe."

Riki quickly scrambles off his hyung, muttering sorry's like a mantra as he helps Jay smooth down his shirt. The air is filled an awkward silence. The three best friends have never gotten into an argument serious enough to require an apology session like this one.

Heeseung shifts in his place. "So, Jay, about the other day…I almost punched you."

Jay hums. "You almost punched me."

Heeseung keeps quiet for a moment before nodding. "I'm sorry. I keep thinking about it. I know there's, like, nothing that could excuse that, but I—"

"Hee," Jay interrupts, taking pity on the way his friend stumbles with words. "It's alright. You were already in a bad place, and smelling your omega on me wasn't exactly the best state to open the door to."

Heeseung purses his lips. "But still, my wolf lost control and I ended up strangling you."

Riki lets out a soft gasp, having hearing this for the first time. "You did what?"

But Jay ignores him, waving a dismissive hand. "It's good. Thank you for the apology, though, I really appreciate it. But I also kinda overreacted back then."

"No, you didn't," Heeseung shakes his head. "You're right. Riki and I…we know your reputation among the omegas. Guess that got to our head and we saw you as a threat instead of a friend."

Jay truly understands them, despite his lashing out the other day. It's alpha instincts. He gets it now, because he hasn't had a wink of sleep since the night you walked away from him. He gets it now, when he was a nervous wreck after finding out about the alpha your family picked for you, before discovering it to be himself.

"I've long forgiven you both. Come on, don't make it more awkward than this. It's all good, I swear."

Riki hesitates. "But you were acting cold just now. Of course we have to have this conversation, no matter how awkward it is."

"It wasn't directed at you guys," Jay sighs, taking a seat on the bench when he realises he won't be leaving the locker room any sooner. "I'm just…I've been occupied with this one omega that I really like."

Sensing the change of topic, the other two alphas finally relax, the tension melting off their muscles. Riki leisurely leans on one of the lockers, while Heeseung goes to sit beside Jay.

"Is it the one who slapped you at that party?"

Jay gives them a sheepish smile. "Yeah. That one."

"Never knew you were a masochist, hyung."

"Shut up." Jay huffs, the teasing coming back now that every bad tangle has been fixed. "But yeah, she's the one I like. Turns out, our parents had been arranging for us to meet. We had dinner at her house two days ago."

Riki perks up at that, whistling a teasing tune. "Wow. That fast? Who is she, then?"

Jay nods. But when he remembers how the night unfolded, the similar solemn expression settles back in his features.

"Her name is Y/N," he whispers softly. It's crazy. Everything related to you makes him want to do things softer, more gentle. He's so gone. "I thought things went smoothly and we could get started with getting to know each other. But she suddenly asked me to tell my parents that I dislike her and cancel the date."

There's a tense silence that follows. Nobody misses the wilting tone of Jay's voice, let alone the bitter tang of his pheromone. The two alphas share a look before Heeseung, who has been a quiet listener, suddenly speaks up with a frown. "Wait, you said that her name is Y/N?"

"Yeah. A fashion major."

"Dude, that's the omega Jungwon talked about!" Heeseung claps once, realisation marring his face. "The one who got cheated on by Riki C!"

Riki looks at Heeseung cluelessly, before he too suddenly straightens up. "Hyung, that's her! Oh Goddess, Jay-hyung, you're not totally hopeless. I think I know why she turned you down."

Jay has no idea what they're talking about, but decides to just get along with it first. "Are you sure it's not because of my personality or something?"

"Ridiculous," Riki scoffs, shaking his head so fast Jay was worried his hair would fly off. "I've never met an omega who felt unsafe with you, hyung. I personally think it has everything to do with her ex-boyfriend. He cheated on her with one of her fashion rivals."

The truth almost sweeps his feet off the ground. Jay freezes, willing his ears to unhear it.

"What?"

Cheating?

If there were eight deadly sins, he's confident the eighth sin would be cheating. The ugliest form of betrayal there is, the cruelest way to kill someone's trust. The ruthless way to crush someone's self-esteem, the easiest way to drive someone to the point of doubting reality.

And you were cheated on?

"It's not just the cheating, though," Heeseung adds, his voice quieter. "Jungwon and Sunoo heard that he was so unapologetic about it, too. It's the hottest gossip in fashion school right now."

Jay hates the sound of it; a traumatic experience being reduced to gossips whispered in hallways and in between lectures. Like your pain is just entertainment to those people, something they talk about when they got nothing better to do.

His jaw ticks in annoyance.

"I heard from Jake-hyung that she called your company last-minute for fabric?" Riki asks, slowly connecting whatever dots floating in his brain. "I think that's got something to do with Maki, too. Her previous supplier was his friend's family business, and they cancelled her order last-minute to give it to his new girlfriend."

"What?" Jay can't believe his ears. "How did you know about this?"

"Sunoo-hyung, duh," Riki deadpans, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "The cheerleaders are also talking about this. But the new girlfriend wasn't being subtle as well. Always shading Y/N on her X account for no reason," Riki shrugs. "I'm just putting two and two together."

Jay's mind is a whirlwind of disbelief and this strong sense of justice on your behalf. It keeps replaying every interaction—the distrust in your gaze, the exhaustion beneath your eyes, the tiny tremble in your fingers. He had thought that you were just difficult to read, but there were just missing pages that you hid in fear of people seeing the true you.

It's sickening. It makes his blood boil and himself nauseous all at the same time.

"Jay-ah," Heeseung puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay? Your pheromone is spiraling."

Closing his eyes, Jay forces himself to take a deep breath. He needs to calm the fuck down. Yes, it is the shittiest, most diabolical action someone would do, but he also knows that a saviour complex would be the last thing you need right now.

"I'm okay," he finally replies, trying his best to regulate his pheromones. A scent of a distressed alpha is a threat to another alpha. They're not an official pack, no matter if Jay has always seen them as one. "I just…Gosh, I can't believe this. I just…"

He never noticed the wounds, nor the burden you quietly carry. He heard his mother mention about a last-minute individual customer asking for leftovers, about the sudden termination involving her ex-boyfriend, and thought nothing of it. Probably just a petty fight or a bad breakup.

But he never expected this.

Jay swallows harshly.

He doesn't know how to fix something this broken. He doesn't know how to erase the betrayal, or return the trust that someone else had stolen from you.

He just hopes he could find a way to make everyday easier for you. To make sure you never have to carry this alone anymore.

As expected, it was easy for Jay to move on from you.

You haven't heard from him. Not that you have to—his contact number that your mom shared with you in hope of seeing more of you together has been left on read for days now.

It's…good that he respects your decision. But it also stings.

Has it always been this easy to give up pursuing you?

You sigh and direct your focus back on the task at hand. Truly, humans are such a complex creature. You pushed him away because you fear the history would repeat itself, yet at the same time you want him to persist in pursuing you just to validate that wounded part of you that believed you deserve no effort.

It's confusing and tiring.

It's been a peaceful day so far. You have just received the measurement of the models for your runway, so you have been spending your time cutting the fabric to fit their sizes. There are three models in total to parade your six-piece collection, but for some reason, these models are from a different university.

When you asked your advisor about it, she only replied with: 'Oh, it's because they're the only volunteers left.'

It's whatever. When you scan their proportions, you are already satisfied with them; they're all tall and perfectly-built. They're nicknamed as Jo, K, and Nicholas—unfamiliar names, but you don't even know that many people to start with. They could've been your classmates and you would still not recognise them.

Your focus is interrupted when somebody knocks on the door. At first, you intend to let it go, already engrossed in your work-mode, but finally relent when another knock comes. With a huff, you walk to the door and swing it open without a second thought.

There, standing in a well-ironed pink button-up Polo shirt, is Jay.

"Hello, Y/N. I hope I'm not bothering you."

You almost stagger. What is he doing here? And just this morning you had thought that he had given up, that he had convinced his parents that whatever marriage vision they had of you and Jay was impossible to attain. Yet here the alpha is, wearing a colour that many alphas would avoid, with that sharp, easy smile that is always present when you're around.

"Jay?" You breathe out. "What are you doing here?"

"I cooked lunch and I thought, why not share it with the prettiest, most hardworking omega I know?" When you only blink at him unimpressedly, Jay only laughs. "I'm sorry. But I'm serious, though, I made lunch for you."

He raises up a lunchbag, shaking it in front of you.

You frown hard enough to conceal the sudden flutter in your chest. "What? Why would you do that?"

"Just making sure that you are eating well. It's past 2 p.m. and I believe you haven't eaten yet, right?"

He's…painfully right. You tend to get carried away when you're in the studio, too lost in your work to even think of getting a meal. But you hate that he's right. He's not even supposed to be here!

"Jay," you sigh. "Did I not tell you—"

"Please eat your lunch," Jay interrupts, taking your hand and forcing you to take the bag. "Don't worry, I didn't poison it. I still want to see your fashion week."

You glare at him, but it lacks any heat. "Jay—"

"No shellfish, I already asked your mom for possible allergies."

You hate him. You hate him so much.

"Park Jongseong!"

Jay only smiles. "I'll leave now."

He turns, pauses, and looks back at you. "If you don't eat this, I'll come back with dinner."

You grit your teeth. "I'll run away!"

The chuckle that leaves his lips sounds so rich. "I bet you will." Then, without another word, he excuses himself, sparing one last glance at you before disappearing behind a corner.

"What the hell is his problem?" You mutter, quickly getting inside and locking the door.

Reluctantly, you unzip the lunchbag—it's cute though, with cartoons of a black cat printed all over—and take out the lunchbox. It's still warm to your touch.

You never deal with curiousity well, never managed to suppress it. So you do what curious people would do: you open the lid to check what he allegedly cooked.

Allegedly. Because you don't believe patriarchy has ever birthed an alpha that would even step into the kitchen—let alone to cook.

Instantly, the smell of steamed chicken and garlic drifts into your senses. You stare at the the lunchbox, complete with its partitions. The rice is scooped into a perfect sphere, and the chicken breast is already cut into bite-sized. In the smaller partition, there is a red sauce, where the garlic smell comes from. There's also a medium-sized thermos with a brand that you know is not cheap, with a sticky note that catches your eyes.

'Careful. The soup is hot.'

You've never seen this dish before.

Right on time, your phone that you left on the table lights up. An unknown number has texted you, but when you read the message, you can only roll your eyes so hard you believe you almost see your brain.

+82xxxxxxx

Hi, I'm Jay

My mom gave me your number

Please save it :D or not

Oh and that dish is called Hainanese Chicken Rice

Something good I had when I visited Malaysia long time ago

I hope you like it

Enjoy your lunch!

You scoff. Why is he typing with perfect punctuations and all that? Without replying, you switch off the screen and go back to staring at the dish—or the, what, Hainanese Chicken Rice—like the chicken might come back alive and bark at you. If chickens even bark.

"Why is he doing this…" you grumble and close the lid. You're not going to eat that. Based on your experiences, when you accept a gift from an alpha, they take it as a sign that you like them back and consent to them doing whatever shit they want to do with you.

But it smells so good, and you haven't had lunch…

You shake your head. No! If Jay couldn't take a verbal no as an answer, he will take your action instead. With a newfound resolution, you march to where you left your half-finished task just now and resume your work.

It's hard to concentrate when your stomach is growling while a mouth-watering dish sits not too far from you. You munch on your protein bar to quell your hunger, already thinking of a dinner that could make up for your lost lunch.

Time passes and before you know it, it's already seven in the evening. You jolt when another knock is heard and let out the biggest sigh ever because you already know who is behind it.

"What," you flatly ask when you open the door. Jay is less neat than he was just now, with a few buttons undone and slightly ruffled hair.

"Did you eat lunch?"

You purse your lips. "No."

For a moment, Jay only looks at you. Doesn't even sigh or lecture. He simply peers inside, taking in the mess that you didn't have the time to hide, before he nods to himself.

"I see."

When he doesn't say anything more, you quirk an eyebrow. "That's it?"

Jay blinks. "What else should I say?"

"I don't know," you gesture wildly like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Scold me? Tell me I'm impossible? Complain that I wasted your cooking?"

Jay seems to consider this seriously, before he asks softly. "Would that make you eat dinner?"

"No?"

"Then that wouldn't be very productive," he gives you a tender smile. "Plus, it's not a waste. I'm doing this willingly."

Crossing your arms, you give the alpha a slow, assessing once-over. There are many questions swirling in your mind, but one that is bugging you is simply, what does he benefit from this?

And you settle on one answer.

"You really don't know how to take rejection," you state. "I had asked you to stop, Jay. Why are you still trying?"

Am I really worth the trouble?

You push down the unsaid words.

Standing before you, Jay doesn't seem the slightest offended from your question. "I know. You rejected me and my parents, so I stopped asking you to date me. But…"

He looks over your shoulder, trying to have a look at the abandoned lunchbox. His eyes are gentle, full of something you don't dare name.

"I don't think feeding someone counts as courting."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You hate that he makes sense, but you hate yourself even more for agreeing with him. No, screw that. Everything that left his mouth has been making sense ever since you met him, and it messes with your head so much it makes you spin.

Without saying anything, you enter the studio and take the lunchbag. You shove it to his chest, not harshly, as you give him a firm stare.

"Here. Take it back. And I can take care of myself, by the way. Thanks for your concern."

Jay is taken aback. His arms hug the lunchbag instinctively, eyes staring at you widely.

"Wait—"

"Goodbye."

You close the door on him. Leaning on the door, you try to listen to his movement. It's only after a long, stretched minute that you finally hear his footsteps fading away like a song ending.

You put a hand over your chest, and almost flinch from how fast your heart is beating. Fuck. This is so bad. Park Jongseong is so bad for your heart.

You were born into a loving family, so love is not a foreign concept to you. You were taught that love is unconditional, but it only is if it comes from a familial bond. You had learned, through countless failed relationships and friendship breakups, that it doesn't apply to those who don't share a blood tie to you.

Your past boyfriends had been disappointing, never in-tune to your needs and instincts. You have never been able to keep a friendship afloat for too long; they either ended because of too much pride or jealousy and silent competition. You've never…truly been the receiving end of such tender, gentle care from a stranger.

Never. Not until…this. Whatever this is.

"Stupid alpha," you curse quietly. The image of Jay's soft smile and even softer voice plays in your mind, which for some stupid reasons, makes your heart beat even faster.

What a capable alpha, your wolf coos.

"No, he's just ridiculous. I don't like him," you deny, despite the band already playing behind your ribs.

Your wolf doesn't reply to that. Good. She better stop trying to tell you what to do.

However, Jay is as persistent as you have known him to be. He appears during lunch again the next day, and the next next day, always some time past 2 p.m., like he has cleared his schedule specifically for this.

Then, he'd come around dinner to see if you have eaten lunch, take the lunchbag home to wash it, and give you a different meal the next day, and repeat. It's annoying how consistent he is, and it's even more annoying how slowly you start to give in.

Just like today.

You open the door before he can even knock, startling the hell out of the alpha as he flinches.

"Fine!" you huff and take the lunchbag from him before he can speak. "If I eat this, will you come with dinner?"

His expression changes into one of amusement. "Depends. Do you want me to come?"

"No."

"Then I'll consider it."

"I won't lie!" You insist. Anything but him bothering himself to bring you these meals when you're the last person to deserve them. "I'll even send you pictures as proof!"

The corner of Jay's lips curves up. That dummy alpha. He's clearly enjoying this.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good. I'll wait for your pictures," he pauses. A cheeky grin itches to spread, you can tell, before he quickly hides it. "But I'll still come for dinner, though. To pick up the lunchbox."

Your eye twitches. "You tricked me."

A genuine laugh bubbles out of his chest, the sound so gentle to your ears. His pheromones, thinly veiled by his scent patch, sweetens with the timbre of his voice.

"I didn't trick you," he says after the chuckle fades. "I just want to see you."

The words land like feathers, tickling your heart with sparks of something you aren't ready to face yet. His eyes soften when they're fixed on you, like the mere sight of you is enough to blunt every sharp edges of his world. Your breath hitches.

Park Jongseong…you're not good for my heart.

"Whatever," you grumble, and you don't let him reply as you shut the door in his face. You stomp to your desk and quickly take the lunchbox out to see the menu of the day.

It's beef soft-tofu stew, steaming hot in the thermos, served with Korean black rice. It's a hearty dish, one that's enough to fill your tummy and heart.

That day, you finally learn that Jay is a good cook.

You

[photo]

done

+82xxxxxxx

That's good :D

I'll bring more tomorrow :D

You stare at the screen, contemplating something. Should you say it? Chewing your bottom lip, you let your fingers type and hit the send button.

You

thank you

The text bubble dances on the screen.

+82xxxxxxx

You're most welcome, Y/N

And that day, you finally save his number.

Jay/Jongseong

Three days later, your first fitting finally arrives.

Despite everything that has happened over the past week, your collection is slowly beginning to resemble the sketches that had once lived only inside your notebook. One by one, the garments take shape beneath your hands—the pleats finally behaving, the hems falling exactly where you envisioned, every stitch bringing you closer to Fashion Week.

Given the short time, you have only managed to finish the first three pieces of your collection. It is not an easy task—you have been powering through on caffeine and three hours of sleep. Skipping meals would be an easy way if not for a certain alpha that has been relentlessly knocking on your door to feed you.

The small part of your heart is grateful for Jay, even though you still act quite annoyed by his presence. It's not actual hostility; it's just that same voice that keeps reminding you how undeserving you are of his kindness—Maki's words have carved way too deep into your brain, no matter how hard you had tried not to let it get past your walls.

The morning begins like any normal mornings would. Across the horizon, the sun has been gentle with its shine, not too glaring nor too burning. It allows cool breeze to kiss your skin still when you open the window of your studio. You've been tidying up the studio, turning it into a space that's ready to accept guests.

The models later arrice thirty minutes late than what was promised, but since you're in a good mood, you let it slide easily. The three alphas walk into your studio with imposing shoulders, bodies built like an athlete. Are they really athletes, though? With that height, they could easily pass as a player in a basketball team.

"Hello. Thank you for making your time for the fitting today. I am Y/N. You may introduce yourself so it's easier for us to communicate."

You don't miss the way the alphas' stare linger on you, though something is…different with it today. Usually, when being the receiving end of alpha's blatant stare, you could sense the interest and awe in their eyes. But with these three…it feels as though they are picking at every layers, like they already had an idea of how you were supposed to be and they were seeing if you fit the narrative.

Your mouth flattens to a straight line, not expecting the stretched silence. "Hi?"

One of the alphas with an insanely small face finally snaps out of it. He returns a coy smile, eyes glinting with something that makes your hair rise in anxiety. "Hi. I am Jo. Nice to meet you."

"I'm K. Call me K," the tallest guy says.

"I'm Nicholas but I go by Nicho," the alpha with a pair of sharp eyes speak last, his stare remaining blank and quite unfriendly. You try to ignore how strange it leaves you feel.

"Okay!" You clap once, forcing back every positive feeling into your system as you force a bright smile. "It's nice getting to know you guys. Now, I have prepared three pieces of my collection for you to try on. You may look at them while I explain about the concept we are going for."

You lead the alphas further inside, glancing at the door that you have purposely left slightly ajar. It seems to ebb at your nerves; being with alphas in an enclosed space like this, so you didn't close the door fully after they entered.

"Is it only you here?" Jo asks, breaking the silence as curiousity gets the best of him. You nod.

"Yes. I rent this studio alone. Why?"

"Oh," the alpha hums as he sniffs the air, "I could've sworn I smelled another alpha here. Smells like citrus."

Your entire body locks up in shock. The face of a certain alpha flashes in your mind and you almost lets out a loud scoff.

"Maybe you're mistaken. I use air freshener sometimes and I like the lemon-scented ones the most," you half-lie your way out. It's true you prefer lemon-scented things, but you don't use air freshener because it smells so artificial it makes your head spin.

The topic drops there. Jo only nods his head, not saying anything more. You stop in front of a row of mannequins.

"This semester's theme is men's loungewear," you begin as you bring out three mannequins, all perfectly clad in your carefully-sewn garments. "Since the scale is quite limited, I tried to be more creative and played with the zip positioning to make it more interesting and different."

You unzip one of the jackets, revealing an additional panel hidden beneath.

"The main feature is the zipper placement. Instead of treating the zippers as purely functional, I used them to change the silhouette. Depending on how they're styled, the same piece can look relaxed, structured, or oversized. I used exposed industrial zippers on the denim design and hidden zippers on the linen one."

You zip the panel back into place.

"The idea is that one garment shouldn't only have one identity. People's routines change throughout the day, so I wanted the clothes to adapt with them."

You move toward the second mannequin.

"The fabric choices were equally important. I mixed Japanese denim with linen and silk blends because they all age differently. Denim softens, linen develops natural creases, and silk catches light depending on movement."

A small smile appears on your lips.

"Rather than fighting those characteristics, I decided to work with them."

You brush your fingers across the linen sleeve, feeling the friction under your fingertips.

"For example, I purposely didn't design the linen to look overly crisp. Linen is supposed to crease—that's part of its texture. Trying to eliminate every wrinkle would almost defeat the point of choosing the fabric in the first place."

You drift to the third mannequin, where the blended silk is catching the light in a fine shimmer. "For the satin look, I replaced the zipper with concealed ties. Satin naturally drapes, so forcing a zipper onto it would interrupt the fabric's movement. I wanted the transformation to feel softer and more organic."

You step back to admire the three works together. Satisfaction blooms in your chest upon gazing at the result of your sleepless nights, ready to be worn by your models soon.

"That's my whole idea on it," you glimpse at the three quiet alphas with a smile. "You may try them on. I didn't design it strictly to your measurements, so you can free to choose to wear whichever you think would suit you the best."

The trio wordlessly obey, chattering among themselves as they decide on the mannequins and go into the only fitting room one by one. You busy yourself in front of the mirror, adjusting the blouse you're wearing to make it loose around your chest.

Being big-chested isn't as glorious as people make it out to be. Often times, you were often lusted over than loved, being the one bearing the blame each time an alpha so much as gazes at you for a second too long. Being in your studio with three alphas, mixed with the anticipation of what's about to emerge from the fitting room—it frays your nerves at the edges. If you didn't wear three-layered of scent patches today, you're sure your pheromone would flood the whole space with the scent of souring cherries and coffee.

K is the first one to enter and come out. Your eyes immediately go to the garment instead of the alpha wearing it.

Good.

The Japanese denim sits exactly where you intended—structured through the shoulders before relaxing into a softer silhouette down the body. The concealed side zipper doesn't interrupt the clean lines, disappearing neatly into the seam while still allowing enough movement for the oversized fit. When K takes a few steps forward, the fabric drapes without pulling at the hips.

Relief loosens the knot between your shoulders.

"Can you walk for me?" you ask, already reaching for your notebook.

K does a slow lap around the studio before stopping in front of you.

"Raise your arms."

He obeys.

"Turn around once."

He gives another obedient turn.

You crouch slightly to inspect the hem before scribbling down a few notes.

Shorten the back hem by one centimetre. Slightly reinforce the left shoulder seam.

Nothing major. Thank Goddess.

"Perfect. You can take it off." You absentmindedly say as you jot down more on your notebook.

But K is unmoving. He stares at the mirror and clicks his tongue, making you pause. The crease between his eyebrows folds deeper as he moves his arms and rolls his shoulders tentatively, running his palm over the denim.

"Is it supposed to look this plain and boxy?"

Your smile falters a fraction. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he tilts his head, searching for the words. "The construction is clean but.." he gestures vaguely at his torso. "It makes my body look bulky."

Does it?

You step closer and inspect the area around his waist, then travel up to his chest. It doesn't look bulky—at least to your naked eye—or are you being defensive?

"And I don't think denim exactly fits the idea of loungewear," K adds with an easy shrug. "It feels more...smart casual than something I'd actually relax in."

You chew on your bottom lip.

"The denim is a Japanese cotton blend," you explain, fingers absentmindedly smoothing the fabric over his sleeve. "It's lighter than regular denim and woven to be more breathable. I chose it because I wanted the collection to blur the line between indoor comfort and outdoor wear."

