#alpha scoups

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, you were the only one who presented as an omega. All your brothers and sisters were Alphas, which means the hammer really came down on you. Your mother made sure you knew how omegas were supposed to behave. Docile, submissive, made to cater to Alphas. It didn’t matter if the world was moving away from these stereotypes. In your household, your father’s word was law, and that meant you had to fall in line.

You cut them off the second you turned eighteen, not that they cared. The last words your mother ever said to you were that no Alpha would put up with your demands, and you would end up alone with no mate, no pups, no family.

Whatever. You don’t need a family. You would be fine on your own.

That was nearly a decade ago. You are a grown woman now, with a stable job, a cozy house, and good friends. Yes, after struggling through college with no one by your side, struggling to unravel how your family’s beliefs had screwed with your head, you even managed to make friends. Your job is a corporate, boring desk job, but the people there are very nice and accommodating. On your first day there, you met Boo Seungkwan, a fellow omega, who welcomed you as one of his own, metaphorically taking you under his wing.

Seungkwan is unlike any omega you have ever met in your life. He is loud, he takes up space, he gets annoyed with his Alpha friends, snaps at them, even calls them names sometimes. It had shocked you when you first saw him interact with Mingyu, who sat one desk over from you. And it shocked you even more when Mingyu never once shut Seungkwan down, instead engaging in petty banter with just as much zeal. You cannot imagine your father or your brothers tolerating Seungkwan’s tone, but Mingyu took it in stride.

They both fascinated you. And you fascinated them.

Seungkwan is a naturally affectionate person. When he tried to hug you for the first time, every hair on your body stood up, every muscle turning rigid with tension. You cannot explain how it felt, like someone was slashing at your inner omega with knives, and unintentionally, you snarled from deep within your subconscious. Seungkwan nearly flew off you, eyes wide, mouth dropped open. He held his hands up to placate you as you tried to regulate your breaths.

He never touched you again.

You can list off in your head the number of times someone has touched you. Your father, never. When you started walking properly as a toddler was the last time it was your mother. You had shaken hands with teachers at graduation, both high school and college. You had accidentally bumped into people on the subway. The doctor touched you when you went in for checkups, and that was hell too, making your heart pound painfully and your skin feel like it was on fire. You don’t know why you’re like that. You just are. Touching hurts. So you avoid it.

Choi Seungcheol knows exactly what it is.

He is interested in you from the second he first sees you walk into the office. You don’t work in the same team. He is in finance, you are in marketing, but he sees you often because you are on good terms with Seungkwan, and Seungkwan is friends with literally everyone. He likes watching you. You are quiet, calm but witty. You can keep up with someone as hyperactive as Seungkwan quite easily, and you like ribbing on Mingyu sometimes too, who you also seem to be close with. Seungcheol wonders if there is something going on there, but then he sees Seungkwan hug you, your visceral reaction to it, and it all clicks into place.

You’re a touch starved omega.

He has seen it once before when he was a teenager. It isn’t common, and often only happens with severe neglect. It makes no sense to him. You’re so beautiful, and the handful of times Seungcheol has been in the same vicinity as you, he has caught a whiff of your scent. Sweet like honey and flower petals. He cannot imagine that another Alpha has never been interested in you, or tried to court you. His heart aches at the thought of you being so alone for so long, and the Alpha in him wants to comfort you.

But he has to take this slow.

It is a random Thursday evening when Choi Seungcheol approaches you for the first time. You are standing outside the office building, fiddling with your phone, when a very distinctly alpha smell hits your nose. You turn your head to see him there, a mere few feet from you. He offers you a tiny smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You recognise him. “Seungcheol?”

“That’s me.”

You’ve seen him around the office. You’re not sure what department, but he’s in the break room sometimes when you and Seungkwan are in there. His presence isn’t loud or overwhelming like alphas often are, but there’s a very distinct, confident air about him. He carries himself with the self assured stance of a man who is comfortable in his skin. You like people who know what they want out of life, like Seungkwan, like Seungcheol. But you never had any reason to speak to him before.

“Are you waiting for someone?” He asks.

You shake your head, holding up your phone. “Just looking for a cab. My car’s in the shop, so I’ve been commuting like this.”

He nods. “I can give you a ride home, if that’s okay?”

You hesitate a bit. You don’t want to impose on him, even though he is the one who offered. But you look down at the app again, at how you’ve been looking for something not crazy expensive for the last ten minutes. You weigh your options as he waits patiently for your answer, before reluctantly nodding yes.

Seungcheol’s car smells like him, and it’s the first time his scent hits your nose strongly enough for you to decipher the notes. Cedarwood and leather. It’s heavy, but not potent, grounded in earthly tones. Involuntarily, you feel yourself relax. That doesn’t happen often when you’re among alphas. The only other one you feel remotely okay with is Mingyu.

Seungcheol makes small talk with you as he drives. None of the questions are too invasive; why your car is in the shop, how your current project is going, what are your usual plans for after work. You talk about Seungkwan, the common link between you two, and Seungcheol praises Seungkwan’s people skills, his ability to hold attention during work meetings. You conclude that you like listening to him speak. His voice is deep, kind of brassy without being grating to the ear. It’s soft too, despite being so manly, and you wonder again how an alpha can have such a strong presence while simultaneously being so accommodating.

“Thank you.” You smile at him genuinely, when he stops before your apartment complex. He nods and smiles back, and your breath catches at the little dimple that dents his cheek. Every little thing adds to his allure. You can feel the omega in you stir, and you leave the car before you can dwell on what that means.

You haven’t had much luck with romance in the past. You presented later than most people your age, and by the time you came to terms with your upbringing, trying to break away from it, you were well into college. You know alphas looked at you, of course. They were alphas. Their biology meant that they would sniff out an omega. But it was never about you, specifically. Your aversion to touch worries you sometimes when it comes to finding a mate, but you are also averse to the very idea of a mate, especially after what your mother had always said. You have grown resentful of the idea that an alpha could be anything like the ones you grew up with. So you banish any thought of that from your mind.

Seungcheol starts showing up more and more in your life after that.

When he greets you in the break room and Seungkwan realizes you know each other, he insists that you all sit together, and that’s how you end up having lunch with him every day. He always offers a taste of his food, which you politely decline, insisting he should eat. A few days of this and he starts bringing a smaller box with him, saying you can eat from it without worrying about his portions. It catches you off guard, that he sets food aside for you, but something inside you preens at the thought, and your heart beats faster when you accept the food.

Seungcheol drives you home a few more times as well, saying he lives in the same direction anyway, and you can ride with him until your car is back from being fixed. You wrack your brain on how to repay all his kindness, and you are so caught up in it that Seungkwan has to sit you down and spell it out for you.

“He’s courting you, dumbass.” His eyes bore into you, and you blink hard a few times, trying to process his words.

“No he’s not.” You scowl. “He’s just being kind.”

“He’s cooking extra food and packing it every day for an unmated omega. He is offering to drive home an unmated omega every day.” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

You bite your lip anxiously, because putting it like that makes it so much more obvious. Is Seungcheol courting you? You have never been courted before. No wonder you didn’t notice.

You fret over it for a few days. And it is on one of your rides home with him that Seungcheol finally speaks up.

“It might not be my place to say, but you seem a little worried.” His voice is low, cautious. “Is something bothering you?”

You have been looking for an opening to bring it up with him anyway, so you try not to think about how Seungcheol guessed that you’re worried and instead ask him what’s been on your mind.

“Seungkwan seems to believe that you are…. courting me.” You try to keep your voice level as you say it, fidgeting on your seat. When he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, you feel your face burn hot.

“I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous.” You shake your head, trying to wave off the annoyance that you now feel at your omega friend. Curse him and his crazy, outlandish suggestions.

“Why would it be ridiculous?” He says finally, eyes still on the road.

“What?”

“The thought of someone courting you shouldn’t be ridiculous.”

Your face is still burning hot. You don’t know what to say to him, how to even begin unraveling why you think this way. Even Seungkwan hasn’t had your trauma dumped on him yet.

Seungcheol’s car slows down in front of your building. He puts it into park and reaches the backseat for his satchel. From it, he removes a black, velvet box. He pulls it open, and you have to strangle a gasp in your mouth as you eye the glittering silver chain of the bracelet. It has a single charm on it, cherries, also silver and gleaming in the light.

“I wanted to gift this to you from the start.” He confesses. “But I figured it would be better to start smaller. Like with food.”

Your heart is beating fast, your eyes trained on the bracelet as he removes it from the box. You don’t dare look up at him. You’re scared. He doesn’t push for you to speak. Silence fills the small space between you two.

“Seungcheol, I-” You hesitate. “I have issues.”

He chuckles a bit, but not unkindly. “We will take this as slow as you want. You call the shots. I’m just asking for a chance to be the one to love you the way I think you deserve.”

You call the shots.

You look at him then, to find that his eyes are already on you. Dark and warm like the earth. It grounds you, and you can feel your shoulders loosen just a bit.

His fingers brush your skin just slightly as he clasps the bracelet on your wrist. Your omega stirs, restless, on guard. You don’t get a wink of sleep that night.

……………………….

Seungkwan is fawning all over your courting gift the next day, nearly beside himself. He’s flushed so red you are afraid he will explode. Mingyu is grinning ear to ear too, swaying in his chair.

“Couldn’t have been anyone better.” He claims. “Seungcheol’s alpha game is on a whole other level. If anyone can wow you, it’s him.”

You don’t have time to question his words, because Seungkwan starts shedding actual tears, and you have to try and console him without any physical contact. That doesn’t work, of course, so Mingyu steps in. It becomes a whole thing, and before you know it, the words slip from your mind.

Seungcheol comes to your desk and asks you to have lunch with him from then onwards. Every day, you sit with him, without Seungkwan now, and he plops a warm, packed lunch in front of you. When you try to protest, he waves it away in dismissal. The omega in you loves it, you realise, being fed like this. You’re sure there’s something deep rooted in your primal nature that approves of being brought food, especially by an alpha that has made it clear he is interested in you.

You are curious about Seungcheol, and he indulges you in every conversation. You learn that he is the youngest of many brothers, all alphas. He’s an athletic guy. He likes to play sports and travel. He has a small, but very loyal circle of friends. You also learn that he has liked you for a long time. It flatters you, even if you find that thought a bit unbelievable. Seungcheol asks that you tell him about yourself as well, your hobbies, your interests, and what you want for your future. He is an attentive listener, and he often lets you drone on and on without feeling any need to edit you. Your heart flutters at how his eyes soften when he looks at you. How he always maintains a distance. He never touches you, not even once. Every word of his feels like balm on your skin.

He asks you on your first date after courting you for a good two months. And he pulls out all the stops for it. It’s romantic, but not overly so that it would freak you out. You both talk yourselves hoarse about any and every topic under the sun, and by the time he walks you to your door, your entire body is buzzing with a warm, comfortable energy.

“You’re so different, Seungcheol.” You mumble as you lean against the doorframe. He hums inquisitively as he watches you.

“How so?”

“You never ask anything of me.” You watch him. “I don’t understand it.”

Seungcheol sighs, staring off into space for a brief moment.

“I think people get it so wrong.” His voice is so quiet that you almost have to strain to catch it. “Alphas are supposed to be this domineering, uncontrollable, all powerful authority. But that’s just not true. It’s the omegas who are the heart of it. Omegas who hold everything up. An alpha is just…. there to love and protect.”

He stares at his feet then, kicking them slightly.

“I know you struggle with…. touch.” He continues. “I also know that’s not your fault. You’ve been let down so many times that your omega just can’t trust again. I get it.”

When he looks up, his smile is soft, whimsical almost. The dim light of the lobby frames him, makes his brown hair look lighter. “I hope that you can trust me. Not immediately. Not with all of you. But maybe just a little bit.”

When your vision gets misty, you try to blink away the tears, but that only makes them fall past your eyeline. Seungcheol reaches up, ever so slowly, to brush one away with the pad of his thumb. When his skin meets yours, it tingles. Your fingers tremble. You try not to shudder. You close your eyes, and you let his barely there touch linger. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do you.

He holds your hand when he drives.

It starts with just linking his pinky with yours. But you try to take the brave step of allowing more, until your fingers are intertwining with his large, warm ones. His hand in yours feels like an anchor preventing you from floating away. Your omega preens, licks over old wounds, and you try not to think about how good the simple act of holding hands feels. You feel like a teenager, feeling so giddy over just holding hands, but when you see Seungcheol try to tamp down a smile, you let yourself feel this happiness.

He likes placing his hand on your lower back when you walk with him, a silent sign of him being there, someone you can rely on. The first time he scents you, it’s a very cautious brush of his wrist against yours. It makes something uncomfortable zip through your skin, and he doesn’t try it again. But then you miss it, the feeling of him making you just a little bit his, and you shyly brush your wrist over his by yourself during one movie night. He lets you, doesn’t rush, doesn’t stop you. He lets you run your wrist over his until you are satisfied that a part of you smells like him and a part of him smells like you.

Your heat hits the week after that.

It’s more painful this time, since your omega recognizes a specific alpha, knows that there is a potential partner out there who can give you a knot. You cry through it for one night and one day, but then you break, your mind muddled, and you call Seungcheol between broken sobs. His voice only makes you cry more as he tries to placate you over the phone. He knows your omega is being unreasonable. There’s a good chance that you won’t be able to handle it anyway. When he hangs up, you almost fall apart.

You hear knocking on your door an hour later, and your heat-addled brain is convinced that it’s Seungcheol. When you see a random stranger there, an omega at that, your face crumples.

“I come bearing gifts.” The man says with a grin, holding up a large canvas bag. Its familiar scent hits you hard, cedarwood and leather, and you snatch the bag from him. When you open it, you find heaps and heaps of Seungcheol’s clothing. Shirts, sweaters, flannels, and by the smell of them, it is anything he has worn in the last few days. You preen at the scent, shoving your nose into the cloth. It calms you down, you can feel your cramps give way for the first time in hours, and you look up gratefully at the stranger who saved you at a time like this.

His name is Jeonghan, and you remember him from Seungcheol’s stories. You recognise him too, from pictures you’ve seen, now that you aren’t delirious with pain. Jeonghan helps you get back in bed and helps arrange all of Seungcheol’s clothes in your nest. He cooks while you rest, making a good few portions of nutritious, easily heated up stew that will last you for the rest of your heat. He tells you how worried Seungcheol is, how badly he wishes he could be there, and that he hopes his scent can hold you over enough to get you through this. He ends up being right, because after three more slightly less painful nights, your heat finally breaks.

You’re embarrassed when you see Seungcheol next, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He assures you that it’s perfectly normal, and he is even flattered that your omega trusts him enough to want his help during your heat. He asks if the clothes helped, and you thank him for them.

“‘M not giving them back though.” You pout. He only laughs heartily.

“I will give you all of them, sweetheart. Just ask.”

Your heart flutters. Your omega purrs, satisfied.

You go over the events of the heat in the following days once it’s over, how badly you wanted him there, how difficult it was to live off his scent alone, especially as it kept fading from his clothes day after day. When he is sprawled on your couch the next Saturday, you finally ask him to scent you.

His eyes go wide, flitting between yours, as if trying to decipher your state of mind.

“Are you sure?” He sits up, forgetting the TV completely. “You have to think about it. Scenting is….. very intimate.”

You nod. “I have thought about it, Cheol. If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t ask.”

He only hesitates for a moment longer, nodding. “Okay.”

You don’t know what to do with yourself as he turns to face you properly. Your heart is beating fast already, and you play with your fingers, trying to calm down. He must notice, because he reaches for your hands, gently holding them between his own.

“Deep breaths.” He instructs you. “Everything is okay.”

His voice has a deep, calming timbre to it, and you feel yourself soften slightly at his words. This is happening. You are trusting an alpha to invade your most sensitive sense. Despite how nervous you are, you think of the comfort it will bring.

“Can we do it in my nest?”

That catches him by surprise too. That’s two in one day, and if you weren’t so anxious, you would find it a bit comical. But he nods, and you notice how eager it is. Your heart squeezes a bit, and you realise that Seungcheol really has gone so long without acting on his very base instincts of touching and scenting you. His alpha must be restless beyond belief at this point.

Five minutes later, you’re lying on your bed, surrounded by a carefully organized mess of clothes that you’ve built into the perfect nest. You have lots of pieces of clothing in there, and you can see Seungcheol’s nose twitch a bit in annoyance when he catches the scent of another alpha, zeroing in on the wool scarf that once belonged to Mingyu. It’s common knowledge that an omega will create nests from the clothes of any person they find comfort in. You have things from Seungkwan in there too, but they are nothing compared to the huge piles of clothes that belong to Seungcheol, and that placates him a little. He knows that if and when he mates you, he is going to shred Mingyu’s scarf into a million pieces. Until then, you can have it.

He hovers over you, making sure he isn’t crowding you too much. You look more at home here, more at ease, and he wants to think it’s because you are surrounded by his scent. The alpha in his growls deep, satisfied, seeing who he already deems as his omega lying like this between clothes that belong to and smell like him. Your chest rises in a deep inhale before the air leaves you in a long whoosh.

He starts with leaning down to nuzzle against your cheek. You close your eyes, tilting your head to the side and up. You can practically feel how shaky his breath is as you present yourself to him like this, and you marvel at his restraint once again. Your hands clench into fists, and you feel a surge of need in you again.

“Cheolie.” You rasp.

“I’m here.” His breath hits your neck and you shiver at the feeling. Then he leans down to the junction between your neck and shoulder, just over your scent gland. He exhales on it carefully, and it’s warm against your skin. You bite your lower lip hard.

His tongue is tentative as it licks over the now swollen, needy gland. He keeps doing that for a couple of minutes, little kitten licks that relax your limbs the more he swipes over the area. He breathes out again, his breath mixing with the pheromones now coming off you in waves. He leans lower, closer to you, his elbows on either side of your head, before finally latching his lips over your skin to give in a soft suck.

Your back arches involuntarily, pleasure zipping through you. You know your scent is thickening with your arousal, and so is Seungcheol’s. The heady mix of both of them is making your head spin a bit. Seungcheol alternates between licks and sucks, making sure to cover the skin around your glands with his spit too. It feels deliciously territorial, a side of him you have experienced only fleetingly when he places a hand firmly on your waist, or when an alpha gets a bit too close and he stares them down. You wonder about it, about how badly he is holding himself back from pummeling another alpha into the ground when he gets too close. Mingyu has mentioned it a few times, that Seungcheol’s scent sours when he feels jealous. You want to see more of it. You want him to claim you as his.

It’s the first time you feel the need to be claimed, and it makes you whimper. Seungcheol hums into your neck.

“Feel good?” His voice has dropped a few octaves, and the low grunt makes something zip down your core. You barely managed a jerky nod.

“Yes, Alpha.”

The title makes him bristle pleasantly, and he doubles his efforts at making sure your scent glands are bathed in him. He keeps going for what feels like hours. When you walk into the office the next day, Seungkwan’s nose scrunches up, claiming he would confuse you with a mated omega if you reeked even a little bit more.

You get addicted to the feeling of Seungcheol scenting you. And he is more than happy to provide. Every morning, he grips your waist tight, lapping over your neck before you walk into work, making sure everyone in the building knows that you have an alpha you can call your own. He whispers to you how delicious you smell when your scent is mixed with his, how good it makes his alpha feel. You are shy about it still, but he loves it when you carefully and hesitantly kiss over his own scent glands. You don’t know why he would want your scent, but he claims he wants it just as bad, says he is as much yours as you are his.

By the time your next heat rolls around, you are sure you want Seungcheol to spend it with you.

He’s hesitant, naturally. You two have come a long way, but helping you in heat is basically the final step. The end of the line. There’s no coming back from something as intimate as that, and he worries. You know he is only looking out for you, but you also know yourself. There’s no way you can make it through this heat without him now. He could drench his clothes in buckets of his sweat and it still wouldn’t replace the feeling of his lips suckling on your glands, his hands running slowly over your waist. You need him there, and you tell him as much.

Seungcheol takes the preparation during your pre-heat very seriously. He asks for time off for both of you, essentially solidifying in the office what is going to happen. Seungkwan is shameless about it as he teases you, but you whack him upside the head with a thick folder and that shuts him up. Seungcheol shows up at your place with a large bag of his essentials. Anything he will need, some groceries he picked up along the way, and more of his clothes. At this point, you wonder if he has anything left in his closet at all.

He cooks and portions meals for you. He stashes protein bars, electrolyte packets, and a case of water bottles in your room. He doesn’t let you move, telling you to rest as much as you can because you’ll be needing your strength when the heat hits. His implication makes you flush, and you wonder how it will feel. You watch him putter around your room from where you lay in your nest, making sure everything is accessible to him. You’ve never taken a knot before. If you think back to before you met Seungcheol, the very thought of one would repulse you. But as you ponder about it now, him naked over you, skin to skin, shoving the swollen base of his cock inside you, you can’t help but think of how good it will feel.

Seungcheol, as in tune with you as he is, can smell the shift in your scent. He gives you a tiny smile, heavy with understanding.

“Are you still with me, omega?” He asks, leaning over to run a cool hand over the heated skin of your forehead. You hum. Your eyelids feel heavy, and it takes a lot of strength to keep them open. Seungcheol places his hand over your eyes to keep them closed.

“Try and sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You listen to his words without a second thought. It seems your brain is already shutting down, depending on him to tell you what to do. Your nap is short lived and fitful, and when you wake up again, you are breathing heavily. Your shirt is already sticking to your back. Eyes only half open, vision unfocused, you paw at the shirt, trying to lift your heavy arms so you can pull it off.

“Here. Let me.” His voice cuts through the haze. You can feel his hands, still cooler than your body temperature, grip your shirt so he can tug it off you. Cool air hits you, and you wonder if he has turned the thermostat down to better cater to your needs.

“Better?”

You hum, turning towards the sound. You blink furiously until your vision is clear enough to see his head of thick brown hair to your right. You reach for him.

“Alpha.” Your voice trembles, and a painful cramp shoots through your lower stomach. You wince. Seungcheol is on top of you immediately, leaning down to bite gently on your scent gland, as if coaxing your omega to calm down. It listens, settling a bit.

“I’m here.” His weight on you feels heavenly. You can feel your muscles relax. But the cramp persists. “Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t-” You almost cry out as you feel the cramp sharpen. “I don’t know. Alpha, please-”

He shushes you, hands dipping into the waistband of your shorts until he is tugging them off. They stick to your crotch like skin, leaving wet strings as they part from you. Your inner thighs are already drenched. Seungcheol had noticed as you slept, but he didn’t want to wake you. The more you are turned on, the easier it will be to make you cum multiple times, and the quicker your heat will break in the long run.

He doesn’t wait before he reaches down, carefully rubbing the pads of his fingers over your swollen clit. You gasp and jerk at the feeling, and Seungcheol uses that moment to dip two fingers inside your desperately clenched opening. Your eyes nearly roll up at the feeling, and you don’t hold back your satisfied sigh. It encourages him to sink in to the last knuckle, feeling almost no resistance as your body stretches to accommodate him. All that courting, that dating, that scenting, it may have been slow as hell, near torture for him, but it seems that by now, every cell in your body is moulded to recognise him. He watches you arch into him, your legs spreading more, your pussy greedily sucking his fingers in, and he marvels at how pliant you are under him. You have truly given all of yourself to him, and he takes that as a great responsibility. You’re his omega, bite or not, and he will make sure you are heavy with his pups by the time you leave this nest.

Fuck. Maybe your heat is making him delirious too. His alpha is rearing to knot you. But he needs to prep you first.

You cum on his fingers twice before he even thinks about putting his cock in you. He coaxes each orgasm out of you with the expert curl of his fingers, his lips at your ear, whispering praises that seem to reverberate in your skull about how good you are, the perfect little omega for him, how much he loves your tiny little pussy, how much he loves taking care of you like this, how badly he wants to give you his knot. You’re sobbing by the time he is lining his tip against your entrance, cheeks drenched in heavy tears, still so turned on despite already cumming twice, and when he penetrates you, sinks into you in one fell swoop, you lock around him and cum hard for the third time. He groans, long and low, struggling against the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, watching you writhe under him.

“Good girl.” He coos, voice so gravelly and deep that you could cum again just hearing him talk. “So good for me. So perfect.”

You’re lightheaded, the air feels like cotton pressing into your skin. Your limbs have no power, and you are surprised you can even spread your legs for Seungcheol. Just his massive cock sinking into you is enough to drive you up the wall, and when he finally starts moving, you wail.

Seungcheol encourages you every step of the way. He coaxes you to talk through the rough pounding, even if your words are incoherent and choppy. You babble on about how good his cock feels, how badly you want his knot and his cum. Every sound from you seems to rile him up even more. When you keen, your omega whining long and high pitched in the depths of your chest, it only spurs him on. He fucks you through another orgasm before the base of his cock finally starts to swell, and at the promise of a knot, you writhe desperately.

He shoves himself inside you, knot swelling and locking inside your weeping pussy as he groans and finally cums, flooding your insides with his seed. Tingles run over your skin, through your very bones, as the desperate, primal creature inside you settles, finally sedated, finally happy. Seungcheol’s torso undulates over you, bare skin to bare skin, prolonging his own high so he can dump more of his load inside you. He is shiny with sweat and exertion, and you admire him as the fog in your head lifts. His hair falls over his eyes, and his lips are pretty pink from being bitten raw. You pull him down by his broad shoulders, nuzzling into his neck, nibbling on the skin. He hums and lets you stake your claim on him.

“Better?”

You nod, allowing him to pull you both so you are lying on your sides, waiting for the knot to go down. Your muscles feel muted, like someone flipped a switch inside you. By the time Seungcheol’s knot goes down, you are almost half asleep. He tries his best to make you stay awake long enough to down a bottle of water and a protein bar, promising you food when you wake up next, tucking you carefully into your nest.

The next few days are bliss.

You never associated heats with anything good before. They were always painful experiences, a flurry of cramps and dizziness, like a trial you had to get through. But Seungcheol flips the script around. He pumps you full whenever you ask for it, knot after knot, until you are so satisfied that you can’t think straight, can’t even speak right. You are covered, inside and out, with him. He litters your body with his marks, tongue and teeth working overtime to make sure that no part of you is unblemished. He feeds you during your lucid intervals, bathes you when he can, then fucks another knot into you until you are tuckered out again. When day four hits, your heat finally breaks, and you are more grateful for him than you are for yourself. You can’t imagine it’s easy to keep up with you.

“Are you kidding?” He grins, stretching out beside you in your nest. “You’re a dream. I couldn’t have asked for a better omega. You were so perfect for me, every single day of your heat.”

You flush at the praise. It somehow hits even harder than the words he whispered while driving his cock into you in the throes of heat. He nuzzles your neck, sighing and relaxing beside you, licking over your scent gland. There’s no need for that. You reek of him anyway. But you let him do it, dreaming of the day his teeth break the barrier of your skin there, making you his permanently.

You hope that day comes quicker.

SWEAT TRICKLES DOWN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK AND THIGHS. Irritated, you wipe at the back of your neck for what feels like the hundredth time before pulling at the collar of your shirt, fanning it in hopes of cooling the rest of your body off. It’s unseasonably hot, a heat wave sweeping through the city and turning your office cubicle into a toaster oven.

The small fan on your desk whirs pitifully, barely offering any sort of respite. Adjusting in your seat does nothing but remind you how uncomfortable you are, the scratchy grain of the chair digging into the back of your sweating thighs, the underwire of your bra digging into your ribs, the heat rash forming where your underwear digs into the creases of your hips. 

Unbearable. 

A message pings on your computer and you open it, growling in irritation as you see a message from Wonwoo in the cubicle behind you. 

Jeon Wonwoo: Ever heard of suppressants, diva? 

You: IT’S FUCKING HOT IN HERE

You: Tell this company to BUY SOME FUCKING AIRCONDITIONERS 

Jeon Wonwoo: Irritable… sweaty… irrational… 

You grab the nearest pen and whip around in your chair, launching it at the back of his head. It hits with a satisfying thwack. He flinches, cursing as his hand flies up to rub the spot where you nailed him. Wonwoo turns in his seat, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder.

You meet his glare with a stuck-out tongue and a very deliberate middle finger before turning back to your screen, face flushed, partially from the heat, partially from embarrassment.

He doesn’t get it. You know he’s just teasing, but it still stings. That old, familiar insecurity curls in your gut at his jest, no matter its innocence. Being an omega is hard enough. You’ve spent years unlearning shame, of trying to accept this part of yourself you never asked for. And you’ve gotten pretty far with that. 

But then something as simple as a heatwave hits, the rise in temperature turning your body traitorous, unable to accommodate for a little bit of humid air and heat. 

Of course, Wonwoo doesn’t understand - can’t conceptualize the level of difficulty it is to maintain a baseline for you. Betas don’t have to deal with this kind of hormonal chaos. Sure, they’ve got their own issues - media erasure, medical neglect, in general being left out - but it’s not the same. Not when your body actively works against you, not when your biology fights you. 

You sigh. There’s no point in going down the rabbit hole and comparing omegas and betas. You’ve traveled that road since your subgender presented itself in your freshman year of college. Comparison is the thief of joy, but it’s also an endless torture device. 

Your thighs rub together uncomfortably when you get up. You swipe your water bottle, unscrewing the cap as you duck out of your cubicle, head down and steps fast. You’re pretty sure Wonwoo is attuned to your scent more than others, having been one of your closest friends and cubicle-neighbor for the better part of five years. But still, you’re nervous about it, hand snaking up to touch the translucent patch on the side of your neck, meant to dampen the smell from your glands. 

No one pays you much mind. You breathe a sigh of relief to find the break room empty. You make a beeline to the water cooler in the corner, sliding the water bottle under it and pressing the tap. As it fills, the air conditioning kicks on, the vent right above you. 

Cool air hits the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter, a shiver of relief slithering through you. For a moment, you lose yourself, letting the cool wick away the sticky sweat, the first time you’ve felt a little relief all day. A small sound escapes your mouth, half whimper and half plea. 

Someone clears their throat and you flinch, losing your grip on the water bottle. It crashes to the ground, water splashing up your legs but more importantly, all over the floor. You squeak in panic, diving to pick it up in an attempt to stop the outflow of water. 

Hands dripping, you pivot on your heel, scanning for paper towels only to find them being offered. You blink in surprise, body going rigid as you become acutely aware of who is offering them. 

Choi Seungcheol watches you with quiet concern, dark eyes steady behind his glasses. He keeps a respectful distance, arms extended with a roll of paper towels, waiting for you to take them. But you don’t move. Your pulse pounds in your neck as your gaze drops from his face to his hands, large and patient.

He has pretty hands, you think absently, staring a beat too long.

For a moment, all you can hear is the roar of blood in your ears. Then, he steps forward without a word, crouching down to wipe the water pooling around  your feet. You jerk, startled, a sharp sound of protest escaping you as you drop down and snatch more paper towels from his hands. Apologies tumble out, disjointed and breathless, your thoughts scattered. 

He doesn’t back away. Instead, he methodically dabs at the wet tile while trying to avoid soaking himself in the process. His proximity is overwhelming, his spicy scent nearly knocking you over. You grit your teeth and clench your jaw, irritated. He’s not supposed to affect you like this - never has before. 

Seungcheol is always mild. Unassuming. He’s worked here as long as you have, one of the few alphas on your floor, and one of the most reserved. He keeps to his office, always dimly lit, always quiet. He greets you politely. Never lingers. 

It surprised you when you first met him. Seungcheol looks like the type of alpha who is the opposite of quiet and shy. There’s a gravitas to him that you haven’t quite figured out and a body made to ruin. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a voice deep enough to rattle through your spine even on your best days. 

Yet somehow, he’s never once made a pass on a single omega at work. 

Which, he shouldn’t. You respect that about him, which feels ridiculous. You shouldn’t have to be flattered by the bare minimum of respect, shouldn’t need to be surprised when an alpha is able to be normal. To treat you like a human being. 

You mumble a quiet thanks, focusing on the mess. It’s the only thing tethering you right now. It shouldn’t feel this intense, but the goddamn heat is getting to you. It’s baking you from the inside out, turning your cube walls suffocating. It makes you tired. Irritable. Prone to throwing pens at Wonwoo’s head. 

“Thanks,” you mutter when you stand. You toss the soggy paper towels into the bin, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry again.” 

“No need to apologize. I’m sorry I startled you.”

Seungcheol stands slowly. You don’t move, watching the way he wipes his damp hands across his slacks. You hate that you notice how the fabric pulls over his thighs. As soon as you have the thought, you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but him, afraid that he’ll see the embarrassment or the way your body reacts without your permission. 

“It’s been a long week,” Seungcheol offers, voice soft. “You alright? I know Jeonghan had you working on that insane report.”

You swallow past the dry patch in your throat. “All good. Just tired. It’ll probably keep me here forever, but what can you do?”

“Mhmm. Don’t forget it’s Friday - cleaning locks the office and will trap you inside.”

“Sounds like you’re intimately familiar.” 

His smile is soft, cheeks flushed. “Cannot confirm or deny.”

“I see.” You gesture to the watery floor. “Thank you, again. And sorry for being a bit clumsy.”

“No problem.” 

You slide away from him, hoping that he can’t tell that you’re leaning, trying to avoid catching his scent again. He doesn’t seem to notice - or has the decency not to make it obvious - and you slip away from the break room, all but running to your cube.

Inside your little haven, you rip open one of your drawers, grabbing a pheromone damp nasal spray. You all but shove it up your cranium, putting it as far up your nasal passage as you can manage before squeezing and shooting a blast of medical grade dampener up your nose, inhaling sharply. 

It helps a little, settling your nerves and erasing the lingering scent of Seungcheol. You breathe out a sigh, calm and collected. Carefully and quickly, you peel the suppressant patch off your neck and swap it for a new one. It tingles when you apply it, the microneedles that embed into the skin to deliver suppressant a cool sensation at first. 

When you settle, you feel much better. It isn’t until you turn to start knocking out the rest of your report that you realize you never refilled your water bottle after dropping it, making you lean back on your desk and groan. 

-

Working for Yoon Jeonghan comes with its challenges. He's incredibly sharp and a natural leader, but he tends to be a bit forgetful and brings a touch of chaos wherever he goes. Jeonghan is the reason you’d started working at this company, though, admiring that there was an omega in charge, defying the long-standing social norms that omegas could not lead. 

It’s a silly stereotype, but you’ve been fighting stereotypes your entire life, unlearning your own and reminding yourself that there are still inherent biases to unlearn. 

Like right now, when you're mentally cursing Jeonghan for tossing a last-minute report your way, even though he had multiple reminders in his inbox and just forgot he'd opened them. You only blame him a little. Work’s been nonstop, keeping him up at all hours, and if there’s one thing that truly makes Jeonghan unbearable, it’s sleep deprivation.

Jeonghan doesn’t have an assistant, but you’re the closest thing to it, one of the few people in the office he trusts to get things done. So when he’s on vacation and starts spamming your email that he dropped the ball, it’s on you to cover for him, like he’s done for you in the past. 

The consequence of competency, he’d told you over the phone, the sound of the ocean in the background. I’m sorry, I owe you, please don’t quit. 

You weren’t going to quit. Despite your irritation, you like working for Jeonghan, and despite the unbearable heat burning in your cubicle, you like being able to focus on pulling and building reports, inputting data into a spreadsheet and setting pivot tables and charts.

It makes you forget about the world for a little bit, including the oppressive office air and the way that the building’s air conditioner barely keeps up with the raging temperatures outside. Makes you forget about the incident in the breakroom, and about everything else, including the passage of time. 

Above you, the lights go out. You flinch, looking up in surprise. Rubbing your eyes, you blink until your computer screen comes back into focus, looking at the time. You groan. It’s past seven, far later than you meant to stay at work. But you’re done with the report, dragging the attachment to your email to fire it off to Jeonghan with a less than happy emoji pasted in the body of the email. 

Exhaustion weighs you down when you stand. Your joints pop and everything feels hot and itchy again, all of your irritations flooding back to pester you now that you’re not locked in on your work. You flip off the fan, lamp and computer at your desk. Immediately without air circulation, your cube is sweltering, the dress sticking to you, fabric itchy and clinging to your skin.

A sudden wave of dizziness makes the room tilt around you. You steady yourself with deep, measured breaths, trying to stay grounded. A spike in temperature is normal. You can deal with it. It’s manageable. Sure, the heat triggers a surge of estriolase, the hormone that kicks in during Stage 1 of an omega’s heat cycle. And sure, it leaves you flushed, restless, skin prickling with irritation, and-  

“You’re still here?”

You shriek, whirling around, heart hammering as your hand flies to your chest in terror. Seungcheol takes a cautious step back into the hallway, hands lifted in surrender, quiet concern etched into his features. For a moment, the air between you is thick with silence, broken only by your uneven breathing, still reeling from the rush of epinephrine and cortisol.

Being an omega means constantly walking a tightrope of hormones. One shift sets off another, like dominoes toppling. Fear bumps into instinct, instinct stirs something deeper, until your body is a storm of tangled biochemistry.

Now, your body is caught in a storm of fear, annoyance, embarrassment and interest, each one fighting for dominance. You swallow thickly and lean off your desk, ignoring the way your body flashes between hot and cold, fear and something else.

“Just finished Jeonghan’s report.”

“Ah.” 

Something passes his face. It’s unreadable, but he’s focused. Your skin prickles under the heavy weight of his stare, watching as his mouth tightens at the corner. 

“You heading out?” 

“Yeah.”

A beat passes. His gaze flickers briefly, so fast that you’re not sure you track the movement correctly, but you swear it drops to the patch on your neck, dampening your scent. His jaw flexes once before he offers you a tight smile, gesturing. 

“Mind if I walk you out? It’s late.”

Your heart hammers. “Sure.” 

You’ve walked out of work with Seungcheol before. He offers to walk anyone out when it’s after hours, even if he himself isn’t leaving yet. It has nothing to do with your subgender and everything to do with him being kind, a sort of stoic office guardian.

Grabbing the rest of your things, you follow Seungcheol in silence. The building is quiet, both of you the only people still around on a weekend. The lack of sound amplifies everything else: the sound of your own quickened breathing, the warmth pulsing under your skin, the spicy scent of Seungcheol as he steps onto the elevator, lingering at the threshold to hold the door open for you.

You murmur a thank you as you pass by him. You can’t help the shiver that snakes through you as you pass. You clench your fists, angry and willing yourself to calm down. This has never happened around Seungcheol, and you blame the fucking weather for the way your body overrides you now. 

The forty five seconds spent in the elevator are borderline hell. Neither of you says anything. You’ve pressed yourself in the corner, trying to remain nonchalant, like your entire world isn’t spinning, like there isn’t a dull ache in the pit of your stomach, like there isn’t saliva pooling at the back of your tongue. 

Seungcheol smells warm. Grounding. Something that lingers, sharp and clean with a bit of a bite. You breathe in, trying to figure it out. Perhaps bergamot and cardamom, spice touched by sweetness, a hint of earth. 

The elevator dings and Seungcheol is halfway through the lobby before you realize it. You push off the elevator wall after him, steps stilted and uneven. It’s even hotter in the tiny lobby of your office building, making a bead of sweat trail down the back of your neck. You adjust your dress, licking your lips in an attempt to relieve the hot flash threatening you. 

Seungcheol pushes on the glass doors at the front, but they don’t budge. Both of you stand and stare for a second before he curses low under his breath, voice like gravel. You ignore what your stomach does at the sound of it as he turns to look at you, expression wary.

“Remember what I said in the break room?” You definitely remember the break room, but not anything he said. “The cleaners come on Friday evenings and they lock the doors.” 

“Oh.”

Seunghecol walks back to the elevator and swipes his badge at the scanner and presses the button. The metal doors do not open again, and the button doesn’t light up. He curses again, pinching the bridge of his nose right beneath his glasses. 

“Badges don’t work after hours.”

“They don’t?”

“No. It’s not the first time I’ve been stuck here, unfortunately.” He adjusts the strap on his bag and pulls a cellphone from his pocket. “Thankfully I have security’s number saved for exactly that reason.”

Seungcheol’s words do little to bring you relief. He paces a few steps away from you, dialing a number on the phone. He holds the phone to his ear, waiting for security to pick up. His free hand is stuffed into the pocket of his slacks, thumb tapping idly. You stand a few feet away, arms crossed, trying to focus on the sterile, white glow of the lobby lights instead of the way your skin feels like it’s humming.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds loud, making you twitch. “Yes, I’m locked in the lobby again.” He glances at you. “I’m with another coworker as well. The badge isn’t working to get us back up. Can you come let us out?” 

You barely register his words. A flush is working its way up from your stomach to your chest, your chest to your shoulders, shoulder to elbows. You feel it unfurl, the slow-burning petals of a flower blooming. The air feels thick and heavy, almost damp, and no amount of focused breathing seems to help with the pulse you feel throbbing in your neck.

Seungcheol’s voice momentarily pulls you from your daze. “They’re sending someone from central security. Might take about an hour, though. They were in the middle of a shift rotation.” 

You nod, swallowing hard. “Alright.” 

“Are you alright?” Seungcheol asks quietly, eyes fixated on you. 

You open your mouth to say yes, but the word dies in your throat. Because you’re not. Not really. There’s a heat curling deep in your belly now, slow and insistent, and your clothes feel too tight, your skin too sensitive. You press your palm against the marble wall behind you, trying to ground yourself with the coolness of the stone.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding and giving him a thumbs up. 

You’re anything but. It hits you slowly, but when it does, it locks into place with terrifying clarity: the dizziness, the temperature spikes, the way everything around you sounds sharper, smells sharper, the bergamot and cardamom. 

Your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of heat, triggered by the unbearable temperature spike across the city and the unbearable proximity of the alpha standing across the lobby from you. 

You shift your weight, arms tightening around yourself, every nerve ending suddenly too aware of Seungcheol’s presence. He’s not even close, but you can feel him. Or maybe it’s just your scent receptors going haywire, both just as likely. 

“You’re flushed,” he says after a moment, eyes not quite meeting yours now. “You sure you’re not getting sick?”

“No,” you say too quickly. “I don’t think it’s that.”

Seungcheol’s brows pull together, not believing you but not sure what to make of it. He shifts his weight, gaze scanning you, trying to figure you out. You refuse to meet his eyes, looking up at the lobby lights that are too bright, making you squint. But you can feel him watching you, his gaze intense. 

“You look uncomfortable.” He shifts a little further from you. “I apologize if-”

“It’s not you!” You blurt, a little forceful. “It’s just hot in here. It’s… hard on me.” 

When he doesn’t answer, you dare a look at him. Seungcheol tilts his head slightly, like he doesn’t believe you but won’t push it. He nods, leaning against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes track the way his biceps flex, the way his shirt compresses across his chest and your mouth goes dry. 

He studies you carefully now, eyes narrowing just slightly—not in suspicion, but understanding. Something settles in his expression, the faintest flicker of recognition behind his eyes. Fuck. Fuck. He knows. He knows and the embarrassment is so overwhelming you nearly fold over and start crying. 

Still, he doesn't call you out. Doesn’t voice what you’re sure he knows, what his instincts are telling him. Doesn’t corner you with it.

Instead, he says, “Tell me something you enjoy.”

“What?”

He watches you, eyes soft. “Anything. To pass time. I only know the basics about you. Tell me something you’re passionate about.”

Something you're passionate about? A million things run through your mind. You grab the first thing you can think of, a single subject that you’re well-versed in.

“There’s a theory that the Tyrannosaurus Rex didn’t roar.” 

He looks confused. “The dinosaur?” 

“Yes. Like you know in the movie how they… rahhh.” You imitate the noise, immediately wanting to smack yourself for the ridiculousness of it. He presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. He nods and gestures for you to continue, dark eyes focused only on you. “So it’s a total myth. Scientists think they made way lower sounds, like… you know when crocodiles do that weird purr?” 

“Crocodile purr?”

“Yeah you know when they…” You hunch your shoulders. “Do that weird water rumble thing.” 

“I think I follow.”

You nod rapidly, grateful for the distraction even as your heart beats way too fast. “Yeah, like a subsonic hum. They think it was more intimidating that way. A sound that could vibrate through the chest cavity of its prey. Honestly, it’s kind of genius.”

He watches you with quiet amusement, one brow raised but not mocking. “I didn’t know you were into dinosaurs.”

“I was obsessed as a kid,” you admit, shrugging, eyes still fixed on the security panel like it’ll spark to life if you ignore it long enough. “Used to correct people all the time. I was that kid. I got in trouble once for lecturing my cousin while playing with dinosaurs because Stegosaurus and a T. rex never existed at the same time. They lived millions of years apart! And he was trying to tell me they were best friends.” You scoff. “As if.”

You hear a soft chuckle across the lobby and you look up to meet his face. Your pulse flutters again, reminding you why Seungcheol asked you to distract yourself in the first place. 

As though he can sense where your thoughts are going, Seungcheol asks, “So are you one of those people who thinks the Jurassic Park raptors were too big?” 

You huff, a flare of irritation licking through you. “Well yeah. They were too big, thank you for asking. Plus, Alan Grant pointed out in the first movie that they were the size of turkeys, and then they get to Isla Nublar and they’re fucking six feet tall! And they were supposed to have feathers!”

“Not very intimidating.”

“I mean, I feel like a giant bird of prey is pretty intimidating.” 

Seungcheol grins and you feel another shiver threaten to pulse through you. His grin is beautiful, turning his face from intimidating to soft in seconds. “I’m never going to be able to take them seriously again, I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s quiet again. The tension from earlier hasn’t disappeared, but something in the air feels different. Sweat fills the creases behind your knees, beads on the small of your back, gathers on your thighs. Your rambling had made you forget about it all for a moment, but now it’s back, the awareness of the way your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of your heat. 

If security gets here soon, you’ll be okay. It’s the lightest phase of the cycle, manageable with some effort and focus. But it’s unpredictable. Sometimes it lingers, sometimes it crashes into the next stage without warning. And while your body usually keeps a steady three-month rhythm, outside stimuli can trigger an early onset.

Like being trapped in an overheated lobby with an alpha just a few yards away. One who’s quiet, watching, aware. 

Still, it’s not unmanageable. You’ve handled worse. If you can get home in time, the meds waiting in your cabinet will ease you through the worst of it, keep you from slipping into second and third stage alone, unprepared.

If not…

No, you can’t think about that. If you stray too far to the second stage of your cycle before getting home, your options are limited and grim. 

You don’t like any of them. 

You shift your stance again, ankles crossing and uncrossing, arms hugging your waist like that might hold everything in place. But it’s not helping anymore. Your skin feels too tight, like it doesn’t fit right on your body. The heat is building now, no longer a low thrum, but a steady pulse radiating from your core, licking up your spine and sinking into your limbs. Your breaths come shorter, faster, and there’s a dull ache beginning in your lower belly, something deep and hormonal and utterly beyond your control.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, causing you to look at him. His face is soft. Concerned. “You still with me?”

The way he says it, soft and gentle, makes things worse. Makes you want to whine and cross the lobby floor to him, to let him pull you in tight and tell you it’ll be okay. To comfort you. The desire is so bad that you realize you’re much farther into Stage 1 than you thought.

Panic starts to nip at your heels. You’re unsure what to do. There’s nothing on you besides your nasal spray and your patches to help you out, but those aren’t what you need. Your patches protect others from your scent and the nasal spray protects you from others - from Seungcheol. 

You try to answer, but your voice catches in your throat, coming out thin and shaky. “I’m okay.”

“Are you in prodrome?” he asks quietly, voice pitched low and careful.

You flinch when he finally says it out loud, letting the acknowledgement ring in the lobby. You close your eyes for a moment, your silence an answer in itself. 

Seungcheol sighs and pulls his phone back out of his pocket, dialing as he lifts it to his ear. “Yeah, I know. Look, you need to expedite. My colleague needs medical assistance and we’re still locked in the lobby. No… no.” Seungcheol glances at you. “She’s experiencing prodrome. Can you please expedite? Yes. Thank you.” 

He hangs up and turns back to you, stepping slowly so he doesn’t overwhelm, arms loose at his sides in a show of calm. “They’re sending someone now. Shouldn’t be long.”

You nod, but your breathing is uneven, shallow now. You can feel the sweat dripping down your spine, the pressure behind your eyes. Everything smells too sharp, too thick. Especially him. Spice and warmth and safety. It’s awful. 

Seungcheol stays where he is, a careful distance between you, but his voice is steady when he says, “Tell me what you need. What I can do to help.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean it. If you need space, I’ll back off. If you need something cold, we’ll figure it out. Just don’t… don’t try to pretend this isn’t happening. Let me help you.” 

The kindness in his voice cracks something in your chest. No judgment, no pressure, just him, steady and solid, offering help while your body betrays you one symptom at a time. 

You swallow hard. “I just need to get out. I just need to make it home before it gets worse.”

Seungcheol nods, no hesitation. “Then we’ll get you home. I promise.”

Time moves like molasses. The silence between you thickens. You give up on standing, sitting on the cool tile floor. It only offers momentary respite until you’re panting again, struggling to maintain your grip on yourself. 

It’s not working. Your entire body is pulsing, tingling, burning in waves that crest and fall without rhythm. Your skin itches with hypersensitivity, every shift of your clothes unbearable, your breath slow and ragged. It feels like you’re melting, burning up from the forge in your chest.

You can feel Seungcheol watching you from his assigned corner. He says nothing, keeping a respectful distance. You steal a glance at him through bleary eyes. He’s just leaning against the wall, hands clenched and jaw tight. He’s doing his best to appear calm, but you see signs of irritation. His throat works and your eyes linger on the way his Adam's apple bobs for too long. You think about sinking your teeth into his neck, tasting him-

His scent, normally warm and grounded, spikes. You sense the shift and it makes you squirm, pressing yourself further into the wall. You look away from him, hiding your face in your shoulder while you squeeze your eyes shut as another wave of cramping crashes into you. 

Seungcheol’s irritation is sharp. Shame floods you, thick and fast. Of course he’s annoyed. Today has gone from bad to worse. He’s now stuck in a lobby with an omega in prodrome, a liability that he now has to be responsible for, and you’re barely holding it together, shaking like a live wire. You’re stuck, and he’s stuck with you, and-

The lobby doors beep and hiss open. You don’t even lift your head. Don’t even hear the first few words from the guards. You only feel cool night air and the sudden shift in pressure, making you keen and melt into the tile. 

Seungcheol appears at your side, his scent fading from acrid to soothing. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, crouching down to your level. It’s the closest he’s been to you all day. You feel the heat of him, the nearness overwhelming. “They’re here. We can go.”

You don’t move. The thought of moving suddenly seems like an insurmountable task. Your world is tilting, your ears ringing. Your limbs feel detached from your brain and your body is locked, curled in on itself. Heat prickles across your skin like static.

Worst of all, you’re starting to panic. Fear sets in, stabbing deep. You don’t know how to get up and take the train home. Don’t know how to get yourself up the stairs and into your apartment. To the cabinet to take a suppressant. To the fridge for water. 

Seungcheol’s voice sharpens. “Hey. Look at me.”

It’s a command. You blink up at him, barely able to focus. Something flashes behind his eyes and he’s on the phone again. “Hi, I need emergency assistance for an omega. She’s in heat prodrome and she’s deteriorating fast. No, she’s conscious. She’s overheating, but having trouble standing and struggling to focus. I have no idea what to do.” 

You barely hear the voice on the other end of the line, but Seungcheol does. His expression shifts, each word they say tightening his jaw.

“She’s a coworker - we were locked in a lobby at work but I can take her to an omega hospital.” You whimper and shake your head vehemently, whining. He softens. “They said they can give you a heat inhibitor on-site.” 

“No,” you pant. “It hurts.”

He nods. “I can’t do that, she doesn’t want to go.” The operator says something else and he nods. His eyes tighten at the corners and he glances at you. “I can take you to a service clinic. They can assign you-”

“Home,” you plead. “I just need to get home. I can- I can deal with it.”

“I don’t know… do you have, um. Do you have an alpha you usually…?”

“No.”