You unzip the concealed zipper running along the side seam.

The silhouette loosens almost instantly.

"It's meant to adapt," you continue. "Closed, it gives more structure. Open, it creates more ease around the body. I wanted something people could lounge in at home, then zip back together before stepping outside."

K studies himself in the mirror again.

"I get the idea."

Relief flickers through your chest.

"I just don't think people will."

You purse your lips together. You start to weigh his words over in your head, staring intensely at the way the denim falls on his silhouette before the alpha speaks again, this time with an easy smile on his face.

"But then, I'm just a model. You know better about this stuff. Don't take me seriously!"

You already did.

Jo comes out next, donning your silk garment with ease. It drapes on his body like a wave, rippling across his torso with every movement. This time, it looks better than the denim—at least that's what you had thought until the alpha opens his mouth.

"The hidden ties is a hassle to work with."

Your hope wilts quickly.

"I don't think it's practical. Most alphas wouldn't want to deal with it."

The second crack of your confidence appears on the surface. You study his figure for the longest minute ever, contemplating whether to argue or to agree, then let out a sigh.

"The ties are hidden so the silhouette stays uninterrupted," you explain, stepping forward to retie them with practiced fingers. "I wanted the fastening to disappear into the garment instead of becoming another decorative element."

With a gentle tug, the satin cinches neatly around his waist.

"The fabric is already the statement. Adding visible hardware would've competed with the sheen."

Jo gives an inch of a nod, like he had expected that. "I get it. I just think it's not convenient."

Since when is fashion all about convenience?

Is what you wish to say, but you bite your tongue instead.

The last person to emerge is Nicholas, wearing the linen piece that took up the biggest portion of your time. This time, the criticism comes without a comma, uttered in a single, sharp breath that it takes the smile completely off your face.

"To be honest, if I had seen this in a showroom, I don't think I'd remember it."

Something ugly churns in your stomach, your brain racing with a painful memory that you had tried so hard to move on from. The word 'forgettable' keeps repeating like a broken record, haunting you like an old ghost seeking vengeance.

"What do you mean?"

"Linen is too simple and the wrinkles are not worth it," Nicholas glances at you through the mirror. He's been the coldest guy since arriving, and even merciless when he delivers a piece of his mind. "It's hard to maintain. Nobody wants to iron a loungewear. The wrinkles would look messy."

Your jaw ticks in annoyance. "Linen is breathable. It's perfect for lazying around at home, especially in a hot and humid weather."

"During summer—sure, but South Korea isn't humid all year," Nicholas counters back easily. "Wouldn't cotton have been the safer choice?"

You instinctively defend yourself. "Cotton doesn't give me the same structure."

"Maybe." He pauses, making sure your eyes meet his when he finishes his sentence. "Or pure cotton was simply out of budget.

The jab lands exactly where he wants it to be. "I can afford it."

Seeing you getting worked up, K interferes, but not with the intention to back you up. "Pure cotton is hard to source unless you buy from Yuma," he snickers, "and as far as I know, Yuma doesn't take on just anybody."

Hearing the name of the person who had put you through a bad crisis of your life finally makes you snap. Yuma Nakakita, that fucker, how did these students know about him?

"I didn't ask you to redesign my collection," you mutter through gritted teeth. "I asked you whether the garments fit."

There is a tensed silence in the air, like coiled wires waiting to snap. You defiantly lift your chin to appear taller, trying to regulate your breathing as you return their rude stares.

Jo once again breaks the silence. But unlike the curious lilt in his voice before, this time his tone is mocking.

"Geez, relax, omega," he spits, expression taunting you to react. "No need to get so emotional."

That's it. You have had fucking enough.

Still containing whatever professionalism you could show, you direct a firm hand towards the fitting room. "Please change back into your clothes and kindly leave. Our fitting is done."

The three alphas share a knowing look before they do as you say. It doesn't take long before they are already gathering outside, throwing you a side eye as they leave through the front door. There are no other pleasantries exchanged—not that there is a need for that, anyway.

You march into the fitting room and feels your eyes twitch when you see the garments that you worked so hard for were tossed around in a messy heap. Squatting down, you gather them in your arms and walk back to where the nude mannequins are, putting them back on for display.

Your eyes land on the linen shirt that you had sewn until your fingers bled. The one that had received the most criticism from the alphas.

Unsolicited or not, it still fucks with your mind the same way Maki cheating ever did.

You whip your head around, dragging the mannequin with you to the ironing section. You plug in the steam iron and waste no time to start ironing the linen again.

'Linen wrinkles easily.'

'The wrinkles would look messy.'

The iron glides back and forth across the linen, its weight pressing down harshly as steam curls from the metal plate. Your hand moves in frantic sweeps—forward, backward, then along the edges—flattening every stubborn crease as Nicholas' voice loops in your head.

You move with the fervour of a man possessed, going over the same edge over and over again until it shines under too-much heat. Your wolf whines restlessly, sharing the same vessel of emotions as you as you almost go berserk.

You don't know how long you've been doing it, you don't even care when the steam hisses from the increasing heat that you're setting—you just want to smooth out the wrinkles of doubt creasing in your mind, seeping into your system.

Suddenly, a hand comes out and snatches the iron from you, followed by a loud thud of the power adapter unplugging from the switch. Your breath hitches and you whip your head, and are met with Jay whose brows furrowed in worry.

"What did you just do?! Why did you stop me?!"

Jay tosses the iron gently on the furthest spot on the desk before he focuses back on you.

"Y/N," his voice remains the calm in the storm and you hate it. "What have you been doing?"

"Linen wrinkles easily. I need to smoothen it out," you move to reach for the steam iron, mind frantic and frayed, but Jay's hands come up to gently pull you back to him.

"Let me go!" You push at his chest. "I need to iron the linen!"

"Y/N."

"It'll look messy if I—if I didn't—"

"Y/N," Jay says again, this time firmer. He pumps out his pheromones the best he can as he grabs your arms and forces you to stay in place. "Don't panic, Y/N. The linen is fine. You are fine."

The moment you catch a whiff of that lemon tang of his pheromone, your body instantly relaxes. You go almost lax in his arms, glassy eyes looking up at him through the haze.

Jay stares at you back, the space between his eyebrows creasing into a worried frown. It's the first time he ever looks at you with such a frown, but deep inside, you knew it wasn't meant to be unkind.

Jay lets another second of silence pass by before he slides down his hands down your arms and holds your delicate hands in his.

"You hurt yourself," he murmurs. Without thinking, he brings your hand closer to his face, blowing gently over the reddened knuckles before his thumb strokes across the irritated skin. You wince from the sting and almost pull away, but his grip remains firm.

"That hurts…"

"Let's treat this and then we eat, okay?" Jay softly consoles you, hands never letting go of yours. "It's already lunchtime."

Your eyes drift to the clock hanging on the wall. It's already thirty minutes past twelve—how long have you been trying to burn the linen to ashes?

Wordlessly, you nod, still coccooned by the citrusy scent hanging heavy in the air.

Jay leads you to your desk—the main desk that he always sees you sit at where you mainly operate and do your work. He looks around the space, where it looks tidier than usual, and his nose twitches when he senses three different pheromones lingering faintly.

You had company before he arrived, and they did something that made you almost scorch the fabric.

Jay stores that information away in his head. That'll be another topic for another time. He has a more pressing priority to attend to at the moment.

"Where do you keep the first aid kit?"

"Inside the drawer."

Less than a minute later, the alpha is seated beside you, meticulously handling the almost-empty first aid kit with a questioning look.

"Did you injure yourself a lot? You are running out of almost everything." Jay asks with a tone that hints at scolding but not really scolding.

You glance at the tiny box. "Occupational hazard."

Jay doesn't look convinced. He takes out a burn gel and inspects it with the intensity of a specialist. Then he nods, satisfied with what, you're not really sure.

"Let's go to the bathroom."

"What?" You almost yell. "Why?"

"You burned your hand," Jay explains, still patient and soft. You shake your head.

"It's not that serious."

"Y/N."

The quiet firmness in his voice leaves little room for argument. With a grumble, you lead him to the small sink tucked beside your studio pantry. The alpha turns the tap on and holds your hand under the running water, quiet and observant as he twists and turns your hands gently.

The silence allows you to properly observe him. When he's concentrated, Jay's brows will furrow and his lips will jut out in a small pout. It reminds you of the day he came with the fabric—the same pout appeared when he was double-checking your invoice.

It's a cute habit that you unintentionally noticed—not that you'd ever admit out loud anyway.

The alpha, satisfied with the red that has dulled after a few minutes, leads you back to your desk.

"Hands."

You obediently hold them out.He pats your skin dry with a clean towel that you always keep around before turning to the burn gel that he has prepared. You hold back a hiss when the cool texture of the gel hits your skin, neutralising the slight burn you've been feeling.

His fingers are surprisingly gentle despite how large they are. Every touch is careful, almost hesitant, as though he fears causing you even the slightest bit more pain.

"Does it sting?"

"A little."

Jay blows softly across your knuckles. He dabs on more gel. You can almost sense the impending question that'd come from him eventually, so you're not at all surprised when he finally says it.

"Do you need help with the wrinkles?"

You just never expected this question.

Jay glances at you when you remain quiet. His finger is not even dabbing on your knuckles anymore—it's been rubbing the same spot gently as if he was forcing the healing to speed up.

"Linen is meant to have subtle wrinkles, so you don't need to worry much about it because it'll always be there," he continues, tone light and soothing. "I can help you with the ironing so at least it'll look tamed. I'm quite the expert, you see."

You stare blankly at the side of his face. At the face of the alpha who, despite being pushed away by your stubbornness and pride, is still sitting here with you, fussing over a wound that hasn't fully formed yet.

You're used to people scolding you and calling you emotional. You act brashly sometimes, and ever since losing your nest, your episodes of breakdowns have been even harder to tame. You're used to people leaving once your baggage gets heavy. You're used to people walking away at the first sign of vulnerability.

So why hasn't Jay left yet?

Why is he offering to help you instead of running for the door? Nobody wants to deal with a miserable omega. Nobody wants to be with someone who only hides behind a hard shell but a mind so fragile it shatters at every sign of contempt.

It's too…sweet. It's too gentle for a heart that's met so many knives it has turned into a scars hall of fame. Alphas never regarded you this highly. They never worried about you, or made a fuss over the inconvenience that you had to face. They never cooked for you or made sure you had been eating well.

You had always been the prize. A doll to parade, a body to touch and satisfy. They adored your face, but they adored your chest more. Even better when they found out that you had money, too. They never truly saw you as someone equal, let alone someone to cherish and care for this way.

"Y/N?"

And Jay notices your silence too. Of course he does. He's oh so observant, ever so tuned in with your wolf despite bearing no bond that ties the two of you together. It's almost irritating, but you no longer have the heart to lie to yourself. You no longer have the strength to lie to your heart and deny that this is what you've been needing; that this is what your wolf has been craving for.

"Why are you crying, hm?"

A pair of hands, warm to the touch, cups your face gently. The pad of his thumb brushes away a stray of tears, its calloused surface a stark contrast on your soft skin. His deep, black eyes stares into your glassy ones, delicate and tender.

When he senses your hesitation, he gives you a reassuring smile. "You can tell me. Or not. It just weighs heavy in my heart to see you cry like this and not knowing why."

You chew on your bottom lip. The trail of lemon and bergamot drifts into your senses, and you find your crying subsiding a fraction. His pheromone has always been calming to you—it's almost baffling.

"I just…have a lot on my mind," you begin, your fingers fiddling together. "We just had a fitting just now and the models made some commentary on the pieces."

Jay only hums. His hands are still snug around your cheeks, his thumb busy brushing off the remaining wetness on your skin.

"The denim was too boxy and the linen was too messy, they said," you let out a wet, humourless laugh. "They don't suit loungewear. And I—I guess I just let it get to my head."

His eyes soften. "You're the designer. Nobody knows these pieces better than you do," Jay finally says. "Of course their words would get to you."

The timbre of his voice carries the words gently.

"I know, but I'm not usually like this. I can handle criticism," you try to protect your dignity, even when you know you don't have to. At least not with Jay. "But there's just…something about the way they said it? I don't know," you shake your head, "it's ridiculous."

"Your feelings are not ridiculous."

Jay drops his hand from your face and you hate the sudden loss of warmth. Sighing, you look down to your lap, where your hands are still fidgeting nervously.

"Do you think I should change the fabric?"

The alpha's gaze softens. "I think you should listen to what your heart wants."

"But what I decide on is not always right," you protest. "And lately, it's always wrong."

Before you, Jay's heart gives an unpleasant squeeze. It isn't the tears that hurts him the most. It's the hidden apology between your words.

I'm not usually like this.

I can handle criticism.

Even now, while crying, you're still trying to convince him that you're normally easier to love.

It's ironic, because to Jay, you have always been easy to love.

It doesn't fit the fierce omega who dared to slap him that night, or the angry omega who had hit him when he was acting reckless. It doesn't fit the firm frown you always give him when he keeps showing up with your lunch. The strong traits that keep him on his toes and awake at night.

But this side of you…Gosh, Jay wishes you wouldn't have to face these doubts and uncertainties about yourself. But perhaps, this wasn't another version of you. Perhaps this had always been you.

The sharp tongue, the stubborn pride. The walls and the tears. None of them contradicted the other.

They simply belonged to the same woman.

"Can I ask you something?"

You nod, still refusing to look at the alpha.

"When you chose denim, what problem were you trying to solve?"

A crease forms between your brows at that question. You lift your chin and see the seriousness in his eyes.

"…Structure."

"And did it solve the problem?"

"Yes."

"What problem were you trying to solve with linen?" Jay continues, still patient as ever. You blink at him once, still not knowing where this goes, but answer regardless.

"Breathability," you breathe out. "Linen is lightweight, and the ones you're selling is the best quality I've ever seen yet."

"So it solved you problem."

"Yes."

His face melts into a small smile. "Then maybe, the question isn't whether your ideas were wrong," the alpha gently says. "Maybe it's whether there was a better fabric to communicate them."

A better fabric? You ponder on his words, toying with the inner of your cheeks as your mind races.

"Then maybe I should change denim to something else."

"I think that's a good idea," Jay encourages. "What do you have in mind?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Knitwear? I'm thinking of fine-gauge knit. Lightweight cardigan or something."

Jay breaks into a grin. "There you go. Knitwear is perfect for loungewear, isn't it?"

Your eyes brighten at that, a hint of a smile curving on your lips. "It is," you agree, then sigh.

"But I only have a month left."

"We'll make it."

"Where do I even find knitwear on such a short notice?"

Jay chuckles. It's a deep and rich sound, one that rumbles from the depth of his chest. "That's why I'm here, aren't I? Did you forget that my family sells fabrics for a living?"

Ah. He's wrong. Of course you wouldn't forget that. "I know. But I really don't want to…" your voice trails off to a barely audible whisper.

"…burden you."

The alpha lets out a disbelieving sigh. "You? Burdening me?" He shakes his head, his tone playful and teasing. "Right. And I'm Spider-Man."

"I'm serious, Jay."

"I'm serious, too," he hums. "I want you to stop thinking that every help is a burden. Especially when it comes from me."

You chew on your bottom lip. "Then…what would you like in return?"

Jay is at a loss for words.He stares at you for a whole minute, unblinking, and when your expression remains serious, he knows that you are not joking.

"Nothing," his voice is quieter. "I don't want anything from you."

You frown. "You can't do that! There must be something…" you negotiate, half-confused with his refusal.

It's strange. Isn't kindness transactional?

"You'd better start getting used to me," Jay deadpans, not taking a 'no' as an answer. "Because I'm not stopping anytime soon. And it starts now."

The alpha pushes the lunchbag in your direction. Seeing your hesitance, he unzips the bag and takes out the familiar container and thermos himself. "I made the same Hainanese Chicken Rice, since you didn't get to eat it last time."

The aroma is so tempting. The familiar scent of garlic and honey steamed chicken tickles your senses, and your body decides to respond with a low rumble in your stomach. Your neck flushes crimson at the sound, but Jay only forms a small smile.

"Eat up," his voice is softer now, losing its firmness. "I will send you home after this. Perhaps resting in your nest would make you feel a whole lot better."

The temperature in the room suddenly drops as you go quiet. Jay notices almost immediately—the shift in energy as soon as he mentioned your nest. There's a faraway look in your eyes, obscured thinly by the steam curling from the rice.

With a hint of dejection, you reveal. "I don't have a nest."

His hand stills.

The smile on his face falls almost imperceptibly. For the first time that afternoon, Jay has no immediate answer.

You don't have a nest.

His heart squeezes painfully.

Is there really nothing that feels safe enough for you to hide in?

"That's okay," his jaw tightens. "We'll figure that out too."

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you devouring the lunch he made while quietly watching him ironing the linen. Jay moves like the steam iron was an extension of him, smooth and with the right pressure and heat. He handles the fabric like he would someone's heart, cautious in every fold and crease.

By the time you reach home, you have been feeling slightly better. But your omega is still restless, still too disturbed by the verbal stabbing by the three alphas that she wouldn't sit still until she gets comforted.

You open your wardrobe gingerly, having no idea how to appease your wolf. You move the hanging clothes to the side, searching for something familiar, when your eyes land on a neatly folded trench coat that you believe doesn't belong to you.

The trench coat that you snatched from Jay.

It's still in your possession. You forgot about it.

You hesitate for a second before reaching out for the garment. Almost instantly, Jay's familiar scent—lemon, bergamot, and a hint of metal—greets your senses. It carries gently through the air, enveloping your being until your wolf calms down.

That night, you sleep while having the coat lying near your pillow and for the first time since the night you destroyed your nest—you finally get a deep-rested sleep.

The atmosphere in the basketball court is gloomy when Jungwon enters its perimeter. He's still in his taekwondo uniform, a black belt snugly wrapped around his thin waist like a badge of honour. He scans the place and finds the whereabouts of his friends, wasting no time to approach them.

He comes with a mission. And he knows only Riki would be willing to do it for him.

But as he gets closer, Jungwon realises that the negative energy is radiating from none other than his Jay-hyung. The older alpha is lying down on a bench, his duffel bag being his makeshift pillow as he stares at the ceiling with a downturned smile.

Around him, Riki and Heeseung are exchanging worried glances. When they spot Jungwon, they urge him to come faster while holding a finger on their lips, asking him to be as quiet as possible.

Jungwon obliges. As soon as he takes a seat beside Riki, Jay finally speaks, as if he had been waiting for Jungwon's arrival all this time.

"Do you know what a nest means to an omega?"

It's the last thing Jungwon expects would come out of his mouth. The question strikes him odd, but he realises that it's something that he never really asks himself. In his head, nest is an always-been-there, something that always comes with an omega. His sister and mother—the both of them have had a nest for as long as he could remember.

Riki scratches his head. "…Where they sleep in?"

Heeseung pinches his arm.

"It's like an alpha with instincts," Jay mutters like he didn't hear them, "It's as natural as that."

There's a momentary pause as Jay considers his next words. Jungwon waits patiently. He doesn't know what makes Jay behave this way, but his money is on the omega that he's been actively pursue.

"And what's an omega without a nest?"

Jungwon tries to picture it: an image of her sister without her beloved teddy bear that has seen more days than he has. It doesn't sit well with him. It's like seeing a chair without its legs. Jungwon doesn't realise how much distress his alpha would be if that were to happen; his protective instincts for his family flaring up just by mere imagination.

"It's like telling us to live without our wolf," Jay continues. He looks dazed, as if he doesn't even realise that he's been speaking to his friends rather than to himself. "It's like a slow death. A quiet torture."

The alpha then heaves out a long sigh. There's a distant look in his eyes when he sits up, his hair sticking out in different directions. When he speaks again, his voice is much quieter, like a secret not meant to share but too heavy to carry alone.

"My omega…she doesn't have a nest," he whispers, almost inaudible. "I…I don't know what to do."

Shock ripples through the trio upon hearing that. Riki, Heeseung, and Jungwon shares a look. With an instinct of an old and eldest friend, Heeseung immediately jumps and sits beside a distressed-looking Jay.

"Jay-ah, listen to me. If she told you that herself, that means she trusts you," Heeseung assures. "You just need to get her familiarised with a safe and comforting scent, and then we can work from there. My omega starts with my hoodie."

While the two older alphas discuss about this problem Jay's having, Riki nudges Jungwon's side, one eyebrow quirking up.

"What are you doing here, Jungwon-hyung? You're still sweating, ew."

Jungwon shakes his mind off the topic that Jay has suddenly brought up. He has a mission, remember? With a mischievous smirk, he turns to Riki.

"Riki-yah, I need you to punch me."

Riki's eyes widen the size of a saucer. "Are you crazy?! Why would I punch you?"

Jungwon rolls his eyes. "I need an excuse to meet Noona…you know…that omega that I like…"

"And? I can't see the correlation."

"She's a nursing student. I want her to treat my wounds. But I'm too good at taekwondo that I ended up beating other people up instead of the opposite."

"You're actually psychotic, do you know that?"

Jungwon purses his lips. He knows that, but Riki doesn't need to rub it in his face.

"You know I don't like anyone other than her. But she only sees me like a little brother."

"And you whining to her about your injury makes you sound like a big, old alpha???"

"Yah, stop judging me!" Jungwon smacks the back of Riki's head. "Just do as I say. Imagine my face as a punching bag."

"Your face is punchable even without my imagination."

"Nishimura Riki."

"Okay, okay. Can I use my right hand?"

Jungwon squints his eyes suspiciously. "Is that your dominant hand?"

"Yes."

"Then use your left—"

Buk!

That bastard actually punched him with his right hand. What the fuck?!

Half an hour later, Jungwon is hissing as he drags himself to the nursing building. His lips is split and his cheek stings in pulsing pain. Riki is asking for an early death, seriously. He's lucky that he's cute and Jungwon has a big ass soft spot for that younger alpha.

"Jungwon-ah!"

When he enters the room he's been instructed to go to, which he belatedly recognises as the infirmary, a gasp is heard before a blur of movement jogs towards him. As soon as he senses the scent of strawberry milk that belongs to the one and only omega he has ever pined for, a small smile forms on life, and it hurts as fuck.

"Ouch," he hisses.

"Oh no, what happened to you?" She cups his face gently, and Jungwon feels bad when he sees the genuine worry in her eyes. "How did you get hurt again?"

Yeap, this is not Jungwon's first fake injury. Let's talk about that some other time.

"Some kid gave me a back kick," he says as the close proximity between their faces renders him breathless. The omega leads him to a single bed and sits him there as she finds an emergency kit.

"You should be more careful," she fusses as she readies a bottle of antiseptic and a cotton bud. "What do we do if your cute face gets damaged?"

Jungwon wants to laugh at that, but she's suddenly bending slightly to treat his wounds, diminishing the distance between them and out of nowhere all coherent words and thoughts desert his mind.

Jungwon stares at her face, at the soft crease in her frown as she carefully dabs on his wound. She's still mumbling angrily—or worriedly, he decides—but her touch is tender and soft. It stings, but Jungwon doesn't have it in him to complain or whine when they're so close like this.

"Noona," he whispers, a tiny sound that echoes in the silence. The omega hums.

Jungwon doesn't know how to fill the gap between the fast pounding of his heart, so he settles for what Jay had talked about previously.

"Do you have a nest?"

The omega looks at him questioningly. She finishes the last dab on his wound and then straightens up.

"Of course I do. Why, Jungwonie?"

Jungwon is quiet for a moment. "Will you ever invite me into your nest?"

She freezes. The bandage dressing in her hand almost drops from the sudden, intrusive question.

"Jungwon-ah, that's only for my alpha."

"Can't I be your alpha?"

She blinks at him, taken aback. But Jungwon accepts her gaze head-on, a seriousness she rarely sees glinting in his round, catlike eyes.

Then, like always, a grin splits her face as she ruffles his hair. The tension melts like chocolate in the sun, leaving him sticky with the residue of her sweetness.

"Aigo, you're so silly, Jungwonie. I might invite you just because you're cute."