Tears well up fast and hot, blurring your vision, sliding down your cheeks in silent streaks. Your whole body feels wrong, like you’ve been unraveled from the inside, trembling and raw.

“I just want to go home,” you whisper, folding in on yourself. “I have my meds. I can manage if I can just get home. Please.”

He repeats what you say into the phone. They say something and he shakes his head and hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Okay. Alright. We’re going to get you home, okay?” 

He helps you to your feet slowly, carefully, arms braced around you like he’s afraid you’ll break. You lean into him, weak and unsteady, but there’s no judgment in his touch, just quiet strength and a protective kind of focus that makes your throat tighten all over again.

The lobby fades behind you. The night air hits your overheated skin like salvation. Seungcheol doesn’t say a word as he guides you into the passenger seat of his car, buckles you in, and throws his jacket over your lap for warmth. His hands are shaking as he starts the engine.

“Can you give me directions?”

You mumble them. You’re not even sure that he hears you. He has no idea the bomb he’s given you, tossing his jacket over you. Your fingers curl into it, greedy. Inhaling deeply, you feel yourself drift as he drives, the hum of the engine lulling you into a half-daze. The smell of Seungcheol is overwhelming, but comforting. Steady. No longer a threat, but something you want. Need. 

It isn’t until Seungcheol’s hands are gently shaking you that you realize you’re at your apartment. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes. He looks down at you, glasses a little askew as he asks you a question. His words are garbled and you don’t understand, shaking your head in confusion as he gazes at you. 

“Come on,” he sighs, unbuckling your seat for you. His chest brushes across you as he does, bergamot and cardamom hitting you so hard that it knocks the senses out of you. You’re near catatonic for a second until you feel his hands pressed against your forehead. “Fuck, you’re burning up. Can I carry you?”

You must nod, because he bends low and scoops you out of the car. You jostle against his chest as he carries you bridal style toward the stairs. His scent is mind numbing. Your face is too close to his neck and he doesn’t have a scent blocker on, pheromones doing insane damage to your self control as he climbs the stairs, you in his arms like you weigh absolutely nothing.

Gently, Seungcheol places you on your feet. He slides an arm around your waist, keeping you upright and pinned to him as he unlocks your door. You have no idea where he got your keys, must have fished them out of your purse at some point. 

Seungcheol guides you into your dark apartment, helping you to the couch like you’re made of glass. You collapse onto it, dazed. He crouches, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes are devastatingly soft, touch featherlight. 

“Let me call a doctor.”

“No.” Your voice is hoarse but immediate. “Please don’t. I can’t go to the hospital again. I don’t want to do this strapped to a bed, surrounded by strangers and white lights and IVs. I can’t.” 

He exhales, hands flexing. “Okay. Okay. But—then what? Do you have anyone who can help you through it? Any alpha you-”

“No. I just do it alone with meds. They’re in my bathroom cabinet. If you could just get them, I can do this.”

“I don’t think meds are going to help.” His admission is soft. Regretful, almost. Like it pains him to tell you this. 

You think he’s right, but you don’t know what else to do. 

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. You watch the internal war play out on his face, concern and hesitance and something harder to name. His throat bobs as he swallows. “If… look, if there’s no one else. I can try to help.”

You suck in a sharp breath. “What?”

“I can try. Only if you want. Only if you need. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage, I just… I don’t want you to suffer. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m here. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

A fresh wave of tears hits you, shame curling hot in your chest. 

“You don’t want to,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad. And I feel awful. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to put you in this position-”

“Hey.” His voice is firmer now, but not unkind. He shifts forward, his hands finding yours, wrapping them gently between his palms. Your skin tingles where he touches you, a fresh wave of heat licking through you. “Stop. Look at me.”

You do. Barely. His face is open and honest, his eyes warm. He’s so pretty like this, looking at you like you’re something he cares about - someone he cares about. 

“I want to help you. Not because I pity you. Not because I feel obligated. Because I care about you. And you’re in pain. And I can do something about it.” He takes a breath, then adds, softer, “Even if that means the more intimate parts.” 

Your face crumples, fresh humiliation rising, but he keeps holding your gaze, steady and calm. 

“Only if you want to,” he says. “Only if you’re lucid and safe and sure. If you want me to sit on the other side of the apartment all night and just be here, I will. If you want to go to sleep and pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow, I’ll follow your lead.”

“I don’t want you on the other side of the apartment,” you admit. “I just feel embarrassed by what I need.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially for something out of your control. Your body isn’t your enemy.”

You press your lips together, fighting the emotions building in your chest, but it’s no use. A soft sob slips out before you can stop it, and Seungcheol is there in an instant, wrapping his arms around you with careful strength, cradling you against him like he’s anchoring you to the moment.

His scent hits you more fully now, warm and earthy beneath the sharp spice, like cinnamon bark and sun-warmed cedar. It fills your lungs and settles into the frantic edge of your nerves like balm, and it’s… comforting. Not invasive. Not overwhelming.

Just Seungcheol. 

“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “Whatever you need, we go slow. I’ll follow your pace. You lead.”

“Even if it’s more than you expected?”

“Even then.”

Seungcheol helps you sit back, propped with cushions on the couch, still watching you like you might unravel again, but not because he doubts you. Because he cares. Because he’s listening to every breath you take like it matters.

“I’ll need… a few things,” you say, quietly. “If this really goes into the full cycle. I have suppressants, but they won’t help much unless I can get them in the next hour, and I don’t think I have that kind of time anymore.”

“Okay. Tell me what you need.”

You breathe in. “Water. A lot of it. Heat spikes dehydrate fast, and I’ll probably get a fever if we don’t keep me hydrated. Heats are a game of chess except sometimes the board blows up.” 

“Funny. Got it.”

“And blankets,” you add quickly. “I’ll feel cold, even if I’m burning. Like weight and softness. Like nesting.”

“Like a bird… or dinosaur.”

You scowl at him and he grins, dimples appearing in his cheek. It makes you want to lean forward and bite him, to sink your teeth in and never let go. 

“What else?” He asks. 

“I’ll need food eventually. Simple things. Broths, carbs. My body’s going to want to burn through everything at once.”

“Easy.”

“And proximity.” You hesitate here, voice wavering. “I’ll need closeness. I haven’t had a heat partner before, but probably a lot of sex. It uh - comes in waves but it helps. Obviously. So there’s that.”

“I can do that.” There’s no hesitation. Just firm dedication. “It’s not a problem. What else?” 

You look at him, something stirring in your chest, still unsure how to express the storm of emotions bubbling beneath your skin. “What have you done for your omegas in the past? During heat? This is sort of new to me.”

He pauses. “I haven’t. I’ve never spent a heat with an omega.”

“What?”

“I’ve never been with an omega at all, to be honest with you.” The gravity of his statement makes you panic. You start to sit up, protests bubbling to your lips but he hushes you, eases you back down. “It’s fine. I’m fine, I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t totally sure.” 

“Why offer at all?”

“Because it’s you,” he says simply. “And I’d rather learn how to help you than let you suffer alone.”

A beat passes. 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

“Okay,” he echos. “Let’s get you settled.”

Seungcheol stands, giving you one more lingering gaze before he sets himself to the task of readying your apartment. He sends you to your room to change into a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt before he lets you settle on the couch, sweaty and shaking.

Seungcheol moves through your space like he’s been here before, like he knows where everything is even when he clearly doesn’t. He opens cabinets and drawers gently, always looking back at you as though he’s seeking permission. You nod each time, endeared by his hesitancy. 

You don’t know what to make of his admission of never being with an omega before. In your experience, most alphas would loathe to admit that, finding something wrong with it. But Seungcheol doesn’t seem to mind, admitting it as a simple fact, neither good nor bad. 

You like that about him, his self-assuredness. 

When he finds your largest pot, Seungcheol fills it with water and sets it over the stove. He pulls out ingredients for simple foods: rice, pasta, anything with carbs like you’d said. He hums under his breath as he moves, a soft, low sound that vibrates in your bones.

It’s soothing. Almost domestic. But every second that stretches between you builds like static, his very presence buzzing along your awareness like an exposed wire. 

Seungcheol brings you a cool glass of water and kneels to hand it to you, his fingers brushing yours when you reach out to take it. You try not to flinch at the bolt of electricity that jumps up your arm. His eyes linger on your face, reading you. Not pitying. Not worried. Just seeing. 

“You’re doing okay?” He asks, but by his tone, he knows you are. You nod, but your throat is dry again, so you take a few gulps of water, nearly emptying the glass. He laughs and reaches for it when some spills over, running down your chin. “Careful.”

Something in his voice changes. The softness of it ripples down your spine and you look at him over the brim of your glass. His scent is warmer. Closer. Still under control, but pressing at the edges of your awareness like velvet, his alpha instincts responding to your body chemistry, the need of your hormones begging for him. 

Seungcheol rises, keeping a respectful distance, and yet his gaze burns where it rests on you. He takes the glass from you, fingers brushing yours again before heading to the kitchen to refill it. 

It makes you unravel, every part of you unspooling wildly as you watch him in your kitchen, the muscles under his shirt flexing. He rolls his sleeves as he turns the stove off before coming back your way, forearms bare, veins throbbing. 

Arousal unravels inside of you. You feel the tip from Stage 1 to Stage 2, your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your hands shaking more. When Seungcheol offers the glass, you don’t take it. You stare at your hands, willing yourself to stop, willing yourself to stop wanting him. The fear of making him uncomfortable is so sudden, a wave crashing into you.

Seungcheol notices. He drops to his knees immediately, putting the glass of water on the coffee table. This time, he doesn’t hesitate when he touches you, putting his palm to your forehead, his other resting on top of your wrist, his thumb tracing back and forth soothingly. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice is like velvet. “What happened?”

Your lips part, but no words come. You try again. Nothing. You don’t know how to shape the words, don’t know how to tell him that a second ago, you thought he was domestic and sweet, and now you’ve strayed into dangerous territory, thinking that you’d like nothing more for him to pin you down and fuck you until you can’t feel anything but him anymore.

You don’t need to tell him. Seungcheol inhales and you see the shift happen, a shiver rattling through him. He closes his eyes, inhaling again. A knowing, almost pained sound grumbles in the back of his throat and you squirm in response. He drops his hand from your head to your shoulder, fingers squeezing. 

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes snap open and he looks up at you, deadly serious. “Hey. No shame. Not with me. You told me to help, didn’t you? Let me do that.”

You nod, small and shaky. He lingers for a second longer, like he's giving you a chance to back out, then slowly rises, curling an arm around your back. You lean into him instinctively, your body already seeking contact, and he lifts you with ease.

Your bedroom isn’t far, but the walk feels endless, every footstep echoes with your racing pulse. You can feel his scent thickening around you, not overpowering, but present, comforting. It keeps you tethered, grounded. You cling to him in silence, your skin flushed hot, thighs pressing together in search of friction, your heart betraying you in its longing.

He places you gently on your bed, kneeling down beside you. For a long moment, he doesn’t touch you. He just watches, reading your every breath, every twitch of discomfort.

At first, you don’t do anything but stare at him. Seungcheol is so beautiful, with a plush mouth made for kissing, long eyelashes that frame gentle eyes, a dimple that appears each time he smiles. You’ve always noticed him, this quiet and soft alpha in your office. You’d never imagined you’d be here, looking up at him with want in your gut so strong that you can barely stand it.

Seungcheol senses it, because of course he does. He surges forward, catching your mouth in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and uncertain at first, hesitating to see if you pull away. You don’t pull away at all. Instead, you keen, a whine slipping between your mouths that makes him groan in response.

He deepens the kiss slowly, reverently. His lips are soft but sure, his hands careful as they frame your face. He tastes faintly of cherry chapstick, your omega running wild as you lean into him and lick into his mouth, eager to taste him. 

“Is this what you want?” He asks, panting as he breaks the kiss. He’s leaning onto your bed now, pressing his nose against yours. You feel him pant against you, barely contained. You nod, unable to speak. “Even if this goes further?”

“Please.” 

That one word seems to break him. He climbs up into your bed, hovering over you, pinning you to the mattress. You let out a sound of appreciation as he settles, his mouth meeting yours again. This time, there’s heat in it. One hand roams you carefully while the other is planted by your head, keeping him looming over you. Every touch eases the ache and stokes the fire in equal measure. 

You can’t get enough of him, running your hands over his stomach and around his waist, pulling at him, desperate. It feels like you’re burning up, both suffering and relieved at the same time as his tongue finds the warmth of your mouth, drinking you in. 

His scent is rich and spicy, unmistakably alpha. It makes your omega instincts claw at you, urging you to submit, to bare your neck. You tilt your head, exposing the sensitive skin, and Seungcheol growls low, his lips brushing the pulse point before he nips gently, not enough to mark but enough to make you shudder. Your slick pools between your thighs, the air thick with your arousal, and he groans again, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.

“Fuck,” he growls, burying his face in your neck. It might be the first time you’ve heard him curse. “The sounds you make… fuck.”

Seungcheol’s tongue darts out, sweeping against your scent gland. His head snaps up and he frowns, realizing there’s a scent blocker on your neck. His lip curls like he’s offended, and he gently peels the pad off your neck, soothing the sting as the adhesive tears off with his warm, wet tongue. 

His tongue directly against your neck nearly makes you catatonic. Your eyes roll back, breath catching as he mouths at you before pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses up and down your neck. 

“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. 

His hand slides down your body, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You arch into his touch, a needy whimper escaping as his fingers find your slick-soaked panties. He teases you, fingers circling slowly, pressing the fabric of your underwear into your messy cunt.

“Please,” you pant. 

There’s that word again. It seems to make him malfunction, makes him bend to your will. He nods, peppering your collarbones with butterfly-light kisses as he pulls your underwear to the side. His fingers drag up and down your cunt and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your arms circle around his neck, clinging to him for dear life, hips canting as he leisurely circles your clit, applying subtle pressure. 

“Feel okay?” He asks, breathing the words into your ear. His teeth nip at your ear playfully and you gasp, making him chuckle deep in his throat. “Do you want-”

“Please.” 

He kisses your jaw. “Got it.” 

Seungcheol presses a finger into your heat, wet and slow, aided by the arousal dripping from your entrance.  The stretch is perfect, his fingers curling just right, and you gasp, hips bucking against his hand. 

You whine, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt. He hums in response, pleased at your reaction. He slowly starts to pump his fingers, restricted by the waistband of your sweats. His thumb swirls against your clit and you hurtle toward an orgasm from the barest stimulation, already too worked up, too fucked out on him and his fingers and the hormones. 

Your body sings under his touch, heat coiling tighter, your omega keening for more, for him, for everything. His lips find yours again, mouths clashing as he slips another finger in, working you open until you’re shaking in his grasp and coming around his fingers. You hear the wet smack of his hand against your pussy, the way his fingers squelch. 

You don’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed by it. Instead, you’re floating in a fucked out haze, the world dulling. There’s just Seungcheol’s lazy tongue in your mouth and the smell of bergamot and cardamom. The weight of him on you feels safe, setting you in a trance. 

Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you. You make a noise of protest but he hushes you with a gentle kiss. You feel a little more aware as the orgasm subsides, the ache you’d had a few moments ago dulled by the satisfaction. You know it’ll get worse and you’ll need more, but for now, you’re okay. 

You open your mouth to give a shy thank you when you’re stopped, entranced by the way Seungcheol brings his fingers, shining with your cum, up to his mouth. Your lips part in shock as he pops them past his lips, sucking generously. He hums, eyelids fluttering shut as he licks them clean. 

Never had you imagined that, imagined him like this. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are dilated. Starving. Feral. 

“Taste so fucking good,” He murmurs, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss. You taste yourself on him, different but not unpleasant. “Can’t wait to taste you properly later.” That makes you whine and you reach for him, but he smiles and kisses your nose before standing up. You pout and he laughs. “Water. You need water.” 

Seungcheol leaves your room but he leaves the door open just in case. You nuzzle into the bed, fisting the jacket he’d given you earlier as you nuzzle into it. You wish the bed smelled more like him. Right now it just smells like you, with bits of Seungcheol laced in. 

You close your eyes, letting your body melt into the sheets, muscles pleasantly sore and mind hazy with velocetin, a neurochemical that heightens arousal and reduces pain perception during Stage 2 of an omega’s heat cycle. The room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the AC and the faint creak of the floorboards as Seungcheol moves through the house.

When he comes back, Seungcheol is holding a bottle of water in one hand and something else in the other. A bowl of mac and cheese. He brandishes both proudly before sitting on the bed next to you. You prop yourself up on the pillows, looking at him through your lashes.

"Figured you might need both,” he says. 

You shake your head. “Just water.”

“You haven’t eaten dinner.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He levels a look at you. Switches tactics. “It would make me feel better if you did,” he urges gently. He puts the water on the nightstand, bowl of mac and cheese in his lap. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along your bottom lip. “Please.”

That word hangs in the air between you, both a pleasantry and a weapon. You feel the way he means it, the way it would make him feel better if you ate. You nod, sitting up with his careful assistance until you’re leaning against the headboard. 

Seungcheol stabs some of the pasta and lifts his hand before pausing, realizing he was about to feed you. You both flush, averting his eyes and handing you the bowl awkwardly, you trying not to put it down and jump him at the thought of him wanting to care for you this way.

Instead, you bite into the mac and cheese. It’s a little salty, but it’s good. You eat the entire bowl in comfortable silence, Seungcheol holding out the bottle of water for you in exchange for your empty dish. You trade and you chug some of the water, letting it keep you cool.

“I guess I didn’t realize how much of an appetite I had,” you note, sagging into the pillows. You feel good. Far better than you ever have when dealing with your cycle alone. 

He grins, cocky and unrepentant. “Guess I fixed that, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning too. “Shut up.”

“I could,” he says, climbing back into bed beside you, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you whine like that.”

You flush at the memory, at the way your body still responds to his voice alone. He notices, of course he does, and his smile softens. One hand finds your waist, tugging you closer until you're nestled against him again.

“Take a nap,” he murmurs, leaning back into the headboard. “You need rest.” 

“What about you?”

He smiles softly. “I’m good right where I am.”

-

You wake to the sound of voices. For a moment, you're disoriented, wrapped in sheets that smell faintly like Seungcheol and sweat and a myriad of other scents familiar to you from years of heat cycles. It’s still dark in your room, only the glow of a neon sign outside slipping through your blinds a source of illumination. 

You roll over instinctively, reaching for Seungcheol and you freeze. The spot where he was when you had fallen asleep is now vacant. Cold, like he hadn’t been there in the last hour. 

Panic lances through your chest, so painful that it feels like a physical blow. You all but fall out of bed, heart hammering when you realize he left. He’s gone and you’re alone and you don’t know what to do, terror working its way up your throat. 

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe everything he said was just talk. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to silence the rush of doubt, of fear- until you hear it again. Voices. Voices that had woken you up in the first place, momentarily forgotten by a hormone-addled brain and sleep. 

The door is shut to your room but you reach for it now, cracking it open. Dim light floods through the gap. All the lights in your apartment are off, but the single bulb over your stove is burning, a warm golden glow filtering down the hall. 

Sticking your head out, you see Seungcheol standing at your door. It’s mostly closed, just enough for him to block the gap with whoever he’s talking to. His broad back is facing you and you cock your head, puzzled. You can see the tension rippling through him, the way his hackles rise and the rigid way he stands, like he’s barring entry to something important. 

“Yeah, you’ve been really helpful,” Seungcheol growls. There’s a low, dangerous edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before. It sets the hairs on your arm standing. 

“Relax, man.” You don’t recognize the voice on the other side of the door. It’s playful, distinctly male. “I brought you your shit, didn’t I? You’re acting like I came to steal her.”

Seungcheol bristles. “Out, Soonyoung.” 

“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung - whoever that is - says. “Message received. You don’t have to piss on the doormat, Cheol.”

“I just might.”

You can’t help the small sound that escapes you, half laugh, half sigh of relief. 

Seungcheol’s head whips around at the sound, eyes immediately softening when they land on you. “Hey,” he says, voice gentler now, but still tight with emotion. “You should be resting.”

You pad down the hallway toward him. Each step closer makes the fire inside of you return. You feel the throb come back, needing more, subtle but growing. “I thought you left.”

His entire expression changes, and he’s at your side in an instant. “No. No, baby,” he says, cupping your face with both hands. “I just went to the door. I called Soonyoung for some clothes and stuff. I wasn’t leaving. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”

Baby. He says it so naturally, so unconsciously, that you’re not even sure he realizes it slipped out. But it hits you like a warm wave, softening every edge of panic still clinging to your chest. Your knees wobble slightly, and he notices. His hands slide from your face to your waist, grounding you there, steady and sure. He pulls you closer, and you melt into him, breathing him in.

Not gone. Not alone. He’s right here with you, like he said he would.

“Sorry. I just panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should have known you’d wake up.”

A throat clears behind him. 

You both freeze, and then Seungcheol stiffens, the muscles under your hands tensing like a drawn bowstring. His eyes narrow behind his glasses as he turns his head, keeping you tight against him, chest to chest, like a shield. A low, warning growl rumbles from deep in his throat.

“Soonyoung was just leaving,” Seungcheol asserts. 

“Soonyoung is leaving, but also says he hopes your cycle goes well!”

Carefully, you peek around Seungcheol to see Soonyoung in the doorway. He’s standing in the doorway with a duffel slung over his shoulder, unbothered and grinning. His dark hair is long around his ears, and his eyes curve into soft crescents when he smiles. He waves at you, the gesture so sincere it makes you falter, like he’s genuinely happy to see you, even though you’ve clearly never met.

“Nice to meet you!” 

Another warning growl vibrates through Seungcheol’s chest. You feel it more than hear it.

Soonyoung just rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, relax.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender as he backs away. “Let me know if he starts brooding in corners or being unbearable. Happens when he doesn’t get enough attention.”

“Bye, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol grits out. 

Soonyoung flashes one last wink and manages to pull the door shut just before Seungcheol fully turns to kill him. He exhales sharply and mutters something under his breath.

You look up at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “Territorial much?”

His ears flush instantly, color blooming down to his neck. He chews the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping.  “I apologize,” he murmurs, stepping away. “I know I’ve overstepped and-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, reaching to pull him back, hands curling into his sides. “I liked it.” His brows lift, uncertain. You offer a soft smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you before. You’re usually so calm. Quiet. Kind of unassuming. Not very…”

“Not very alpha.”

“Not in the way people expect. But that’s not a bad thing.” He studies you for a moment, searching your expression, and something in his shoulders loosens. “I like the way you are. And the possessiveness…” 

You shiver and he grins, cockiness returning to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

His hands slide back to your waist, gripping just a little firmer this time. “You shouldn’t have told me that. Now I’m not going to be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to. Please.” 

Seungcheol forgets all about his bag by the door. He scoops you up in his arms, taking you back to your room. You let out a soft sound, something almost like a purr, keening under him, excitement and arousal flooding you overtime. 

He notices, groaning when he catches the change in your body chemistry. He places you down on the bed gently, crawling over you, hand skimming up your t-shirt as he does. His fingers are warm and light, playful. You don’t want playful, though. You want greedy. Hungry. 

The buzz of anticipation curls low in your belly, heat blooming under your skin like wildfire. You arch into him instinctively, hips twitching. “Don’t play with me,” you breathe, reaching up to fist the fabric at his sides. “Please.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Recognition, you think. Like he sees the hunger gnawing inside of you and he recognizes it as his own. You want it, want that fire in him. You want to dive in head first and never come up for air. You want him so bad it hurts, a physical pain manifesting between your legs as your thoughts drift away and your instinct takes over.

“Please,” is all you can whisper. 

That’s all it takes. The control he’s been clinging to snaps like a thread pulled too tight. He crashes his mouth onto yours, swallowing your moan as his body presses down, heavy and solid, every inch of him demanding to be closer. His kiss is nothing like the ones before, this one is rough, consuming, all tongue and teeth and need. His hands slide up your sides, pushing the shirt higher, until the fabric is bunched at your ribs and he can finally touch bare skin.

His palms are searing, dragging up your waist to your ribs, brushing just beneath your breasts before he groans deep in his throat, your scent thick in the air now, laced with heat, need, you.

“You smell so fucking good,” he growls, mouth trailing hot, wet kisses down your throat. “It’s driving me insane.”

You thread your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again, his hips pressing into yours, and you gasp at the hardness you feel through his pants. He’s still in his work clothes, though they’re wrinkled and sweaty and a mess. You tug at them desperately, whining, trying to get them off. 

He growls again, low and possessive, and then he’s kissing you hard, his body rolling against yours in slow, grinding movements. His thigh slots between yours, pinning you in place, and the friction makes your back arch, chasing more.

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters against your mouth, one hand cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your bra, his thumb brushing over your nipple. “I’ll give you anything, baby. Anything.”

There’s that nickname again. Baby. It sounds sinful on his lips, like he’d do anything for you, like he would give anything for you. It makes you dizzy with gluttonous power and you pant, pulling him as close as you can get him, a button popping on his shirt. 

“I want you. Now.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darken, pupils blown, and he pulls back just enough to kneel above you. His gaze rakes over you, flushed, trembling. He makes a sound, something pitiful, hands trembling slightly as his fingers work the buttons of his shirt. 

He shrugs his shirt off, the fabric catching on broad shoulders before it falls, revealing hard planes of his chest, skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. His muscles flex when he moves, every line of him radiating strength. Your mouth waters, arousal pooling between your legs, screaming to touch him, to taste him. 

He doesn’t rush, though. His fingers linger on his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, the clink of metal loud in the charged silence. Your hips shift, impatient. He tuts at you, narrowing his eyes and you still immediately, falling into line, eager to please. His mouth twitches and he drops a hand to give your thigh a squeeze as if to say good job.

It makes you want to pass out. 

Seungcheol slides his belt free, letting it drop, and when he unbuttons his pants, the sound of his zipper is tortuous. You want him immediately, you want him now, but he seems dead set on doing this at exactly his pace. So you let him, letting the ache peak inside of you, shivering at what you know he’s going to give you. 

He carefully shoves his pants down, kicking them alongside his briefs in one fell swoop. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the tip glistening with precum. Your core clenches at the sight, a fresh wave of slick dripping from you, and he groans, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, voice low. He peels your sweats down your legs, shaking his head as he goes, overwhelmed by the sheer need for him, to your body's reaction. “Fuck.”

He crawls back over you, hands skimming your sides, sliding up to peel your shirt off of you. The air is cold but Seungcheol’s touch is burning you up. He deftly removes your bra, tossing it somewhere behind him. He pauses, eyes locked on you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your breath catch. It’s like he can’t get enough of you, cannot fathom what’s in front of him.

Seungcheol shakes himself as if from a daze and then his mouth is on you, lips trailing fire down your throat, over your collarbone, until he reaches your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling, and you moan, back arching to press closer.

His worship is meticulous, unhurried. He lavishes attention on your other breast, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, while his hand slides down, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You’re trembling, omega instincts in overdrive, and when his fingers finally find your slick-soaked folds, you cry out, hips bucking into his touch. He groans against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, and pulls back to look at you, eyes blazing.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice scratchy. “So wet for me.” His fingers tease, spreading your slick, circling your clit with maddening slowness. “All for me?”

“Yes. Yours.”

Hearing you say it makes something snap in him. His pupils dilate, fucked out and filled with an intensity you didn’t know was possible. He dips lower, kissing a path down your stomach, nipping at the soft skin above your hips. He settles between your thighs, spreading them wide, and the sight of him there, all broad shoulders, dark eyes, and lips parted, makes your core throb. 

He doesn’t tease this time, reaching up with one hand to rip off his glasses and toss them to the corner of the mattress. He drops down and his mouth finds you, tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line through your folds, and you moan, loud and broken, as he tastes you. Relief floods through you. You feel yourself go boneless, the pain that was ebbing in you a moment ago dulling again as Seungheol leisurely tongues at you, groaning while he does. 

Seungcheol is relentless, worshipful, every lick and suck a testament to his need to please you. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, then harder, and you writhe, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard. He moans into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and doubles down, tongue flicking with precision, lapping up every drop of slick. His fingers join in, two slipping inside you, curling against that perfect spot, and the stretch, the pressure, is overwhelming.

You gasp, hips grinding against his face, chasing the building heat in your stomach. He hums, pleased, and the sound pushes you closer to the edge. He’s messy, slick coating his chin, his lips. He doesn’t care. He seems drunk on it, one hand pressing your thighs to further open you up, pressing his face further into your cunt to drink you in. 

His fingers thrust in time with his tongue, every curl and suck calculated to make you unravel. You shiver under him, your limbs unable to keep up, thighs twitching against his hand. It feels maddening, better than anything you’ve ever felt up until this point. 

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, dragging you under until you’re gasping for air. Your thighs clamp around his head and he lets you. He laps at your entrance as it drips, drawing out every shudder, every pulse, until you’re whimpering and overstimulated. 

Even overstimulated, you want more. Need more. 

Seungcheol pulls back, lips glistening, eyes wild. He pulls his fingers from you and crawls up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is filthy, desperate, and you moan into it, pulling him closer. 

“Need you,” you gasp, hands roaming his back, feeling the muscles flex under your fingertips, your nails cramping. “Need you inside of me. Please.”

He nods, unable to respond. He lowers his waist and drops a hand down to peel your thighs open. You feel how wet and messy you are but you don’t care. Seungcheol seems to appreciate it, swearing when he looks between your bodies to fist his heavy cock and line himself up with your entrance. 

The anticipation makes you tremble. He pushes in slowly, stretching you inch by inch, and you both groan, the sensation overwhelming. He’s big, filling you completely, and your walls flutter around him, slick easing the way.

“Fuck,” he grits out, dropping his forhead against yours. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

Seungcheol fights to keep still, fights to let you adjust around him. You’re stretched tight, gripping him like a vice, your breathing hitched as you struggle yourself, near ready to come from just this alone. 

You manage to hang on, tangling your fingers in the damp hair at the base of his neck. You need more - always more. You start rocking your hips, urging him deeper. It feels so good you see spots in your vision. He moans and thrusts hard on instinct, bottoming out. 

The pace builds, his hips snapping, each thrust precise and deep, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. The pressure builds so fast you barely register it, chasing your high and whatever he’ll give you, your omega instincts screaming for it. 

He can tell. He quickens his pace, trying to get you there faster. It does the trick, because you come around him without warning. You pulse around him and he slows down, grinding his hips against you, letting you gush around him until your shaking subsides. 

Seungcheol is still rock hard, cock throbbing. Your forehead rests against his forearm, Seungcheol leaning over you, caging you in.

“Can you take more?” You nod but he shakes his head, nosing your temple. “You have to verbally tell me.”

“Can take more.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He kisses your temple and picks his pace back up. 

It’s slower, but more defined. Deep. Seungcheol’s stroke is slow and deliberate, one of his hands slipping under your thigh to hike it up around his waist. That makes you whine, high-pitched and he loves it, mouth catching yours, drinking in all the sounds you make. 

You’re close again, the pleasure building faster now, amplified by the way he watches you, eyes never leaving your face, like he’s memorizing every gasp, every moan. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, still swollen from his mouth, and he rubs tight, relentless circles.

“Want you to come again,” he murmurs, voice raw. There’s a bit of a command in his voice, laced with something you swear is devotion. “Wanna feel you, baby. Give it to me.” 

His words and the relentless drive of his cock are too much. You whimper, nails digging into his back and he leans down, lips brushing against your neck. Not biting - that’s far too advanced for whatever this is - and his fingers press harder, circling faster.

The coil in your belly snaps and your second orgasm crashes through you, sharper and more intense. Your body locks around him, walls pulsing as you come again. He groans, low and guttural, pleased by the way you clench around him. But he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it. 

You’re shaking and oversensitive, but he’s not done. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, keeping you tethered. 

“So good for me,” he praises, kissing your sweaty forehead. “So fucking perfect. You did so good.”

The praise makes your omega sing, and you cling to him, breathless, as he chases his own release. His hips stutter, breaths growing ragged, and with a final, deep thrust, he comes, spilling inside of you. He groans, dropping his forehead against you, shaking in your arms as he comes down from his high. 

Finally, he collapses over you, careful not to crush you. You stay like that, a pile of tangled limbs, panting. His lips find your neck, kissing softly, soothing spots he’d nipped. 

“You okay?” He croaks, voice hoarse with disuse.

You’re only slightly coherent, somewhere stuck between a dreamlike space where your omega is satiated and reality. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Good.”

“I’m gonna grab water, okay? I’ll only be gone for a second. Just gonna get water and then we can sleep for a little.” 

“Mhmm.”

Seungcheol is hesitant this time when he gets up, no doubt worried about what happened the last time you thought he left. This time, you’re too out of it to really register how long it takes him to get water. One moment he’s out the door and the next the bed is dipping under his weight as he cradles your head to feed you water.

It’s cool and you come back to life a little, opening your eyes as you gulp, greedy. He admonishes you to be careful not to choke, tilting the glass so that the water isn’t gushing into your mouth. When you drain the glass, he smiles and kisses you. 

“Good,” he hums, happy. That makes you beam at him, thrilled that he’s pleased. “More?”

You shake your head. “Tired.”

“Okay. Let me change the sheets - don’t move. I’ll work around you, okay?”

Somehow, he manages to. With a careful series of rolling you to the side and lifting you to slide new sheets under you, Seungcheol executes an impressive sheet change without really bothering you. He disappears once more to throw the spent sheets in the wash. 

Upon his return, you’re barely awake. You reach for him anyway, buried somewhere underneath piles of blankets that smell like him. Finally. 

Seungcheol lets you pull him into bed, sliding across the mattress until you’re flush chest to chest, the beating of his heart against yours. He smells good. Content. Happy. Your eyes blink heavily as you breathe him in, all pain forgotten.

“Sleep,” he mumbles, just as tired. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

-

When you wake up again, you’re not really sure what time it is. All you know is that there is orange light burning through your blinds, something like late afternoon. More important, there’s an ache between your legs and there’s sweat on the back of your neck, already restless from whatever dream had woken you up.

The room is quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing and Seungcheol’s steady exhales beside you. His arm is draped loosely over your waist. His scent is warm and spicy, grounding you. But beneath that cool calm his presence brings is a restless heat simmering, starting in your core and spreading to your limbs.

You try to ignore it, shutting your eyes and willing yourself back to sleep. It doesn’t go away, an ache growing in its place. A whine slips through your lips, despite your best efforts. The sound is small, but piercing through the stillness and before you can tamp down on it, Seungcheol is stirring, arm tightening briefly before he’s hooking a chin over your shoulder. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks, voice low and rough with sleep. “You okay?”

His fingers brush back and forth across your waist. It’s supposed to be soothing but it’s almost maddening. 

“Feel hot. Need you.”

Seungcheol presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. You feel the curve of his smile. “I’ve got you.”

He moves slowly, peeling the sheets back. His hands are reverent, skimming your thighs and parting them as he settles between them. The air feels electric, every brush of his skin against yours sending sparks through you.

Like always, Seungcheol takes his time. His lips start at your knee, kissing softly, then trailing higher, nipping the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You whimper, hips twitching, needy and desperate, and he hums, pleased. 

“So needy,” he teases. You’re not embarrassed this time, knowing that with him, there’s nothing to be worried about. 

He spreads your legs wider, exposing your warm, wet core. He bites his lower lip, teeth digging into the flesh as he groans, like he’s trying to fight himself on diving in and taking what he wants versus giving you what you need. 

The first pass of Seungcheol’s tongue is slow and deliberate, a long, slow-soft drag through your folds that makes you gasp, hands fisting the sheets. He hums, the vibration making you twitch. His lips close gently around your clit, giving an experimental suck. You cry out and he grins, dragging his tongue to dip back down to your entrance for a taste.

Seungcheol is relentless, his mouth working you with a devotion that borders on obsession. His tongue traces every inch of you, slow and thorough, lapping up your slick like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He alternates between broad, languid strokes and precise flicks, learning your reactions, lingering where you tremble most. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you open, grounding you as you writhe, the slick coating his chin and lips only spurring him on.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling away for a second. He leans over your cunt and lets a string of spit and cum drip from his swollen mouth to your cunt before chasing it with his tongue. “I could stay here forever.”

He dives back in, tongue pressing into you, fucking you with slow, shallow thrusts of his mouth. Your moans are broken, and he takes it as encouragement, running his tongue in lazy circles, tasting all of you. Just as you start to near a soft high, his fingers join in, pressing in gently, making your vision blurry. 

The first orgasm builds fast, your body already primed from the restless heat of your sleep. His fingers pump in time with his tongue, relentless, and when he sucks hard on your clit, you shatter. A cry tears from your throat, hips bucking against his face as slick gushes, your walls clenching around his fingers. He doesn’t stop, lapping through your tremors, drawing out every pulse until you’re shaking, oversensitive, whimpering his name.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick. “You can give me one more.”

You can. He knows it. You know it.

His mouth softens, less intense but no less thorough, kissing your folds gently before returning to your clit with slow, teasing licks. Your body protests, too sensitive, but the heat is already building again, coaxed by his worshipful attention. He’s patient, methodical, every movement calculated to keep you on the edge without overwhelming you. His fingers slide back in, slower this time, curling lazily, and you feel the stretch, the fullness.

Your second orgasm creeps up, slower but deeper, a steady wave that builds as he works you with unwavering focus. His tongue flicks faster, lips sealing around your clit, and when he hums, the vibration tips you over. You come with a sob, less sharp but more intense, your whole body trembling as pleasure rolls through you, slick coating his hand, his mouth. He laps at you softly, easing you through it, until you’re boneless, panting, your omega sated.

Seungcheol’s kisses turn languid, worshipping, cleaning up the mess he made, savouring every drop. Your hands loosen in the sheets and he finally pulls back, crawling back up to the bed, pressing scattered, wet kisses up your body as he does. 

“Better?” He asks when he reaches your face, nose brushing against yours. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and settles beside you, pulling you into his chest. His scent surrounds you, grounding, and you feel the bond pulse, warm and steady.

“Rest a little. Then we’ll shower.”

-

The shower fills with steam and the scent of eucalyptus. Fog covers the shower door as hot water runs over you and Seungcheol. His broad frame stands behind you, hands gentle but firm as he massages shampoo into your hair, working slow circles into your scalp. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. 

If only for a moment, it’s perfect. Almost too perfect, which makes your chest tighten with a quiet ache. This is just Seungcheol helping you through your heat, a temporary balm for a fire that will ultimately flare again.

You don’t know how you ever did this without him before. Don’t know how you’re going to manage to do it without him in the future. After just a day, Seungcheol has flipped your scope of the world upside down, changing your heat cycle entirely. 

Typically, it’s days of foggy suffering with suppressants to numb you. It’s a listlessness that chases you for days until your hormones are right again, until you can feel the sun on your face and let it make you smile. 

Now, you don’t know what it’s supposed to be. 

You turn to face Seungcheol. Water is streaming down his chest, catching the sculpted lines of his front. Each droplet clings to him in a way you understand - you want to cling to him too.

Seungcheol is breathtaking, all strength and quiet care. It’s a wonder that someone so powerful can also be so gentle. He’s unlike anything you expected, and breaks the norms of what you thought having an alpha help you through your heat might be like.

You don’t fool yourself into thinking there’s anyone else like him. You already know that this is just him, just Seungcheol. It makes a flicker of fear come to life in your chest, wondering what will happen when your heat fades and the intimacy here dissolves like the water flowing down the drain. 

You push the thought down. Gliding your hands over his chest, your fingers chase the droplets of water, feeling the steady pulse of his heart beneath your palm. It makes you ache with need again, an always there need for him coming back to life.

Heat cycles are like that. They’re made up of peaks and lows, moments where the need is so high it drives you insane followed by a near catatonic need to drift and sleep. 

Now, you’re approaching another peak, pulse picking up, body thrumming.

Seungcheol senses the shift immediately. He’s attuned to you quickly, but you refuse to let yourself wonder what that means. He steps closer, hands pulling at your waist, dipping his head to brush his mouth against yours in an almost kiss. 

His eyes darken with a mix of concern and something darker. “What’s that look?”

He steps closer, pressing you against the tiled wall, water pooling where your bodies meet. The warmth of him, the slickness of his skin, feels like a dream you’re terrified to wake from. You don’t answer, can’t. Your hands dip lower, tracing the hard ridge of his abdomen, and he tenses, breath catching. 

“Baby,” he warns, voice rough. There’s no real protest there. Just a playful warning, edged with want. 

The endearment hits you like a spark, igniting you.  You can’t get enough of it when he calls you that, when he says it velvet-soft and purring, when he says it like you are his baby. His world. His omega.

You sink to your knees, tiles cold and wet beneath you. You look up at him through wet lashes, biting your lower lip, hesitant, wanting permission. His cock is already hard - has been the entire time you’ve been in the shower - and the sight pulls a whine from your throat. You want to taste him. Want to make him feel good. 

“Please,” you ask, still unmoving, hands resting on your thighs.

The way he looks at you - everent, undone - makes you feel like you’re everything, even if part of you whispers that this is just your heat talking, just his alpha responding to your need.

Seungcheol nods. He places one hand to brace against the wall as you lean in to press soft kisses to the base of his shaft, lips brushing his warm skin. He groans, the sound deep and raw, and it sends a tremble of excitement through you. 

Your tongue traces the underside of his cock, following a thick vein from base to tip. You swirl your tongue greedily around the crown of his cock, tasting the faint salt of him. It’s intoxicating, perfect, and you let yourself sink into it, humming pleasantly. 

One of his hands comes down to rest on top of your head, not pulling, not pushing, just anchoring himself as you take him into your mouth. You go slow, savoring the weight of him. He’s big, stretching your mouth painfully to the limit, but you relax, breathing in through your nose. 

“Shit,” he hisses. “Shit fuck. That mouth.”

The praise makes your omega preen. You hum again, the vibration making his hips twitch as you build a steady rhythm, head bobbing, tongue working the underside of his cock while your hand wraps around the base, stroking in sync. 

Water rains down on you, making everything fluid. Your lips glide effortlessly around him, your grip on him firm, squeezing gently as your hand meets your mouth on the upstroke. His groans grow louder, more desperate, hips twitching but never taking control of your pace. His fingers tighten on your head, and yet he remains in control of himself, letting you take what you want. 

“Fuuuck, just like that,” He pants, head tipping back. Water falls down his throat in rivulets. The sight of him, vulnerable and unraveling, makes your pussy throb, a wave of arousal running down your thighs and mixing with the water. 

You take him in deeper until your nose brushes his pelvis, swallowing around him. He makes a broken sound, half growl, half moan, and his hips finally jerk. You welcome his shallow thrusts eagerly, moaning around him, encouraging him.

Seungcheol looks down, eyes locking with yours. His are fucked out and fazed, the raw edge to his gaze making your heart beat faster. You pull back a little, focusing on the tip, sucking hard, tongue swirling. Your hand pumps faster and his breathing turns ragged, muscles in his stomach twitching. You know he’s close and it makes you grin up at him, mouth full of spit and precum.

“Gonna - fuck - come,” he warns, voice strained. 

You don’t pull away. You suck at him harder, desperate to give him this, to hold onto this perfect moment. With a guttural sound, he spills into your mouth. You swallow down every drop, lips sealed until he’s over sensitive and shying away from your mouth. 

Easing back, you look up at him, your knees aching. He pulls you to your feet and to his lips, pressing you into a kiss that’s deep and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. He licks into you, uncaring as he pulls you close to his chest. 

“So good,” he murmurs between kisses. “Such a sweet girl for me.” 

You grin as he turns you around, walking you forward so that you're pressed against the warm tile of the shower wall. “My turn.”

-

Soft, neon light filters in from your window, washing your room in a smear of watercolor. You fidget in bed, body coming alive, arousal starting in gentle waves, building the more your body catches up. Seungcheol is already awake beside you, sensing your need. His warmth is a quiet anchor.

Seungcheol’s lips brush your neck, nuzzling and scenting, his gentle possessiveness soothing your omega. You let out a soft sigh, going pliant for him. He hums, pleased at your easy submission, tongue darting out to lick your neck playfully. 

He’s tender, peppering your shoulder and neck with soft, wet kisses. Each one stokes the steady fire in your core and chest. The way he handles you is maddening, like you’re spun glass but he knows you can take whatever he gives you. Your omega preens and you shift closer, feeling the heat of him against you. 

This is different from earlier. At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done this. You’ve lost track of time and the days. There’s just this: Seungcheol’s hand sliding down to lift your leg up for him, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance, weeping and wanting for him. 

Then he slides in, slow and stretching you inch by inch, earning a dreamy exhale from your trembling lips. He grinds his hips against the curve of your ass, deep and languid, easing the ache between your legs. His strokes are measured and intimate, each one dragging against your walls, stoking the flames without rushing. 

You moan, breathy, as your slick coats his cock, the wet sounds of your bodies obscene in the silence of the room. His hand slides up, cupping your chest, thumb brushing back and forth over your nipple until it pebbles under his rapt attention. You arch into his touch, whimpering. 

“So good for me,” he murmurs against your neck. His voice is rough with sleep, just how you like it. 

Seungcheol keeps the pace slow, hips rolling lazily. It builds a steady burn. His lips find the pulse point below your ear, sucking gently, not enough to make tender, but enough to make you shiver, cunt leaking down your thighs.

You reach back, fingers sliding in his hair to tug softly. He groans, low and raspy, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. 

“Seungcheol,” you breathe, voice barely a whisper. “Cheol.” 

He hums, pleased at the nickname. He grinds deeper, the friction perfect and overwhelming as the tip of his cock brushes against the soft spot inside of you, making you unwind. 

Your eyes flutter open and you peer over your shoulder at him. The neon light catches the sweat on his skin, making him glow. You marvel at how beautiful he is, a powerful alpha, yours in this moment. Maybe not later, but you don’t think about that now, trembling as he brings you close to your orgasm like he’s done every time before.

His hand slips between your thighs, fingers seeking your clit, slick and swollen. He starts to circle the throbbing bud with agonizing slowness, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The sensation is devastating, punching the breath from your lungs. You rock your hips to meet his, desperate for your undoing, needing to come. 

“Come on,” he urges, lips brushing your ear. He presses his fingers hard, circles them faster. Your breath catches and he feels it, deepening his thrusts, becoming more deliberate. “Come for me, baby.” 

The words mixed with the intoxicating feeling of his cock makes you shatter, a soft cry spilling out of your lips as your pussy pulse around him, soaking him thoroughly. He groans, fucking you through it, slow and steady, drawing out the full length of your orgasm until you’re boneless and barely there. 

But he’s not done. Seungcheol eases out carefully and shifts you onto your back. You blink, starry eyed and warm as you watch him slide down the bed and settle between your legs. Your thighs fall open at the sight of him and he groans, pleased at how you immediately know what he wants, ready to comply with your alpha.

No. Not your alpha. But he is right now and that’s all that matters.

Any fight on that subject vanishes as he kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs. His eyes are dark and burning when he looks up at you, pupils wide. 

“Need to taste you,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. 

Then, his mouth is one you, tongue dragging through your folds, lapping at the mess left over from your orgasm. It’s filthy, the way he moans into you, lips and chin glistening as he buries his face in your cunt. But it’s gentle, his tongue slow and worshipful, circling your clit.

It’s soothing, the way he moves, tongue tracing lazy patterns, circling your clit with no pressure, just presence. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there, grounding you further. Your fingers find his hair, threading loosely, not pulling, just holding, and he groans softly, the sound muffled against you. The ache in your core softens, not gone but eased, replaced by a warm, liquid comfort that spreads through your limbs.

Seungcheol mouths at you with no purpose other than to soothe and because he can. He doesn’t seem focused on getting you off, isn’t trying to overstimulate you. It builds a soft glow anyway, your breathing hitching as he keeps going, tongue dipping lower to taste your entrance, letting you drift toward the edge without pushing you toward it. 

“Taste so good,” Seungcheol mumbles, mouth full of you. 

This time, your orgasm comes like a tide, not crashing but rising, warm and steady. You whimper, hips shifting and he holds you steady, one hand sliding up to lace his fingers with yours. You squeeze his hand tight, letting him keep you tethered as you come undone, throbbing softly. He drinks you in, tongue lapping and slow, easing you until you’re limp and sated, the ache finally gone. 

Seungcheol pulls back, mouth glistening neon in the low light. His eyes are heavy with something that you can’t read. When he crawls back up, you realize he’s come untouched, spilling his own release while getting you off. It makes your chest tighten, instincts purring at the proof of his want, his devotion to you. 

He slides in beside you, kissing your temple before pulling you close. 

“Better?” He rumbles, already half asleep.

“Better.”

-

“You have to eat.”

You huff. “Don’t want.” 

You’re curled up on the couch in one of his jackets, inhaling deeply. His scent makes you tired, limbs heavy. You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping  your arms around them to make yourself small. The blanket over your shoulders is warm and smells like him, making you sink further into the cushions. 

Across the room, Seungcheol watches with thinly veiled amusement. He holds a steaming bowl in one hand, a spoon in the other. You love him like this, hair fluffy and still damp from a shower, glasses pushed high on the bridge of his nose as he glares at you.

“You need to eat,” he repeats gently. It has to be the third or fourth time he’s said it, each time just as gentle as the last. 

You grumble and turn away from him, hiding in your blankets. He sighs and pads over to you, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. Shirtless Seungcheol is a weapon in itself, but the way you smell him immediately, can tell he’s using pheromones against you, makes you growl at him. There’s no heat in it and he laughs. 

“Yeah?” He teases. “Gonna growl at me?”

“I’m tired.”

“I know,” he coos, voice dropping into that low, soft register that always seems to settle you. “Your body is working hard. But you still need to eat something, baby. For me.”

“Meh.”

“I’ll feed you.”

That sparks your interest. You peek out from your blankets with one eye, peering at him. He smiles, dimples appearing when he sees he’s got you listening now. His scent wraps around you, luring you deeper into his spell.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll start pouting. I don’t care if I’m an alpha, I’m good at pouting.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. The image of him pouting is sweet. His smile grows, triumphant as he stands up to sit next to you on the couch. You sit up, squirming toward him. 

“There she is,” he hums, happy. “Open up that pretty mouth for me.”

-

Blue light flickers from the TV while golden light of the afternoon sun washes the room, peeking through the blinds. You’re curled into Seungcheol’s side, his arm around your shoulders and your legs tangled together beneath the shared blanket. Jurassic Park plays quietly in the background because you asked for something familiar, something comforting. 

Your heat is finally starting to fade, edging toward Stage 3. The decline leaves you exhausted, but the full haze of Stage 2 is lifting, leaving you with less thoughts of tangled bodies and tongues. You can feel it in the way your body no longer aches with desperation, clarity seeping in like a slow tide.

With the clarity comes unease. Because… Well, what now? 

Neither of you have brought it up, the what happens next. Everything still feels good, but it also feels fragile, like you’re balancing in the quiet moment between inhale and exhale, waiting for the next breath to shatter whatever this little bubble you’re in. 

Your fingers fidget lightly against his chest. He notices, as he always does, and his hand smooths down your arm in slow, comforting passes. You lean into him instinctively - you don’t know how you will ever unlearn this - basking in his warmth. 

But your thoughts keep spinning. 

You don’t know how to voice the big question, don’t know how to talk about it. Don’t know what the best approach is. So you pretend it isn’t there, staring at the TV screen with unseeing eyes, thoughts burning you from the inside out. 

Seungcheol senses it anyway. 

“What’s up?” He asks, lips pressed against the top of your head. His eyes are still on the screen, the movie reflected in the lense of his glasses.  

“Did you know the stegosaurus had brains the size of walnuts?” You ask suddenly, eyes fixed. “Built like a bus with a very small brain. It was like two ounces.”

“Really?”

You nod, grateful he doesn’t question why you’re talking about dinosaurs again. “Yep. For years people thought they had a second brain somewhere near the anus.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m serious. There’s an enlarged area near their hips and early scientists thought it must have been for a second brain because they couldn’t believe something with so much mass could operate with such a small brain. Turns out it wasn’t an ass-brain.”