That little-brotherzone, again. Jungwon lets out a long sigh. He drops on the mattress and stares at the ceiling, mimicking Jay's position previously. A defeated feeling spreads across his body as he closes his eyes.

Will you ever see me as more than a little brother, noona?

True to his promise, Jay has been a great help to you.

He arrives with two bolts of fine-gauge knit the next day, which is more than enough for your collection. The fabric runs smooth under your fingertips, soft and yielding to the shapes you have architected in your mind.

You begin working in no time, already behind your schedule when you have to redo one garment, with three more yet to be completed. But the heaviness in your shoulders feels lighter when Jay becomes a constant presence in your studio.

He comes during the gaps between his classes, spending every free time helping you build your collection. And he's surprisingly good at this stuff.

Jay knows his way around a sewing machine.

Apparently, growing up in a family that dealt with textiles meant learning far more than just the names of fabrics. He could thread a bobbin without squinting at the manual, change sewing machine needles in under a minute, and somehow knew exactly how to ease stubborn fabric beneath the presser foot without stretching it out of shape.

He wasn't as fast as you—not even close—but he was steady.

If you were the mind behind every garment, then Jay became the extra pair of hands that kept those ideas moving.

"Can you overlock these seams for me?"

"Already done."

"Jay, where are my fabric shears?"

"Left side of your cutting table."

"Can you press this after I'm finished?"

"It's already pressed."

You slowly realise that the alpha has been silently solving problems before you even notice them.

Sometimes he would arrive carrying lunch in one hand and a roll of interfacing in the other. Sometimes he'd disappear for twenty minutes only to return with matching thread because he'd noticed you were running low.

Once, without asking, he reorganised your notions drawer.

You spent fifteen whole minutes complaining that you couldn't find your seam ripper.

"Third compartment."

You opened it.

It was there.

Over the past few weeks, you've learned that he's like…a walking encyclopedia. He seems to know the most random things imaginable ('Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? I guess that's why they have so many tentacles too; they want to hug three lovers at the same time'), and he has many hobbies occupying his schedule, like golfing, Spanish classes, cycling, and even knitting.

It's refreshing to finally know an alpha whose time doesn't consist of just lectures and then a hangout at the frat house. An alpha who arranges his routine meticulously, making sure he makes good use of the time he has, and never forgets to include you in that schedule.

It warms your heart to know that.

Jay is also an active yapper. When the studio isn't vibrating with the sound of the sewing machine or the hissing of the steam iron, it's filled with his honeyed voice instead. He talks about everything and nothing, from the most trivial things to the most insane lore drops.

"My grandfather gifted me a beautiful brown cashmere cardigan before he passed away," he once revealed, a nostalgic smile curling on his lips. Your busy hands slowed at that, giving him your fullest attention when you noticed the sudden dip in his voice. "I lost it when I moved here from Seattle, and I think that was my first ever heartbreak."

When he can't show up due to other arrangements, he makes up for it by sending 'his men' in his place—his words, not yours. He definitely acts like a mob boss sometimes but you secretly find it funny and endearing.

One morning, you open the door to two unfamiliar alphas. They are tall, reaching the doorframe with ease, but their nervous looks betray the air of alpha dominance around them.

"Hello, I'm Riki and this is Heeseung-hyung," the blonde says, deep timbre rivaling a puma's purring. You only stare at them blankly, not sure how to respond, not even realising the dip in your eyebrows as you accidentally glare at them. The tall alpha then continues in a whisper, "Wow, you are as scary as what Jay-hyung said."

The burgundy alpha—Heeseung—smacks the back of Riki's head with a forced smile. "Please ignore him. He doesn't have a filter between his brain and his mouth. I'm Heeseung, and we're sent by Jay to help you."

You perk up, interested yet doubtful. "Er, the two of you?" You ask, hundred-percent skeptical.

The two alphas—like a pair of twins—shake their heads simultaneously. "Nope! Actually, yeah, it was supposed to be us—but we don't know anything about fashion designing."

"That's why," Riki continues, "we came with our omegas!"

Only then do you realise the two figures hiding behind them. Two omegas peer over the side of their arms, waving shyly at you when your eyes land on them.

Oh my. Such cute omegas they have. Your gaze softens at that.

You don't have many friends; they either didn't last long because of personality clashes, or they just befriended you to steal your sketchbook and copy your design. So the two new presences in your studio make you feel equal parts nervous and excited. Having gone so long without omega companionship, you end up acting like a teenage alpha—awkward and quiet

But the two omegas, despite their shy nature, warm up to you pretty quickly. They take one look at your station and it's enough to make them act like two excited high school girls discovering their dream jobs.

"You made this yourself?"

"Oh my, your designs are so beautiful."

"Will you be my personal designer for my wedding dress?"

The two omegas are as helpful as Jay could be, but two times faster with an extra pair of hands. The cheerleader—Heeseung's omega—is surprisingly good with needles, while Riki's omega is an expert when it comes to ironing clothes.

That night, you leave the studio with a full heart and two new numbers in your contact list.

And Jay, despite his busy schedule, will always be waiting for you in his sedan, ready to take you home. It doesn't matter whether he visits your studio or not.

Jay always makes sure that he's the one who sees you off safely.

"How was today?" The alpha asks as he calmly maneuvers the car out of the parking space. "Were Riki and Heeseung a good help for you?"

You fiddle with the lunchbox absentmindedly as your mind drifts off to the two omegas you had just spent the day with. A gentle smile touches your lips.

"Mhmm, they brought their omegas with them," you supply, voice pitched soft. Then, almost sheepishly, you add, "I made new friends."

In the reflection of the rearview mirror, the grin on Jay's lips is unmistakable. The alpha hums, too cheerful for that simple fact, as his strong arms control the steering wheel with practiced ease. He revels in the soft burst of cherry in the air, a telltale sign of your happy mood.

"They did? Did you have a good time?"

"Yes. They helped me a lot. We managed to complete another set today, which means I am ahead of my schedule."

"That's good. You can sleep in tomorrow. Or just take the day off," he glances at you before diverting his gaze back on the road. "The studio can live without you for a day."

You contemplate for a second. Jay is right. You've been locked inside the studio for far too long that it has become your second home, only coming out for classes and when it's time to go home.

Shrugging, you nod in agreement. "That sounds fun. I can finally watch Spider-Man."

"Brand New Day?"

"Mhm. That one."

"I haven't watched it yet. Do you wanna go to the cinema with me?"

"I…" How does Jay do this? He's always inserting you into his schedule and him into yours so easily that you have been so accustomed to it the way one gets accustomed to having a new pet, and you don't realise it until you find your heart agreeing to him before your mouth could. Except Jay is not a pet. He is an alpha with a black cat energy.

"Hm? Or, if you want to watch it alone, that's totally fine. Just let me pay for the ticket and the popcorn."

You narrow your eyes. "What, you think I can't afford it?"

"Never said that, Y/N, I know you can," he gently replies, "I just want to spend my money on you. Is that not allowed?"

You purse your lips. This is another side of Jay that you are trying so hard to get used to.

He loves to splurge on you.

Ever since gaining the access into your studio (and, in a way, into your life), the alpha has taken it upon him to spoil you with his riches. A new sewing machine, a new tumbler because yours didn't hold the ice longer anymore, occasional meals at his favourite five-star Michelin restaurant, new pairs of shoes, of scarves that feel soft enough for your neck, of clothes that you can afford but he wants to give it to you anyway.

It's only been a couple of weeks, but your childhood bedroom is already collecting Jay's gifts the way some people collect Pokémon cards or K-pop photocards. You have tried to refuse—because what if he kept track of it and demanded you repay him back once he lost interest in you?—but the alpha insisted. And if his way didn't work, he'd use the sneakiest way to win: by sending it to your family home and addressing it to you and your mom too.

And it works. Every. Single. Damn. Time.

This is his courting gift, your mom explained. This is him being a provider, your mom supplied. This is him wanting to be chosen as your alpha, she squealed. It was as if she was twenty-two again and it was your father that had been sending those gifts.

So, yes. Despite your initial resistance, you can't lie that Jay has been consistently and slowly winning your mom's heart. Not yours. Definitely not yours.

"Y/N? What say you?"

"Fine," you huff, "You can come, I guess."

Jay beams, the kind that rivals the streetlight lining up the streets, like the thought of spending the day with you does really warrant that much happiness for him. And you hate that you're the cause of it and the receiving end of it, because he radiates warmth, and somehow his warmth reaches the bone-deep coldness within you that not even Maki could thaw.

And you're scared of what that might mean.

"That's great. I'll pick you up at two. We'll have dinner after the movie. You can pick anywhere you'd like."

"Jay, you know I hate deciding what to eat…"

"What about malatang? Do you like malatang?"

"I do. Actually, yes, malatang sounds good."

His grin widens. "Then it's decided."

Fuck. And he knows how to get you to decide what to eat effortlessly without making you feel pressured to pick. This…this dummy…

Park Jongseong, you're really, really dangerous for my heart…

When the car pulls up in the familiar driveway of your home, you prepare to unbuckle your seat and thank the alpha beside you when a sudden thought crosses your mind.

"Ah. I almost forgot," you fish into your tote bag and bring out a piece of handkerchief. "You left this at my studio."

Jay spares it only a second of glance before he dismisses it. "Keep it."

"But it's yours."

"I know. And I told you to keep it."

A resigned sigh leaves your mouth as you keep it back inside your bag. "You seriously need to fix this habit. It's annoying, you know? One time it was your sweater, then it was your jacket," you nag, a habit that Jay has gotten used to. "By the end of this month, your entire wardrobe will be living in my room."

"Then it will be my turn living in your room, right?"

Unexpectedly, a pink flush threatens to surface on your cheeks. You glare at him, praying that it could at least mask the racing blood in your pulse.

"In your dreams!"

A chuckle leaves his cherry lips. "I'll dream of it tonight," his voice softens the way his gaze does, and you find yourself unable to breathe. "Goodnight, Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow."

With a feign annoyance, you grumble back. "Goodnight, Jay. I guess I'll see you soon."

When you reach your bedroom, you open the door of your wardrobe and look for that one corner where you keep Jay's trench coat, sweater, and jacket—stuff that are undeniably his due to how heavily scented they are by his pheromone.

"It's a growing pile," you whisper to yourself and gather all of the garments into your hand. Immediately, a citrusy scent—refreshing yet grounding and calming—bursts in your senses and you feel your body relax.

You need to keep these somewhere else, or it would get in the way of your own clothes inside the closet. Your eyes roam around your spacious room, looking for a suitable spot, before settling on your couch. Your feet bring you there without a second thought.

You arrange and rearrange, instinctively following your wolf's demand on where to put which. You don't even think about what you're doing. It's like a deeply graved habit in your system, the way you handle it, like it's something you used to do but have forgotten to.

The sweater goes at the bottom, the trench coat stays within reach. The scarf is folded over the armrest.

When you're done, you sit back on the mattress and observe the pile, a hum of satisfaction resounding within your chest.

A strange sense of peace settles over you. You hadn't realised how restless you'd been until now.

"Happy now?" you mutter to your wolf, who's been the most fussy the whole time. With a yawn, you get up to start your night routine, completely unaware of the sign the heap of garments represents.

"I'll return them to him soon."

Your wolf whines loudly. The sound brings so much heartbreak that you blink in confusion.

"What? They're his clothes," you mutter.

Another whine resounds from your chest, and this time you roll your eyes.

"You're unbelievable."

And you are stupid!

Your omega has gone insane.

The long-awaited fashion week has finally arrived.

You have been waiting with a bated breath, constipating your lungs with so much anxiety that you don't even realise how uptight you've been leading up to this day.

Every thread is oversewn. Every swipe of heat feels wrong. Every stitch is overthought. It feels like a lone battle all over again, or so you thought.

Because amidst your quiet spiraling, in between every restless night and almost-skipped meals, there's Jay—a constant, grounding presence that has attached himself into your routine whether you realise it or not.

He's there to wipe your tears, whispering 'It's okay, I got you,' when doubt eats you alive. He takes the steam iron away from your hands and offers to do all the heavy-lifting on his own. He knocks on your door with warm, homecooked meals when you forget to eat, reminding yourself to take a break once in awhile and makes sure you're never hungry.

He's everything you've prayed for. He's everything in an alpha that you've ever needed.

Even now, he's holding you gently as tears prickle in your eyes because those three models that are supposed to be here two hours ago haven't showed up or picked up any of your calls yet.

The backstage is bustling with rustles of fabrics and quiet chatters among hairdressers and the models, trying to find the most suitable strand placement for their looks. Tall alphas and betas are already cladded in hand-sewn garments that your fellow coursemates have done—yet your collection is still hanging pitifully on the hangers with no body to hug.

The number you have dialed is not in service, please—

"Fuck," the curse feels familiar on your tongue by this point, as your screen dies on you again before you tap it back to life. "T-They're not picking up—Jay—I barely have two hours left and I—"

You stutter, then the tears you've been holding at bay finally trickle down your powder-blushed cheeks. Jay tightens his hold, pumping out his calming pheromones to calm the omega within you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades tenderly, bathing you in his citrusy scent.

But there's nothing tender about his eyes.

The alpha's onyx gaze is narrow, a deep frown marring his handsome face. The gears of his mind work two times faster as he tries to think of a way out of this. It's slightly helping that you were given a private green room like the rest of your coursemates do, so at least he can focus on you without prying eyes.

You sniff and detach yourself from the crook of his neck, and Jay feels his heart crack at the sight of your tears.

"I have a cousin," you start, fiddling with your phone with trembling fingers. "He lives forty minutes away, but we can make it on time if we call him now."

You can save the weeping for later, you think as you get forced into your problem-solver mode. As you scroll your contact list, your mind desperately thinks of two other male figures in your life that could help with your situation, just anyone—even your middle-aged uncle is being considered at this point.

You think back to the three alphas and feel a tight squeeze in your chest.

"They never intended to come," you whisper, almost inaudible. "Those three. I should've known. Nothing good comes from Maki's social circle."

And then the silent 'This is all my fault' echoes in your eyes as your gaze meets Jay's. His body goes rigid as he hears this, understanding dawns on his features.

'It's not your fault,' he tries to tell you.

"I had a hunch that they're connected," Jay supplies instead. It's evident when he secretly read their profile one day, left inside the drawer of your main desk. If Jay did a background check on Maki and his whole line of friends after that with the help of Jungwon, nobody needs to know. Not even you.

"You did?" Your eyes widen a fraction. Then slowly, you mumble. "I should've known. That fucker is still bitter that I never corrected the cheating allegation and interfering with his reputation."

You focus back to your phone, your thumb hovering over your cousin's contact. However, a gentle touch holds your wrist as Jay pulls your hand down. There's an unmistakable tension in his jaw, like a brewing storm building in his nerves, but it's not directed at you. Never at you.

"Y/N," he inhales deeply, a new resolution burning in his eyes. "Your collection is walking that runway today. I promise you."

You sniffle. "Jay…"

"I don't care if I have to drag every alpha in the university here," he slowly mutters, "because I will see to it that you get that fifty-percent today."

He fishes out his phone instead, thumbs expertly swiping the screen. "Your collection."

He taps on the groupchat he shares with his friends. "Will."

'Come to the green room now. @Riki @Hee/Evan @Sunghoon Law', he types. "Walk."

He hits send. Then he looks at you, eyes softening when they land on your wet face.

"Do you trust me?"

You blink at him with a wet gaze, realising that your heart has answered that question when the words are still warm from his breath. The alpha that has been your anchor, the one that has been eroding every sharp, painful words into blunt shapes that barely hurt now. The alpha that rewrites every negative thought in your mind, soothing every doubt you never managed to escape.

Yes.

You trust Jay.

You give him a slow nod, and Jay smiles at that.

A few minutes later, the door swings open with a gush of wind. Walks in Riki with his casual nonchalance, then enters Sunghoon with his quiet grace. Heeseung follows next, his features as calm as water, as usual. Then, three shorter boys squeeze through the door, more pocket-sized than the first three, whining about getting inside first. You recognise Jake almost instantly.

"This is great. I feel like a celebrity!" Jake exclaims once he manages to enter first, eyes roaming around the green room with puppylike excitement. Meanwhile, two pairs of curious eyes watch you silently, one looks like a cat and another like a fox.

"I only requested the tall ones to come," Jay mutters when he sees all of his friends invading the green room. Jake, Jungwon, and Sunoo take offence greatly.

"Hey! That's rude!"

"As if you are any taller!"

"We are moral support!"

Jay waves a dismissive hand. "Anyway, I think you haven't met the two. The brown-haired is Sunoo and the other one is Jungwon," he briefly introduces, allowing a tiny wave from both alphas before redirecting his hand to the other three alphas. You manage to mutter a small 'Hi', still red in the face but you couldn't care less anymore.

"And you have met those three," Jay continues. "I asked them if they could be your models and they said yes."

The room falls silent. You blink between the three alphas and the garments hanging behind them, your brain struggling to catch up with what Jay has just said.

"...What?"

Riki is the first to grin.

"I've always wanted to walk a runway," he says, already strolling toward the clothing rack without an ounce of hesitation. "This is way cooler than basketball."

"You've literally never said that before," Heeseung deadpans.

"I just discovered my passion," he takes the linen set and puts it over his body, admiring himself in the mirror. "I'll make a pretty decent model, don't you think so?"

Jake scoffs. "As if."

You disagree. "Actually, you will."

Without a second thought, you approach the alpha and holds the garment over him the way he does. Riki blinks in surprise but refrains from saying anything when he sees the serious expression you wear.

"You're very tall. That's good."

Riki snickers, half-flattered and half-mischievous. "Thank you. Not many can relate to that."

Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jake shoot him a death glare.

"And your face," you examine his features closer, watching the way they catch the overhead lights like a sculpture meant to be displayed. "You have very defined and model-like features. I think you will suit this linen perfectly."

Behind you, Jay has a proud smile playing on his lips. He watches as you naturally show your expertise this way; something that he never grows tired of listening to. Often, when you're like this, he prefers stepping back and becoming a spectator instead, letting you take the reign like the passionate, diligent student that you are.

Then, as if you have just clicked into your designer mode in a snap of a finger, you walk to Sunghoon next. The alpha flinches when you suddenly leans into him with the intensity of a doctor assessing her patient.

"You are gracefully beautiful. I think you will fit the silk pieces," you comment. Sunghoon's fluffy ears flick at that, drawing your attention to the furry, soft-looking pair with a newfound interest. You hum. "Those are not a problem to me, if you're wondering. I can cut a hole for your tail."

Flushed pink on the apple of his cheeks and the tip of his ears, Sunghoon mumbles, "Thank you."

You then tap on his shoulders for good measure. "Broad shoulders too. The silk will enhance these better."

Jungwon nods along. "I was about to say the same thing."

"No, you did not."

"Okay Dr. Strange-wannabe."

"Dr. Strange is a wizard, not a mind-reader. That would be Jean Grey, you larper."

"Jean Grey is not a mind-reader either—she has telepathic power."

"Excuse me—"

The chaotic bickering between the three shorter companions becomes a background noise as you approach Heeseung last. Giving him a once-over, you take note of his medium-sized proportions, quite smaller compared to Riki and Sunghoon but still tall regardless.

He actually fits the knitwear you have prepared. The calmness he always radiates, the soft way you always notice he speaks to his omega—Heeseung is the third perfect model for you.

You feel yourself grin before you realise it.

"You're…very calm," you explains simply for the lack of a better word, "I think your facial features help with that. You will wear the knitted ones."

You clap your hands once, satisfied. "Perfect."

The seven alphas instinctively straighten their backs.

"We're running out of time, so let's begin the fitting immediately." You glance toward the rack where the accessories are lined up neatly. "After that, we'll steam the garments one last time, style the hair, and do the makeup..."

Your voice trails off. The smile slips from your face.

You're severely understaffed.

Jay notices it immediately.

"What is it?"

You jolt and immediately shake your head, forcing a smile on your face. You don't want to worry the alpha further. "Nothing. We just—we have to start now. I have three faces to do makeup on and," you glance at your wristwatch then curse quietly, "We only have one hour and fifty minutes left."

You can do this, you think. Jay is not supposed to solve all your problems. You can do the makeup on three alphas just fine—that is, if they're okay with wearing contact lenses, if their skin is not sensitive to chemical products, if their hair can give cooperation—

Without realising, your scent gives away your distress, the cherries and coffee souring in that sad tone that's undeniable to anyone, and Jay is quick to catch it. The alpha exhales softly, letting Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jake be as the three of them drag the newly-hired models to the vanity while he stand there watching you.

Why do you always worry yourself when he's right there? Do you even know that he's at your beck and call? That he'll do anything you ask him to?

A knock resounds from the door, and you snap out of your thought. You frown, thinking it was the three traitors, ready to give them the beating of their lives, but pause when you're met with two omegas instead.

"I hope we're not late," Heeseung's omega smiles—tries to, as she holds up a makeup bag, still catching her breath. "Had to rush to get this at the dorm."

"And this!" Riki's omega jumps excitedly beside her, holding a straightener and a hairdryer. You blink at them, dumbfounded, questioning what on Earth had you done in your past life to get betrayed and immediately soothed like this.

"Y-You're not late," you stutter for the first time in your life, a gratitiude so profound spreading across your chest it messes with your coherent thoughts. A stinging pain begins to form behind your eyes—hot and warm and will flow if you didn't stop yourself now.

"I…thank you…"

"No worries! Hurry!" Riki's mate holds you by your wrist and drags you inside. "You can do Sunghoon's makeup! I'll do my baby ducky's."

"I am a puma!" Riki argues.

"And I'll do my baby bambi's!" Heeseung's omega squeals.

"I'm a…yes, actually, I'm a bambi." Heeseung calmly agrees when his eyes catch his omega's in the mirror. They share a small, almost-shy smile and you roll your eyes playfully at that.

The green room is a blur of movement—of two omegas fussing over makeup on their mates, of three boys bickering over how to iron every garment correctly—but your center of gravity, the subject of your clarity stands in the middle of it.

The only steady thing you can reach for whenever the world tips beneath your feet, the strength you need when you're weak in the knees, the calm in every storm you face. The voice of reason to your spiraling—never belittling you for crying over the smallest thing. The one who offers solutions instead of sighs, who reaches out instead of walking away.

Park Jongseong.

The alpha's eyes are already on you—have always been, whether you're looking or not—and you're suddenly filled with this feeling of undeservingness, because truly, what did you do to deserve this? To be grazed upon a touch so gentle you would break from how tender it is, to be engulfed in his warm embrace every time you feel like the whole world is against you?

The tears are no longer from panic.

They come from the overwhelming gratitude swelling inside your chest, and from finally putting a name to the feeling you've been trying so hard to outrun.

Love.

It's ironic, that it's amidst the chaos that you find clarity.

You love Park Jongseong, and for the first time ever in your life, you want to give your heart over to an alpha.

Your lips curl into a teary smile, watching his face morph into worry when he notices the shine in your eyes.

"Thank you…"

For everything.

For accepting you, jagged and imperfect that you are.

For always being patient in learning you.

And for a reckless, utterly embarrassing moment, you think you could kiss him right then and there.

As though sensing the thought before you could bury it, Jay's lips curve into the smallest smile.

He doesn't say anything. He simply mouths, 'Go.'

'They're waiting for you.'

Without missing a beat, your wolf and heart whisper:

I love you, Park Jongseong.

The semester has ended, and peace finally settles over your studio.

Everything is tidied up and rearranged back into its original place, waiting to collect dust for the weeks to come before a new semester begins again. The fashion week has wrapped up in a better way you could have imagined—Riki, Heeseung, and Sunghoon were fitted for your collection more than anyone ever could.

You just come back from your lecturer's office, wearing a frown that does not fit with the lighthearted mood inside the studio, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jay.

"She's a fucking witch, Jay!" You start as soon as you enter. "She takes back one percent of my marks because I hired a hybrid model on stage? That's inhumane! Does Sunghoon face this discrimination on a daily?"

Jay perks up at that. The alpha has been diligently cleaning your studio despite your refusal, insisting to do it because he wants to. You had let him, because you know no words could convince him otherwise.