He huffs. “Ass-brain would have been cool.”

“Right? I always hated that people thought they were docile too. They literally have massive spiked tails as a built in morning star and could beat predators' asses. People need to put respect on them.”

“Hmm. Sounds like we’re talking about more than dinosaurs here.” 

You go quiet. Your eyes flick toward the screen, but you’re not really seeing it. He’s not wrong. You chew your bottom lip, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. 

Of course it isn’t just about dinosaurs. You’ve always admired creatures like that, misunderstood, underestimated. Not flashy, not predators, not something people are afraid of on instinct, but fierce all the same. Stubborn. Ready to dig their heels in and fight if they had to. 

Which is why you liked the stegosaur. You resonated with that. Maybe not the smartest or the strongest, but never easy to push over, always ready to bare teeth when push came to shove. It was why you liked working for Jeonghan, too, seeing a lot of that fight in him. 

Which brings you back to thinking about work, and that tomorrow is a new work day, and your heat will most likely be fully complete. And you’ll have to go back to… normal?

You don’t know.

“Why are you so nervous?” Seungcheol asks, bringing you out of your reverie. You look at him, eyes wide. He gives you a soft smile. “What, think I didn’t notice?” 

You hesitate. His face is open. Honest. He’s giving you no reason to hold back, no reason to hide from him. But what you have to say is scary. 

You take a deep breath and think about the stegosaurus. “Because my heat is fading. And I know things felt intense and - to me - special. I just… what happens after?”

“What do you mean?”

Tears prick your eyes and you curse your hormones for making you emotional. “When my heat is over, what then? We go back to normal? I’m… I don’t know. Having a heat partner is new to me, and I’m not begging you to stay or make you feel bad, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts, catching your face in his hands. His eyes are round, gentle. “I’m going to be honest, nothing is changing for me when your heat is over.” 

You blink in surprise. See nervousness flicker across his face when he says carefully, “I stayed because I wanted to help you. I - look, I was already a little soft for you. Now that I’m here, I like being with you, heat or no. Even when you’re talking about dinosaur ass-brains.” 

That makes you laugh and his smile lights up the room. “Really?”

“Really, baby.” 

His thumb brushes across your cheek, catching a single salty tear. “Unless you don’t want-”

“I want,” you insist. “I want so much. I have never wanted this much in my life.”

“Then I’ll stay. I’m yours.”

“Even if I start talking about ass-brains?”

“Even then.” 

The air in the room shifts, charged with something warm and unspoken. You move without thinking, surging forward and climbing into his lap where he sits on the couch. The soft fabric of his shirt brushes your thighs as you straddle him, your hands settling on his shoulders. He feels solid and warm beneath you.

Seungcheol’s hands find your hips, pulling you closer. Your forehead rests against his, breathes mingling, and for a second, you just stay there. Savoring the intimacy. Savoring his scent, bergamot and cardamom. 

“You’re sure?” You ask, voice small.

“Very sure.”

His hands slip upward, slow, under the hem of his hoodie. His fingers graze the sensitive skin of your waist, making you shiver as heat pools low between your legs. You lean in and kiss him softly, lips brushing, then pressing, slow and deliberate. 

You deepen the kiss, unhurried. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, tasting you, opening you up. You shift, grinding down on him gently, feeling the hardening length of him through his sweats. He makes a sound, soft and low, and it buzzes through your mouth. You feel yourself grow wet against your underwear and he sucks in a sharp breath, catching it. 

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are fathomless but warm. His hands push the hoodie up and over your head, baring your chest to him. His eyes flicker and he curses. “You’re so perfect.”

You flush, shy under his gaze. His lips find your collarbone, kissing softly before drifting lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your breast. Your head falls back as the cool air hits you, your eyes closed. 

He takes a nipple into his wanting mouth, tongue swirling, sucking gently. You gasp, hips rocking instinctively, grinding harder against him. The friction is delicious. He groans against your skin, sending sparks through you. 

Seungcheol’s hands stay on your hips, encouraging your slow, rolling movements. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t push. It’s soft, the couch slightly creaking under the weight of you. 

His mouth moves to the swell of your other break, lavishing it with the same care. His teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. You feel slick drip down your thighs, not as heavily as before, but still just as ready for him. 

“Cheol,” you breath, voice shaky. 

He hums, lips sealed around your nipple. The wet buzz of his mouth makes you grind on him faster, chasing the heat in your belly. 

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look up at you, eyes glassy. “Love watching you like this. Love feeling you. Want you like this.”

He pulls back just enough to tug at his sweatpants, shoving them down his thighs, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening. You bite your lip, the sight making your core clench, and he catches the look, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth.

Carefully, he helps you kick your sweatpants off. You sit back in his lap, not bothering with your underwear. He pushes them to the side with a careful finger, his knuckle deliberately dragging over the wet heat of your pussy. 

“Fuck. Wet.”

You nod as he grabs the base of his cock, helping you sit high on your knees. He rubs the rib through your messy folds, both of you moaning in unison before the head catches your entrance and sticks. You sink down, taking him slowly, the stretch punching the breath from your lungs. 

His shirt stays on, bunched where you fist it against his chest. It is work, sitting on him fully. You feel him deep in your stomach, your breath turning ragged. You savor the fullness, hands tangled in his shirt. 

Taking a deep breath, you start to move. His hands grip your hips, not controlling but encouraging, letting you set whatever pace you want. His cock drags against your walls, smooth and fluid. His lips find your chest, mouthing at a nipple, sucking gently. 

Your nails dig into him through the fabric of his shirt, the wet heet of his mouth, the press of his cock, all of it driving you mad, sticky with sweat as you continue to use him however you want. 

He lets you, content to suck and mouth at your chest all the while. The couch creaks faintly, a quiet underscore to the soft filth of it all, your slick coating him, dripping down to soak his sweatpants, the way his shirt clings to his sweat-damp chest.

Pleasure builds, slow and warm, a glow that starts in your core and spreads. You grind deeper, chasing it, and he groans, head tipping back, eyes half-lidded but never leaving you.

“How could I ever wanna leave this?” He asks. “How could I ever want anything but the perfect omega?”

The words, the way he says them, tip you over, and your orgasm comes soft but deep, a gentle pulse that has you trembling, walls clenching around him, a quiet moan spilling from your lips.

The way you tighten pushes him to the edge, and he groans, low and broken, thrusting up once, twice, before he comes, hot and thick inside you. His hands grip you tighter, pulling you close, and you collapse against him, panting, forehead pressed to his, the fabric of his shirt sticking to your skin.

“Mine,” he assures you, giving you a gentle kiss. “Ass-brain and all.”

“Please,” you laugh. 

That single word makes him melt, makes him all soft at the edges. “Anything for you, baby.” 

-

The office feels noticeably cooler when you return, the hum of the air conditioning a welcome sound after days away. Cold air brushes the back of your neck as you step off the elevator, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth on your skin, not from the building, but from Seungcheol following close behind you.

Seungcheol’s presence is unmistakable. And people notice.

Jeonghan is the first. He’s perched near Wonwoo’s cubicle, half-lounging on the edge when he glances up and spots you. His gaze flicks from you to Seungcheol, then back again. His eyes widen. A slow grin spreads across his face, and he immediately points a finger.

“You-”

“Not a word,” Seungcheol warns, voice low as he slides a steadying hand to the small of your back and gently guides you toward your desk. Your cheeks heat, teeth sinking into your cheek to suppress a laugh as Jeonghan starts bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“We’re just walking, Jeonghan,” you mumble, feeling anything but casual.

“You’re glowing!”

Wonwoo straightens in his chair, peering over his cubicle wall. His brow lifts as he spots Seungcheol casting a warning glance back at Jeonghan, lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk.

“I knew it,” Jeonghan asserts, looking at you and nodding. “He’s always thought you were the cutest omega. Does he know you’re obsessed with dinosaurs yet?”

“Ugh, Jeonghan.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol confirms with a flat grin. “You remind me of a Stegosaur, Jeonghan. Very… you have similar brains.” 

You snort before slapping your hand over your mouth in horror.

Jeonghan saints at him. “I don’t get it.”

Seungcheol ignores him, turning to you instead. He brushes his fingers against your arm, and his gaze softens instantly, all gruffness melted into something warm and fond. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

The walk back to the hut was filled with quietness.

Fortunately, you had purchased your Cyperus herbs without any further trouble at a small shop filled with other potions and elixirs from an elderly lady with severely impaired vision and hearing and they now laid safely stowed away in your basket.

Seungcheol hadn't taken long to write his letter either, and while you waited for him under the tree with your heart beating far too fast, you wondered exactly which village Seungcheol came from.

Sure, you didn't receive any news in your little cabin, and you were glad about that. You didn't need to know everything that was going wrong in the world, nor the tyrannies the royal houses were committing. But if he might not have come from far from here, was there also a chance that this small village would be attacked? Could it possibly even reach your cabin?

You had no time to panic, for Seungcheol was already approaching you with rapid strides; and perhaps—whether it was the adrenaline coursing through your veins at being among other people again for the first time in ages, or simply the urge to finally return to the safety of your cabin—you failed to notice the storm raging inside Seungcheol’s mind. Or that his heart almost stopped as he walked towards you, regretting more and more with every step what he had done.

But you didn't have the slightest clue and that was exactly how it was best for you to keep it. If you didn't know anything, you couldn't drive yourself crazy and could simply continue living peacefully.

So you didn't ask, and it seemed as though Seungcheol preferred it that way, too.

The days passed, and you felt as though you could finally breathe again. Your Omega was quiet even when Seungcheol was nearby and it didn't stir in the slightest. Perhaps this should have worried you, but honestly, you were simply glad that the new herbs seemed to be even more potent than your old ones, and that you could finally think clearly again.

Seungcheol was also steadily improving. By now, you no longer prepared compresses for him. The only thing you continued to provide were the daily teas, which were still meant to aid his recovery; otherwise, you simply left his wound alone to heal on its own.

The steady healing of his wound—and his consequently improved physical condition—made Seungcheol visibly restless. Helping you in the garden wasn't enough for him; he also constantly tidied up after you, and when even that ceased to suffice, he began working out outdoors whenever he had a spare moment. Which was, essentially, almost all day long.

By now, you would describe it as a matter of routine. The two of you have breakfast; you check his wound, and he invariably comments on it with a sarcastic remark—("Do I have the right to get out of my chair today, Doc?")—which you always counter with an even more sarcastic retort—("Only if you weed at least half of my garden today.") Yet, in the end, Seungcheol usually did exactly what you had jokingly demanded of him—without a word of protest.

Whether it was weeding, carrying soil, repairing old tools, or simply keeping you company and talking about anything and everything—by now, Seungcheol had become an integral part of your routine.

It should scare you—damn it, at first it did scare you—but by now, it no longer did. His presence in the cabin already felt far too normal to even question what it would be like when he was completely healthy and left again. These thoughts would creep into your mind in the middle of the night, and every time, you would lock them away in the deepest recesses of your brain—neither able nor willing to dwell on them for even a single second.

There was a kind of comfort in being close to Seungcheol. You no longer felt as though you were fighting the world alone and hiding away; now, there was someone by your side; someone who meant you no harm and accepted you just as you were.

An Alpha who, while knowing that you were an Omega, never even brought up the fact. Who accepted it and did not exploit it for his own advantage.

But he doesn't know your destiny yet. If he did, he would have claimed you as his own long ago—your treacherous mind whispered to you at night but you didn't believe it. Seungcheol was nothing like the man who had been the reason for your escape.

Seungcheol was different, and your entire being was firmly convinced of it.

Otherwise, you would never feel so safe in his company, even now, while you tended to your herbs and he worked out a few meters away from you.

Because of the heat, he had taken off his shirt some time ago, and sweat was slowly running down his body.

Every now and then, your gaze drifted toward him only to quickly turn away again as you frantically refocused on your plants. You could only hope that he didn't notice your stolen glances, but apparently, you weren't that lucky.

"Instead of staring at me the whole time, you could join in," he called out to you in an amused voice, and your gaze snapped toward him indignantly. "I'm just making sure you don't overdo it!"

"Oh, come on, Daisy. You said yourself that the wound probably won't open up again. Nothing's going to happen." With these words, he finished his last push-up and then let himself fall back into the grass with a satisfied grin, his eyes fixed on the blue sky above him.

You stare at him wordlessly before shifting your gaze back to the front. "Nevertheless, you shouldn't overdo it yet."

"Or just say you're worried about me," he grinned, shifting his eyes from the sky to the back of your head.

A snort escaped your lips. "Oh, please. I just don't want you to get hurt, only for me to have to make compresses for you again for four weeks."

"But you would, wouldn't you?"

His question made you pause, and slowly you turned your head back in his direction. "What?" you asked in a soft voice.

"If I were to get hurt again," he looked you in the eyes with a serious, deep gaze, "you would help me one more time, wouldn't you?"

For a few seconds, you offered no reply; only the chirping of birds filled the air with sound—along with your heart, which was surely beating far too loudly, and you could only hope that he didn't have even the faintest clue.

But you nodded without thinking. "Of course."

A peaceful smile slowly formed on Seungcheol's face before he hummed, nodded, and looked back up at the sky. "I knew it."

"What?" you asked in confusion, and the Alpha laying before you merely shook his head, amused.

"What did you know?" the question escaped your lips impatiently; and when Seungcheol remained silent—still wearing nothing but an amused grin on his face—you reached without a second thought for the nearest object; which, this time, happened to be a full watering can.

Seungcheol’s eyes snapped wide open; faster than you could even blink, he was already standing several meters away at a safe distance while you, watering can still in hand, scrambled to pick yourself up off the ground.

"Don't." Seungcheol’s warning voice rumbled across to you, yet you saw the challenge written clearly and unmistakably in his eyes.

"Then tell me what you meant with that!" you called out to him, taking a courageous step toward him.

His grin evolved into something cheeky before he called out to you: "I knew that, deep down, you're just a huge softie hiding behind that tough exterior!"

Outraged, you gaped at him and narrowed your eyes. "Excuse me? I could kill you in your sleep with my herbs and plants! Who are you calling a softie?"

By now, he was no longer grinning, but merely smiling over at you—and if you could, you would imprint that image in your memory forever. "You, Daisy."

You nodded thoughtfully, then looked down at the watering can. "I warned you."

"Bring it," he said challengingly, raising an eyebrow as that stupid, arrogant smirk reappeared on his face. The very next moment, you lunged at him, aiming to get him as soaked as possible—though, of course, you knew he would fight back with everything he had.

And so, it wasn't just him who ended up thoroughly drenched—you did, too.

It probably should have bothered you that he saw you like that. After all, you had intended to project the exact opposite image. You didn't want him to think that, deep down, you were gentle and accommodating. A gentle soul wouldn't survive the solitude of the forest. Out here, you had to be tough; unfathomable and unapproachable. But apparently, with Seungcheol by your side, that simply wasn't possible.

And a part of you didn't even want to be that way around him.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Sometimes you wondered what kind of job Seungcheol had back home. He was truly never too proud for any kind of work, and when he told you today that he would take care of dinner, and that you should simply sit in the chair and relax, you wondered if the man standing before you could actually cook.

But the way he moved around the kitchen—precisely chopping the vegetables while keeping a constant eye on the pot—told you everything you needed to know.

"Is there actually anything you can't do?" you asked, resting your head on your hand as you watched him work in your kitchen.

Seungcheol hummed as he peeled the carrots in front of him.

"A lot," he replied without looking up, before suddenly holding out a peeled carrot; you took it from his hand with a word of thanks and carefully took a bite.

"A lot?" you echoed skeptically, "You say that as if I haven't seen you split firewood, fix my fence, carry half the forest on your shoulders and somehow make soup that smells that good?"

Seungcheol scoffed adding the vegetables into the boiling soup.

"You make me sound impressive."

"You are impressive," you mumbled around another bite, not even thinking before the words slipped out.

HIs hands froze just for a second over the cutting board. Only when you realized what you had just said did your eyes widen slightly, and you quickly looked away.

"I mean, not impressive impressive. Just…" you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Useful."

"Useful?" Seungcheol repeated, amusement clear in his voice while turning his head to look back at you.

"Very useful."

His soft laugh ringed in your ears and with a nodding head he fixated his gaze on the work before him again. "I'll take it."

Silence settled between you again, peaceful and warm. The only sounds filling the cabin were the crackling of the fire and the soft bubbling from the pot.

"So?" you suddenly asked.

"So?"

"What can't you do?"

Seungcheol stirred the pot with a wodden spoon before answering. "I'm bad with herbs."

A scoff escaped your lips. "Obviously."

"Hey." His eyes were on you in an instant again and you shrugged innocently with your shoudlers, pointing with the carrot in your hand at him.

"You almost poisened yourself a few days ago."

"But it smelled nice!"

"Just because some herbs smell nice doesn't mean they couldnt kill you" a soft smile appeared on your face.

Seungcheol turned around again and just mumbled as an answer, "still smelled nice.", and your heart felt.. full.

This was normal. And you hadn't had that in such a long time. So you cherished the time with Seungcheol, which felt like a gift—reparations for everything that had been done to you.

Perhaps it was the cozy atmosphere and the cabin’s overall aura, but when Seungcheol suddenly started asking questions, after you had both finished eating and were sitting at the table with your tea, you didn’t immediately feel like you were drowning.

It was likely because you trusted Seungcheol by now. Trust was dangerous, but God, it had been so long since you’d been able to trust anyone. And the words inside you were practically clamoring to finally reach ears that would understand you.

"How much longer do you want to stay here, Daisy?"

A somewhat vulnerable look must have been reflected in my eyes, for Seungcheol straightened up slightly in his seat and rested both forearms on the table.

"I mean, you don't have to stay here just because you can't think of any other option."

"And what other option do I have, Seungcheol?" you asked, your voice raspy and your heart pounding far too fast.

He said nothing for a few seconds, as if weighing every option in his mind, before murmuring softly, "You could come with me. To my…" he hesitated for a brief moment, "To my village."

You met his gaze without a word. Right—this was something you had constantly suppressed over the last few nights: the thought that Seungcheol would leave. That he wouldn't stay with you because he had a life outside your cabin. The thought was selfish, yet deep down, you wished he wouldn't eventually leave—that he would choose you. Which was, of course, complete nonsense, but it hurt nonetheless.

"There is no place in the world I’d rather be than right here, Seungcheol," you said, instead of voicing the whirlwind of thoughts in your head.

"But why?" his voice pressed. "The whole world is open to you, and you decide to hide here from…" He couldn't go on because he didn't have a damn clue why I was hiding in the first place.

You pressed your lips together and lifted your gaze to the ceiling, struggling desperately not to burst into tears right then and there in front of this man. You had already cried enough over your situation back then, swearing to yourself that you wouldn't be so weak anymore and would finally make the best of things.

Butt here you were now. Seungcheol, poor Seungcheol, dragged into the mess of your life and wanting to help you.

"Daisy" he murmured softly and stood up from his chair, making his way to you and squatted down in front of your chair so that your eyes were level. "Look at me."

Your eyes met his cautiously, and the mere warmth and trust reflected in his gaze drew two small tears from your eyes that now slowly trickled down your cheeks.

"There’s nowhere for me to go, Seungcheol," you whispered softly, and he immediately shook his head as his hands reached for yours, his thumbs gently stroking the backs of your hands.

"That can't be true."

But you nodded and drew a shaky breath. "He would find me. Anywhere. And I can't let that happen."

Seungcheol froze. His eyes studied you intently, picking up every nuance of your expression even more clearly now.

"Who?"

You shook your head and looked at him, silently pleading with him not to press the issue.

But this time, Seungcheol didn't listen to you.

"Daisy, who is looking for you?"

Your hands were trembling slightly, and your thoughts were racing. You couldn't tell him the whole truth. But half-truths—that was something you could work with.

"An alpha," you murmured, looking down at your intertwined hands in your lap.

"Back then, my father handed me over to him and his family and received a lot of gold in return—enough to support himself and his new wife and buy a new house." Your eyes turned back to Seungcheol, who met your gaze with angry eyes. There was no longer any trace of tears in yours. "I stayed with them for a few months, but I ran away before the wedding."

Seungcheol didnt say anything. He simply stared at you.

And the longer he remained silent, the more you noticed the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers slowly curled into fists.

"They sold you," he finally said quietly.

You nodded as exhaustion spread through your limbs.

"And your father agreed with it."

His ankles were now white, so tightly had Seungcheol clenched his hands into fists. "How old were you?"

You didn't have to think long. "Eighteen."

Seungcheol's eyes closed briefly for a second. He let out a slow breath and looked away for a moment, letting your hands go and standing up again while he ran his hand through his dark hair.

"Did he hurt you?"

Your answer came quickly. "No. At least not physically."

Something in Seungcheol's eyes darkened and he cursed under his breath.

The next few seconds were filled with silence, and your vacant eyes were fixed on your tea, which had since gone cold. Seungcheol knew far too much about you by now—but no matter how painful it was to speak out what happened to you, it also felt good to finally be able to tell someone.

"You know," he said softly after a minute and your eyes snapped up to him, "I've met men who start wars over gold."

Confused, you narrowed your eyes slightly, but you couldn't ask what he meant because he was already speaking again—his dark eyes fixed solely on yours.

"I've met men who betray their own blood for power." he swallowed, "But selling your daughter…" He shook his head in disbelief.

"I dont understand it."

Pain filled your heart as you met his gaze. "He wasn't always like this."

Memories played out before your eyes, and a sad smile touched your lips as you spoke in a quiet voice. "He used to carry me on his shoulders when I was little."

Your hands fidgeted restlessly with each other, your eyes fixed on the floor. "He'd bring my mother flowers every spring." You pressed your lips together. "And then she died."

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and you were certain that if you looked at Seungcheol’s face now, you would see nothing but pity—and you would break down right there in front of him.

"And after that?" Seungcheol asked gently.

A bitter smile appeared on your lips. "He stopped being my father."

It was the truth. After your mother was no longer in this world, your father was nothing but a shadow of his former self. He lost his job, spent more time in a bar than at home, and abandoned his grieving daughter—who, damn it, needed her father.

Your hands clenched into fists as an overwhelming rage filled you, but just as quickly as it had come, it vanished at Seungcheol's next words.

"I'm sorry."

You blinked and raised your head. "For what?"

"That you lost them both."

You felt like you couldnt breath.

"Your mother…" he continued quietly. "And then your father, even though he was still alive."

No one ever understood the pain you felt because of this. You mourned your dead mother, but you mourned your father just as much—for although he was still alive, he had long since ceased to live by your side. Because you had lost him, too, on the day your mother died.

"They are fools. All of them." Seungcheol's voice was firm and brimming with conviction as he knelt down in front of you again and his eyes met yours, unwavering.

"Because if they had known you, really known you, there's no amount of gold in the world they would've traded you for."

Your breath caught in your lungs, and you stared speechlessly at the man in front of you. This time, no tears ran down your cheeks. This time, a gentle smile slowly formed on your lips, and your heart felt warm.

You didn't regret for a single second having told Seungcheol more about yourself.

The next day, you didn't talk about yesterday's conversation—something you were grateful for. While it felt good that Seungcheol knew a little more about you now and you were glad to have opened up to him at least a bit, you really didn't like talking about the past, let alone thinking about it. You had already wasted far too many moments of your life on that.

But apparently, yesterday's conversation took more of a toll on you than you thought, given that you woke up this morning with a splitting headache and an overwhelming sense of fatigue.

You blamed it on the bad weather. A mere glance out the window showed you the torrential rain, and perhaps you had caught a cold a few days ago? Surely nothing that your good herbs couldn't quickly fix.

But as you tried to slowly rise from the reading chair (it was your turn to sleep in it again tonight) and stood upright for just a few seconds, dizziness overcame you, and you quickly sank back down into the chair, squinting your eyes.

At that exact moment, the headache returned, and you had to stifle a pained whimper. It felt as though your head was about to explode. And why the hell was it so hot?

"What's wrong?"

Seungcheol’s voice echoed through the cabin, and your eyes opened again as your head snapped up toward him. And just like that, you felt better.

The throbbing in your head had subsided, and the sudden dizziness was gone, too. You didn't feel so hot anymore, and in general, you felt… lighter?

Confused, you narrowed your eyes slightly and then just gave a slight shake of your head. "Nothing, I think I've just caught a bit of a cold," you murmured softly, rubbing your tired eyes.

Seungcheol’s gaze drifted out the window, and he nodded when he saw the pouring rain. "Stay and keep yourself covered up. I’ll make us some breakfast." He turned toward the kitchen counter and surveyed your vast selection of herbal teas. "And tea for you—provided you call out which herbs I should use so I don't accidentally poison you."

A playful look was reflected in his eyes, but it vanished the moment he saw you huddled in the reading chair: your head rested wearily against the backrest and you could barely keep your eyes open, even as you struggled to keep your gaze fixed on him.

Seungcheol’s eyes softened instantly. "Daisy," he murmured, crossing the short distance to you and kneeling down. He placed a hand gently against your forehead, and it felt like heaven. Seungcheol could do anything he wanted—just as long as he didn't take his hand away from you.

"You're burning up," he murmured with concern; his hand left your forehead, and you almost whined in protest. But the very next moment, he held out both hands to you. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

You immediately placed your hands in his, and a deep sense of contentment washed over you once more. You had no idea what was wrong with you; the moment Seungcheol was gone, you felt miserable, yet with just a single touch from him, all your ailments vanished in an instant?

Seungcheol helped you straighten up and gently pulled you to your feet. Under normal circumstances, this moment would have been incredibly embarrassing for you, but given your situation, you didn't even think to feel ashamed as you stumbled weakly against him and rested your head exhaustedly against his chest. Right there, level with his heart, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat alone made you feel like you could drift off into a peaceful sleep right then and there.

A small whimper actually escaped your lips, and you noticed Seungcheol freeze for a few seconds before, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a soft breath and murmured, "Don't kill me for this once you're feeling better, but I don't know how else to get you into bed." With those words, he gently slid one hand beneath the backs of your knees while supporting your back with the other, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

Your eyes closed contentedly, and your head was still resting against his chest as he carried you into your bedroom and gently lowered you onto the bed. The moment his hands left your body, the headache and dizziness returned.