"She did? That's a serious offence," Jay grumbles. "And to answer your question—yeah, unfortunately. He's known as the big bad wolf in law school."

The gasp you let out is audible. Jay watches as various expressions cross your face, all five stages of grief seems to be whirling around in your mind before you decide on anger. It's cute how easy for him to read you now, compared to the grumpy persona you gave him in the earlier days.

"This can't do. We have to help Sunghoon."

Jay chuckles at that. He reaches an arm over the top shelf, placing a box of your unused fabric on top of it. "Don't worry. He is under the protection of the omega rights activist club. Ironically."

"Why is that so?" You inquire curiously.

"Not sure why," Jay shrugs. "The president seems fond of him. She has been taking care of Sunghoon quite well, despite the backlash. And she's also just a student like us, mind you."

A beat of silence passes and Jay knows that you're already deep in thought. Whether you're thinking of ways to reprimand the lecturer, or to contact the president of the club's president to share custody of Sunghoon together—he's not sure.

A finger pokes the space between your brows.

"Stop frowning. You'll wrinkle faster."

"My anti-aging booster serum begs to differ."

Jay smiles softly. "Are you ready to go home now?"

At the mention of that, you're suddenly avoiding his gaze, suddenly sheepish. Jay thinks his vision is tricking him when he sees the faintest hue of red dusting your cheeks. He's still not used to seeing the shy version of you but he knows he can never get enough of it.

"Yes. Please drop me at my apartment."

"Your—apartment?" Jay blinks confusedly. That's your private unit where you used to live in before moving. "Not your family home?"

You shake your head. "No. I…have something to show you."

If a physical question mark existed, it'd be hanging over his head by now. Jay hums, quieting down his curiosity as he follows you out of the studio.

If there's one thing Jay dislikes the most, it's not knowing something about you.

He takes it upon himself to study everything about you. The micro-expressions that give your feelings away despite you masking up your scent. He knows your routine like he memorises the beat to his favourite song. He has lists upon lists of your do's and don'ts, your likes and hates, of menus he have tried cooking and have not. The movies you like to rewatch and the particular way you like to do your hair. Even the name of your neighbour's cat that you love to secretly give food to.

So you being this secretive is fraying at his nerves. Jay wants to know. He's nosy like that about everything-you, and he has terrible FOMO when it comes to you.

But he tones it down for the sake of not ruining your mood, because among the things that he's learned about you, one of it is that you lose your temper quite fast. And he does not want that when you're humming a happy tune, an indication that you're in a great mood despite what had gone down with your lecturer just now.

When the two of you finally arrive at your godforsaken apartment, Jay feels like the elevator isn't fast enough to bring him to your unit. He's tapping his shoes, then stopping, then resuming again in slight annoyance when it seems to take forever to reach the top floor.

"The code's 458732," you casually tell him as you punch in the code. "In case of emergency."

Jay files away that information in the compartment of his brain that is named 'Y/N'.

The interior is a harmony of brown and beige, a combination that screams cozy and warmth. As expected, every furniture is placed to make the space looks spacious and lived-in, something that he expects you'd do. It's a unit of three bedrooms, but Jay can't help noticing the vacancy of two other rooms when he walks through the hallway.

We can turn one into a storeroom, he thinks subsconciously. And another, well, when I marry her, that could be where the crib is.

Jay doesn't realise the direction his mind is taking until it's too late. He shakes his head aggressively, willing the thoughts away, and he doesn't know why his gaze drifts to your lips and then…down to your chest.

No. Stop that. He is not a pervert!

Meanwhile, you're a nervous wreck as you hold the knob of your bedroom. What you're about to do is something that feels bigger than the sky; something that you could only watch on screen before; something to daydream when all felt too hopeless. You're not sure how Jay would react to it, but you know he would never, ever hurt you intentionally.

And that thought alone pushes you to finally open the door.

As soon as you step in, the scent of cherries and lemon, a perfect harmony of your scent and his, swirls into your nose. It hangs in the air like beautiful trinkets of wind chimes, engulfing your senses like a warm blanket. Beside you, Jay pauses, his breath hitching once he registers what he's seeing.

There, where your mattress is, is a heap of garments that he knows too well. Jay takes a closer look, stepping forward while you close the door, and feels the exact moment coherent words desert his being.

His sweater, jacket, trench coat, handkerchief—alongside additional items like his forgotten scarf, his tie that he let loose once and then forgot to take back, the black cat plushie he once won for you at the arcade—are neatly arranged into a circle, a wall of defense that he recognises too well.

A nest. You built a nest. And you did not just build a nest—you built a nest with pieces of him that he left both on purpose and accidentally; with his pheromone that he once thought wasn't fitting for an alpha like him.

He knows the first four pieces of fabric by heart—three of them he left for this sole purpose, and the trench coat was the one you had snatched for him that fated night—a memory that he looks back on fondly whenever he remembers it. But the others—the scarf, the tie, the plushie—he never knew you'd use them too.

"Y/N…" Jay trails off, utterly lost for words.

You shuffle shyly beside him, avoiding his gaze when he turns to look at you.

"I built a nest," you helplessly supply, stating out the obvious. Jay does not say anything. He only stares at the side of your face like he just found a new altar to worship.

You step to your mattress and carefully sit in the middle of it, mindful of where your bare feet lie. The natural distribution of your weight tilts the nest a fraction, and only then did Jay notice two small plushies of a bunny and a white cat—no doubt gifted by his two friends' mates, your new omega companions that has been painting new colours into your life. His heart swells at that.

"Jay-ah…" you slowly mutter, fingers fiddling with each other.

Jay feels his throat close up. He knows what's about to come, but knowing doesn't ease the sting of oncoming tears behind his eyes; does nothing to stop his heart from growing and growing because that's what his love does for you everyday—it just keeps expanding and claiming its territory over every inch of his body that he's afraid his chest might explode, that he knows that if there were ink, every corner within him would be branded with your name because he is utterly, wholly yours.

"Do you…do you want to come into my nest?"

Jay thinks he really might explode. No, he's actually exploding, because how can one describe the river of tears now flooding his cheeks?

With a teary smile, the alpha asks, "A-Are you sure?"

You purse your lips, feeling the wetness forming in your eyes as well as you open your arms for him.

"Mhmm. Please come to me."

Jay couldn't waste any second longer. He takes a slow, steady step and the next moment he's already inside the nest with you. Like the north to the south of a magnetic field, his hands are drawn to your waist and he pulls you into a tight embrace.

He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and feels your body tense for one second before melting into the hug. Your hands, more dainty than his, come to wrap around his torso as you accept the warm embrace.

It's the first hug the two of you share, and Jay is already wanting more of it.

"Thank you," Jay whispers, voice muffled on your skin. He tightens his hold. "Thank you, Y/N, this is—oh Goddess—this is so beautiful."

You let his shirt absorbs your tears as you fake a calm, steady answer. "Yeah? Do you like my nest?"

"I love it," Jay lets go reluctantly, because as much as he craves this, craves being in your arms, he craves to watch the sparkles in your eyes more than anything. He cups your face gently. "I love it so much. It's such a beautiful nest. So cozy and warm."

A beam stretches across your cherry lips, and Jay feels the strongest urge to kiss them.

"Really? I'm glad to hear that…"

You're thrumming with a strong sense of pride, feeling more than satisfied that he likes your nest. It has taken lots of overthinking and effort, and a hell amount of anxiety to build it, because is a nest is never just a nest; both to the omega and the alpha. You hug him again, hiding your face in his chest as Jay returns the gesture.

For a moment, there's a comfortable silence as the two of you share your body warmth. Jay traces a shapeless distraction on your back, still a bit too overwhelmed with this revelation. You press an ear on his chest where his heart resides in and listen to the fast pounding of his heart.

Your wolf hums, deeply sated with this win.

"What does this mean for us?" Jay whispers, finally asking the inevitable. He looks down to cradle your face again, tracking the dried tears with the rough of his thumb.

"Can I…Can I really be your alpha now?"

Your face morphs into a frown playfully. "What? Do you think I just invite anyone into my nest?" Then, softly, you close your fingers around the wrist that is holding your face.

"Of course you can, Jay. I want you to be my alpha, as long as you want me to be your omega."

"I want it," he says within a beat, breathless from eagerness. "I want you. Goddess, I want you so much, Y/N, you have no idea."

A giggle escapes your lips. You then bring down his hand and untangle your hold from his wrist. The alpha frowns at the loss of touch, and before he could ask further, you're already pulling away.

"Wait, I have something else to show you."

"What is it? Don't go too far."

"I won't," you laugh at his sudden clinginess but secretly love it. "It should be just under the pillow—oh! Found it!"

When you pull out the fabric from under the pillow, all sound seems to be vaccumed into a silence so resounding you believe a pin-drop would be heard like an earthquake. Jay's smile falters slightly, staring at the piece of garment with recognition.

When his eyes raise to meet yours, they hold so many questions mixing with nostalgia.

"I asked your mom if she had a picture of that cardigan that your grandfather gifted you," you shyly provide, squirming under his intense gaze. "It's not the exact same or near perfect to what he actually gave you. But I tried to copy everything so that it would at least look and feel similar."

The brown cardigan, made from a bolt of cashmere that you negotiated your way to get, sits idly on your palms. It's folded neatly, but the tiny patterns of cherries and thick stripe of pale green is unmistakable for the alpha. Jay simply stares at it, heavy with something finally awakened again after being drowned in a grief and longing so profound that it had quietened the memory.

"…Jay?"

Jay believes he had mentioned it only in a passing, in the spur of the moment when you were looking at him with such vulnerability after a tiring day with your advisor that had prompted him to be vulnerable with you too. He was too deep in this mindset that he has to be a good alpha and provider for you, that sometimes it slips from his mind he needs taking care too.

You hear a quiet sniffle before you're being pulled into a hug again. This time, one of his hands go over the cardigan and holds it with the fervor of a man finding his reason; finding his purpose again after being lost for so long.

"I couldn't thank you enough," Jay whispers, wet with tears that seem unstoppable now. "Thank you, thank you so much, I—I love this so much. I love you."

Your eyes mirror his, your heart squeezing at that. The words echo like the tune of your favourite poem, chiming in your head in a resounding melody that brings deep tranquillity inside you.

I wish to always hold you, you think, as you hold him the same intensity.

You close your eyes and feel something in your chest settles, the frantic heartbeat that used to be lost without any direction has finally found its tempo.

"I love you too."

I wish to always love you, Park Jongseong.

for the minors, this is your ending <3

as for you legal baddies, wait for them fucking later i jinjja will post it soon :p

divider from @/cursed-carmine

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula @sugarcwtie @whiskymiller @buttersoob @girliepop-is-in-the-house @jaeyunluvr14

smut tags―big huge dick jake, phone sex (ish), face time sex,  masturbation, pet name: baby, making out, he eats you out twice, fingering, whining and whimpering, deep throating, premature ejaculation, desperate man wants his dick wet lmao, grinding, tit fondling/licking, clit stimulation, he bites the fuck out of his tongue to try and distract himself from coming too soon again,  no condom aka cream pie, jake gets feelings like immediately when u touch him

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Check this shit out,” you laugh, presenting your phone to Jay with a chuckle. “yes or no?”

Jay snorts, nearly spitting out the bite of food in his mouth as he reads the bio of the man you’re showing to him.

“Depends, you trying to take his innocence or are you trying to get railed so hard that the entire building can hear?” He narrows his eyes at you, making a point to call you out for keeping him awake last weekend. 

You wave him off with an apologetic look. To be fair, the dude from before knew how to make a girl moan, it’s not your fault that you managed to find a decent lay in this city. Even if he ghosted you, you assume you may have been a bad lay for him, if anything. 

“I wouldn’t mind trying something new, dude seems desperate.” You swipe through his photos, seeing that he appears to be just a normal dude with normal interests. “He’s cute too, so I’m gonna say yes.”

Jay groans this time, slapping a hand to his forehead and glaring at you. 

“You’d better warn me if you end up bringing him home, I’m not about to listen to some guy start crying over a blowjob.”

You nod to him, sending a message to the eighty-two-year-old Jake and feeling delighted at his near-instant response to you. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure you’re out of the apartment if I invite him over,” You wiggle your brows as you stand to your feet and turn toward your room, eyes now glued to the open dating app’s messages. “Maybe you should go out and find a nice girl to rail to get back at me.”

“You’re so fucking weird.” Jay laughs but feels kind of shitty because it’s not like he hasn’t been trying to get back at you for the loud sex. Guess he just doesn’t have the magic dick to make girls moan the same way you do.

Not that he wants to make you moan or anything, he definitely doesn’t. If anything, he wishes you were more like the girls he brings home.

Fucking quiet.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You: i’ve never seen a virgin grandpa on this app before 

Jake: ….i’m 21, it says that in my bio

You: I think you’re lying. 

Jake: do u know how to change it, my bitch friends won't tell me lol

You: why would i help you lie to other women

Jake: i’m not lying!!1

You laugh to yourself as you text the new sex interest in your life, wondering if he’s lying about his presumed virginity. 

You: ok, twenty-one-year-old “jaeyun” who is five miles away from me, you’re actually a virgin? Like for real?

Jake: yea….are u here to make fun of me for it too? all the girls here just turn me down even if i offer to cook for them after

Jake: maybe it's the playlists idk

You: send me the playlist

Jake: [spotify link to a playlist titled “NUT”] 

You try not to snort, but you do. Given, he does have decent taste, but why anyone would have dynamite by bts and never say never by justin bieber on their sex playlist is beyond you. 

You: surely it’s not your playlist…….

You: anyway

You: you’re really just looking to get laid for the first time, like, ever? and you’re offering to cook dinner too?

Jake: yea

You: you’ve never had a blowjob or anything like that? you can’t seriously think I can believe you’ve never been laid, it’s not like you’re ugly or anything

Jake: u don’t think im ugly? :) 

Jake: and yea I’ve had a blowjob before

You: why didn’t you sleep with her then?

Jake: can we stop talking about why im a virgin

You: sure but you know im gonna bring it up again, right?

You’re smiling at your phone, finding him charming and awkward in how he communicates with you via messenger. Of course, you’re curious as to why he’s a virgin, even more, curious as to why he’s on a dating app looking to lose said virginity. 

You: do you want my number? it’s embarrassing to have the app open in public if i wanna talk to you.

Jake, on the other hand, is quite literally kicking his feet and checking your profile every few minutes just to look at you. He didn’t even think too hard about you calling him attractive then not following up on it, because the fact that you just offered your number to him in case you want to talk to him? Butterflies. Given, it’s juvenile for someone of his age to still be experiencing the typical high-school crush feelings, would anyone blame him? It’s just how he is, with or without having had sex. He can’t imagine not feeling giddy inside when he’s talking to someone that he thinks is pretty. 

Jake: yea :) u can text me whenever [redacted phone number] 

You respond to him by texting his number rather than using the app messenger, screenshotting his contact info, and sending it to him with a sly smile. 

You: [screen shot// contact name: grandpa jake] 

Grandpa Jake: :| 

Grandpa Jake: im 21

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, here’s the thing. Jake is undeniably funny, witty, and kind. Another thing, he’s wildly attractive. Especially upon fulfilling your request for a workout selfie from him. So, what gives? You read the texts he’s sent that made you laugh out loud, you look at his pictures, stare at the workout selfie, and you genuinely cannot understand how he doesn’t have women waiting in line to have at him. 

You: it’s been like four days since we started talking

Grandpa Jake: yep, almost five

You: four days of being friends but no mention of your bio on the app, yknow, where you’re begging to have sex for the first time ever?

Grandpa Jake: right, yea. you wanna do it? i didn’t wanna assume lol

You: not answering that til you explain why. i mean, it’s totally ok that you are but like, you’re a green flag all around so im a little worried you might have like a micropenis or something

Disclaimer, if he had a micropenis, you’d still let him use it on you. After all, hooking up is something you enjoy doing regardless of size.

Grandpa Jake: i do NOT have a micropenis

You: prove it

Grandpa Jake: right now???

You laugh to yourself but also like, it’s the first time the two of you have done anything more than bully each other. Or rather, you bully him and he defends himself constantly. 

You: answer my question first

It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but you’re doing coursework anyway so it’s not a huge deal. Totally not like your ears perk up and a smile creeps across your face every time your phone goes off or anything. Definitely not. 

Grandpa Jake: um… i still live with my parents and before u make fun of me for that pls understand that its not like i wanna be here 

Grandpa Jake: i have a job and everything!!! im not a mooch!

He’s getting off track again. You could honestly care less if he still lives with his parents. You wish you still lived with yours, to save money at least. 

You: they won’t let you have anyone over? 

Grandpa Jake: well, that too but 

Grandpa Jake: listen this sounds real stupid but it just never happened? even when i tried or things almost happened, it never did

You: damn, you’re unlucky. so what happened with the girl who gave you a blowjob?

Grandpa Jake: her boyfriend walked in

You: WHAT

You’re trying to pity him, honestly, but damn. Did he go for a taken girl? Yikes. You hate to admit the ick that just flooded your mind. 

Grandpa Jake: its not like i knew she had a boyfriend

You: phew 

Grandpa Jake: so yea. do u wanna help me out or not? 

The whole reason you started talking to him was specifically to help him out. Now that you know he’s not some weirdo, and is definitely super hot and funny, hell yes. 

You: yeah, sure. 

You: about the micropenis though, 

Grandpa Jake: right…um

A few minutes of silence, your coursework is long forgotten in the anticipation of receiving your first dick pic from Jake. You wait, and you wait, and you wait.

You: i mean if you can’t prove it that's ok 

Grandpa Jake:  just give me a sec damn

He’s doing his best to get the most attractive angle. It’s not like he’s never sent nudes to anyone or anything, but like– this is you. The first person to actually agree to take his virginity. Should he hold it? Put a remote next to it for size? Should he have his face in the pic? Take a mirror pic? 

Of course, as he’s taking several pictures of his length to try and impress you, he had to get hard first. He can’t imagine you’d want a flaccid cock pic in your inbox, and that would also mean that he’s working himself up with the amount of touching, holding, and groping throughout the past sixteen photos he’s taken and deleted. It’s at the point that now it’s actually hard to care about taking a photo, pre-cum already dripping out of him as he continues to try.

He’s entered the realm of his regular horny self, only this time he’s texting you. Someone who wants to see what he’s packing. Taking a dick pic is insanely easy once he stops thinking with his brain, and he’s quick to send you a photo of himself this time. His chin at the top of the picture, face entirely hidden, hand wrapped around his thick and leaking cock, sweatpants shoved down. 

Grandpa Jake: [image attachment] 

In all fairness, you’ve never actually cared much for dick pics. Men always look too confident even with the smallest of girth being offered through the pixels. Jake though. He looks a bit desperate even with his face hidden. His cock looks desperate, his fingers wrapped around it look desperate, the way his sweatpants hug against his thighs look desperate. And now, you feel desperate. You keep your cool though.

You: oh, you were jerking off, got it. 

Grandpa Jake: sorry can’t help it 

Then he doesn’t text you back. Which is kind of a drag because he looks to be quite big in the photo alone. Maybe you’d be okay just this once to look like the desperate one. Mostly because you’re about ten seconds from trying to figure out which direction five miles away he resides so you can go palm his cock for him. Plus, the idea of an absolute simp virgin like him seeing you act a little desperate would probably be one for the books. 

You: you know i can help you out with that, right? especially since you definitely don’t have a micropenis

You’re still being ignored. The silence from your phone makes your belly flip around inside of you at the image of him doing it too. He probably does it a lot. He’s probably desperate to feel good and watches porn like 24/7. You can imagine how he’d act if you were in front of him right now, the very idea of taking his virginity becoming entirely too attractive.

Shrugging, knowing full well what he’s doing right now that’s causing him to ignore you, you press the call button and wait. You’re a little bit nervous, mostly because you’ve never actually heard his voice before, or better yet how he sounds when he’s getting off. You’re shocked that he actually answers. 

“Hello?” He says, muffled through the phone and trying to sound not-so-out-of-breath. It’s not like he looked at who was calling him anyway. With his luck, it’s probably Heeseung or some shit.

“Don’t hello me,” You gripe, narrowing your eyes at yourself in your mirror. “You’re just gonna jerk off without me after I agreed to help you fix your little problem?” 

The silence on his end is a bit nerve-wracking until you hear the frantic sound of his palm clearly wreaking havoc on him. You smirk, leaning back on your chair and sighing. On his end, processing that it’s you on the other line sends his entire body into a state of burning with arousal. Your voice is sweet even when you speak with the same sarcasm as you do via text. 

God, this alone is enough for him right now. 

“Were you at least thinking of me?”

He hums into the phone, indicating that yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His voice is kind of soft despite only hearing one word and a hum, you want to actually hear him talk to you, or moan, whichever he decides. 

“Were you looking at my pictures?”

He nods his head, forgetting that you’re not able to see him and instantly responds with a small and breathy yes instead. It’s a bit difficult for him to talk right now, especially now that he can put a voice to the photos he’s been jerking off to. It’s a bit overwhelming, actually.

“Do you want better ones?” You ask, encouraging him to speak a bit more. 

“Oh god, really?” He asks through the speaker, his hand pausing on his length as if to hold off until you confirm. “Like, nudes?”

“Mhm, yeah. If you want.” You smile as you speak to him, already standing to shimmy your pajamas off of you and stand in front of the mirror. “Or, you know what would be better?”

“Letting me come over and actually do it?” That’s what he wants to say to you, but he doesn’t, he simply raises a brow and bites his lip, trying to contain his excitement.

“What?” He asks, still keeping his responses short because despite how into this he is, he’s a bit shy about it. 

“I can facetime you.” 

He panics. That means you’ll be watching him too, right? Sure he’s sent nudes, he’s received nudes. He’s sent videos too, and received them. But never has he like, you know, live masturbated on facetime so someone else can watch. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” You backtrack at his silence, but you’re cut off almost immediately. 

“No! no, we can facetime–”

Your stomach flips again as you fix yourself quickly in the mirror before setting your phone against your desk and rolling back a bit in your chair to determine if it’ll work this way or not. It’s not like he’s expecting you to do it too, he probably just thinks you’re gonna sit here naked for him to stare at. You’re kind of excited to see him in action, to hear him in action for you.

You hit the button to switch the call over to facetime and once again adjust your phone as you stare at yourself in the camera. Then you’re needing to catch your breath at the image of him.

Oh fuck.

There he is, his camera angled towards his face and not at all toward what's going on below his waist, but you don’t mind at first. Looking at him, the lighting clearly shows that he’s a fan of mood lighting. You watch his eyes briefly, staring through the screen at you before moving your eyes to his arm, the one that clearly isn’t holding his phone because you can see it moving as he continues to jerk himself off. It’s an interesting feeling to have only seen him in photos until this moment, and it’s insanely attractive for some reason. Seeing him in motion, knowing what he’s doing, knowing that he feels good right now because of you.

“Let me see,” you say quietly, adjusting your bra strap and preparing to slip it off of you if he so much as asks. “Prop your phone up somewhere like I did.”

He nods, his eyes still staring straight through his screen at you as he moves around and the image becomes a blur of movement rather than his face. He settles in quickly, somehow looking even more attractive with the way his eyes no longer stare at the screen. You can almost sense a hint of shyness from him at this moment and it kind of floors you, given how easy he is to talk to and how easily he sent a dick pic to you.

“Feeling shy?” You ask, spreading your legs wide and cupping the seat of your panties, hiding the small spot of wetness forming there. “You act like I’m not going to be touching you at some point soon.”

You see him perk up, his eyes looking to you on the screen with more fondness than arousal. At the same time, his hand grips the base of his cock as he holds it straight up, erect and glistening proudly for you to look at. 

“You look pretty big, bet you could fill me up so nicely,” You try to compliment, boosting his confidence and ego as best you can simply because he looks pretty with a smile on his face. Especially when his cock twitches at the words. “Would you want to do that for me, Jake?”

“Oh god,” He groans, hearing his name come from your mouth for the first time. His hand jerks up his length once, almost aggressively as he winces at it. “This is going to be so embarrassing.” He admits now, sliding his palm up and down shamelessly as he watches between your spread legs. 

In a way, he wonders if you can see how desperate he is. There’s no way you can’t, right? Like, you can see how badly he wants you, right?

“Embarrassing, why?” You chuckle, tapping now at the spot between your legs. “Can you not see that I’m just as turned on right now?”

He groans again with deep breaths, releasing his length and using that same hand to swipe his hair out of his face, then immediately grimacing at the fact that he now has pre-cum in his hair. Embarrassing, all of it. 

“Well,” He tries to avoid you bringing up the fact that he just did that and only shoots his hand back to his cock in order to distract whatever off-hand shit you’re about to say. “You don’t even have your panties off yet, and I could probably get off right now.”

You laugh, not wanting to ruin the mood with the whole cum on his own face thing, so you save that for later. Instead, you instantly slip your panties off and present yourself to him much like he’s doing for you. 

“Better?”

Jake watched with his breath stuck in his throat, now finding it harder to breathe at the image of your pussy and the way he hopes he can touch it one day. 

“Can you–” He pauses, not being used to dirty talk towards anything other than the porn playing on his phone. He thinks hard, and you can see it based on the way he, once again, neglects his cock with an unmoving palm.

“Can I do what?  Go on,” You urge him, running a hand up to your chest and fondling your nipples right there in front of him, but not yet moving the fabric. “What do you want me to do for you, baby?”

Baby. You called him baby. Not that he’s into that but the fact that you did it makes him wonder if he is now. Maybe it’s because he wants you to take him for all he’s worth at this point. One, to get rid of the virginity looming over his head, and two, because you sound so fucking smooth when you’re watching him get off. 

“Can you spread your pussy for me?” He whispers at first, uncaring of how dirty it sounds falling out of his throat with a moan. 

His eyes are boring a hole through his screen as he watches one of your hands tease at your hidden nipples, and the other hand sliding up and down the wet folds there. So badly does he want to see it. He wants to see your hole pulsing for him, leaking, needy. Just like him.

His cock twitches wildly the second you do it for him. Two fingers spreading your pussy open and tensing your hips just to move it closer to the screen for him. 

“Is this what you want?” You start, making damn sure he can see every part of your glistening cunt. “You want to fuck this?” You chuckle now, slowly dipping a finger into yourself and pulling it back out to present the wetness for him.

“Oh,” he sighs, now fucking into his fist at a pace that proves he’s most definitely never fucked a woman before. “Fuck.”

You nod at him, urging him to keep admitting his attraction to you. You’re aware he doesn’t see it though, as his hips continue to move quicker and quicker each time you press your finger into yourself. 

“You gonna act like this when I’m riding you?” You ask with a tilted head, studying how hard he’s fucking against his hand. You can imagine how good it would feel if it were you, and quite frankly, this one finger isn’t enough at this point. 

“God. You’re gonna ride me?” He moans, eyes rolling only slightly as he imagines it, mouth falling open at the mere thought of it. 

“Mhm,” you hum, now sliding in another finger and scissoring yourself open with them. “Would you want that?”

Before you can even work yourself up, and before he can even answer that question, you see him release. His cum shooting out in spurts across his stomach and nearly up to his chest. His labored breathing shifts the lighting against his abs and makes him look so entirely delicious. You’ve never wanted to lick a man clean so badly in your life.

You’re not even upset that he didn’t make it into the knitty gritty, considering he’s a virgin and all and you’re literally fucking yourself in front of him while implying riding him. You’re actually flattered. 

His release caused him to see white for several moments, forgetting he’s even on camera for you. When he comes back to reality, watching you continue to finger yourself as your eyes scan your screen, all he can do is feel bashful. 

“S-shit, sorry,” He comments with a half laugh, looking down at his cum covered chest before looking at you again. Honestly, he could probably go again if you let him watch for a bit longer, but he’s embarrassed now. “I uh, didn’t mean to come that fast. It just kind of happened.”

“It’s okay,” You comfort him, slightly out of breath as you wonder if this is all you’re gonna get tonight. “It was cute.”

After a few moments, you sense his embarrassment and slowly slip yourself back into a sobering headspace, closing your legs and trying to ignore how wet you still are.

“Are you, um, done?” Jake says, disappointed.

“Mm, no.” You smile. “But it’s okay, I’d rather make you come first anyway.”

His face lights up despite the disappointment in his gut of not being able to see you get off. 

“You still wanna see me after this?”

You nod with a smile, endeared by his need to give, but inability to do it.

“When are you free?” You ask, wondering if he’s ever going to clean himself up. 

“Whenever you are.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head with, once again, the same cum-stained hand. 

“I’ll text you later then,” You smile through the screen and give a small wave before your genuine smile turns into a smirk. “After I take care of my little problem though.”

You notice him sitting up in protest, but you hang up with a satisfied laugh and head to the shower to both finish yourself off and clean up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Grandpa Jake: what about 3pm on thurs?

You: you want to lose your virginity at 3pm….on a thursday???

Grandpa Jake: my parents have plans so ill have the house to myself for a few hours

You: or you could just come here? 

Grandpa Jake: if ur comfortable with that? i thought u were supposed to come here lol

You: im comfortable, plus my roommate will kick your ass if you’re weird

Jake contemplates hard on that last part but shrugs over it. Probably a girl thing, and it’s not like he’s an actual creep or anything. You’d be the one with power over him when the two of you are alone anyway. 

You: what about tomorrow, 8pm? 

Tomorrow. Hell yeah, tomorrow. God, he’d show up right the fuck now if you let him. He may live with his parents but he’s got a car. 

Grandpa Jake: send ur address, ill be there :) 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Tomorrow, you’ll be a man.” Heeseung croaks through the speaker at Jake, totally assuming that this whole virginity loss dating app plan was actually just a joke. 

“Why do you have to say it that way?” Jake groans back, slapping his hand over his forehead and rubbing his temples. “I didn’t think anyone was actually gonna come through, she’s the first one.”

“What makes you think she’s actually gonna send you her address?” Heeseung laughs, once again placing more pity onto his best friend than anything else. “She’s probably not even a real person, you’re gonna end up at some old guy’s house.”

Jake laughs, or snorts really. 

“Oh, she’s real.”

Heeseung sits up in curiosity this time, switching his phone to the other ear with interest. 

“Hm? Have you already met her?”

“Kind of. We like, um,” Jake pauses, wondering if he sounds way too excited to tell him or not. “We facetimed a few hours ago.”

Silence.

“She got naked.”

“Oh ho ho!” Heeseung encourages him. “So you guys did some stuff on facetime and she still wants to meet you?” 

“That’s what I said–wait,” Jake smiles to himself, about two seconds from kicking his feet before realizing what Heeseung just said. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re kind of a loser, we’ve been over this.” Heeseung laughs yet again. “Call me when you get your cherry popped or whatever.”

Then he hangs up. 

Grandpa Jake: do u think im a loser?

You: yeah kinda

You’re laughing at his text as you sit across the table from Jay.

“That him texting?” Jay quirks a brow, watching you smile at your phone and practically ignore him. 

You laugh again at Jake’s string of defensive texts before responding with a short “it’s okay, i like losers”, and putting your phone down to finish telling Jay that he’s gonna get kicked out tomorrow for the night. 

“So,” You clap your hands in front of yourself, glaring at Jay. “You’re gonna have to be gone tomorrow at eight because I'm about to literally obliterate this guy.”

“Jesus, I’m scared for him.”

“You should be scared for me. Because, well…” You trail off for a second, scrolling up your texts to see the dick pic Jake sent before the facetime call. “He’s huge and–”

“I did not need to know that.” Jay sighs, scooting back in his chair and standing to his feet. 

“You act like you don’t ask every time I fuck someone.” You roll your eyes at him, smiling. “Weirdo.”

Jay stands there awkwardly before shrugging and lunging for your phone. 

“How big?” He laughs, not actually trying to see the dude’s dick but always way too curious for his own good despite never wanting to be around to hear what the big dicks do to his best friend. 

“Stop prying, you’ll get jealous.”

He scoffs, brushing off his pants of invisible dust and crossing his arms. 

“I’ll have you know, my dick is perfectly sized.”

“I’m sure it is. Anyway, tomorrow, be gone.” 

He nods, sauntering to the living room and flopping down on the couch. 

“Keep it in your room, please. I don’t want to sit on any cum when I get home.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s Thursday. It’s approximately seven in the evening on Thursday and you’re well aware that Jake is probably bubbling with anxiety if his texts are anything to go by. 

So many “are you sures,” so many “you can tell me to leave if you decide you don’t want tos,” and even more “i can’t wait to see yous.”

“Jay, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” You ask, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. 

You’ve already showered again today, primped yourself up for him really. Everything smooth, soft, and ready to be touched. You wonder if Jake is doing the same, and smile.

“Hm, yeah. But I kinda wanna see him before I leave.”

You turn your head to him with a curious look, glaring only slightly.

“I swear to god if you scare him off, I’m kicking you out.”

Jay laughs, patting the couch as if to invite you to sit with him to ease your own anxiety. He can smell the familiar lotion you use before dates, and he notes that you’ve really tried to look good today. 

“I think you might kill him, if I’m being honest.” Your best friend laughs softly, complimenting you. 

“Thanks, that’s the plan.”

And so, the two of you sit together laughing at stupid comedy shows until your phone lights up at around seven thirty. 

Grandpa Jake: i’m a little early, is that ok? 

“Oh shit, he’s here.” You immediately feel nervous, which is pretty normal for you anyway so it’s easily overlooked by Jay. 

He jumps up, brushing off his clothes and walking toward the kitchen to grab his keys and wallet. 

“Let him in then, I’ll leave when he gets here.”

You give him a knowing look before nodding. 

You: second floor, take a left when you get to the top of the stairs, third apartment on the left.

Within minutes, there’s a very gentle knock on the door and Jay is throwing himself at it to get a look at him. Unfortunately it’s a bit more awkward than he expected it to be. 

Not only did Jake think your roommate was a woman, but he, at the very least, expected you to answer the door. He was preparing himself all day for this moment, to knock on your door and have you open it. At first he thought that maybe he even got the wrong apartment. 

“Oh, I think I got the wrong place, sorry–” 

“Nope, you’re in the right place.” Jay smiles, stepping to the side and opening the door wider for him. “You can come in.”

Jake does, awkwardly. Avoiding eye contact with Jay and barely even looking into the apartment before stepping inside. 

“She got all cleaned up for you.” Jay whispers, throwing Jake a wink before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Jake still hasn’t really looked up from the floor yet, and you make quick work to make him feel more comfortable. 

“Don’t mind him, that’s my roommate.” You say, making your way toward him and trying your best not to stare because, okay, wow. He’s kind of ten times more attractive in person, which is fucking insane considering how good he looked through a screen. 

“Have you and him ever like…” Jake immediately starts, realizing he might have made things weird. 

“Jay?! Oh, god no.” You laugh, reaching for his arm and feeling him lean into it with relief. “You’re allowed to look up by the way. You’ve been staring at that crack in my floor since you got here.”

Immediately Jake moves his eyes up to you, the eye contact feeling more intense than it should, but you’re locked in too. The awkwardness dissolves almost instantly, he feels no need to question you further about anything really, especially with the way he feels his throat run dry at the very idea of this whole plan actually happening at some point.

When he made his profile on that app, it was kind of a half joke until like, people started talking to him. Given, no one ever followed through but you, he’s happy he stuck with it. Happy you came out of the works from said dating app, happy you picked him. 

Really though, he picked you. Part of you wonders about why you want to take this from him. For power, for control, to be praised, to feel like you’re his entire world of desire for a brief time? All of those things, yes, but you can admit now that he’s in front of you that it’s a bit intimidating. 

He’s not shy at all, just a bit awkward. He seems confident, he seems ready, and you find yourself lucky for being the one to get to do this for him, or with him. If at all, Jake is the type of man you could see yourself hanging out with often, with or without having sex. 

Given, upon seeing him face to face for the first time, the only thing you thought about was how attractive he is. Now though, as you look back at him along with the silence of this apartment offering nothing more than awkwardness, it’s not. Because you’re seeing him for all he is and he appears to not be able to help it. Is this what people mean when they say there’s an instant spark between two people? Despite how attractive he is, you find yourself thinking of how many times he’s made you laugh in the short period of time you’ve known him along with how many times he’s willingly embarrassed himself

And now for the first time, he’s right there and all you want to do is…give him exactly what he wants.

“Okay, listen,” You start, swallowing around a lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up at record speed by just having his eyes looking into yours. You know by this point that you’re not going to be keeping your hands to yourself at all. And for his sake, he’d probably prefer it that way. “If I move too fast, just tell me to stop.”

Jake tilts his head with a dopey smile, eyes still fixed on you, scanning you, coming to terms with the fact that you’re absolutely everything he thought you would be and more. 

“I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue,” He admits, feeling his length confined within his pants twitch wildly at the fact that this is happening. “I struggled not to get hard just driving over.” He laughs, looking away from you for the first time with flushed cheeks. 

You find that painfully adorable. No man would ever admit that to you. Especially after just a few minutes of meeting in person for the first time, but this is Jake and in the short amount of time you’ve known him, you’re kind of expecting him to be really forward and say things that will have you frozen in thought.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen. You’re pretending that his apparent inexperience isn’t getting to you, but you’re not really fooling anyone. “Let’s get you some water or something, I can see you drooling.”

Jake laughs, shrugging because yeah maybe he’s drooling a little bit. You smell fucking immaculate, your hand is small in his but still manages to overpower him, your skin feels soft and slightly cold. Honestly, it’s dangerous just having you stand in front of him right now because he could absolutely blow his load just by you looking at him. Embarrassing? Always.

He follows after you, very nearly crowding up to you as the comfort sets in and the last bit of awkwardness leaves his mind. All he can think about is how you sounded over that facetime call. He’s seen what’s between your legs, and during that night all he could think about was touching you, fucking you. 

Now he’s here, and you’re right there. 

It’s hard not to crowd up, it’s hard not to cling to you, it’s hard not to be excited. Seeing your hand wrapping around that bottle of water to give to him, seeing you lean just before grabbing it– of course he’s staring. Of course he’s crowding closer, almost to the point that he’s up against your ass when you lean back up from the fridge.

You turn after grabbing him the bottle and are shocked by his close proximity when you face him. He looks down at you with a soft face, one that shows he’s not embarrassed by how he immediately attaches to you. His smile is just as clumsy as he is, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing too. You’re glad, because it makes it entirely too easy to drop the water bottle, grab his face, and chase his lips all the way until he’s against the counter and kissing you back. 

He sighs instantly into it, wincing at the way the kitchen counter hits his back, you pressing against him so harshly just to get that first taste of his lips. He’s excited that you seem as eager as him, maybe even as desperate as him. 

For you, a man has never been this eager just to kiss you, nor has a man ever kissed you this good. You can imagine that he’s probably got a lot of experience in terms of kissing, not much elsewhere though. You can tell by the way he moves his hands to all of the right places, but his blatant virginity shows through all of it as he becomes a horny mess almost instantly. 

His tongue is warm and wet, small whining sounds coming from his throat as you press yourself against him briefly. His hands never leave your body and he shows no shame in touching where he wants to touch. Rubbing, groping, and caressing every inch of your waist, ass, and even moving up to your face to deepen the kiss. His hips press forward almost constantly, and all you can do is brace yourself on the counter behind him to try and tame his relentless hips and obvious attempts at rushing what he wants right now. 

If you’re going to sleep with him though, he’s gonna get the full experience, not a quickie. Plus, you agreed to keep it in your room for Jay’s sake. 

“Hey,” you sigh, trying to pull back from the kiss but he isn’t having it. Still kissing against you and running his lips down to your neck when you continue to speak. “We should go to my room, your first time isn’t about to be in my kitchen.”

“Why not?” He groans against your neck, kissing harshly with faint wet sounds, his hands wrapping tightly around your waist now. “I don’t care where we do it, i just want you like, really bad.”

Still, his lips don’t leave you, nor do his hands. You find yourself giggling against him with a shake of your head at the way he protests when you pry yourself from his grip. Of course, though, he’s immediately clinging to you and chasing after you to your bedroom before practically throwing himself at you again.

You barely get the door closed before he’s pressing you against the wall, hand running down again to your waist and easily snaking up your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. You let him, enjoying the way he kisses you for just the second time, enjoying more the way you can feel him lose his composure every few minutes from this alone. 

You’re kind of in love with the fact that he doesn’t seem to want to pull back even for a breath. He seems to love kissing, and you wonder what else he’ll come to love doing tonight too. From the way he moves his tongue and his lips on you, you can imagine he’d be fucking heavenly at eating pussy.

Successfully you push him away again, rushing to your bed before he can make you melt against his lips for a third time, and you’re instantly trying to present yourself to him much like you did over camera. 

“You’re really going to let me?” He asks with a deep breath, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping his mouth. His brain malfunctions at your presumed answer to that question, watching you take your panties and shorts off in one go and leaning back to spread your legs for him. 

At this moment, you’re all his and you make it a point to spread your pussy out for him like he asked you to do before. You can practically see his knees buckle that very instant.

“To think I wouldn’t want to do this is insane,” You say, wiggling your hips for him to see. “Look how wet I am.” You pause, studying the hungry look in his eyes. “Do you wanna try eating me out?”

He doesn’t even nod. He’s immediately on his knees against your bed and gripping your thighs to pull you toward his face. You yelp only slightly at the movement, a chuckle coming out shortly after as you sit yourself up properly to take in the image of his eyes sparkling up at you. 

It looks like he’s been wanting to do this to someone all his life, with his needy body proving it time and time again. Your breath is caught in your throat, a small groan coming out at the image alone before you’re able to process words again. 

“Can’t believe how good you look down there,” You say softly, brushing his hair out of his face for him like he did to himself earlier. “Have you ever done this before?”

He shakes his head, eyes shifting from your pussy to your face. You can feel his nervous yet eager breath against you, making your eyelashes flutter at even that slight sensation. 

“Go on then.” You sigh out, trying to prepare for what he can manage with that pretty mouth of his.

You watch him and the way he doesn’t seem to think at all when he does it. Once again, he’s adorable. His tongue goes everywhere, only grazing your clit briefly every few licks, never staying on it presumably because he’s in the process of finding the clit based on how your body reacts. 

He has a general idea of where it is, but the feeling of having your pussy spread out like this on his lips alone is enough to overwhelm him with arousal, to the point he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing. All he can do is taste and smell the mixture of your warmth along with the soap and lotion you must have used before he came here. 

He’s quite literally tasting the entirety of you and loving every second of it. The way his hands grip your legs, both spreading them further open so that he can tilt his head and lick at different angles, and then hugging them to where they almost lock his head in place. 

It feels like he does this for ages, learning your body and what makes your legs shake. He sucks in different places, kissing your entire pussy to the point that it’s almost impossible for your legs not to shake in a reaction at what he’s doing to you.

Dare you say, a man who is inexperienced at eating a woman out somehow feels better than one who knows exactly where to go. 

“Fuck, knew you’d be good at this,” You compliment with a shaky voice, reaching down to his hair and holding his head in place. “Keep licking there, and use your fingers too.” 

He hums without stopping, taking note of where you place his lips and reminding himself that this is the clit, just as suspected. He attaches his lips there, kissing it much like he kissed you in the kitchen. 

You can feel his fingers make their way into you shortly after, each bump of his knuckle sending a delicious sensation throughout your body. You’re tingling from your head to your toes at this point and your face heats up beyond what you thought it would. Your hips move on their own in response, experimentally fucking against his fingers as he keeps his tongue flicking at you. 

“Just like that,” You encourage him, running your hands through his hair and looking down at him. Seeing his head move with each little thrust of your hips is only more arousing in this moment. His eyes half open, watching you, tasting you, almost smiling around your clit when he makes eye contact with you. 

It almost seems like he’s asking if he’s doing well, and goddamn is he. He’s doing amazing.

“So good,” You say shortly, trying to give him the praise he needs while scratching against his scalp as a thank you, still fucking your hips up just to feel his fingers plunge deeper. 

He, on the other hand, is fucking feral right now. Tasting you, dipping his fingers into you, feeling that warmth for the first time, the small clenches— he’s swimming in a fantasy. Every time you move your hips up, he can smell the entirety of you, he can feel your pussy squeeze his fingers, and god. He doesn’t think he ever wants this to end.

All day. He could do this all fucking day. No wonder men make fun of other guys for not giving head. Why wouldn’t they? He can feel your legs tensing up around his head, your gentle fingers running through his hair, the sounds coming from your lips. He’s in love, he’s in love.

He doesn’t stop, tongue flicking your clit so beautifully, fingers slowly fucking in and out of you, not even in time with your jerking hips. Shockingly, you approach orgasm so fucking fast that you can barely warn him, you’re not even thinking when you put pressure on his head, pressing his lips so harshly against your clit— his moan sending a vibration straight through you.

“Faster, with your fingers—“ You choke out in a drawn out and pornographic moan, curling your toes and feeling him do exactly as you say. 

There, you release with his fingers plunging in and out of you, the wet sound of your pussy only sounding more messy by the time you begin to release. In the midst of it all, you feel him pull his lips from your clit and lick around his fingers before coming back up and continuing his ministrations, working you through an orgasm you’re not even sure he knows you’re having right now.

Insane, really, that he needed to taste the messy relief before resuming. 

Strings of curses, little tugs against his hair, legs shaking, all of it happens at once until the feeling of his fingers become sensitive inside of you, until his tongue is flicking a bundle of nerves begging to be left alone. 

You swat him away with a smile, leaning up quickly and grabbing him by the shirt. 

He doesn’t really know what the fuck is going on but he laughs with you, being pulled to his feet and falling onto the bed on top of you. You can feel his cock in his pants, so fucking hard, probably leaking and feeling quite neglected.

“Did you…?” He asks softly, dipping his head shyly with his wet chin shining in the light of your room.

You smile at him, leaning up to kiss him square on the mouth before you flip him over and get between his legs. 

“I did,” You laugh in a daze, starting to work on his button and zipper. You’re reeling from the recent orgasm and want nothing more than to let him feel the same way you do right now. “And now, I'm gonna do the same for you.”

He chokes out a nervous laugh, holding your hand in place from pulling his pants down.

“Unless, you don’t want that?” You ask, tilting your head with a bit of a frown.

“N-No!  It’s not that!” He reassures you, cheeks flushing more than they already were. “It’s just that– like, what if I don’t last very long? I’m kind of sensitive.”

His eyes avoid yours when he says it and once again, most adorable man award goes to fucking Jake.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” You lean forward, kissing him again. “You just gave me some of the best head in my life.”

The light in his eyes returns and instantly he’s flashing a nervous smile at you. 

“Jake, I’ve never gotten off that fast from being eaten out.” You reassure him again, making a point to use his name loud and clear. “If you don’t get off from me sucking your cock, I might actually cry.” 

Well, he can’t have that now, can he? 

He releases your grip on his jeans, allowing you to pull them down. For some reason unable to look at you despite knowing you’ve seen him jerk off before. It’s the fact that like, what if it’s suddenly not big enough? What if his cock is ugly or curved in a way you don’t like?

Before he can even start to doubt himself more, he feels your lips on the tip and instantly his eyes are looking down at you. You’re the one smiling now, using one hand to hold his base and the other hand already scooping up his balls for added pleasure. 

You make a point to look him in the eye as you let the saliva collect in your mouth when you pull back slightly. There, you let it fall from the tip of your tongue, all the way until you feel the wetness against your fingers wrapped around his base. 

He thinks he’s going to go fucking insane watching you like this, and god, does he. You don’t even show him your struggle of taking in the sheer size of him. Lowering your mouth until you’re taking him in as much as you can. You try to keep eye contact up until you have to close your eyes. 

It’s not shocking that by the point you get half of his length into your mouth, he’s fucking up without full intention and letting out a choked apology. Still, you try to force your stretched lips to smile for him, even through the gag, even through the harsh feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

How the fuck has a cock this good not been worshiped before? By a mouth? A hand? A pussy? You’ll be damned not to choke on it. You’d rather eat glass than to let him leave this apartment without being completely emptied and praised for every drop. 