You squeezed your eyes shut in pain and buried your face in the pillow, and - oh. oh.

It smelled like Seungcheol.

Contentment filled your heart; even though the headache lingered, the dizziness was at least gone. Seungcheol had quickly fetched a glass of water from the kitchen; he knelt gently in front of you again and held it out.

"Drink," he ordered softly. Your eyes opened, and you tentatively tried to take the glass from him, but he shook his head and kept a firm grip on it.

"You'll spill it," he murmured; his hand gently cradled the back of your neck, guiding your feverish head toward the glass and helping you take at least a few small sips. "Here you go," he murmured with satisfaction, then set the glass down on the small nightstand beside the bed.

Your eyes closed wearily, and when Seungcheol quietly told you to simply call him if you needed him, you nodded—too exhausted to find the strength to speak.

Just before he left the room, however, something occurred to you.

"I need my suppression tea"

Seungcheol stopped in his tracks and looked at you with watchful eyes. "What kind of tea?" Unease spread through his body; he had a sinking suspicion given your condition, and he prayed to the gods that he was wrong.

Yet you had no inkling of this. You kept your eyes closed and spoke on, as if no wall in the world, one you had built around yourself over the years, could now hold back what had to be said. "For my heat. That I dont get it."

Alarm washed over Seungcheol. "You drink tea to keep from going into heat?" he asked in a low, stunned voice, and you hummed in agreement, half-asleep.

Seungcheol closed his eyes for exactly three seconds before pulling himself together. "How long has it been since you were last in heat, Daisy?" he asked in a steady voice, and your answer knocked the ground out from under him.

"One year," came your quiet reply before you fell asleep enveloped in Seungcheol's scent, and the Alpha in your room didn't even take his eyes off you for another whole minute, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now with an Omega about to go into heat for the first time in a year again.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Seungcheol felt like he couldn't breathe. Or it was that Alpha inside him that is knocking the air out of his body right now, demanding him to go to her and help the Omega in distress.

God, he was so stupid.

Why hadn't he thought about it much sooner? Why hadn't he even considered how you managed here, all alone in this little cabin, during your heats? There was no Alpha here to help you, and by now he knew you well enough to realize that you never would have let one get close to you anyway. After all, you had been sold to a damn Alpha.

Seungcheol gripped the kitchen counter tightly.

Suppression herbs.

You took damn herbs to suppress your heat so you wouldn't have to suffer through it alone. Because you had no other choice.

It had been a long time since Seungcheol had felt rage like the kind now seething within him. The last time was the day he lost Noxus and slaughtered the three men who had been pursuing him.

But, god - Seungcheol was furious.

Furious at your cowardly father, who had set this whole situation in motion; furious at that damned Alpha and his family, who had merely exploited you—seeing not you, but only your value as a woman; furious at yourself for putting yourself through all this—alone.

But most of all, he was furious at himself. Furious that he had let himself be lulled by the normalcy of everyday life, by a routine that had increasingly felt like a blessing and had failed to immediately analyze and grasp the facts, as he had always done back in Noxtus.

He was a king, damn it. How could he have failed to put two and two together?

Now, as he thought hard about it, everything made sense. He recalled the panic you had shown that day in the kitchen when you were searching for specific herbs; the moment he had finally caught your scent for the first time. You had run out of the herbs used to suppress your heat, which was why you had needed new ones so desperately.

He racked his brains trying to remember the name of those herbs.

Then his eyes fell on your bookshelf, and he remembered how you had once proudly shown him a thick book about herbs and plants. You had bought it at the market a very long time ago, and it was a huge help to you because it contained a vast amount of information on all kinds of herbs and plants.

In a few strides, he pulled it out and studied the massive tome in his hand. A look of doubt crossed his features, and his dark eyes turned toward the ajar bedroom door, where you lay asleep in bed.

Seungcheol’s alpha didn’t want to waste time leafing through the volume to figure out why the herbs had stopped working. He wanted to get to his omega and help her—damn it all.

His omega.

Seungcheol paused for a moment as that possessive thought swirled through his mind; he quickly suppressed his eager alpha and pulled himself together.

He had to find out why the herbs were no longer effective—and hope he didn't lose his mind in the process of keeping his alpha in check the whole time.

It took nearly an hour before he finally recognized the name again. Cyperus. Seungcheol straightened up in his chair, and his eyes focused on the text that would finally provide the answers he needed.

Cyperus (Moon Sedge) Common names: Moon Sedge, Silver Cyperus, Omega's Grace A perennial marsh herb characterized by long, silver-green stems and narrow leaves with pale white veins. When dried and prepared as tea over an extended period, Cyperus has been known to calm the instincts of Omegas and suppress the onset of heat. Properties and Uses For centuries, Cyperus has been used by healers and physicians to ease severe heat symptoms or delay the cycle when no suitable Alpha is available. Daily consumption over several months gradually weakens the body's response to heat and may suppress it entirely for extended periods. However, long-term use can result in increased fatigue, weakened senses and a more severe heat once the herb is discontinued. Preparation The leaves and roots are to be dried and steeped in hot water once daily. Effects are cumulative and depend on consistent use. Sudden interruption after prolonged consumption often results in an intense rebound heat within one to three days. Warning Cyperus should not be administered without careful identification. Do not confuse with Cyperus Alba (White Marsh Reed), a visually near-identical species with broader veins and lighter roots. While harmless, Cyperus Alba possesses no suppressive properties and is traditionally used only to relieve headaches and mild fevers. Substituting one for the other may lead to unintended heat onset due to ineffective suppression.

Seungcheol’s eyes snapped toward the kitchen, and the next moment he was no longer sitting in the chair but was going through all your drawers of herbs to find your Cyperus herbs.

What felt like a damn eternity, because you had so many herbs at your disposal, yet none of them looked like the one described in the book.

Seungcheol looked around the kitchen with a frown before his gaze fell upon a small, inconspicuous box. Without paying attention to your privacy, wondering where you might be storing things, he opened it, thinking he had finally found exactly what he was looking for.

However, these were not the standard Cyperus herbs, but the Cyperus alba—the very plant that did nothing to suppress a heat. Unknowingly, you had stopped taking your medication over the past few days and were now on the verge of going into heat.

And according to the reference guide, this heat would be far more intense and prolonged than a normal one.

Seungcheol closed his eyes in despair and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.

His alpha already knew the answer to that, but Seungcheol doubted you would like the idea.

When he thought back on his life so far, Seungcheol realized that he had never seen an Omega active in Heat before. Whenever Seungcheol went into rut, omegas from a specialized care program would attend to him. Utmost discretion was always maintained—after all, he had been the Crown Prince of Noxtus—and Seungcheol recalled feeling almost nothing during those times. It was simply a matter of biology: having to ride out those few days and satisfy his alpha’s needs.

But he had never cared for an omega himself.

He had no idea what to look for, what exactly omegas needed, or whether you were even in a state to decide whether you wanted his help or not.

His gaze turned back to the bedroom door, and Seungcheol could only fervently hope that, when you woke up, you would be thinking clearly before things really got started.

He didn't have to wait long. The soup he was preparing was nearly ready—he knew you would need food and water during the breaks; plenty of water—when a sweet scent wafted to him. His breath caught in his throat, and he tried to calm his pounding heart as well as his restless alpha, which seemed to be thrashing about inside him; it only settled down once he saw your gentle form lying in the bed.

You had your eyes closed, but when you realized Seungcheol had entered the room, you slowly opened them.

"Hey," you croaked in a raspy voice, and Seungcheol smiled carefully at you.

"Hey, you."

He approached your bed with slow steps, and you made no move to stir. You weren't in heat. That thought reassured Seungcheol, yet the beads of sweat on your forehead and the disoriented look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. It wouldn't be long now.

But he had to talk to you first. He needed to know what to do.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, slowly settling onto the edge of the bed. He didn't touch you. He was afraid of triggering something that wasn't supposed to happen yet.

"Not good," you merely murmured, and Seungcheol pressed his lips together, wondering how best to phrase his next words.

When nothing better occurred to him, he sighed softly. "Daisy, can you sit up?"

For a brief moment, you didn't move; then you nodded gently and, with agonizing slowness, sat up and leaned against the bed's backrest. You winced in pain, your face twisting, before looking back at Seungcheol.

"What's wrong?" you asked wearily, looking at him with concern, and Seungcheol’s heart clenched painfully. You were doing terribly, yet you were still worried about him.

Seungcheol looked down at the floor for a moment before sighing and then looking at you with a serious expression. "Daisy, you need to listen to me very carefully now." His eyes bored into yours. "Can you do that?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you nodded gently.

Well, here goes nothing.

"You're going into heat."

For a few moments, your expression remained motionless. Confusion and shame slowly were reflected in your eyes as you wondered why on earth he was making such claims.

"W-What? I can't. I drink my cyperus tea every day," you said with faint determination, shaking your head slightly.

Seungcheol’s mouth turned down slightly, and he regarded you warily as he replied. "You didn't buy Cyperus herbs in the village. They are herbs from a plant that looks almost identical but has no suppressive effects. Cyperus alba." His voice was gentle; the last thing he wanted was to send you into a panic and thereby stress your body—your omega—even further.

But no matter how gently he might have spoken the words, there was nothing he could have done—deliberately, at least—to prevent the panic rising within you. Your eyes widened slightly, and he could practically see your thoughts racing.

"N-No, that can't be right. I… I specifically said I absolutely needed the Cyperus herbs, and the old lady—" your voice broke, and panicked tears glistened in your wide eyes as the realization finally hit you.

"The old lady was nearly blind and deaf," you murmured, devastated, your hands trembling as they clawed at the bedcovers. "And I wanted to get out of the village as quickly as possible, so I didn't check the herbs again."

Calmness and determination were reflected in Seungcheol’s eyes. He couldn't afford to panic himself right now. He had to have the situation under control, just as he had so many times before. It was now his responsibility to ensure you got better as quickly as possible.

"Daisy, look at me."

But you were deeply trapped in your panic. Your breathing was ragged, and the full extent of the situation was likely just dawning on you—the fact that you hadn't been in heat for a year, and that it wasn't going to be a normal one. You didn't react to Seungcheol's words.

"Daisy." His voice was calm but serious. Determined.

Without a second thought, he reached for both your hands and held them firmly in his own. Your warm, soft hands in his large, rough ones; his alpha let out a delighted cry. You fell silent instantly, staring at him with wide eyes. Your scent made Seungcheol swallow hard for a moment before he pulled himself together.

"I can help you."

You immediately stiffened. "W-What?" you asked in a panicked voice.

Seungcheol gently squeezed your hands.

"Listen, this heat isn't going to be normal." His eyes shined in determination. "It could last weeks, and I won't let you suffer through every single second of it. You don't have to suffer." His voice grew quieter, softer. "Let me help you."

You said nothing, but your eyes—still wide with shock—told Seungcheol everything he needed to know.

"I won't force myself on you. If you don't want my help, I won't impose it on you. But I promise you, if you do want it, it won't change anything between us." Seungcheol’s chest ached, as if the words spilling out of him were pure poison. "I won't be your Alpha and you won't be my Omega afterward. I’ll leave as soon as I’m fully recovered."

His voice shifted, growing quieter—more fragile—as he practically pleaded with you. "But let me make it up to you. Let me repay you for saving my life back then. I don't—I can't—bear to hear you suffering in here for weeks."

His eyes remained locked on yours, and you stared back at him speechlessly before slowly calming down and gazing, defeated, at the duvet beneath you.

"I need to hear it from you, Daisy. Once you’re in heat, you won’t be able to think clearly anymore. That’s why I need to know," he murmured in a deep voice.

It felt like an eternity, but Seungcheol waited. He didn't let go of your hands. And when you finally looked up at him cautiously and he caught a glimpse of your clear eyes, he knew you had made a decision.

"Okay," you murmured, and Seungcheol felt as though he could finally breathe again. "But only on the condition you promised." You took a deep breath and returned his gaze. "Nothing between us will change."

Seungcheol nodded and smiled slightly. His alpha ought to have been leaping for joy, but strangely enough, it remained calm and grumbled with dissatisfaction. But Seungcheol couldn't focus on that right now. He had promised to look after you well—to take care of you. And he would damn himself to hell if he failed to do so.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

The next time you woke up, it felt as though the whole world were spinning. Your breathing was labored, and, disoriented, you wiped your face; beads of sweat stood on your forehead, and your shirt clung uncomfortably to your skin.

That was exactly why you had drunk that damn tea every day. You hated being in heat. Every damn time, it felt like you were about to die—and that one time you went into heat at his house was the decisive moment when you decided to run away.

The first few times in the cabin were awful, too, marked by days of writhing back and forth and an endless craving to get a knot—but thanks to the constant, steady intake of the tea, things finally improved over time. Until, eventually, you stopped having heats altogether.

You knew it went against your biology and that subjecting an omega body to this was by no means healthy, but it felt like the right solution, especially when you thought back to the reason your father had handed you over to him in the first place.

In any case, that only worked until Seungcheol entered your life. You should have put two and two together immediately. You should have questioned why your omega wouldn't stay quiet—even with the tea—ever since he arrived. You should have questioned it even more when your omega suddenly went unnaturally quiet out of nowhere, even though you were drinking tea made from Cyberus Alba herbs that no longer had any suppressive effects.

Your omega was preparing for a heat and was now more present than ever. It was practically screaming inside you for attention—for Seungcheol’s attention.

From the moment Seungcheol stepped into your cabin and your omega realized an alpha would be in close proximity for an extended period, it had been a losing battle.

And now Seungcheol had offered to help you. After you said yes, he had gently and carefully fed you soup and helped you drink every now and then; the mere thought of being so weak and dependent on someone again made you want to burst into tears.

But you had no strength, and your body felt as though it were about to explode at any moment.

Your insides writhed and twisted, and as a painful cramp filled your lower abdomen, you jerked violently, unable to stop the small whimper that escaped your lips.

Seungcheol was standing in the room the next second.

His eyes regarded you with concern, and had you not been in such a state, you might have noticed his hands trembling for a mere two seconds before he clenched them into fists, regaining control over himself and his fear of the situation.

Your eyes closed in embarrassment but fluttered open again when you heard cautious footsteps and saw Seungcheol crouching beside the bed with a cool cloth.

Without a word, he gently pressed it against your forehead and dabbed away the sweat. You studied his face. He was completely focused; his dark eyes followed the movement of his hands, and his brows were furrowed with concern. Only then did you notice a small scar running through his right eyebrow.

You attributed your next move to your current state. Had you been yourself, and not on the verge of going into heat, you never would have cautiously reached out and slowly traced the scar with your thumb.

Seungcheol froze instantly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, though yours remained fixed on his scar.

"Where did you get that?" you asked in a raspy voice. Seungcheol didn't answer for a few seconds, finally replying in a voice that sounded just as thick with emotion.

"I fell while playing with Jun when I was a kid and slammed into the edge of a table."

An amused look crossed your eyes as you continued to stroke the scar. "It's pretty."

Seungcheol’s eyebrows rose skeptically, causing you to still your hand. "You think my scar is pretty?"

"Hmm. It suits you" you murmured dreamily, slowly pulling your hand away before shifting uncomfortably a moment later. "God, Seungcheol, I’m so hot."

You tugged at your shirt, which was still clinging to your skin, and Seungcheol’s eyes followed your hands before he took a deep breath. "Let's get you out of this, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, and the next moment, Seungcheol was no longer crouching beside the bed; instead, he gently pulled you up with his large, rough, beautiful hands and positioned himself sitting behind you. You lacked the strength to stay upright on your own, so you immediately fell backward, finding yourself leaning against Seungcheol’s broad, muscular chest.

God, how had you gone without this until now? Seungcheol’s hands steadying your arms felt heavenly, and your features softened as he was finally close to you.

"Is this okay?" Seungcheol’s voice broke the brief silence, and you nodded quickly; you absolutely didn’t want him to let go of you.

You thought you heard an amused snort behind you, though it was quite possible you had just imagined it.

"I need you to lift your arms for me, can you do that?"

You carefully raised your arms, and the sound of Seungcheol humming in approval sent shivers across your skin.

"Good girl," he murmured close to your ear; those words alone made you feel dizzy again, and your omega was floating on cloud nine with joy.

Seungcheol’s hands grasped the hem of your shirt and carefully pulled it over your head; now, the only thing covering your upper body was a short top. It clung to your skin, and your breasts pressed uncomfortably against it, but Seungcheol didn’t reach for the top. Instead, he picked up the cold cloth again and soothingly dabbed at your arms, shoulders, and neck.

A contented sound escaped your lips, and your eyes closed in sheer pleasure.

"Good?" Seungcheol’s soft voice asked from behind you, and you could only nod; even if you had wanted to speak, no sound would have come out. You were too focused on Seungcheol’s hands on you, on the cloth pressing against the back of your neck, and—oh.

Your breathing quickened slightly as Seungcheol’s fingertips touched that sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder. Your body was already trembling with arousal, and your chest rose and fell rapidly.

Seungcheol, sitting behind you, set the cold cloth aside; his breath caressed the back of your neck, and his deep voice caressed your right ear. "Can we try something, Daisy?"

You didn't even stop to consider an answer; you nodded immediately, and a hoarse whisper escaped your lips. "Please."

Seungcheol’s soft laughter sent a flutter of stars through your stomach. His hands gently stroked up and down your arms, and your head was now resting in the hollow between his shoulder and neck.

"Tell me if I should stop," he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing that exact spot at the base of your neck.

"Don't," you whispered breathlessly; your eyes fluttered shut in sheer pleasure as his hot breath replaced his fingers. The tip of his nose grazed softly from your shoulder up to your neck, and when his mouth found the perfect spot, you let out a loud, blissful sigh, your chest rising with the intensity of the sensation.

God, nothing had even happened yet, and you could already feel the heat and wetness between your legs.

Then you realized what he was actually doing.

Seungcheol is scenting you.

And you would go up in flames if he stopped. His lips grazed the spot gently, and when he began to suck lightly on it, you couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips. Your hands reached out for something; one hand clutched the duvet, while the other dug into Seungcheol's leg.

A few hours ago, Seungcheol had made it clear to you that he had never done anything like this before, but now you found it hard to believe him, because it felt heavenly. He alternated between kissing, licking, and sucking, and if scenting alone felt this good, you couldn't imagine what it would be like to take his knot. The mere thought made you drip even more, and a longing sound escaped your lips.

Seungcheol laughed softly against your skin before trailing kisses higher and higher up your neck, murmuring in a low voice behind your right ear: "You should hear the pretty sounds coming from your mouth, sweetheart."

His mouth continued to kiss your neck, not neglecting the other side —and you eagerly offered your neck to him.

"All for me," he murmured, sounding almost hungry, as he kept on licking, sucking, and kissing—on and on. Until you could barely stand it anymore.

"Seungcheol," you whimpered softly; he stopped with a low hum and brushed his nose against your cheek.

"Tell me what you want, pretty girl."

Your eyes met his, and an irrepressible desire surged through you. You needed his lips on yours. Right now.

"Kiss me?"

Not even a second later, his lips were hungrily claiming yours, and every part of you cried out in joy. The world was spinning again—not in an overwhelming way this time, but as if everything were finally right. As if there were no better place on earth for you than right here in his arms.

His lips claimed yours, and his hand moved to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. A sound of contentment escaped you as his tongue grazed your lips, and you immediately granted him entry. Your tongues intertwined, and you had to break the kiss briefly to catch your breath. Both your breathing and Seungcheol’s was heavy; his dark, hungry eyes bored into yours, and the desire burning within you couldn't possibly be your own—it had to stem from some higher power—for the mere sight of his face and the hunger in his eyes compelled you to press your lips against his once more.

This time, you didn't pull away first; even when Seungcheol carefully shifted forward so he was no longer behind you, he made sure not to break the contact between your lips. Whenever it did happen, he closed the gap again almost immediately.

His hands gently pressed you into the mattress, and he hovered over you, breaking the kiss to look down at you breathlessly.

"You okay?" he asked, his breathing rapid, and you nodded quickly—far too quickly, because you needed him. Right now.

"Good. Because I don't think I can stop even if I wanted to," he exhaled, and you quickly shook your head.

"Don't stop."

A smile formed on his lips, and you felt like you were melting.

"Let's get you out of these clothes," he murmured, hungrily eyeing your nipples pressing against the thin fabric of your top.

Goosebumps rippled across your skin as he slowly—with agonizing deliberation—pulled your top over your arms and head; you let out a soft breath as the cool air touched your nipples. You felt not a trace of shame, for Seungcheol’s lips were already gently kissing your neck, tracing a path downward with kisses as delicate as raindrops.

When he finally reached the level of your breasts, his eyes darkened even further—if that was even possible.

"Look at these," he murmured yearningly. "Look at you." His eyes shone with something you couldn't quite place—but you had no time to think, for he was slowly tracing circles with his fingertips along the underside of your right breast, and you impatiently arched your chest toward him.

His eyes shifted back to yours, teasing. "Impatient little thing," he laughed softly, though his fingertips continued to merely circle under your breast.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, followed by a breathless plea.

A smile played on Seungcheol’s lips as he murmured, "Don't worry, sweetheart. They’ll get all the attention they deserve." His gaze dropped back to your breasts, and finally—damn it, finally—he gently traced circles over your right nipple with his fingertips while his other hand softly kneaded your other breast.

Your eyes closed in sheer pleasure, and whimper after whimper escaped your lips. "Yes, God, please don't stop," you murmured, and a small gasp escaped you as you felt the familiar warmth of his tongue tracing your right nipple.

You pressed your legs together; by now, you were certain you were already dripping wet.

Seungcheol took all the time in the world, just as he had promised. He began by kissing, licking, and teasing your right nipple. The pink buds glistened from his tongue, and while his mouth was occupied with one, his fingers grazed the other.

"Oh my God," you whispered in pleasure, and Seungcheol hummed contentedly. He moved away from your breasts with gentle kisses and looked up at you teasingly, then kissed your soft stomach and murmured, "Just wait until I get to your pussy, sweetheart. Then you can pray to as many gods as you want."

A breathless, guttural sound escaped your lips, and you sighed in a pleading voice, "Then hurry."

Seungcheol laughed as he slowly pulled your trousers off your legs, shaking his head with evident relish. "Forget it, Daisy. I’m taking all the time in the world with you."

You turned your gaze toward him in sweet torment; he came back up to you with an amused smile and kissed the back of your neck again. "You're a masochist," you murmured, though you didn't mean it at all. "I hate you."

Seungcheol grinned against your skin, his eyes locking onto yours once more. "You hate me?" He raised his eyebrows teasingly and ran his left hand gently over your thigh—dangerously close to your panties, the only garment left on your body.

You pressed your lips together, your breathing quickening again. Seungcheol’s smile turned even more teasing. "You're a terrible liar, sweetheart."

His lips kissed you again, and right as the kiss deepened, you suddenly felt his fingers pressing against your underwear; you broke the kiss with a guttural moan. His fingers traced agonizingly slowly over your pussy, and your hips jerked upward greedily.

"If you hated me, Daisy,"—his voice dripped with hunger—"you wouldn't react to me like this."

A soft moan escaped you, and you looked up at him with pleading eyes while he continued to stroke gently over your covered midsection.

"Seungcheol, please," you breathed, and his dark eyes never once left yours.

"What do you need?" he asked in a firm voice; you squeezed your eyes shut as goosebumps spread across your skin.

"I—I…" you stammered, unable to get the words out and shutting your eyes.

"Daisy, look at me."

Slowly, your eyes opened again, almost losing themselves in the depths of his. "I won't do anything you don't want. But you have to tell me how you want it. What I should do."

His lips brushed gently against your cheek. "You're in control, even though I'm the one doing the work."

Warmth filled your heart, and you looked up at him gratefully before murmuring, "I want you to touch me.. properly."

Satisfaction was reflected in Seungcheol’s eyes, and the next second, your pussy was no longer covered by your underwear; instead, the cool air caressed it gently. You let out a soft hiss of breath, and Seungcheol seemed unable to tear his gaze away from it.

"Look at you," he murmured in a rough voice, lightly tracing the area around it. "So wet, just for me." His eyes shifted back to your face. "Fucking perfect."

Your omega purred contentedly, and the moment Seungcheol finally stroked gently over your center and touched your clitoris, electric shocks shot through your entire body. He worked your pussy with slow, circular motions—alternating between a slower and faster pace—and the wet, squelching sound created in the process was enough to send you to another world.

You were a moaning, whimpering mess, and Seungcheol’s lips met yours again, though you couldn't hold the kiss for long—it simply felt too good. Seungcheol took all the time in the world with you, and as he slowly slid a finger inside you, your upper body arched in pleasure.

He moved his finger in and out with gentle pressure, watching every expression that crossed your face. You could see in Seungcheol’s look that he was thoroughly enjoying himself, too, even though he wasn't experiencing any physical pleasure of his own; it was as if seeing you feel so good was enough for him. In that moment, you briefly wondered how you had come to deserve someone like Seungcheol.

By now, he had two fingers inside you and was picking up the pace, making you moan even more.

Your lower belly clenched with pleasure as he stimulated exactly the right spots over and over again, and your moans grew increasingly broken, loud, and breathless.

"Seungcheol, I'm… I'm," you stammered, unable to form coherent words.

But Seungcheol understood you anyway.

"Come for me, baby. All over my hand."

And you did.

It felt like an explosion. Not a single sound escaped you, yet your mouth was open, and one ragged breath after another left your lips. Your legs trembled, and Seungcheol using his two fingers; steadily and effortlessly guided you through your first orgasm.

As it slowly subsided, you noticed—to your own chagrin (or perhaps your delight)—that you immediately wanted more. Much more.

It was surely due to your heat, but you didn't care. You needed him. Right now.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his head down, and you slammed your lips against his once more. Your tongue slid hungrily into his mouth, and he let you have your way—let you take whatever you wanted. He wouldn't deny you anything.

After a few moments, you broke the kiss and met his hungry gaze with the same intensity.

"I need you inside me, now." You kissed his cheek gently and let your omega speak through you. "Please, Alpha."

Seungcheol’s eyes flew wide open, and as if these were the words he had been waiting for all along, he clutched his hand in your hair; by now, his breathing was coming in ragged gasps.

"God, Daisy," he murmured, "you can't say things like that, baby."

Your mouth kissed his neck hungrily. "But it's true," you murmured against his skin. "I need you to fuck me." Your eyes met his again. "Please give me your knot."

Seungcheol gasped for breath and buried his face in the crook of your neck, lingering there for a few seconds as your hands traced down his back, before he nodded and looked at you with determination. "I'll give you whatever you want, sweetheart."

Then you were pressed back against the mattress, and Seungcheol quickly pulled his shirt over his head; the sight of his muscular torso left you speechless. You gazed at him with your mouth slightly open, and he gave you a playful wink. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

A smile played across your lips. "Let's see if you work up as much of a sweat here as you do when working out."

Seungcheol grinned and murmured against your lips. "I’m certainly enjoying this more than any workout session in your garden."

Then he took off his pants, and you could already see his cock pressing against his underwear. Your eyes widened slightly and darted up to his face. "And that's supposed to go inside me?"

Seungcheol glanced down at himself, eyebrows raised, before a crooked grin spread across his face and he looked back at you. "You can take it." Then he stripped off his underwear, and you really weren't sure if you could trust his words.

He was huge—long and thick. You hadn't seen many other cocks (aside from his back then, and that one was laughable compared to Seungcheol's), but you were certain that other men would likely be envious of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol slowly straddled you again, his cock pressing gently against your stomach, and once more you felt as though the breath had been knocked out of you. But from excitement, not panic. God, you could hardly wait.

Seungcheol kissed you again—this time gently and carefully—and when the kiss broke, you asked in a cautious voice, "Can I touch you?"

Seungcheol smiled at you—God, you loved it when he did that—and murmured, "If that's what you want." He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, and you nodded eagerly. "I want you to feel good too."

You pressed one hand against his chest, gently pushing him away just enough to position him so that he was lying on the mattress and you were over him.

You trailed soft kisses across his chest and stomach, and the feel of his hot breath against your skin only intensified your desire. Your hands stroked his lower belly, and the moment you slowly ran your hand over his cock, a low moan escaped his lips. "God, baby, you're going to be the death of me."

A smile played on your lips as you straightened up and simply replied, "Then I hope it's a good one." And then you took his cock fully in your hand and let your hand slide carefully up and down.

"Fuck," he hissed, trying to keep his eyes open and hold your gaze. You could have come right then and there without him even touching you again, but you focused on your hand and on Seungcheol’s ragged breathing.

After two minutes, Seungcheol suddenly sat up quickly, pulled you back down against him, and shifted your positions so that you were lying underneath him again.

"I need to be inside you right now, or I’m going to explode," he muttered hurriedly, and you laughed breathlessly as you nodded quickly. Seungcheol positioned himself and ran his hard cock over your wet center, sliding slowly up and down, and you moaned against his lips. He planted a quick kiss on your mouth and murmured, "Tell me if it hurts."

You nodded—that was all the signal Seungcheol needed—and the next moment, he carefully slid inside you, stretching your core open with a hint of pain. Your eyes narrowed slightly and Seungcheol stopped at once, but you shook your head. "No," you gasped, "keep going. Please."

Seungcheol waited a few seconds before slowly sliding further into you; it felt as perfect as two puzzle pieces finally coming together.

When Seungcheol’s cock grazed that exact right spot, you moaned and nodded wildly. "Right there."

Seungcheol slowly picked up the pace and straightened up slightly. His hands gripped your hips, and again and again, he hit the spot that made you see stars. Your moans grew louder—and that, precisely that, was what your omega had wanted all along. And you had been a fool to deny it that.

"God, Seungcheol," you gasped, burying your hands in the duvet as your moans mingled with his.

"You're doing so good, Daisy," he panted; you shook your head, fixed your eyes on him, and gasped your real name up at him.

It was crazy. Under normal circumstances, you never would have done this, but something inside you was screaming to reveal yourself to him—to give him at least a part of who you really were, as thanks for taking care of you and not letting you suffer.

Seungcheol was just as shocked as you; his movements slowed slightly. "W-What?" he rasped, looking down at you, and you couldn't help but smile softly.

"That's my real name," you murmured, looking up at him with a hint of uncertainty. "But I’m happy to stay Daisy for you; I don’t mind."

Seungcheol studied you for a few seconds before lowering his head and hungrily claiming your lips once more. "You'll always be my Daisy."

Tiny tears welled up in your eyes as Seungcheol picked up the pace again. You two merged into one; nothing mattered but your moans and the bond you shared—everything else faded into the background.

And just as you were both on the verge of climaxing, the painful realization hit you: you never wanted Seungcheol to leave.

That thought seared itself into your mind as your orgasm washed over you; a second later, Seungcheol came inside you, finally knotting with you.

Breathless, Seungcheol propped himself up on his hands beside your head, and you couldn't help it—tears of joy streamed down your cheeks.

Seungcheol’s eyes flew open in alarm, but you quickly shook your head. "It's okay," you whispered with a smile, swallowing hard. "I'm just so happy."

Seungcheol’s face involuntarily relaxed, and a gentle look appeared in his eyes. He brushed the hair from your face again, and your noses brushed lightly against each other.

You weren't sure if that earlier promise—that nothing would change between you afterward—hadn't been a huge mistake after all.

You fell asleep in his arms.

After Seungcheol slowly pulled away from you, he immediately held out a glass of water and insisted you drink it all. You fell into a deep sleep almost instantly after that; you only vaguely noticed him pulling you against his chest, yet you had never felt safer in your life than right there in his arms.

When you woke up hours later, a fresh wave of desire washed over you. You let out a sound of dissatisfaction, turned over in Seungcheol’s arms, and looked up at his sleeping face.

He was beautiful. His features were completely relaxed in sleep, awakening a desire in you to kiss him awake so that you could finally feel his fingers—feel him—everywhere again.

You thought back to your previous heats, but none had been as intense as this one. That made sense, of course, after all, you’d been messing with your body for over a year. But a part of you believed it was also because of Seungcheol. You felt at ease with him. Safe.

And you desperately needed his attention back on you.

Your fingertips traced his face gently. They moved along his cheeks, over the scar on his eyebrow and across his forehead, finally reaching into his hair. Seungcheol hummed softly in his sleep, and a playful grin spread across your face. You leaned forward quietly and began kissing your way up the back of his neck. It took no more than another five seconds for his strong arms to wrap even tighter around you, pulling you even closer against his chest.

"Slow down, sweetheart. 'm not going anywhere" his raspy voice mumbled and you looked at him with a smile while continuing to nibble on his neck.

"Want to feel you again," you hummed against his skin, and a hand gently reached for your chin and tilted it upward, forcing you to stop your light kisses and leaving you no choice but to look into Seungcheol's eyes.

"Yeah?" he asked with a knowing smile as his left hand slowly traced a path down your body, and you closed your eyes in sheer pleasure.

"Eyes on me, baby. What do you want?" His fingers ran along the curve of your hip, and you willingly shifted your right leg to grant him entry to your hot middle, but he merely grazed your leg lightly. Dissatisfied, you narrowed your eyes slightly, hoping your pleading gaze said it all.

"That look tells me nothing. I need to hear your words," he answered patiently, his fingers brushing again and again just past your wet center.

"Please touch me," you breathed out, biting lightly on your lower lip.

"But I'm already doing that," he grinned slightly, and you let out an impatient growl. "Seungcheol, please. Please make me cum."

Towards the end, your voice had turned into an impatient plea again, and Seungcheol clicked his tongue. "Just this once."

He shifted his position so that he was hovering just above you, then caught your lower lip between his teeth. When he pulled away, his dark, almost black eyes locked onto yours. "Next time, I won't accept any growling or impatient behavior. Understood, Omega?"

Your breath caught in your lungs, and the sheer dominance Seungcheol was radiating made you even wetter and caused your heart to race. But you nodded, because you were a good omega. "'M sorry," you whispered.

Seungcheol was still looking deep into your eyes before he finally nodded and gently kissed your cheek. But he still wasn't touching you where you needed him most.

Seungcheol made no move to touch you down there with his fingers. To your alarm, he kept kissing his way further and further down; when he lifted your left leg high enough to duck beneath it, bringing his face level with your pussy, you pressed your lips together uncertainly.

"I—I've never…" you began, and Seungcheol looked up at you, amused.

"Then you have something to look forward to," he said; the confidence in his voice and his earlier promise to take care of everything to ensure you were okay swept away all your uncertainty.

Seungcheol slowly and gently kissed your thighs, his hot breath brushing against your waiting, twitching pussy more than once; with every passing second, you found it harder and harder to hold back.

Meanwhile, his fingers traced the length of your legs, and you gasped aloud when his hands gently parted your lab lips and soft, wet sounds filled the air again. He didn't even come close to touching your clitoris, but God—just the feel of his fingers in your hot wetness felt so, so good.

"God, you should see this." Seungcheol murmured, his eyes fixed on her pussy. "A fucking feast."

And the next second, he carefully licked your clitoris, and that alone was almost enough to undo you. You moaned aloud, and with every lick, with every gentle suck, you turned into a moaning mess.

"G-God, Seungcheol… yes, yes, yes, yes."

Seungcheol hummed contentedly against your pussy, and you squeezed your eyes shut as his tongue sped up and then slowed down again. When he slid a finger inside you and began moving it rhythmically in and out, you completely lost control.

"'M gonna cum," you moaned, your hands gripping the pillow behind you as your hips began to move rhythmically, matching the pace of his finger.

Seungcheol didn't stop, if anything, he only sped up and less than five seconds later, you reached your climax. Your moans could surely be heard throughout the cabin as your legs twitched slightly and Seungcheol licked and sucked you through your orgasm.

As it slowly subsided, you slumped down, exhausted, and closed your eyes.

You heard Seungcheol carefully climb back up to you and gently kiss your shoulder. You opened your eyes and looked at him, smiling. "Need more."

Seungcheol couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. "Of course you do."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

The heat lasted almost two weeks.

Seungcheol used every spare moment while you were asleep to cook, to somehow look after your plants (hoping you wouldn't have a fit once you were back on your feet—though he was really trying his best), and to get enough sleep so he’d have the energy to take care of you whenever you looked at him with those needy eyes again.

But Seungcheol couldn't argue with that, because—God—he was enjoying the time. Even though it was exhausting, he could die happy knowing that you were doing so well during such an extreme heat—and that he was the reason why.

However, guilt set in at night. While you slept peacefully beside him—usually only for a few hours before desire took hold of you again—Seungcheol layed awake for a long time, thinking of Noxtus. He wondered how he would ever make amends for it all.

He layed there while his people suffered under Lee Sinyoung. He didn't even have the chance to find out what the news was saying—or how his actions were likely being justified. Yet, whenever he teetered on the brink of uncontrollable rage and hopelessness, he only had to look at you. At least he was helping one person in the world right now.

And for the moment, that had to be enough.

Seungcheol sensed the moment your heat came to an end. You had both just experienced your umpteenth orgasm, and Seungcheol was collapsing exhaustedly beside you just as you drifted off to sleep. Usually, he could still see a lingering desire in your eyes, but this time you were out cold immediately; his Alpha, too, was thoroughly satisfied, so Seungcheol put two and two together. You had made it through. You two had done it.

You would likely sleep for a long time now, and Seungcheol was glad your body was finally getting the rest it needed. He ignored the ache in his chest as he remembered the deal you had made: he was only allowed to care for you during your heat. Once it was over, everything was supposed to go back to the way it was before.

He had promised you that, and, casting one last, lingering look at you before quietly leaving the room, he vowed to himself not to break at least that particular promise.

The stabbing pain in Seungcheol’s chest wasn’t the only problem. You were running low on food, and the crops in your garden didn’t look too promising either. Seungcheol thought hard for a few minutes before settling on the only viable course of action: quickly heading into the village to buy enough food and returning, hoping you would sleep through the entire time.

So he did exactly that. He strode quickly toward the village, pulled the hood of his cloak over his head just before reaching it, and made his purchases with lightning speed. He was lucky that it was busy that day and people didn't look at his face any longer than necessary. Surely, they had all heard about the runaway prince of Noxtus, hadn't they?

But no one recognized him, and as Seungcheol stowed his entire haul—bread, cheese, and heaps of vegetables—into his basket, his gaze fell upon the massive tree in the center of the marketplace. And upon the huge roots pushing their way up through the ground.

Seungcheol glanced around for a moment to see if anyone was watching him, but once he was certain no one was, he walked briskly toward the tree. He crouched down where a small black star was painted on the ground—so small it could easily be overlooked—opened a tiny hatch, and nearly wept with joy when he saw a letter lying there.

He immediately tucked the letter beneath his purchases and was just about to head back toward the forest path when his blood ran cold. Guards. Guards equipped with Lunaria’s gear.

Bored, the two of them wandered through the market, eyeing the people around them warily. The people around them returned their gaze with suspicion or fear, and Seungcheol seized the opportunity when the pair stopped to look at an old man’s purchases.

With a steady but unhurried pace, Seungcheol made his way through the crowd; he heard the argument erupting between the guards and the man but did not stop. Even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to help. Even though he loathed himself for being a damn coward who fled instead of stepping in.

But he could not afford to be discovered. Otherwise, his entire escape up to this point would have been in vain. He had to wait for the right moment, and he hoped the letter would finally give him at least a few answers.

Seungcheol’s heart didn’t settle until he was back inside the safety of your cabin. He tore the hood off his head and exhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut to calm his pounding heart.

Only after a few minutes, when he finally felt he wouldn’t collapse right there on the spot, did he gently set down the basket and fish out the letter. His eyes burned with pain as he tore it open and saw his friend’s familiar handwriting.

We're okay. They got the queen. Chan is here. Wait until we get you. - SY

Seungcheol leaned forward in his chair, crumpling the letter in his hands as a thousand emotions washed over him.

Relief that all his friends had survived.

Anger and despair because that fucking bastard had his mother in his clutches.

Satisfaction that Chan was finally back in Noxus, and impatience because he still had to wait—had to wait until he could finally strike back.

But he had already been waiting a long time. By now, he had been here with you for nearly two months, and he could certainly wait a little longer. His gaze fell on your bedroom door again and he thought of the guards in the village.

And while he waited, he could damn well make the most of his time; at the very least, by helping you.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Your first thought upon waking was that you were alone in bed. Your second thought was that you were disappointed about it.

You immediately despised yourself for that. You and Seungcheol had a deal, damn it. He had helped you (and very, very well, at that), and as soon as you were better, everything will be back to normal. And now you were better. No reason to pine for something that was over.

You let out a soft sigh and carefully sat up. You ran your fingers through your tousled hair and pressed your lips together. God, how were you supposed to face him normally now? The whole thing had been a terrible idea, and when you thought back on everything you’d said—your face instantly flushed red, and you buried your face in your hands.

Oh God.

You took a few deep breaths before banishing any thoughts of it to the deepest recesses of your mind. There was no point dwelling on it; you had to move on.

You quickly put on fresh clothes so you wouldn't have to walk around naked in front of Seungcheol before washing up.

You padded softly out of the bedroom, and the moment your eyes landed on Seungcheol, who was standing behind the kitchen counter chopping vegetables, you stopped in your tracks. "Oh."

"Hi," you murmured uncertainly to him; his eyes remained thoughtfully fixed on the counter in front of him, and a sense of unhappiness immediately spread through your chest.

He regretted it.

Your eyes dropped to the floor, and you hated yourself for the sadness filling you and the telltale stinging sensation just as you were about to slip away to the bathroom—but Seungcheol’s surprised tone made you pause.

"Oh, hey. Didn't notice you."

He nodded toward the food in front of him and then gave you a slight smile. "Freshen up; the food will be ready soon."

You stared at him speechlessly before nodding quickly and disappearing into the bathroom. As you washed and scrubbed yourself with cold water, your thoughts were in complete disarray. Why had he been staring off so pensively? Had he really just not noticed you? Was he on the verge of telling you he was leaving?

A sigh escaped your lips. "Pull yourself together," you growled softly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes, yet the uncomfortable tugging sensation in your heart wouldn't go away.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting at the table together, eating the meal Seungcheol had cooked. Neither of you said a word, and the silence seemed to swallow you whole. You struggled to find the right words—any topic of conversation that might lighten the mood—but nothing, not a single word, escaped your lips.

Eventually, however, you could no longer bear the silence. You were just about to say something, anything, when Seungcheol’s voice suddenly broke the silence itself, and you looked at him with wide eyes.

"Are you able to defend yourself?"

Seungcheol’s eyes stared earnestly into yours, and you narrowed your eyes slightly in confusion. "What?" you asked, bewildered, and he let out a breath that sounded almost desperate.

"If someone were to attack you here, Daisy, could you defend yourself?"

You leaned back cautiously against your chair and shook your head in confusion. "Who would attack me?"

"Doesn't matter." Seungcheol's voice radiated harshness, and you pressed your lips together. What the hell was going on? Was that the reason why he had been so thoughtful the whole time?

"Well, I’m not answering your question until you tell me what’s going on," you replied in a firm voice, meeting his hard stare.

Seungcheol managed to hold your gaze for exactly one minute before sighing and staring angrily at his plate. Then he ran a hand through his dark hair, leaned back in his chair, and finally spoke. "I was in the village and saw… a thief there." He didn't look you in the eye as he said the words.

"And I wondered if you’re even capable of defending yourself if someone with ill intentions were to come across your cabin."

You thought for a few seconds. A thief, then? "That hasn't happened to me so far."

"That’s no excuse."

You sighed softly. "I kept you in check with my weed puller, too." You had meant it as a joke, but Seungcheol’s mouth didn’t curl into a smile for even a second.

Instead, he kept staring at you seriously. "I was hurt, Daisy. And I never intended to hurt you."

You were about to object, but Seungcheol was already continuing.

"I'm going to teach you a few things."

"You don't have to do that," you countered immediately, and Seungcheol raised his eyebrows skeptically. "I’m not leaving a woman alone in the woods unless I’m sure she can at least defend herself against strangers."

He picked up his bowl and walked over to the kitchen counter, and you stared at his back.

"We start tomorrow."

And you really couldn't think of any more arguments against it.

At least it didn’t rain the next day. You had slept in the bed again, even though you had tried to persuade Seungcheol to take it. His only reply, however, was that he had been sleeping in the bed for the past two weeks anyway and would take the reading chair and after that, you couldn't think of a single argument that wouldn't lead you to think back to your bodies intertwined.

So you accepted his decision and tossed and turned in bed, while your omega screamed inside you that something important was missing.

At some point, you had fallen asleep after all, and now you were standing here in your garden with Seungcheol facing you. You couldn't believe you were actually doing this. But you had to admit he was right; it certainly wouldn't hurt to at least be able to defend yourself.

"And now?" you asked uncertainly. "What am I supposed to fight with?"

Seungcheol studied you for a few seconds before stepping close and pressing a dagger into your hand. Your eyes widened slightly as they stared down at the pointed weapon. It was beautiful. Its hilt was pitch-black and adorned with tiny, etched stars, while the silver of the blade itself shimmered in the light. An onyx was set into the hilt, and you looked up in wonder at Seungcheol, whose gaze remained fixed on the dagger.

"That was a gift from my mother. It was always a faithful companion to me, but I think you could make better use of it."

"W-What? I can't accept this!" you cried, trying to press the dagger back into his hand, but his right hand closed over yours, and he looked deep into your eyes once more. It was the first time your hands had touched again, and little sparks of electricity shot through you. Your breath caught as you looked up at him.

"Keep it. I'll be able to leave with a better feeling knowing you have it." His eyes shimmered with pain for a second, but you could just as easily have imagined it. "Please."

Your eyes returned to the dagger before you nodded, a lump forming in your throat. Seungcheol nodded as well and let out a brief breath, then stepped back a few paces.

The dagger felt heavy in your hand, and you couldn't shake the thought that it felt like a farewell gift. Your hand closed around the pitch-black hilt, and you nodded to Seungcheol, signaling that you were ready to learn.

"What do I do first?"

You don’t answer, only pursing your lips in reply. You stare at your glass, still almost completely full as compared to Seungkwan’s, who has already downed one and is on his second. He isn’t drunk, of course. Not off one beer. So you can’t say his suggestion is coming from a place of intoxication. In any case, he’s right. Going off the radar monthly for a week is suspicious. Especially when it’s every month like clockwork, and especially because it’s your boyfriend doing it.

“Maybe his period is really bad.” Seungkwan jokes. You roll your eyes and finally take a sip of your drink. Seungkwan appraises you for a few moments, observing the troubled look on your face before sighing.

“You can’t keep going like this, Y/N.” His voice is more gentle now. “You’ve been seeing him for nearly half a year now. You deserve to know what he’s hiding from you.”

You shake your head. “I know him. He’s not a liar. He’s not a bad person.”

Seungkwan reaches across the table and squeezes your arm in reassurance. “I know that. I’m not saying he is. But this isn’t something that you can sweep under the rug. Wouldn’t it be better to find out now instead of continuing a relationship that makes you doubt?”

Seungkwan is right. Of course he is. Even if it isn’t something bad, you know you still have to ask Seungcheol about it. You have been putting it off under the guise that the relationship is still “new” and you don’t want to intrude into his space too soon and potentially jeopardize what you two have. Because you really care about him, maybe you’re in love with him too, and you don’t want to mess it up.

Seungcheol came into your life after a patch of bad dates. With every guy that acted like a complete asshole to you, you became more and more disillusioned with the idea of dating. But then you met him at a convenience store on a random Wednesday afternoon, where he showed up straight from the gym, looking for a bottle of water. You felt like an idiot with your soda and four sugary snacks, watching this absolute hunk buy just water and chug it down. But he noticed you, and he liked you enough to strike up a conversation. He walked you to your car, and you didn't hesitate for a second before giving him your number. He was handsome, kind and funny. There’s no way you could say no.

That was six months ago, and Seungcheol has proven to be an excellent boyfriend. He loves to dote on you and take care of you. He enjoys the little things, like lying in bed together to watch movies on a rainy day, or going for an evening jog and buying excess amounts of food on the way back. He loves showing you off to his friends, a tight knit group that often go out for barbecue and karaoke, insisting you join them. It always turns out to be a very fun night, and you look forward to it every time. He drives you home afterward, spends the night, and ends up taking you to heights you previously haven’t experienced in your relationships. When he kisses you, it feels like flowers blooming in your chest. You truly feel like you’re falling in love with him. He’s perfect in every way.

Except this one little thing.

Every month, for six days, Seungcheol disappears. And by that you mean truly disappears.

When it happened the first time, you called and texted, all of which remained unanswered. That was very unlike him. He always replies fairly quickly, or at least lets you know that he is busy. But not this time. Worry clawed at you. By day four, you had showed up at his apartment, and the door was answered by his roommate Mingyu, who was evasive about where Seungcheol was, and only promised that he would get back to you in a few days. He didn’t even let you in, which was so far and away from the kind Mingyu you knew. You had left confused and slightly irritated.

When Seungcheol came back, he was endlessly apologetic, saying something urgent needed his attention and he left town. He sat you down and explained to you that he needed to be absent once every month on some personal business, and at the time, you two had freshly started dating, so you just agreed. He was the best boyfriend you had had in years. You didn’t want to be difficult and drive him away. You already cared for him so much that it didn’t register how strange his request was, how much of a red flag it should have set off in your brain. You couldn’t imagine someone as wonderful as Seungcheol being involved in anything bad. And maybe that was naïve of you, but you convinced yourself that maybe it was something temporary.

But months passed, and it kept happening. You are more comfortable with him now, and now you want to know the reason because if you don’t then your mind will keep making up crazy explanations that will make you spiral. Is he cheating? Does he have a secret family out of town that he needs to see once a month? Is it drugs? God, you can’t take it anymore.

You and Seungkwan call it a night fairly early, since you both have work the next morning. It’s barely past nine when you get home, and you wonder if you should call Seungcheol over. He usually crashes at your place after wrapping up with work and the gym. But your eyes fall on the date, and you realise Seungcheol is due to ‘disappear’ tomorrow. So he likely won’t show up for the night and instead stay at his own place. Or go out of town. Or whatever the fuck he usually does in this one elusive week.

You feel irritation creep up on your brain. Fuck this. You open his chat and text him.

[me]: SOS. URGENT.

Then you wait. You sit on the couch and don’t answer the phone when he inevitably starts calling. You know it’s a shitty thing to do, but you don’t think you can wait for a week to confront him and stew more and more in your thoughts. And this isn’t something you can talk about over the phone. Whatever he needs to do can wait for one night of conversation. You know he will show up, so you just wait for the doorbell to ring.

And it does, followed by a series of heavy bangs, a call of your name, some cursing, before a key fits into the lock as he uses the one you gave him about a month ago.

Seungcheol comes barrelling into the room, out of breath and eyes darting around frantically. You feel a bit bad, but you can’t focus on that too much when something that smells earthy and grassy hits your nose. It’s not a bad smell, it’s actually quite pleasant. Like how grass smells after the rain. But it’s overwhelming and it clings to him. It’s nowhere near projected to rain, you know the forecast. So why does he smell like that?

You frown, staring at him. He looks unreasonably disheveled. His hair is sticking up all over the place and he’s sweating like crazy. His gym isn’t far. He shouldn’t be this winded over a two block run, especially considering how good of a shape he is in.

“What-” he looks confused. “What happened?”

“I need to talk to you.”

He blinks a few times, straightening up and looking around. “What is the emergency?”

You sigh. “There’s no emergency, Cheol. But I really need to talk to you before you take off again for a week.”

That makes him pause, the sharpness in your tone. He takes a deep breath, shifting in his place. He brushes his hair off his forehead, and you realise how flushed his normally pale skin is. His neck, his ears, up to his jaw and the apples of his cheeks.

“Were you in the middle of a workout?” You ask.

He blinks again, like he’s processing your words. You notice his eyes, hazy, unfocused. Worry starts to creep up on you.

“Cheol, are you okay?”

He nods a bit too harshly, rubbing over his eyes as if to clear them. You watch, incredulous.