He’s actually struggling already not to come, holding himself back but failing each time his hips chase the warmth of your throat. Each time you gag, it stimulates the fuck out of his cock and he nearly wants to cry each time it happens. Even with that other girl who went down on him, she didn’t even attempt to fit this much in her mouth. Most of the pleasure came from her hand jerking him off while she suckled against his head, but you. You’re down there, slipping your mouth up and down on him like that, gagging, tearing up, and still fucking smiling about it. 

He’s in love.

He holds his hands back at least, keeping them against your sheets and gripping them so hard that he fears he’s ripping through them. Everything feels hot, you look hot, you sound hot, your tongue still manages to move against the base of his cock with what little room it does have, and god– your other hand, massaging his balls. 

“Wait, wait wait–” Jake groans, fucking his hips into your mouth once again until you pull off with a concerned look. 

“Were my teeth hurting you?” You ask, gasping a bit for air.

“No!” He heaves out with fluttering lashes, trying to regain sanity. “I was just getting really close.”

“Hm?” You sigh in disappointment, this time going all in at once and not letting yourself stop until he’s releasing into your mouth. 

You feel his shaking fingers brush your cheek when you do it, hollowing it out just to fit more, more, more into your mouth before lapping your tongue against his base again. 

His groaning turns into frantic moans, his hips jerking wildly, unable to escape the clenching muscles of your gagging throat, and he’s honestly in heaven once again. 

“Ah–wait–fuck.” He tries to protest, not wanting to finish so quickly, but there it goes. There he goes.

Never in his life has he felt an orgasm so satisfying. His eyes roll back and his fingers go numb when he releases, pumping himself deep into your throat and not stopping until he’s dizzy. The fact that you kept your mouth on him through it, the fact that he could still feel you gagging, swallowing, and moaning all at once through it– how?

“How–” he takes a breath, pulling you off of him so you can breathe. “How did you do that?”

You shrug with a confident smile, wiping your tears and crawling up to meet his face. 

“I don’t normally do that for guys.” You say with a rasp in your voice. “I certainly don’t just swallow for anyone.”

He feels special, and fucking spent but god does he want to keep going. His softening cock twitching in a relieving way, probably glad to have finally been touched by something other than his own hand. Part of him wonders if you’re done though, because by now you’ve both gotten off and usually that’s the end goal, right?

But he hasn’t lost his virginity yet, and when he looks at you hovering above him, he already knows you’re not done with him. 

“We need to let you rest until you can get hard again,” You say, kissing him more easily than before and letting him taste himself, letting you taste yourself mixed with him. “What’s something you wanna do to get you back into the game?”

He sighs out a laugh, fucking amazed that you’re his first. How lucky is that? He thinks hard, watching the way you lift your shirt off of yourself. God, he forgot tits existed for a solid part of this day and that’s a shame because instantly his sensitive cock throbs at the image of them coming into view. 

You watch him stare, trailing your hands down and lifting his shirt off of him as well. 

“I– I don’t even know at this point.” He admits with a stammer, ignoring the fact that his hair is definitely sticking up all over from you taking his shirt off of him.

“I’ll just love on you while you think, then.”

He gives a short nod, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside at the way your gentle hands caress his chest and abs before you start kissing against the muscles and soft skin there.

He relaxes his body, feeling your hands and lips on him. You were right when you said you’d love on him as he thinks about it. The hard part of it is actually thinking about what’s going to get him harder the fastest. You doing this could be enough, but your tits. And fuck, your pussy.

He lets out a whine, one that feels entirely out of character and it causes you to pause your gentle kiss against his nipple and pull back.

“Already?” 

He shakes his head, staring straight at your chest and then down to what's between your legs. 

“I want to, um…” He shifts his eyes away from you. “Can I eat you out again?”

That’s new. Twice in one session?

“Oh yeah? Did that get you going?”

You receive a small nod from him before his hands are reaching out for your tits and warming them up. 

You relax into the feeling of his fingers on your chest only for a moment before you pull back again, this time adjusting yourself onto the bed face down, ass up in front of him. Might as well try a bunch of different positions for him too, right?

“Whenever you’re ready.” You sigh, already grabbing a pillow to hug through this. 

You can feel the bed shift behind you, the weight of his body dipping right behind you before you feel his warm breath against your core. Only now do you realize that you already missed the way he ate you out the first time, you can barely contain yourself knowing he’s going to do it again. 

His hands snake between your legs before his lips get any closer, spreading them before pulling his hand back up and spreading your pussy open with his fingers on his own this time. 

“It’s really the prettiest.” He says in a clear and shaking voice, watching the way your hole pulses at the air that hits it. “And I've watched a lot of porn.”

You’d tell him to shut up, but you’re not gonna because it’s cute how forward he is with his thoughts. If anything, he’s treating you right now by doing this, so he can say whatever he fucking wants right now. 

“Yeah? You just gonna stare at it?” You try to urge him, and it works.

Because of course it works. 

You do your best to contain any rising orgasm, solely because you don’t want to spend yourself before you actually let him inside of you in full. But goddamn, he’s just as eager now as he was the first time…if not more. 

He thinks back to the things he did before, mimicking that and hitting all of the perfect spots without fail. Still, you hold back, pushing and pulling yourself away and toward him just to feel his tongue chase. He eventually holds you in place against him, big hands holding you firmly against his face with a bit of force. And now? He’s licking you deeper than you’ve ever been licked before. It’s a different kind of sensation, and the way he groans into it is entirely too much for you right now. 

You need more, you want more. You want all of him by now, so aroused by every touch, breath, and moan that it’s becoming unbearable to just be eaten out. The thought that he’s doing this to get himself hard again is flooring, and the feeling of his fingers replacing his tongue much like before is intense. 

After just that one time, he knows exactly how to make you cum this way and it’s dangerously attractive to realize that. He goes straight for it too, pulling back to watch his fingers slip into you up to the knuckle. 

He hums out a rumbled moan at the sound of your cunt squelching around his fingers. So wet. More wet than any of the girls in the porn he’s watched for years. You’re dripping around his fingers, and the smacking sound is so fucking arousing to him.

And yeah, he can’t reach your clit with his mouth this time so he thinks hard about how to fix this little dilemma and you’re floored even more by the fact that he solves problems without questioning. You feel his fingers leave you and land on your clit, and right then you feel his tongue again, just as deep, licking into you and all over you. 

The sound of your pussy amplifies when it’s against his tongue, and honestly, he could cum right now if he really wanted to. Already he’s hard again, but god feeling you, hearing you, seeing you like this for him? For some guy who has never once been able to give a girl his all like this? 

He’s so focused on you.

Which for you, is a bit of an issue because he’s really not going to let you hold it in, he’s going to have you fucking unravelling again and it’s too good. Thankfully, when you try to lift to look behind yourself, you take note of his other hand working himself. 

He’s hard again, and god knows how long he’s been doing that. 

You pull your body away from him quickly to let your rising orgasm subside, his protesting moan doing nothing but heating your body up more when you flip over and watch him. 

“You were really just going to get me off again and not try to fuck me yet?”

He looks down at himself and then back at you, smiling and running his hand through his hair. 

“I like doing it, I wanted to see if I could make you–”

“You absolutely could have but I’m going to be honest,” You start, interrupting him and pulling yourself up to crawl over him. “If you’re ready, I’d like to live up to my promise.”

His eyes are much sharper than they were before when you say those words. This is actually it. He would have been perfectly happy just eating you out, getting head himself, or whatever. Over and over again. Any and all of it is better than being in his room alone, but you’re really–

“Really?” He asks, knowing full well the answer.. 

“Lay back, get comfortable,” You instruct with deep breaths, scooting up the bed with him, keeping yourself planted on his legs despite the discomfort. “You still want me to ride you, yeah?”

He nods almost frantically, landing his hands on your tits without hesitation and groping them in a blatant show of how ready he’s managed to get himself for this. 

Not that you want to rush, but you’re so fucking turned on by this point, the only thing you want is to be filled by him. His is cock likely bigger than any you’ve taken before, and to be fair, you don’t even care if you’re the desperate one at this point. You’ve almost forgotten he’s a virgin.

“Wait,” He stops you when you slide over his cock, bare pussy coating his length in a languid grind. “Oh, fuck, wait- no,” He breathes in a sharp breath and grips your hips. ”Do that again.” 

You smile at his frantic thoughts pouring from his lips, sliding against him again, and again, up until he’s leaning forward and attaching his lips to one of your nipples and suckling against it hard. 

You groan as you grind, feeling the head of his now, fully hard, cock bumping against your previously stimulated clit. He groans with you, almost at the exact same time but continues to try and leave his mark on you. In love with finally getting your tits in his mouth, your pussy on his cock, and most of all, in love with the fact that you’re not laughing at him for any of it. You seem to melt into it much like he does and he can’t help but want to email the creator of that fucking app and personally thank them for this. 

You rub yourself against him until it’s even more unbearable than before. By now, you’ve completely soaked his length and he’s completely soaked your chest in saliva and tiny swollen bite marks. Not that you mind the biting, his little rumbled grow-like moans only made this all the more arousing.

“Ready?” You finally sigh out, deliberately grinding against him slowly now, with almost your entire weight behind the grinds. 

He groans out a “please” before immediately gripping your hips and stopping you. Pulling his head back so hard and so quickly– he kind of forgot to unlatch from your nipple and it sends a sharp pain throughout your body, one that only makes you want to ride him hard. Right now. 

“Hold on, there’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans–”

“Okay, and?” You laugh, sliding forward again and grinding your clit against him. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” 

He looks at you, his sharp eyes falling back into the sparkling doe eyes as his mouth falls open at the very idea that he gets to hit is fucking raw for the first time? 

“Unless you’re lying, and you’re not really a virgin?”

He’s quick to silence your doubt. He’s 100% never had his cock inside of anything other than his own palm and– malfunction. He’s blank again, staring up at you and wincing at the feeling of you pleasuring yourself on top of him. 

“Please?” He manages to get out, gripping your hips so tightly by now that he’s sure it’s hurting you. 

You smile, humming at him when you lift from him, standing on your knees to grab his cock and position him in the right place. 

“You sure you want it too?” You ask, only now realizing that you’re genuinely about to take a man’s virginity, and it’s only fair that you give him one last time to decide if he wants you to take it from him. Despite how turned on you are, and regardless of how badly you want to fuck him, it’s not right to just do it without making him really think about it. 

“Fuck, yes.” His fingers tighten against you, his eyes squeeze shut, and his voice comes out as frantic and quite frankly, a bit annoyed. “Just do it already.” 

You can’t help but smile at him when you do. Lowering yourself slowly on him and feeling the stretch of it. His face is something that you don’t think you’ll ever forget. He appears to be lost in it, eyes rolling back, his chest heaving, his teeth showing through a half-smile as he moans out at the sensation. 

He can’t get over how warm it is inside of you, the constant clenching of your pussy dragging along his entire length. He can’t help it when he moans, he doesn’t care that his voice cracks, or that it sounds like a pathetic sob. 

By the time you bottom out and sit like that for a moment, you almost feel like he’s the one who needs to adjust. Of course, you’re needing this moment to adjust too but god– just watching him makes you that much more wet and it’s insane how into him you are right now. As if you haven’t been since you started talking to him.

“Feels good?” You ask, involuntary clenching around his size, letting out a small sigh yourself at the feeling of his leaking cock inside of you. 

He hums at you and then takes in a deep breath before fully opening his eyes again and looking at you. Technically, he’s no longer a virgin now. It’s fucking happening, and you’re hot? So fucking hot? You feel so good? You smell so good. You sound so fucking good. 

Everything is overwhelmingly good, all he can do now is press his hips up and instantly moan out at the new feeling. 

You take that as an invitation to absolutely obliterate him, much like you knew you would. So, you do. Lifting yourself up and sliding him almost entirely out of you before sinking down again. 

His hands shoot to your waist, then he lifts slightly to grab your ass from behind you, and then he flops himself back– seemingly unable to know what the fuck to do with himself at this feeling. 

You opt to grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his and holding them above his head, all so you can lay chest to chest with him, lips right at his neck. You start kissing, riding him so smoothly and doing nothing but listening to his little sounds that he tries to keep inside. 

“You’re really cute, you know that?” You whisper against his ear, kissing there too before pulling back to look at his face.

That half-smile never leaves his face, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tightly that you actually start to worry that he may break them. Thankfully, he begins to relax after a few minutes. Adjusting to the overwhelming pleasure and now losing himself to the arousal rather than fighting it. 

You nearly squeak when you feel him release your hands and grab your face, pulling you up to him as he kisses you mindlessly. Breathlessly, moaning into your mouth all while moving his own hips now. You can feel him jerk his hips, imagining how he fucked his hand through facetime. This is better than that.

You prop to stand up on your knees, offering him the space to fuck you as hard as he’d like, and god. It’s hard. It’s deep, and it’s so clumsy. No rhythm, no thought behind it at all, you can fucking tell he’s purely running on adrenaline as he plunges into you. 

He’s actually going so hard, that your moans sound more pained than pleasurable, but that’s not the case at all. You actually can’t stop moaning, it’s just the fact that each time he slams into you, your throat lets out a broken sound. 

For a moment, you think you can actually hear him unintentionally growl against your slack lips as he does it. Already he’s lasted longer than you thought he would, especially without a condom, and you’re so fucking impressed by it. 

You slide your hand between your bodies, easily rubbing your own clit and drying out your throat even more with the consistent loud moans of how good he’s doing. After a few moments though, his hips stutter and you take that as a sign that you should take over again.

“I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this to me,” You laugh out of pity for yourself, “I really thought I could last longer than this.”

He barely hears you through his ringing ears and rapid heartbeat, but he chuckles at the compliment. Feeling like he must be doing something right to have a woman say that to him. There’s one issue. He’s about two thrusts from cumming again and he will be damned to ruin this for you. 

You take over, riding him harshly and rubbing your clit even harder. He takes a moment to try and distract himself from how good your pussy feels clenching him and takes it upon himself to bite down hard against his tongue. Something to hurt enough to keep his orgasm from bubbling over, but also not something so awful that he’d lose his arousal entirely. 

You continue, pushing yourself back up from him and watching the way he tries to focus on anything but what’s happening. You ride deliberately to get him off though, knowing that the second he does, you’ll let yourself go too. He doesn’t seem to be picking up the hints. 

“Are you close?” You ask, out of breath and riding him so consistently that it’s becoming more and more difficult to hold your own orgasm. “Let it go, do it with me–”

Instantly, you hear him whimper out a moan as he releases the bite on his tongue. Shooting himself forward and hugging you so tightly that the pressure of your fingers against your clit is entirely unbearable. 

“Oh, god. I’m–” You start, moaning against his hair as he hugs against you.

He’s so fucking relieved, already releasing into you as you say those words. All he can do is breathe through it, feeling your pussy pulse around him as he continues to empty himself into you. 

It’s entirely too intense, his ears popping and heart threatening to send him to a hospital. Never did he think having sex was this intense. 

Little does he know… it’s not. But even you, for some reason, find yourself wondering why the fuck that was so good. 

By the time you pull yourself off of him, both of you wincing and trying to ignore the mixture of cum running down your legs, all you can do is look at him with curiosity. 

He can barely open his eyes to look back at you, but he tries, he really does. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He’s not going home tonight. Of course he’s not. Like, how fucking rude would it be to take his virginity and send him on his way? Absolutely the fuck not.

In fact, you made him some food, wobbling on spent legs throughout the kitchen as he lays on his death bed in your room. (He’s being dramatic.)

All he can do is listen to the sounds of you in the other room and think hard about how he just felt. Physically, it was a lot. Surely if sex is like that all the time, he’d rather not do it as often as Heeseung does. Honestly, his sanity would be at stake. 

But like, you’re kind of amazing. Given, the two of you barely know each other past lame texts and bullying each other. Physically, you know him more than any other woman and that’s a block he didn’t think would be an issue until it became one.

You made him cum twice. And he thinks you did too, unless you’re lying just to make him feel better. There’s no way you didn’t feel the intensity of that though. There’s no way your wobbling legs were lying to him when you got up and told him you wanted to have a snack before bed.

There’s no way you would let him sleep over if you didn’t feel the same way he does right now.

And by the time you’re back, handing him a plate of food, he can’t help but believe that nothing will ever taste as good as you.

The thing is, that’s one of the main reasons you did this. To be praised, to have a man think you’d be the best he will ever have until he eventually meets someone else and they do better than you did. Now though, you feel weird. 

This is a one night stand. A charity-fuck, as it still stands at least. 

“So,” You start, taking a bite of your food still as naked as can be regardless of how stupid it must look to be eating in a cum-soaked bed like this. “I guess you should change your bio in the app now.”

He looks at you, and then at his food.

“Yeah, I guess I should…” 

“I’ll help you fix your age on it. Now that you know what you’re doing with a woman and all.”

It’s silent for a minute.

“Is it too forward if I say that I’d rather just delete the app and keep calling you?”

Thank fuck Jake is forward and embarrassing with it. You’re not ready to give up the single life but on the other hand, after that, you’re not exactly ready to share him with other women just yet either. If he wants to attach himself for a while, you’re going to let him. Purely because, like, look at him. Everything is endearing, and when he’s not being adorable he’s just being fucking hot.

Maybe you will be ready to give up the single life if it’s with Jake. 

You nod with a smile, wondering if he expects you to delete the app too. Because you’re not so sure about that, but also you think you probably would if he asks with those stupid doe eyes. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t even ask. He just starts eating the food with a content look on his face. Sweat having dried up but left his hair a mess, his skin is glowing– you think…oh no. Why are you looking at him like this?

“Hey, I should probably call Jay and tell him not to come home until late tomorrow or something.”

Jake nods, lifting his eyes to you and watching you take your phone out. 

“I should call my friend too, he told me to let him know when I get my cherry popped.”

You snort at him with a laugh right as Jay answers the phone, and honestly, you’d rather listen to Jake’s friend than Jay whining about having to spend even more time with his overbearing parents. 

“Hey Jay, don’t come home 'til I call you tomorrow, bye.” You say quickly before hanging up. 

Instantly you’re setting your plate on your table and launching yourself at Jake and his phone. 

“Put him on speaker.”

Jake does just that, laughing at Heeseung’s reaction when he hears you speak rather than his best friend over the line. 

Well...he’s still soft-spoken—his voice never rises, never loses that calm, steady tone but gentle? Not quite.

Behind closed doors, there’s a different edge to him. His sweetness doesn’t disappear, but it’s laced with dominance, control, and an intensity that contradicts his daytime demeanor. If there’s one rough thing about him, it’s the way he takes control when you’re underneath him.

Sex with Jungwon is good, no doubt about that. But the thing is… he doesn’t know how to stop.

Once he starts, it’s like he falls into a rhythm only he can hear, and you’re just along for the ride, trembling and breathless and completely at his mercy.

Your wrists are cuffed to both sides of the bed, the metal cool against your heated skin. Your legs are spread and tied down, leaving you completely exposed—open for him. At first, it’s fine. You can handle it. The slow build, the teasing. The way he slips the toy inside your pulsing cunt, then drags it up to circle your clitoris with frustrating precision.

Each slow movement of the toy has you dripping onto the sheets, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up. You don’t miss the way Jungwon’s eyes light up with excitement, a sparkle in them. A small, satisfied smile curves on his lips as he watches your pussy clench around absolutely nothing, the vibrator pulsing against you while he teases, never quite giving you what you’re begging for.

That’s the thing about Jungwon—he knows exactly how to ruin you without even touching you properly. He hasn’t taken off a single piece of clothing, hasn’t even laid a finger on your most sensitive spots. And yet, you’re falling apart.

He makes you crave everything. His touch. A simple brush of his fingers. Even just a glance at what’s hidden behind his pants—his huge fucking cock, so painfully hard. You’ve barely seen it tonight, and that alone makes you dizzy with need.

Your head is spinning. Your throat burns from all the begging, the moaning, the hoarse screams you’ve let out over the past hour. Your legs shake, your wrists ache against the cuffs, and your eyes—God, your eyes can barely stay open. Every time he pulls another orgasm out of you, they roll back with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. You’re so, so tired, and so wrecked.

“Please, please… just fuck me. Just fuck me already!” you cry out, voice cracking from exhaustion.

Jungwon is still sitting at the edge of the room, completely composed, watching you with fascination. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, still spread wide, still bound, as another orgasm rips through you. The loud hum of the vibrator fills the room, blending with your high-pitched moans and hitched breaths.

You try to shut your legs, to push the toy away from your aching core, but you can’t. You’re strapped open, so damn helpless. Your clit feels raw, burning from the endless attention. It’s been nearly two hours of this, and your entire body feels like it’s on fire. You’re drenched in sweat, heart racing, muscles twitching from the constant tension. And still… Jungwon doesn’t look finished. He watches you like you’re the most captivating thing he’s ever seen.

“L-Let’s just finish this and sleep, okay?” you gasp, trying to meet his eyes. There’s desperation in your voice, but you still try to sound sweet—still trying to bargain with the man who holds all the control.

Finally, he stands. His gaze travels slowly down your body, from your tearful eyes to your heaving chest. And then, he leans in and kisses you softly, almost tender. You melt into it, sighing against his lips, your body automatically responding despite the ache. You try to kiss him deeper, tongue desperate against his, hands twitching against the restraints as you try to pull him closer.

“Love you, my sweet little angel,” Jungwon whispers against your lips, smiling so gently it almost feels cruel.

You smile weakly back, eyes watery but soft. “Love you too… now please—please untie me?” you beg.

For a moment, your heart lifts in relief as you see him walk toward the cabinet beside the bed. You think he’s going for the keys because finally. But then your eyes widen in horror when he pulls out a small collection of toys instead and places them gently on the nightstand.

Your stomach drops.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“No!” you cry out, yanking at your cuffs even though you know it’s useless. Panic surges as he picks up a pair of nipple stimulators and places them over your already sensitive chest.

"Shit— no! Don't! Stop!"

The moment they turn on, you jolt. The soft suction and flickering pulses send electric shocks through your breasts, focusing on your nipples and making your back arch off the bed.

“Ahh—n-no! No more!” you shout, writhing, body bucking against the restraints.

Jungwon doesn’t say a word. His fingers trail down slowly, tracing the mess between your legs, spreading you gently. Then, without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, curling and sliding them.

“Hahh… J-Jung… ahh—” Your head falls back, and your eyes roll. The pleasure blurs everything—your thoughts, your words. “I c-can’t… anymore…” you whisper, voice trembling, barely holding together.

Your thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm, lost to the overwhelming flood of sensation. Every nerve in your body is lit up, every inch of you trembling, wrung out, and oversensitive.

Jungwon, on the other hand, looks like he’s in bliss. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, eyes locked on your body. When he feels your walls tightening around his fingers, his lips part with a quiet moan. The way you grip him—so hot, so wet, so helpless—nearly drives him insane.

Your head lolls to the side, arms stretched and chained above you. Your mouth hangs open, tongue slipping out slightly, drool tracing a path from your lips to your chin. You’re panting, muttering broken, incoherent phrases that even you don’t understand.

Underneath his pants, Jungwon’s cock throbs with the weight of restraint. Finally, he pulls his fingers out of you and quickly undresses, his hands shaking in urgency. He barely blinks, barely breathes, as he climbs back onto the bed.

Before you can even register his presence fully, you hear another vibration. A sob tears from your throat as a small egg vibrator slips inside you, humming to life with a relentless buzz. Another one is pressed directly to your clit, making your hips jerk violently. The stimulation is too much, all-consuming and now you’re crying, tears running freely down your cheeks.

Your mind is barely there when Jungwon settles over you. You feel his body hovering close, the warmth of him mixing with yours. He cups your cheek with one hand, gently brushing away your tears, while the other supports the back of your head.

“Shhh…” he soothes. “It’s okay, baby. You can take it, can’t you? Be my good girl, hmm?”

You can’t even answer. Your lips tremble, a sob stuck in your throat, your body wracked with pleasure that borders on pain. The buzzing on your clit, the pulsing deep inside you, the suction on your nipples—it’s too much!

“You’re my good girl, right? Answer me, angel,” Jungwon repeats.

“I-I… I’m y-your… nghh… g-good girl,” you manage to choke out, eyes squeezed shut. The moment you say it, Jungwon smiles—and not just any smile, but the one he gives when he’s deeply, thoroughly satisfied. It’s the kind of smile that says he’s proud of you.

He shifts on the bed, straddling your hips, his knees on either side of you. His cock is flushed, rock hard, and leaking precum. From this angle, you can see it clearly—aching and ready. Your breath catches.

“Say you can take it,” he says again, eyes burning into yours.

“I-I c-can t-take it… F-FUCK!” you scream as the vibrator inside you kicks up to a stronger setting. Your nails dig into your palms, your back arches off the bed, and your legs jerk against the restraints. Another wave crashes over you, and you’re gone again, mouth open in a silent scream before the moans pour out helplessly.

Jungwon groans at the sight of you. He tosses the remote aside and his hand wraps around his length, the slick glide of his palm a poor substitute for what he really wants, but right now, it’s enough because what he’s seeing? It’s everything.

You’re trembling, legs shaking uncontrollably, arms pulled taut by the cuffs. Your entire body is soaked in sweat, flushed, and still, you’re clenching and twitching, hips jumping with every surge of overstimulation. You’re crying, sobbing softly through parted lips, but your body won’t stop responding. And to Jungwon, there’s no more beautiful sight in the world.

Ecstacy.

He never understood the word fully before you. People always talked about it like a fleeting rush, a peak that fades as quickly as it comes. But with you? It lasts. It blooms slowly.

"Hahhh.... 'Wonnie, c-close again!"

Jungwon whines, an unfiltered, almost desperate sound as his hand speeds up. He braces himself on the mattress, panting through clenched teeth as the fire in his gut coils tighter and tighter.

You’re nearly delirious, legs quaking, sweat dripping off your skin in soft trails. The small toy is still pulsing relentlessly between your thighs, buzzing away mercilessly, and you—his perfect, precious girl—can do nothing to escape it.

Your body jolts, then locks up. Another wave crashes over you, and Jungwon can see it in real time—your stomach tensing, mouth falling open, eyes fluttering back as you climax again. It’s like your soul momentarily leaves your body and crashes back into it, all in one breathless scream.

He groans loudly, the sound raw and shameless, as his orgasm builds at the sight. His cock throbs painfully in his grip, aching for release.

“Stop! Please… stop! Make it stop!”

You’re sobbing, shaking your head side to side, tears streaking your cheeks as your voice breaks entirely.

A strangled gasp escapes Jungwon’s lips as his climax slams into him. His body jerks forward as he spills across your stomach and chest. The orgasm tears through him, spine curling, muscles locking, vision flashing white at the edges. His hips twitch helplessly as each pulse escapes him, breath ragged, mind floating somewhere far away.

Between his high and the aftershocks rolling through his body, he still hears you screaming his name, begging him to stop.

Jungwon blinks, disoriented. For a moment, his mind is blank, floating somewhere between euphoria and guilt. But then his eyes land on you.

With shaky hands, he reaches for the remote and flicks off the power. The hum of the toys dies, replaced by silence—save for your ragged breathing, the hiccuping sobs that break his heart, and the faint creak of the bed as your body finally begins to fall limp in exhaustion.

He moves fast but gentle, slipping the nipple clamps off first. His breath hitches at the sight—your nipples flushed deep red, firm and oversensitive. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to touch, to kiss, to soothe with his mouth.

Then there’s the vibrator still buried inside you. It’s soaked, your slick dripping down your thighs, clinging to the toy as it slips out with a wet, lewd sound. The air is thick with the scent of sex, of release, of everything you gave him tonight. His stomach tightens again at the sight, but he forces himself to stay focused.

“D-done?” your voice comes, barely a whisper.

Jungwon doesn’t answer right away. He’s still staring. His body might’ve just finished, but his mind is caught somewhere in the afterglow.

His fingers fumble briefly with the small key before unlocking the cuffs, one by one. You don’t even lift your arms—just lie there, shivering, twitching occasionally when a breeze brushes across your skin.

You let out a shaky breath as your wrists fall free. A sob leaves your chest, but this time it’s soft—relieved. Grateful. Your arms weakly pull inward, cradling your own chest as you collapse into the sheets.

But your body… it’s still trembling. You’re still soaked. That last orgasm hadn’t even faded, and the aftershocks have your thighs twitching with every shift of your hips.

Jungwon swallows hard as he kneels behind you, watching your body try to recover, the way you curl slightly into yourself like you’re trying to keep your insides from spilling over.

"J-Jungwon?"

You feel his hands gently reposition you, guiding you slowly onto your stomach. You let him, barely resisting, only sobbing quietly, the kind of sound that makes his chest ache and his cock twitch.

“One more,” he whispers near your ear, brushing his lips over your cheek. “Just one more, baby. Then I’ll stop. I promise, okay?”

You cry out, he gently pushes your legs apart and lifts your hips just enough, guiding you into position.

“Fuck,” he hisses, as he presses forward slowly but your body reacts instantly.

"Ahhh!" You gasp, then squeal as your walls clamp down, and without warning, a gush of liquid pours from you. You’re fucking squirting.

Jungwon groans, forehead dropping to your back, overwhelmed by the sheer sensitivity of your response. Your hips try to jerk forward, trying to escape, but he holds you in place with one arm curled around your waist.

You’re still spasming when he finally sinks inside, forcing his huge cock inside you. Your soaked walls resist him in a trembling way, trying to push him out while also drawing him deeper.

You scream again as he fills you, your voice breaking around the sobs. He hushes you gently, lips brushing your neck.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby. Almost there. You can do it—just a little more,” he whispers, his own voice shaking.

He stays still for a moment, buried inside your pulsing heat, feeling your body flutter and tighten around him. His chest presses to your back, arms wrapping around you, holding you close as you sob into the pillow.

“My good girl,” he breathes, kissing the space behind your ear. “You’re doing so well. So perfect for me.”

You whimper brokenly, clenching again as he slowly draws his hips back—just an inch—and thrusts forward again.

Your body goes pliant beneath him, letting him take the lead, letting him guide every motion as his hips begin to roll with slow, fluid strokes. The drag of his cock through your drenched heat makes his head fall forward, jaw clenched, breath shuddering against your neck.

“Little more,” he pants. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks back into you, the tight grip of your body drawing another moan from deep in his throat. “Just… like that.”

You sob again, your hands claw at the sheets.

Jungwon groans softly and leans over you more. His hand slides gently around your neck, His thumb brushes your jaw, tilting your head up so he can see your face.

Your lips tremble. Your eyes flutter, barely open, hazy and wet from tears, but locked onto him.

He exhales sharply at the sight. He leans in and kisses you upside down, the angle is awkward, but lips finding yours between moans and movement. The kiss is messy, wet, desperate. His hips never stop, and the rhythm begins to build again, more urgent now. Each thrust hits deeper, heavier, guided by the way your body clings to him, keeps him buried.

He moans into your mouth as you whimper against his. Then his tongue drags over your bottom lip, over your cheek, catching the taste of your tears and sweat. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he licks up the salty trail along your face.

“Mine,” he breathes against your cheek. “All mine.”

Your only response is a faint cry as your body clenches again, another sharp squeeze that makes him falter, hips stuttering from the overwhelming sensation.

His hand leaves your throat and presses between your shoulder blades, pinning you gently into the bed as he pulls your hips higher, changing the angle.

“Ahh, f-fuck!” you squeal. Your thighs quiver violently, and Jungwon nearly loses it right there at the sound.

His pace falters for a beat, then picks up again, faster, more erratic. “So good—so fucking good,” he stammers out, neck slick with sweat.

Your walls clench again, fluttering around him, and he lets out a wrecked sound, almost pained in how much he needs this.

His hips slam forward as he grits out, “Pretty… you’re so pretty. So good for me.”

His hand moves from your back to your waist, holding you tight as he keeps grinding in. “I love you,” he gasps, not even meaning to say it again, but it falls out of him in a choked whisper. “I love you so fucking much…”

His voice cracks at the end, moaning into your skin.

His lips find your shoulder—he kisses it once, then again, moaning into your skin as he thrusts harder. He’s unraveling. His rhythm turns desperate, your name falling from his lips.

"J-just a little more, hmm? I'm gonna creampie this little pussy t-then— fuck, we're done." Jungwon pants, voice cracking with emotion, every word shaking as it leaves his mouth. His eyes are blown wide, focused on where he’s buried deep inside you. “I love you—ahh, I love you so much…”

Jungwon grabs both of your arms, pulling them back gently, lifting your upper body just enough to tilt your chest off the bed. Your back arches, his hips slapping against you, skin to skin, the sound filthy and wet.

Your breasts bounce with every motion, your body jolting under his force. You barely register your own scream before your entire frame begins to convulse.

"Holy shit." Jungwon gasps at the sight, eyes wide with stunned, reverent awe as he breathes out.

You let go completely—again—and it’s overwhelming. A fresh, hot stream releases from you uncontrollably, drenching everything. His thighs. The sheets. The space between you. The air fills with the scent of arousal and sweat, with the stuttering breaths of both your bodies falling apart at the same time.

His thighs shake violently as he spills his cum into you, a strangled, low moan escaping from the pit of his chest. He doesn’t stop moving—keeps thrusting, dragging his length in and out as he pours every last drop inside of you, desperate to make it last.

The warmth floods between your legs, and the way your body pulses around him only draws more out of him. And it’s almost an afterthought to you now, dulled by the overwhelming waves of pleasure and exhaustion. You’re beyond feeling it fully, your body too far gone from the overstimulation he dragged you through.

He whines high as he buries himself to the hilt again, staying there, pushing in as far as you’ll let him. Your body quivers under the weight of his release, and he presses his chest to your back, wrapping both arms around you.

"Thank you, thank you, my angel."

The room falls into a heavy silence.

When Jungwon finally, carefully pulls out of you, he pauses—eyes drawn to the mess he left behind. His release slowly trickles from you, glistening down your inner thighs, and he can’t help but stare.

Then his gaze drifts up.

Your body is limp against the sheets, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Your face is flushed and dewy with sweat, eyes barely open, lips parted like you’re still floating in that lingering euphoric high.

And yet—something about the sight of you like that makes heat stir in his gut all over again.

Chan was getting pretty sick and tired of organizing stickers. 

There’s really no point; considering the display was just going to get rifled through again within the next hour, and all his hard work and adhesive-residue fingers will be for naught.

Some of these stickers’ designs were terrible anyway. The brand logos he can give a pass–and his personal favorite, “The Goose is Loose” wanted poster, that one’s pretty good–but why there’s copious amounts of “i love boobies” he’ll never know. 

But, hey, a paycheck’s a paycheck so who’s he to judge. 

Despite some of the, albeit weird, setbacks, Chan wouldn’t say he hates his job. Working at Zumiez was chill; the general crowd was full of like-minded people who appreciate good, quality skate clothes and parts that they can just pop in for during their visit to the mall. He’d made some good friends through their regulars, even finding out a few went to his university.

Then there’s always the young teens who either like the aesthetic better than the Hot Topic downstairs (as they should, that place can burn), or who are interested in getting started with their first skateboard and have no idea where to begin. Building their boards and walking them through the process—while giving some of his own tips—is always the highlight of Chan’s day. 

And if he’s able to get discounts on said parts for his own boards? Hell, he’ll take it. 

Working in the mall itself was interesting. All of the stores were crammed in every which way, yet they still somehow managed to be far bigger than you’d expect; complete with giant entrances that display the vibe of each establishment pretty accurately. 

And it’s through this entrance, technically two of them, that Chan looks through now.

He’s finished with the sticker display and presently stands behind the register with his face propped up in his hand. It’s slow right now, just some guys in the back looking at trucks–with Vernon helping them–so there’s no one to give Chan grief for slacking. 

Thus, he watches; eyes wandering past the entrance to his workplace and out into the mall’s white interior. His brain has been desensitized to filter out the usual bustle, barely even registering each person that passes by. Instead he opts to focus his gaze into the shop across the way: Tii Cup.

Or, more specifically, to the person working the counter inside the boba shop. 

He doesn’t know their name. All he knows is that ever since they started working there three months ago, and he realized that their shifts almost always lined up with his, he hasn’t been able to get them out of his head. 

Chan’s seen his fair share of attractive people; everywhere in LA from his uni to this mall is full of them, a beautiful range of styles and personalities as far as the eye can see. But there’s something about them in particular that he can’t seem to look away from. 

Everything enticed him; from the hints at their style, white and pink accessories adorning their head and soft frills peaking out from the stark black of their uniform, to the way they carry themselves, confident and friendly, greeting each customer with a smile. 

And that smile, that damn smile.

Even from across the mall, he knows that smile radiates enough warmth to rival concrete that’s been baking in the California sun for several hours straight. 

And, oh…what he’d give to feel even a drop of its shine directed towards him; and learn how to make it stick around forever.

It’s never obvious when your whole life is going to turn on its head, is it? Chan never thought so at least. Sure, there were surprising moments, but they usually never amounted to much past that. 

So there he was, rummaging around in the back for something that a customer requested; a customer that Vernon was helping—so why is he the one having to go box diving like it’s an extreme sport? Whatever, he found what he needed and shut the supply closet door with his foot. A faint clatter rang out behind him, sounding a little too close to one of the bigger boxes on the higher shelves deciding to jump ship.

Chan winces, but opts not to acknowledge whatever damage is behind those doors in favor of leaving it as payback for Vernon later.

He steps out onto the floor again and beelines to where Vernon waits by the case of skateboard wheels. Chan shoots him a small glare, stepping behind the counter and handing the customer their requested item: Slime Balls, in a nice teal color with light up LEDs. A solid set of wheels; they have good taste.

The customer completes their purchase, with the addition of one of the dreaded “i love boobies” stickers–Chan has to resist the urge to strangle himself–and exits the shop. 

Chan’s eyes trail after them, casually drifting around the shop again. There’s a few more customers milling about; a mother helping her son try on skate shoes, a couple browsing the wall of jeans, and some poor soul in the back who can’t seem to make up their mind on which deck decals they wanted.

Chan could only chuckle at their struggle before his gaze is drawn back to the front with the arrival of another group.

It was a close knit group of four, all casually chatting with one another as they walked in and immediately turned left towards the bedazzled pink women’s clothing section.

Each of them looked like they were right at home there with the vibe they gave off; it was like they all stepped right out of a pastel rewrite of a 2000s chick flick. Pink tones and neutral patterns were mixed with denim and layered accessories that to some would be considered gaudy, but they made it look effortless. 

Their combined laughter bounced off the racks and filled Chan’s ears, causing him to smile. He liked seeing people happy; it was probably the best look anyone could wear, he thought.

One of the figures that had been standing in the back, clad head to toe in varying shades of pink and yellow, turned their head to look around the shop more, landing on Chan.

He met their gaze and his smile dropped.

You.

 “I never understood what you saw in him anyways.”

“Oh please, like your taste is any better.”

“Hey–”

“Can y’all shut up for a sec and answer my question. Which belt?”

You grinned at your friend's antics, stepping in between the bickering to aid in Holly’s dilemma, “Go with the bullet belt, it matches your fishnet top.”

Holly’s eyes lit up and she nodded, placing the other belt–a clear plastic one with a heavy buckle–back on its hook. 

“It’s nice to know that someone around here actually cares about my date tonight,” she drawled, draping the bullet belt over her arm. “Because unlike some people,” She gestured between the two at your sides. “I can actually keep a man.”

Lang’s shoulders raised to your right as he feigned a gasp. “How dare you- I’ll have you know each of my partners has found me wonderful. A true delight!”

Seojun reached around you to flick him in the forehead. “Uh-huh. Sure, buddy. And that’s why you’ve got a body count long enough to rival Santa’s list. Did you make sure to check it twice?” 

“EIGHT IS NOT A LONG LIST–”

Seojun burst out laughing, “Eight-! In two years bro! You can’t look me in the eye and tell me that’s normal.” He trailed off into a fit of giggles, wiping his hand on your shirt like he could rid himself of the potential contamination that was Lang’s terrible boyfriend capabilities. You smacked his arm in return.

Placing both your hands on their backs, you shoved them forwards to follow Holly. “Just be quiet and help her already. That’s the whole reason we even brought you guys in the first place.” 

The two of them grumbled but begrudgingly walked after her, leaving you to close the gap and leisurely hang back behind the group. 

You snickered, shoving your hands in your pockets and letting your eyes wander around the store.

Zumiez was cool; you liked shopping here–albeit not very often. The floor-to-ceiling stacks of clothes and cramped racks of hoodies and jackets was the exact mix of organized chaos that you thrived in. And while you wouldn’t quite consider yourself drawn to the more loose and dark skater clothes that they did supply, there was a smaller section that had items more your speed. There were plenty of cropped hoodies that layered perfectly over variously colored graphic baby tees, which matched the plethora of bottoms and shoes you already had at home.

But today you’re not here for yourself, so you take it slow.

Your eyes trail over the stickers plastered on the fake graffiti walls. Most of them are ones that they sell, go figure. Once your gaze lands on one too many “i love boobies” stickers (why is there a whole column of them lined up one right after the other-), you switch your sights to the register; where, to your surprise, another pair of eyes was waiting for you.

Oh-

He realizes he’s been caught and quickly ducks his head. Your eyes remain glued to him, and as if he can feel your stare drilling into the back of his head, you watch as his ears start turning pink. 

Oh. 

Oh, he really is adorable.

Tii Cup was not your first choice when looking at job options; especially when it was located in a mall, of all places. 

However, you’re a college student; you need the money—and more options, of which there are none. Alas, beggars can’t be choosers.

And thus is the story of how you got stuck at Tii Cup. 

It’s not all bad, though; you’ve actually come to enjoy it the longer you’re here. Your coworkers are incredibly friendly and accommodating to your inexperience, and making drinks is more relaxing than you’d think. Plus, you’re rarely bored with the steady stream of mall goers constantly coming and going, so there’s always a new face to talk to. 

But there was one face that caught your eye, cementing itself in your brain even though he never set foot in your place of work.

He was gorgeous; fluffy brown hair falling into his eyes that he would frequently try to blow out of the way, and an adorable toothy smile accompanied by a distinctive laugh that rang all the way across the mall into your ears.

When you heard his laugh, faint as it may have been, for the first time while working, your head whipped in the direction it was coming from. You wanted–no, needed–to know where that sound came from. 

And you found it across the mall, in the store facing you: Zumiez.

It seemed he mostly worked the register, not unlike yourself, but you’d sometimes see him restocking products along the walls (and staring at the higher shelves like he was wrestling with his pride on whether or not to grab a ladder).

How you could discern all of that by the tiny pinprick of his figure you could see from behind the drink counter was an unsolved mystery. Not that you were keen on looking away anyways.

Bright. That’s how you’d describe him.

And that description rang true the more you observed him as you followed your friends through the shop.

After he’d broken the little staring contest you had going, he seemed determined to avoid looking at you again–or be caught looking, that is. He thought he was slick, but you could still sense his gaze on you when your attention was elsewhere. It was amusing really. 

You weren’t planning on getting anything for yourself today, you were mostly here for support and regulating Lang and Seojun’s antics, but that was before a denim skirt caught your eye. It was sturdy, with deep pockets (or as deep as you can get with a shorter skirt), and perfect for bedazzling.

And if it gave you an excuse to talk directly to the cute boy behind the counter, well, you grinned.

Say no more.

Chan wasn’t panicking. 

Certainly not. 

He just thought you were cute, that’s all. And he didn’t dare entertain any thoughts about interacting past that.

So, no, he wasn’t actively fighting internal combustion at the sight of your group approaching the register. 

Although, to be fair, he should have expected this. It was a fifty-fifty draw as soon as your group stepped in the store on whether you’d walk out with a purchase or not; thus, meaning he’d have to interact with one or all of you. Good thing he’s not a gambling man because he’s currently losing that bet.

He plastered on his best “customer service” smile to hide the torment.

“Hey there! Did we find everything okay today?”

“Absolutely,” Holly responded, placing the belt and a newly acquired pair of jeans on the counter. She snickered. “I hope we weren’t too much of a ruckus on your slow day.”

Chan shook his head, hair flopping in front of his eyes once more, “Not at all. Consider it a welcome distraction.” He flicked the stubborn hairs away, shooting her a boyish grin.

Holly exhaled in mock relief, “Thank goodness, I don’t know what I would’ve done if these jeans were kept from me for even a minute longer. Thanks to some people—“ She shot a glare over her shoulder.

Lang stuck his tongue out, the metal barbell pierced through it reflecting the fluorescent overheads, while Seojun didn’t even look up from the game on his phone.

Holly clicked her own tongue. “And just between you and me,” She leaned over the counter conspiratorally. “Those two numbskulls need to quit it with the romantic tension or I’m gonna smash their heads together myself.”

Chan snorted, his smile turning genuine as his shoulders eased a bit. His peripheral glazed over the rest of the group, before catching your eyes again and immediately shooting back to what he was doing.

Right. A customer is making a purchase.

Work the register, Chan.

His body slipped into autopilot; folding the jeans with enough skill–or required training–to make his mother proud. Placing the items in a tote bag and tearing a receipt from the printer, he handed Holly her items, bid her good day, and resigned himself to watching you all leave and go back to his normal routine of only seeing you from a distance.

At least, that’s how it should go, right?

The drawer to the register clicked shut with finality, which couldn’t be said for Chan’s heart when he looked up and found you standing directly in front of him (on the other side of the counter, obviously). 

You grinned, sliding forward the skirt you’d grabbed, and Chan took a deep breath to recenter himself—and remember how to form sentences. “Hello, find everything alright?”

Your eyes crinkled as you nodded, “Yep! Wasn’t really looking for myself, but this caught my eye so I had to indulge.” A shrug. “And I got paid yesterday so it’s fineee.”

“Eugh, don’t I know it,” he groaned. “Any ideas for this item in particular? It’s great on its own, but I can’t imagine someone with such a distinct style like yourself–” he gestured vaguely over your outfit, various charms dangling and sparkling in the dingy shop lighting, “–would just wear it plain.” 

Your cheeks ached as your smile widened, a laugh slipping past your teeth. “Yeah, actually. I got this huge bag of pearlescent rhinestones a while back and haven’t found a chance to use them. I’ll probably end up lining the seams with them…or something like that. A gradient up maybe? I’m not quite sure yet.” It wasn’t a complete lie, you really did have a giant bag of sparkles sitting in your closet. 

Has it been there for about two years? Yes. 

Were you pulling these excuses out of thin air to self-justify your need to talk to this guy? Also yes.

Details, details.

“Well, whatever you come up with I’m sure it’ll be great.” The two of you exchanged a grin, and Chan let out a breezy laugh as he completed your purchase. He pushed forward the card terminal and you absentmindedly swiped, keeping your eyes and smile on him. 

They were stunning, he thought, matched your smile. You even had little rhinestones in the inner corners and around your waterline that further accentuated their rich jewel color.

Safe to say, Chan was starstruck. 

Warmth exuded from your presence in waves; yet all you were doing was standing there, calmly watching him and looking more gorgeous than Chan could comprehend. Well, maybe that’s a stretch, because clearly he’s of sound enough mind to realize how pathetic he’s being. 

Forget your smile being as warm as the sun, should they put you in space you'd give the center of the solar system a run for its money. 

Chan dragged a hand down his face, his eyes turning into crescents as he smiled–grimaced? He wasn’t sure. Regardless, he hands you your item and you relieve him of it.

“Thanks! I guess, I’ll see you around…?” 

“For sure!” 

For sure? What is he talking about—there’s no guarantee he’ll ever see you again from only a foot distance. “You know where to find me. Or uh…I’ll just be…here. Yeah.” Good save.

“Right,” you held his stare, taking in the layered browns of his eyes. 

An air of comfort resided in them. You’d meet his eyes and warm vats of chocolate greeted you, gently swirling with a subtle amber hue when the light hit them just right. It was like you could taste the sweetness by proxy just by looking into his gaze.

Hold on, your train of thought came to a screeching halt. 

“What’s your name? I totally forgot to ask, I’m so sorry–”

His eyes widened out of their relaxed almond shape. “Oh! No, yea—don’t worry about it!” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair (probably only worsening the bird’s nest it already was). “It’s Chan.”

You mulled it over, rolling the syllable on your tongue, your voice dripping with what Chan could only hope was something akin to fondness.

“Chan…” you mused, a small grin settling on your features. “It suits you.”

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and rising towards his cheeks, but as soon as he opened his mouth to respond a sharp call rang out behind you.

“Yah! Flirt on your own time, I’ve got a date to get ready for!” Holly groaned.

You rolled your eyes, the rhinestones stuck to your skin shifting with the movement, and waved goodbye as you turned to make your way back to your friends. 

Chan watches you go, ruminating on the interaction, however brief.

Everything he had conjured in his mind about what you could be like couldn’t’ve prepared him for actually meeting you in person. Your confidence was exuberant, your style—no longer hampered by the heavy black uniform—was eclectic yet meticulous, and your smile made him feel like the skies had personally opened upon his person to shower him in its light on a gloomy day. 

But as he watched you walk away chattering to your friends, it was your eyes that kept coming back to him; bright and curious, sparkling like the jewels that surrounded them. Yes, the eyes of…

Chan yelped, grabbing your attention as you turned around from where you stood at the entrance to the store.

“Wait—I never got your name,” he called, nervously fiddling with the ends of his sleeves.

You met his gaze, smiling as your name fell from your lips. 

And just like that, you were gone, dragged out by your impatient posse; leaving Chan in awe of your bedazzled eyes and only one word ringing through his head:

Pretty…

The weekend passes. Chan alternates himself between schoolwork, work, and squaring up with his past self in the mental arena of regrets.

He’d spoken to you, gotten you to laugh, even managed to get your name—which was still bouncing around his head like a screensaver logo.

And he’d forgotten to ask for your number.

The wall would look great with a head-shaped dent, wouldn’t it?

Vernon was no help; as soon as Chan finished relaying the tales of his misfortune, he’d just shrugged.

“Well, you got their name; why don’t you just go up to them at work and ask? You’re already on some level of familiarity. It wouldn't be that weird.”

Chan shut him down immediately. Go up to them at their work? What is he, some desperate creep jumping at the first chance he gets now that he has your name? Nope. No, no, no.

He groans, slumping forward on the register counter and hiding his face in his arms. He hears Vernon sigh, and his receding footsteps as he leaves Chan to man the front. 

He just slumps over further, his back curling like he suddenly acquired his own turtle shell to crawl into, practically begging the floor to disappear under him.

Abandoned.

Abandoned in his time of distress by his only companion, how could he. 

Chan’s mental cursing of his coworker’s bloodline is interrupted by a soft voice.

“Uhm, Chan? Are you okay-?”

His head whips up fast enough to audibly crack. 

You wince at the sound, “Dude–that sounded like it hurt like hell. Are you okay?”

Chan doesn’t even notice the throbbing in his temple (he will later, though; Vernon will reprimand him too), taking in your worried expression and new, equally elaborate outfit for today. Blue seems to be the theme this time around. Nice. Blue is nice. It looks good on you.

Pick up your jaw, Chan, the floor is disgusting.

He clears his throat, straightening up and shifting his weight to shake out the pins and needles from leaning over too long. “Yeah, uh, I'm fine. Perfectly fine. What’re you doing here? Wait, no–that came out wrong. Uhm.” Oh, someone end him. “How can I be of service to you on this fine afternoon?” Sure, that works.

You smile and brandish a bag that he only just now noticed you were carrying. “Turns out, I can’t read,” you sigh dramatically, “ I got the wrong size and need a bigger one. This one couldn’t even make it past my thighs.”

Chan decides to slam shut the door to whatever thoughts that comment entails, and instead responds, like a normal person. 

“Hm…well we just changed our floor layout yesterday, and I don’t think I remember seeing that skirt for sale anymore.” He frowns, mouth forming into an adorable pout that makes you want to poke his cheeks.

“But then again,” he notes, “Vernon was the one who did the women’s side this time around, so I could ask him if you’d like? Or even check the back; since it’s so recent we might have a few left over.”

“That’d be great! I don’t mean to make you do more work than this is worth though–sorry about that.” 

He waves away the comment, “Nonsense. This is literally my job.” He steps out from the register and scans the store for that familiar face. No luck, must be in the back. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he winks. 

Jiffy? He can’t walk away fast enough. 

Fortunately for Chan, they did have some extras left.

Unfortunately, he forgot to see what size you were returning.

So when he returned with four skirts in tow, he had to ignore the small red tint to his cheeks as he took in your confusion. “I forgot to ask what size you needed…so hopefully, one of these works..?” C’mon ground, open up already.

Thank goodness you laughed. 

“Of course, no worries!” You scanned over the skirt’s tags, settling on one that was about two sizes up. 

“I think this should do it,” you mused, “it was really only the waist that was a problem, seeing as I couldn't try anything past that. So if I just…” Grabbing the two ends of the skirt along the waistline, you raised it and wrapped it around your neck to measure. The edges met, with a little extra overlap to boot. Perfect. 

“Yep! Look, if I have a bib, then it’s perfect.” You did a little twirl to emphasize your point, the denim being held around your neck lifting slightly along with the other loose layers in your outfit. “I think this makes a nice addition, don’tcha think?”

Your combined laughter filled the shop as Chan tucked away the skirts you didn’t need.

The two of you chatted about anything and everything while he processed the exchange. He found out you went to a college not far from his, amidst a story about how inept one of your professors was at navigating basic technology; and in turn, he told you about how two of his upperclassman friends almost got suspended for a prank they pulled during orientation week (how Mingyu could stand to show his face around the art department was still a mystery to him).

Chan finished printing your new receipt just in time for the ending of his harrowing tale about an altercation with another friend of his.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Minghao that speechless, save for when Vernon started shooting him with a water gun while he was meditating on the green.” He chuckled fondly at the memory, handing you your new item with a reluctant smile. 

Why must all good things come to an end? It wasn’t everyday that he met someone like you: amicable, easy to talk to, a sense of humor he can get behind, and not to mention an immaculate style to match.

You know what? No. 

He already fumbled once, he’s not going to let the opportunity pass again. 

“Hey uh, I know we’ve only spoken twice now,” He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

“But I’d really love to talk and get to know you more—preferably not when I’m on the clock.” A nervous pause. Finish strong Chan, too late to back out now. “Could I maybe get your number so I can take you on a date? Only if you’re comfortable with it of course–” he sputters. 

A beat passes.

And another as you shift around the bag on your arm. 

Chan opens his mouth to take it all back when you slide your phone to him on the counter; a new contact open on the screen, presumably for him to fill. 

He met your gaze—incredulous—as you smiled, all bright and beautiful, “I’ve really enjoyed chatting with you, too. To be honest, I probably would’ve come running back to get your number the first time if Holly hadn’t practically been dragging me by the collar out of here.

“Plus,” You propped your arms on the counter, various charm bracelets clacking on the laminated wood. “I’ve seen you around from before then; and I have to say after meeting you, I’m glad to see that you’re even cuter than I thought.”

Chan’s face should be considered a fire hazard.

“Well,” he gulped, “I’m glad I’ve exceeded expectations…?” His brain is too fried from firing on all cylinders just to remain standing, so he hands you back your phone; his contact still on the screen, now reading: Lee Chan (from zumiez). 

Your eyes flick over the screen, then you start typing. Chan feels his phone buzz in his back pocket, a text from you presumably. 

“Aish, I should probably get going. I need to track down Lang for his glue gun, and this skirt ain’t gonna bedazzle itself!” Laughing, you turned and walked back out into the mall, but then stopped at the entrance and glanced back to Chan.

“Thanks for your help Chan! Hit me up for that date when you’re free.”

Chan was only able to check your text on his break twenty minutes later.

> heya! its the bedazzled skirt dude :p lemme know when youre free to chat, and for that date you promised hehe ^^

> cya around channie <3

The two of you did end up going on a date not long after. It went swimmingly (and not just because it was at the beach), and you parted ways with the promise of more meetups and dates to follow.

You’d also see each other in the wild from time to time. One such time–much to the dismay of Chan as he looks back on it–was when he was out skating with Vernon along the coast. They usually just cruised when skating here because the sand on the concrete made skating all the more difficult, much less tricks.

So that’s what they did, and what they were doing, when a voice started to call his name.

“Chan!

“Channnnn! Hey, Channie!

“YAH-! LEE JUNG CHAN I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!!”

He jolted at the full legal name, his head cautiously turning in the direction of the perpetrator. Which turned out to be you, sitting criss-crossed on a concrete wall, beads in hand like you were in the middle of crafting (who is he kidding, of course you were), with Seojun next to you eyeing him over the rim of his drink with what looked like amusement. 

Chan lit up, his whole face screaming pure, unfiltered joy as he waved back to you.

But—because fate likes to mess with him—while he was preoccupied taking in this chance encounter with you, he failed to notice how much his skateboard had slowed underneath him. 

Then came the break in the sidewalk, a caught wheel, and his entire body seizing in surprise as he crashed into the grass. 

Has the Earth finally decided it’s his time? Just crack open underneath him and swallow him whole so he doesn’t have to lament in his shame? 

He laid there sprawled out on his back for a good twenty seconds, trying to retrieve the air knocked out of him as he stared dazed at the sky, contemplating his position in the universe.

Red coated his ears and neck like the dirt now on his jeans, and he had quickly gotten back up and cast you one last wave before skating away to avoid further ramifications to his ego.

Vernon cast you a sideways glance, shrugging, before waving goodbye himself and taking a running start to catch up to Chan.

You still giggle about it to this day–Chan hides his face in his hands each time you remind him.

Casual encounters increased after the second and third dates. Some more intentional than others, but the one neither of you will ever forget is when Chan visited you at work a few months after the two of you started talking.

It wasn’t the first time he’s come here during your shift; he’d made it a habit after you’d made it past the talking stage to come over every few days on his break. Sometimes he’d get a drink, always asking you to surprise him with whatever your current favorite was, and other times he’d just stand around to chat (your coworkers liked him though, so he never got too much flack for distracting you).

Regardless, you were more than happy to see his fluffy brown head and giddy smile pop into the shop.

And this time was no different, you spotted him approaching and quickly finished up the drink you were working on so you could greet him freely with a smile. He returned it instantly, sliding up to the counter with his usual grace and you set off to prepare a drink for him. You’d decided to keep it simple and give him your favorite: peach milk tea with flavored popping boba to match.

Or at least, you would’ve if you hadn’t turned around only to see your coworker using the last of the peach popping boba. Huffing, you swapped plans and started making a brown sugar milk tea instead. Respect for the classics.

What you’d failed to notice, though, as you focussed on perfecting the drink, was how quiet Chan had gotten.

Usually he’d be filling the space with endless chatter—for your entertainment or just because he liked to yap, either way you loved it. It didn’t matter if he was rambling about how obtuse his professor was, or going into way too much detail about another creepy antique shop Vernon had dragged him to in order to find a present for his partner. You never had to question what was on his mind because he’d come running to you with the latest news.

But now there was none of that. And it was only when you turned around to give him the drink that you saw his apprehensive stance. He was wringing his hands, twisting the two rings on them absentmindedly, and his eyes would flick to yours before looking away just as fast. 

You frowned, setting aside the drink. Refreshments could wait.

“You alright there Channie…?”

A visible flinch, like he’d forgotten where he was and had gotten lost in the recesses of his mind. Your frown deepens.

“Chan-”

“I need to tell you something,” he blurts.”Or, rather, ask you something.”

You blinked. “Okay..?” Nodding, you gestured for him to continue.

“Right. Okay. Uh,” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“Uhm…well, first of all, I just wanted to tell you how much I love spending time with you. I know it’s hectic to plan around work and school and whatnot, but you’re easily one of my favorite people to just be around. I don’t think I ever thought that when you first came into Zumiez that day that we’d end up as close as we are. And I wouldn’t change a thing, don’t get me wrong,” A chuckle. 

You could see his usual confidence returning as he went on, and it made you smile. He reached for the drink and took a sip, humming when the sweetness hit his tongue.

“Well, that’s a lie. Kind of,” He raised his eyes to meet yours as he chewed, a sheepish smile coating his features. “I suppose there’s one thing I would change.”

He stepped up to the counter, setting aside the drink, and held out his hands. Like he was asking for yours in turn. And maybe he was, you weren’t quite sure; but you slipped your hands in his anyway. He squeezed them once. It was a grounding action, for the both of you. 

You cocked your head, amusement tainting your face. “And what would that be, hm?”

He grinned, shooting you that toothy smile that you’ve come to adore (with a bit of tapioca stuck in the corner that made you stifle a laugh). 

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

What. 

Your face fell in an instant, brows furrowing in confusion. 

He doesn’t…what? 

After all this time? How long has he thought this, were you that bad a friend? How did you not notice sooner? No, he literally just said he liked your company. “What are you-“

He continued in the midst of your spiral, “I don’t want to be your friend; but,” he sucked in a breath as you held yours, “if you’ll let me, would you allow me to be your boyfriend?” 

Oh. 

Then he’d looked at you with eyes that emulated the pearls in the drink you made him, and all you could do was lean over the counter and pull him down to meet you as you breathed out a single: 

“Yes.”

Chan was going to commit a felony. 

Either that, or eat these damn screws.

Whichever comes first.

Everything had started out fine; he’d bought his new set of wheels—complete with longer screws and spacers, then picked you up outside your campus for a little casual hangout time before your shifts started. You’d heard him rave about these wheels for over two weeks, so it was only fitting that you be there when he finally put them on his board.

But now, he’d rather have you be anywhere else than right here watching him try not to blow a gasket over some dumb bolts.

A fight he’s actively losing at this rate.

You’d offered to help, multiple times actually. As much as you loved his little pout and furrow in his brow when he gets frustrated, now you just felt a little bad for trying not to laugh. But Chan refused your assistance each time. 

It wasn’t that he was stubborn—okay, he was, but the gentleman in him couldn’t let you ruin the fresh set of nails that your roommate had done for you.

He liked this set, it was a little longer than what you usually had, resulting in sharp clacks as you tapped your fingers on the back of your phone. You’d even sprung for decorative charms and mini pearls to litter the glittery pink surface.

And then there was the smile you’d worn when you opened the door for him (a bit too forcefully maybe, much to the chagrin of your roommate, who yelled at you to be careful), brandishing your bedazzled fingers with barely contained excitement. 

Yeah, Chan would rather jump off Santa Monica Pier than have his stupid board ruin such artistry. (Did his refusal also have to do with the fact that he wasn’t sure you even knew the first thing about navigating a skateboard, much less constructing one? …Maybe.. But he’s not going to tell you that-! What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said that to your face?!)

Besides, he’s not going to let himself be bested by bolts of all things. They’re just tiny chunks of metal, and he’s a grown man! 

The bolt slips out of his fingers off the screw.

It clatters to the pavement, mockingly bouncing a few times before settling just out of reach.

Chan considers throwing the skate key into the ocean.

“Babe.” You wave a manicured hand in front of his face. He doesn’t register it, just continues to ruminate on how best to reduce this skate key into scrap metal.

A small chuckle escapes your lips as you softly turn his face to look at you. His cheeks flush with a rosy tint, his eyes widening in surprise before softening and melting slightly at the contact. Ah, there we go.

“I admire your effort.” You begin, raising your other hand to brush a lock of hair out of his face. “But I can’t watch you dig yourself deeper into this pit of despair, okay? Can you hand me the skate key, so I can help you?”

Chan sighs, his breath hitting your palm in a short burst. Reluctantly, he hands over the tool; his shoulders sagging in defeat. Bested by nuts and bolts. Right in front of you, who is now taking his board and bracing it between your legs, probably on your way to breaking a nail as you lodge the truck in place and screw on the bolt with ease…

Wait, what.

His eyes locked in on your fingers, watching them nimbly flick the bolt onto the screw. You flipped the skate key to carefully pop the tiny allen wrench out from the top. Maneuvering around your nails, you positioned both the skate key and the small phillips head screwdriver at the other end of the allen wrench on either side of the screw and bolt holding the truck in place. Then you start twisting. 

It’s not supposed to look that good is it?

You’re just screwing on a bolt, bracing the screw head at the other side of the board so the bolt actually attaches. One screw finishes with ease, and you pick up another bolt and position it at the next point; diagonal to the first, like you’ve done this a million times.

Chan just stares, watching you attach the other three screws without missing a beat. 

Oil and grease smears on your hands as you handle the parts, but stars still glitter both on your nails and in his eyes.

The last bolt is secured with one final tug of the skate key, and you lay the board deck-down across your legs. You wipe your hands on the grass to rid them of the worst grease stains; you’ll clean them later with wet wipes in your bag, but right now you want to check your handiwork. 

“I think that should do it!” You flick one of the wheels and watch it spin with ease on the new bearing Chan had installed. The colors of the marbled rubber blend into one blurry circle before slowing down and differentiating themselves again. “Can I try them out?”

Chan blinks, snapping out of his daze as he processes your request.

“I mean, yea? Of course you can.” Like he’d ever refuse you anything.

He stands and dusts his hands off on his jeans. He raises them awkwardly towards you, not unlike how middle schoolers would when dancing with a partner for the first time and don’t know where to put their hands. “Do you want to hold onto me? I can like, walk alongside you as you hold onto my shoulders, or something-”

Please, he doesn’t think he can take you falling off the board. Or getting injured in general.

If you so much as crack one nail, he’ll drop to his knees in remorse, and he was already holding his breath watching you assemble his board like the angel you are (you were even in white with pastel accents today, gorgeous as ever). 

He’s mid-shift from one leg to the other when you playfully scoff and place the board on the asphalt, before getting to your feet yourself.

You flash him a grin, your eyes sparkling in addition to the rhinestones once again surrounding them. “Oh, ye of little faith.” You pecked him on the cheek and moved past him to step on the board.

“Watch and learn.”

Chan could only reminisce on the slight breeze that ruffled his hair as you took off. 

Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks:

You could skate. 

Sure, Chan had always had an inkling in the back of his head about “What if we skated together?”, and even had offered to teach you at one point. But he’d been interrupted by Mingyu asking who he was on call with–yes, his partner does go to another school, thank you very much–and the conversation never circled back. 

Now his eyes just trailed your figure gliding along the concrete and he couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t know how to skate.

And you could skate well.

Your kickoff was clean, and each additional push off to maintain speed was followed by a smooth re-footing on the board. Weaving through the beach goers was no challenge either. Bending your knees and guiding the board with subtle shifts of your weight, you eased through and around the crowd until you turned around back towards Chan.

Your hair was windswept, various strands falling across your face, and you wobbled a little–your arms shooting out to the sides to maintain balance–as you slowed down before recentering yourself with one last push. Then you raised your head to look at Chan, a bright smile coating your features.

And oh…you were breathtaking. 

You rolled to a stop in front of Chan, stepping off the board and propping it on the curb with a breathless laugh as you swiped your hair back into place. “Well, I’d say they’re a solid pair of wheels. They feel great, babe. I can see why you chose them!”

Chan didn’t move. 

He was stunlocked; your cheeks were flushed with exertion, your smile radiated happiness, and your eyes were sparkling like the sun on the waves in the ocean behind you. 

And then you were cupping his face; looking at him all soft and pleased, your nails resting lightly on his cheeks, and it took everything he had not to melt to the floor in your hands.

“Channie…you alright there, bud? You’ve been kinda spacey today…” Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, causing Chan’s eyes to dart to your mouth before returning to your eyes. Which were now sparkling with something else, a look he’d become very familiar with in these past weeks since dating you. 

He wasn’t going to make it to his shift alive was he?

Your lips curled in a smirk, thumbs brushing the apples of his cheeks, which were now beginning to look like said fruit.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re flustered?” you chided. “Your eyes get all round and you get this whole ‘awestruck’ look on your face. Even your jaw drops slightly, juuuuust like this.” 

You punctuated your point by sliding your thumb down to use your nail to tug his bottom lip slightly. Chan had never been more thankful for the longer shape.

He let out a ragged sigh, fogging up some of the jewels glued to the acrylic. “You may have mentioned it in passing, yes…” Hell, you never let him forget it. 

His hands moved to rest on your hips, softly fiddling with the fabric of your hoodie that was tied around your waist. He matched your grin with one of his own, turning his head to place a lingering kiss on the palm still cupping his face. “You’ll be happy to hear that you’re the only one who’s actually had the pleasure of saying it to my face.”

You scoffed, “And why would I be happy about that? More people should acknowledge how adorable my boyfriend is.” You squished his cheeks, causing his lips to purse in sync with your own as you scowled at him. He’s just so malleable; makes you want to poke and prod him all the time.

“Is this just your ploy to get people to say you have good taste,” he mumbled, amused. It wasn’t really a question. You both knew it.

Immediately your grumpy demeanor was replaced with an exaggerated smile as you leaned forward into his face. 

“Yes.” A kiss to the temple. 

“It.” Another on the other side. 

“Is.” Tip of his nose.

As much as he tried to stand on his own–and keep his pride intact–Chan loved when you just treated him like a marshmallow. He’d gladly let you tickle and tease him if it meant he got to hold you close and brighten up your day, even just a little bit.

Admittedly, it was a little embarrassing in public; but when you looked at him like he was all that mattered, and you started grumbling about how unfair the world was while littering his face with the sticky residue of your lipgloss, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Deal with it.”

And he would, in a heartbeat. Because now your lips are on his and everything else in the world might as well dissolve in your sweetness.

[𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:]

Entering Zumiez to drop off your boyfriend wasn’t the big heartbreak you think it’d be.

Hard to miss someone when you can still have mimed conversations from across the mall, much to the dismay of your coworkers (poor Vernon has been smacked in the face one too many times, and has since learned to avoid Chan when his attention is directed outside the store). Plus, the two of you had a date planned for later tonight–the whole reason you’d gotten your nails done in the first place. 

That didn’t stop you from keeping your hands together for as long as you could, of course.

You chatted with Vernon behind the register as Chan clocked in. He returned right as a customer walked up to pay, and the two of you stepped aside so Vernon could do his job. Something the customer was purchasing caught your eye, making you snicker and subtly point it out to Chan. 

He groaned. “Why do we even have those stickers.”

You laughed, hooking your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. “They’re just funny at this point, to be honest.”

 “Ehhh… debateable. But sure, dear, whatever you say.” He hummed, looping his arms around your waist to give you one last hug before you had to leave.

You’d since put on your hoodie since entering the mall, stating the air conditioning made it too cold. He didn’t mind. Now it just felt like he was hugging a big cozy plushy–that would randomly kiss his cheek with an exaggerated “mmmwah!” 

Curse having a job, he’d rather stay here in your embrace.

Your breath hit his ear as you giggled.

“Don’t worry. I love you for more than your boobs, pretty boy.”

He yanked your hoodie strings closed.

you loved school.

not because you were some overly studious nerd who couldn't get enough of textbooks and homework, but because school felt freeing. it was the only place where your lungs didn’t burn with the suffocating scent of alcohol.

home was different.

you dreaded walking back every afternoon, fingers tightening around your bag as you stood outside the front door, already knowing what waited on the other side.

the smell hit first.

sharp. bitter. stale.

it clung to the walls, the furniture and your clothes like it had permanently seeped into every corner of your life.

you hated it. you hated what caused it even more.

your dad.

ever since your mom died from a brutal car accident, your life had never been the same.

what was once a warm, happy family slowly fell apart piece by piece. your dad changed after her death. at first it was only a drink or two after work, small enough for you to pretend it wasn’t becoming a problem.

but as the days turned into months, and the months into years, his grief only grew heavier.

and so did the drinking.

he drowned himself in alcohol so often that eventually, it felt like he stopped being your father altogether. the man who used to laugh with your mom in the kitchen and drive you to school every morning became nothing more than a stranger passing through the house.