“I thought you were-” He huffs, as if irritated. “Can we do this after I get back?” His voice sounds strained. He shuffles back a bit more, away from you, and you feel the same irritation again, bordering on anger.

“No.” You stand up. “We’re doing this now. I’m tired of the lies.”

Seungcheol looks indignant. “I never lied to you.”

“You never told me the whole truth either.” You shoot back. When you take a step towards him, Seungcheol jerks back. You freeze. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Are you okay? Are you sick?” You feel more worried now, looking at the state of him. He shakes his head, still breathing hard. He’s standing still now, why is his breathing not regulating? Why is he still panting like he ran two miles?

“I’m fine. I just need to leave.”

You scowl. “What is this, Cheol? What is so secretive that you can never talk about it?”

He groans, almost frustrated, before stepping towards the door. You immediately take hurried steps forward to block his path. He glares at you.

“Don’t be childish.” He grits. “Let me leave.”

You hesitate for a second. Seungcheol has never acted this way with you before. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s always gentle with you. You wonder again, if you should stick to your guns here. But you’ve come too far to back off now.

“Tell me where you’re going and I will let you go right now.”

Seungcheol laughs, but it’s not amused at all. It’s choppy, almost like a scoff. His shoulders slump.

“Fine.” He sighs. “Fine. I guess it was too good to be true that you wouldn’t question this at all.”

Your heart pounds. What is he about to tell you?

“I’m a werewolf.”

You stare at him. He stares back. Everything is silent in the apartment. You don’t move, as if waiting for him to say ‘sike’ and start laughing.

“What?”

“I’m a werewolf.”

“No, I heard you-” You gape at him. Then you feel irritated again.

“Is this a joke? Because all it’s doing is making me more angry-”

Seungcheol shakes his head, trudging to the couch and dropping on it with a heavy sigh. He pushes his hair off his forehead again, and he’s so sweaty that it slicks back instead of flopping into place again. The smell of rain and earth hit you once more.

“You ever notice that I disappear around the full moon?” He mumbles. He looks spaced out again, like he isn’t really in his senses.

“I-” You don’t know what to say. You know the rumors. The conspiracy theories online. The so-called ‘werewolf sighting’ videos that look a little too fake. Every once in a while, someone would pop up talking about their experience with werewolves. There are pages and pages of so-called wolf ‘lore’ online, and the usual stereotypes about them, but you always thought it was some fantasy-obsessed nuts. Your mind reels. Somehow the first question you blurt out is-

“Does anyone else know?”

He shakes his head. You remember when you had shown up at his apartment five months ago.

“Does Mingyu know?”

Seungcheol nods. “He’s a werewolf too. Part of my pack.”

Your jaw drops. “There’s a pack?”

Seungcheol stares at you and nods slowly. “Yeah. Me, Mingyu, Chan, Joshua, Soonyoung, Jihoon….” He trails off, eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t think you would be more interested in other members of my pack and not the fact that I'm a werewolf.”

“Right.” You feel lightheaded. “Sorry. A lot to process.”

He finally smiles at you, but it’s painful, almost like a wince, and it makes your heart lurch a bit. You sway slightly, realise you are still standing, and move to the couch. When you sit down, Seungcheol scoots away from you. You watch him.

“Does the fact that you’re acting weird have anything to do with you being a werewolf?”

Seungcheol fidgets, looking nervous for the first time. Is there more? What else could he possibly tell you that would be crazier than this?

“This is- uh,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. “How the hell do I tell you this?”

“It can’t be worse than what you’ve already said.” You respond. Your own voice sounds like it’s far away from you, like you’re watching all of this unfold instead of being there yourself. Seungcheol snorts.

“It absolutely can be.”

You don’t reply, waiting. This time, Seungcheol doesn’t look at you. His cheeks still dusted pink, sweat lining his forehead.

“Once a month, every male werewolf goes into a rut.” He mumbles. “It’s just a natural thing. Starts after puberty.”

You frown, remembering what Seungkwan said. “What happens? Is it like a period?”

He manages to laugh at that, shaking his head. “No, it’s like- like a mating thing.”

He’s already flushed, but he manages to turn even redder, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He groans, expression pinched as if in pain. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Just say it.” You encourage. You’re very curious now, and the metaphorical edging isn't helping. You try to rack your brain on any passing thing you had read on the internet about werewolves, but you’re drawing a blank.

“I told you, it’s a mating thing. The werewolf part in me wants to- wants to breed.”

You freeze, trying to keep a straight face as you process his words.

“So you get horny?”

Seungcheol nearly doubles over, burying his head between his knees. If you weren’t reeling so hard at this revelation, you would be more amused.

“So you disappear once a month because you get horny?” You lean back on the couch. Realisation of the incredulity of this situation hits you, and you try not to laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, Cheol. That’s one hell of an excuse.”

That makes him look up, confused. “What do you mean?”

You stand up then, walking to the kitchen. Seungcheol follows you with his eyes. You pour yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter to look at him, peering over the back of the couch at you. You down the glass in two gulps, gathering your thoughts.

“You expect me to believe that you disappear once a month because you’re a werewolf and you have some biological urge to mate and make werewolf babies?” You scoff, voice tinged with sarcasm. “You know there’s better ways to lie? But I have to admit, of all the guys that have lied to me in the past, yours is the most creative.”

“You think I’m lying to you?” He stands up, walking around the couch and closer to you. There’s that scent again. Rain and earth. “You think I’m making all this up?”

You roll your eyes, even if your heart squeezes at how hurt he sounds. Deep down, you’re very confused. He sounds so earnest and sincere, but it is just too fantastical to believe. Werewolves are real? Who the hell in their right mind would believe that?

You remembered hearing about werewolves from old, scary stories told around campfires when you were a kid. Then, with the internet becoming popular, those same stories got transferred to forums and YouTube video essays. While people did talk about werewolves, you don’t know anyone personally who actually saw or knew one. They are the same as ghosts, or demons, or vampires. They are mythological creatures.

“Even your excuse is half baked.” You manage to say, not looking at his eyes, the hurt in them. “You leave because you’re horny? You realise I’m your girlfriend right? You realise we have sex?”

Seungcheol grits his teeth. “It’s not the same. A rut is- it’s intense. I lose control over all my senses. If I’m not careful, I could hurt you.”

You roll your eyes. “But you can go fuck someone else. Got it.”

Seungcheol steps closer, crowding you against the counter. He looks noticeably ticked off now, and something about it makes your core stir just a bit. “I don’t fuck anyone. I lock myself in my room and ride it out. I would never do that to you. I love you.”

You tense, staring wide eyed at him, shocked. This is the first time he has said that to you. Your heart squeezes, and despite the clouds in his eyes, there’s a bright sincerity in them as you look at him.

“You mean that?”

He smiles, and it looks almost pained. “Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you for months. And I wish I could tell you this in a better setting, but I don’t want you to ever think that I would do something like that.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Seungcheol nods slowly. “I know. It’s too much to take in. Once my rut is over, I promise I will take you out and show you everything. I’ll introduce you to the pack properly, this time as a pack. Every question you have, I promise I will answer. But right now….”

He steps back from you, head turning up to the ceiling with eyes squeezed shut like he’s in pain.

“Right now I can feel my rut coming, so I have to leave.”

You watch him trudge out of the kitchen and towards the door. You panic at the thought of him leaving. So you make up your mind in that split second, even if you think it might be a stupid decision.

“You could stay.”

Seungcheol smiles and shakes his head. “I can’t, baby.”

“I could help you. With your rut.”

He blinks. Frowns. “I told you. I lose all senses.”

“And what?” You step closer to him. “You get a little rough? I can handle rough.”

The air between you shifts, electrifies. Seungcheol stares at you, like he’s trying to figure you out.

“Ruts aren’t like normal sex.” His voice is low, breathy. He’s speaking more deliberately now, as if trying to make you understand. You feel something zip down your spine. “I never go down. I’m constantly hard. I need to cum over and over.”

“Sounds hot as hell to me.” You’re only partially teasing. Your heart is beating so fast, and a small voice in your head questions you. Are you insane? But there’s a curiosity in you, and a fire sizzling deep inside the pit of your stomach. And something about the way he smells up close is making you heady, like sitting in a cloud of marijuana smoke.

And also, deep down, a small part of you still doesn’t believe this ridiculous story. And you want to see where this goes.

When you lay your palm on your boyfriend’s chest, he tenses. His hands are clenched so tight that you can see his knuckles turn white. His breathing is heavy, shaky. His pupils are blown, and you can’t help but clench at how wrecked he looks. And nothing has happened yet. You try not to imagine what he will look like when you’re under him. You want to see that so badly.

“I can take it.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t.”

“Why don’t we find out?” You challenge him. One step closer puts you right in his space, and you lean up on your tiptoes to run your lips over his jaw. Seungcheol nearly shakes, trembles with restraint. You can see he is battling with himself, and you wonder what you can do to give him one last push.

“Imagine how much better your ruts could be if you had me to fuck through them, instead of suffering every month.” You mouth at his skin right below the ear. “You underestimate how bad I want you to manhandle me, Cheol.”

He groans, and you feel his hands finally touch you, gripping hard at your hips before sliding up your sides. He kneads the plush of your waist, fingers almost greedy as they run over you. It sends a thrill through you. He all but pants into your neck and you almost gasp when you hear a growl reverberate deep in his chest, almost animalistic. Your veins turn a bit cold. You wonder what you have gotten yourself into.

“You’re sure?” He asks one last time.

You swallow hard, making up your mind. “Please fuck me. I want it.”

Something in the air breaks.

His lips are on yours, needy, desperate, suffocating, teeth nipping sharply at your mouth until you’re moaning, feeling his tongue slide in almost instantly. He bends just enough to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist. He walks to your bedroom, lips not leaving yours for a single second.

Sex with Seungcheol is always passionate, but this seems charged by a fire you have not yet felt. It feels like he wants to devour you, and you keen at how good it feels to have him want you this much. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding on to him tight until he’s dropping you onto the bed, your body bouncing on the mattress for a fraction of a second before he’s on you again. This time, he’s licking and nipping over your jaw, traveling back until he meets the shell of your ear, then down to your neck. All the while, he whispers to you.

“You have no idea how good you smell to me, baby.” He says. “That first day I met you, I could smell you across the store. The most delicious thing I ever scented. And you were so beautiful. I knew I had to have you.”

You can’t help your moan, hearing him talk about you like that. There’s something animalistic and primal about it that you didn’t know could turn you on so much. He parts your legs to settle between them, and his tongue presses insistently into the junction between your shoulder and neck. It’s his favorite place to give you hickies. You never knew why until right now.

“This,” he nips at the skin, “is where it’s the strongest. This is where I want to mark you the most. So you can always smell a little bit like me. So everyone knows you’re mine.”

You clench hard. Your head spins. Your hips buck up, brushing over the front of his jeans. He’s already rock hard, and somehow straining through the many layers so you can feel his erection. He groans, still sucking a hickey into you. You already feel delirious, trying to string your thoughts into sentences.

“Why don’t you bite me? Isn’t that a werewolf thing?”

He growls, growls, and the sound is filled with primal desperation. He digs his teeth just a bit more into the skin. Not enough to break it, but enough to bruise. It feels like a warning, one that you don’t want to heed.

“Don’t say that shit to me, darling.” He rasps. “You don’t know how little self control I have right now.”

That’s what you’re working on. You want him to give in completely. And it might be a completely stupid risk on your part, but you can’t help wanting to see him succumb to whatever animal is inside him, calling the shots. You buck your hips up again, and he chases after them, grinding hard into your heat. You sigh at the friction, and he does it again. He laves your neck with his tongue and teeth, humping into you over and over until you’re so wet and desperate that you can’t take any more. You whine and tug at his clothes.

“Cheol.” you gasp. “Off.”

He complies, and clothes fly off, one article after another, until you’re naked under his unusually heated torso. You’ve always loved how physically massive your boyfriend is, and you wonder if that has to do with his species or just who he is as a person. Is he even a person?

His skin is slick with sweat, and when you meet his eyes, you nearly gasp at how the color of his irises have changed. Streaks of golden branch outwards from his dilated pupils. His lips are swollen from being kissed and bitten, and he runs his tongue over them as if he wants to taste the remnants of your skin. His hair feels like it’s standing on its end, giving him a rougher, more rugged look.

He looks…… wild. That’s the only word you can think of.

When he finally shucks his pants and underwear, leaving him bare, your eyes nearly bulge out from your head. You’ve seen his dick before, taken it countless times, but he looks bigger, curvier. The vein that runs on the underside is throbbing desperately, and you almost get dizzy when you see that the base of his cock is broader, almost like it swelled up.

“Still think you can take me?” He says.

He looks too gone to be able to speak even, but it seems some part of his mental faculties is still intact. You however, feel like you’ve dunked your head underwater. Your pussy weeps, clenches, horribly empty, and some filthy part of you wants to take all of him, even if it might not be possible.

“I want to.” You breathe out, tearing your eyes away from his leaking cock to look up into his golden eyes. “Wanna take all of you so bad. Even if I can’t. I wanna try.”

“Fuck.” His eyes squeeze shut. “Oh baby, I’m gonna break you.”

Seungcheol takes his sweet time opening you up, going from one finger, to two, to three, and even squeezing his pinky in there when he thinks you’re ready. He whispers encouragement in your ear, saying he needs to do this before common sense leaves him and all he can think of is cumming inside you over and over. He praises you, sucking more bruises into your skin until you feel like every part of your neck is completely marred. He fucks his fingers into you until you cum once, twice, until your throat is hoarse from singing his praises, moaning over and over, begging for his cock. Until your pussy is wrecked and sore without even tasting his cock yet. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he pulls his fingers out, completely drenched, and uses your juices to slick up his shaft.

“I can’t hold back anymore.” He sounds like a wounded animal, needy, begging, and his voice is torn and choppy. “I need to fuck you-”

When his cock finally breaches your cunt, your mouth drops open in a silent cry, hands fisting into the sheets under you, toes curling. You’re already delirious, beyond logic from your two orgasms, and it feels like you’re already spent. But you want more because you’re greedy and Seungcheol always spoils you. Every time you feel like he’s all the way inside, he keeps going farther, until you think you can feel him in your stomach, even if that’s not physically possible. You feel the rim of your hole bump up against something even bigger, and he finally stops.

“Don’t think you’re ready for my knot yet.” He grunts out.

Your sex addled, horny brain wants to insist that you are, but you already feel so damn full, so you take his word for it. You try to regulate your breaths, try to make them slower so your chest doesn’t feel like it’s on fire, but then Seungcheol starts moving, pulling out slowly before pushing back in, and for the first time since you started, you actually think you won’t survive this.

He picks up the pace fairly quickly, fucking hard and fast into you while he groans and pants in your ear, telling you how good you feel. His words quickly devolve into depravity. You feel his nails digging into your thighs more sharply now, and the scent of rain and earth gets more potent. You think you can see the little hair on his arms stand on end, his thrusts get more frantic. Your eyes are wide, you almost can’t believe them, when you see the muscles shift under his skin, like they are rearranging themselves. Something fundamentally alters in his appearance at that moment, and you wonder if he’s really, truly gone now. He grunts again, rough and gritty, and you’re reminded acutely of an animal.

“I’m gonna cum in you. Gonna fill you up. You want that?”

Your body jolts with each thrust, your breaths coming in staccato, your poor pussy taking the beating of a lifetime, but it feels so good, like he’s fucking depths in you previously unreachable, stoking a fire so primal you had no idea it existed inside you. Your brain seems to be slipping further and further away from reality, almost like you’re the one in rut, like you’re the one who badly wants to fuck and get fucked, and you nod your head desperately at his question.

Seungcheol pulls your legs up by the backs of your knees until he is bending you in half, using his weight to pin you down hard on the mattress. It presses into your stomach, your chest, and your breaths get shorter, your brain more muddled as oxygen enters your lungs less and less. It only amplifies the pleasure, making you lightheaded. Seungcheol is still talking, making only little sense.

“Gonna breed you. Gonna get you pregnant. You want that? Getting filled up with my pups?”

“Yes.” You sob, caught up in the fantasy of it. “Cum in me, Cheolie. Need to be filled up until it’s leaking out of me.”

He snarls, eyes screwing shut, and then you feel warmth flood your insides. It’s enough to push you over the edge too, and you weep as a fire lights up in you in the wake of your orgasm, burning and sizzling in your nerves as you jerk and twitch, riding it out. Seungcheol groans and gasps, short, quick thrusts carrying him through his high. He’s still cumming. There’s so much of it that it runs down your ass and onto the sheets, but you don’t care. Your body goes slack.

You whine when he pulls out abruptly, your body jolting as he grabs your hips to flip you over, tugging at them until you’re on your knees. He uses his right hand to push down on your back until you’re arching. He hums in approval at the position you take.

His cock enters you again, and you gasp at how hard he is. He was right. He didn’t lose his erection at all. He immediately sets a brutal pace, hitting a whole new angle in this position that has you scrambling for purchase, your walls fluttering around him. It’s almost too much, almost, but it feels so good that you’re high on it, like someone took out your brain and threw it away, leaving you as this debased mess.

You can barely gasp, can barely feel the drool that runs from your open mouth and onto the mattress, eyes rolled up. But Seungcheol sees it when he bends over you, pace not faltering for a second, and he groans at the sight.

“Nasty slut.” He spits out, voice unsteady because of the force of his thrusts. “You were right. I did underestimate you. You were made to take a werewolf’s cock. Made to help in a rut. The perfect little fuck toy.”

You whine, clenching around him at his words. He curses, hand reaching around to toy with your clit, and aided by the remnants of your last orgasm, you cum again after a few tight rubs, trembling in his hold and nearly unable to suck in air. Tears escape the corners of your eyes, running down to drip onto the bedsheets. This one feels more like a gentle wave in the wake of your previous highs, like something cold and sizzling traveling through your nerves. Seungcheol moans, teeth sinking into the back of your neck, before he’s grinding into you and reaching his own high. He throbs inside you, spurting ropes of white, and more of it leaks out of you, running through your slit before falling in thick globs onto the bed. It’s filthy, wet and sticky, but your mouth waters at the thought of tasting it.

It takes three more rounds, on the bed, on the floor, and against the wall, before Seungcheol’s cock finally, finally, goes flaccid. He fucks you for hours, alternating between deep, slow strokes to frantically rutting into you until he is cumming again. He whispers filthy, downright scandalous things in your ear, like you’re an object made for his pleasure, and all these words coming from kind, respectful Seungcheol just send you spiraling into lust.

He manhandles you so easily, arranging your limbs exactly how he wants them like you really are his little fuck doll. At this point, you have cum running down your thighs in thick streaks, oozing out every time your abused cunt clenches. You’ve lost count of how many times you came on him. You’re sweaty and aching all over, no sensation in your legs. You can’t move, can’t speak, and black spots dance in your vision. You vaguely feel him carrying you, hands securely holding your thighs.

It’s ten minutes later that you feel like you can see and hear again, and you find yourself in your bathtub, back against Seungcheol’s chest, warm from his touch and the water around you. It soothes your sore muscles, and your eyelids droop, basking in the silence. You feel gentle lips on your shoulder, on the rare unmarked patch of skin, and you sigh at the feeling.

“You doing okay?”

You hum, turning your head so you can nuzzle into his neck. He kneads at your legs, and the pressure feels amazing.

“Think you can do three or four more days of this?”

You blink blearily up at him. He still looks a bit….. wild. Wolf-like. Hair standing up, bristling, like it has a life of its own. The golden tinge of his irises.

“I thought it was six days.”

“They’re shorter when you have someone helping you through them.”

You nod. “There’s really so much I don’t know.”

Seungcheol chuckles a bit, wrapping his arms tightly around you. His tongue laps at your neck again, licking over your skin in thick stripes, and you realise you really like it when he does that.

“How long before we have to go again?” You ask.

He squeezes you, and you feel his lips tug up in a grin. “You want me that bad?”

You heat up at the deep timbre in his voice, shrugging. “What can I say, I think it’s hot when you go all wolf on me.”

That makes him laugh, loud and deep from his chest. He kisses your temple, then the shell of your ear and water splashes around you as you squirm at the feeling, giggling. He keeps licking at your skin as the water settles again.

“Maybe one day, I can take your knot too.”

You can see the exact moment your words hit him, making him suck in a sharp breath, pupils dilating. He grins, slow and sexy, and you feel his cock twitch against your back.

“You keep takin’ me like a champ and that day might come earlier than you think.”

pairing: ot13 x reader

category: omegaverse au, a/b/o dynamics, sports au: volleyball, polyamory

status: completed

total word count: 72.5k

content warnings: omega!reader, fem!reader, this is set entirely in omegaverse so read at your own risk! exploration of secondary gender and pack dynamics, ruts, heats, knots and scenting. angst, fluff and smut. insecurity, the feeling of being lonely, abandoned, hurt, being ‘othered’. jealousy, some hostility. unprotected sex, nsfw, mentions of breeding, mating, knotting, omega subspace, multiple orgasms. there’s love between all subgenders. all members of seventeen are featured: alpha - seungcheol, jeonghan, junhui, soonyoung, wonwoo, seokmin, mingyu, hansol. beta - joshua, chan. omega - jihoon, minghao, seungkwan.

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗

☆ prologue (wc: 1.4k)

☆ chapter 1 - (wc: 7.2k)

☆ chapter 2 - (wc: 8.9k)

☆ chapter 3 - (wc: 8.3k)

☆ chapter 4 - (wc: 9k)

☆ chapter 5 - (wc: 8.4k)

☆ chapter 6 - (wc: 9k)

☆ chapter 7 - (wc: 8.6k)

☆ chapter 8 - (wc: 9k)

☆ epilogue - (wc: 2.7k)

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒

☆ seungkwan + vernon-focus (wc: 4.9k)

☆ seungcheol-focus (wc: 3.7k)

Seungcheol was born in that house, in a large bedroom that had been set up as a birthing suite, surrounded by a doctor, a midwife, and many maids. He was the youngest in his family, so they all doted on him as he grew up. Sometimes, Seungcheol thinks that this is why it took him so long to get a handle on things when it all fell to him. He was never taught to toughen up, because no one imagined he would be the one taking over and leading the charge. He was always the baby of the family.

It seems that no one really anticipated the calamity that would fall upon them. His father’s failing health, his mother’s death, his brothers killed one by one in rival family clashes until it was just Seungcheol, left to pick up the pieces of a crumbling empire. In merely a few years, it seems everything broke faster than any of them could fix it. Maybe if they knew what the future held, they would have taught him the ins and outs of the business better. He was never meant to be the leader. He had been the youngest all his life. But here he was now, no older brothers to hold the reins anymore, and a huge team of delinquents to lead as he tried to save his family’s business.

At least we have Busan. That’s what Seungcheol would always say when he felt the panic of his responsibility seep into his bones. He said that when they lost a big portion of their underground trade to police raids. He said that when the Incheon smuggling operations were shut down. He said that when he lost many, many men to fighting that was so frequent now, nearly unprecedented in the Choi empire. Busan Port is their biggest source of revenue. Nearly their entire trade comes from his men posted out there.

At least we have Busan.

Then the Kwon Family closed in on their ships, and all hell broke loose.

They can’t lose Busan. They can’t. If Busan gets taken, if their ships are occupied or destroyed, then there’s nothing holding his business up anymore. The empire his father built would officially collapse. Generations worth of spilled blood will be rendered useless. Seungcheol can’t let that happen, no matter what cost.

“Damn Kwon Family.” Jeonghan mutters under his breath. “Since when are they such a threat?”

He’s lounging on the couch in Seungcheol’s office without a care in the world, sprawled with his legs draping over the arm. To the untrained eye, it looks like he’s relaxed, but Seungcheol knows that despite what it looks like, Jeonghan’s brain is racing a hundred miles an hour. There’s a reason Jeonghan is allowed to lay around Seungcheol’s office so casually. None of his other men would dare be so brazen. But Jeonghan is his most trusted confidant, his advisor, and the only reason that the Choi empire hasn’t completely collapsed in the last few years. Seungcheol trusts Jeonghan above all else.

“We need to do something about this.” Seungcheol mumbles. He’s leaning back in his office chair, feeling like the weight of the world is holding his shoulders down. “Maybe we need to send a message?”

Jeonghan hums and shakes his head, still staring up at the ceiling. “No. Too much police pressure right now. We can’t be reckless.”

Seungcheol huffs. “So what else?”

Jeonghan doesn’t reply, eyes unfocused. Seungcheol can practically see the gears in his head turn.

“Give me a few days. Let me find out what I can about them.” He finally says.

Jeonghan is true to his word, because a few days later, he has a full portfolio of everyone associated with the Kwon family. They’ve been around for a while now, a smaller business with not much influence, but under the Kwon son’s new reign, they are expanding at a frightening pace. He’s reckless, sharp and unrelenting. Seungcheol’s men call him ‘Hoshi’. Tiger’s gaze. Frankly, Seungcheol isn’t a fan of titles, but he can see why this one stuck, considering how he has shaken up the business so quickly and effectively. He can understand why Hoshi is an intimidating figure, and it seems his hold on underground drug circles is way stronger than Seungcheol originally thought.

“This is where we can strike.” Jeonghan says, swiping on his laptop to land on a photo, turning the screen to fully face Seungcheol. It’s a woman, definitely younger than Seungcheol himself, with wide open eyes and a mouth pulled into a pout. The picture is taken from afar and zoomed in, so it’s a little grainy. She’s sitting on a balcony. Across from her is the Kwon family son, Hoshi. What’s his name again? Soonyoung? He’s smoking a cigarette.

“Who is she? His mate?”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “Sister.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, there is some similarity, though not a lot. Seungcheol frowns.

“Okay. What about her? Do we kill her as a warning?”

Jeonghan snorts a little. “Broaden your horizons a bit, Seungcheol-ah. There’s ways to do things without killing.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. He’s really not in the mood for any of Jeonghan’s usual quips right now. “So what do you propose?”

“You take her as your mate.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, head jerking to the side to look at his advisor. Jeonghan doesn’t seem perturbed at all. He only looks at Seungcheol in anticipation.

“What?”

Jeonghan leans back in the seat across the table where he sits. “Think about it. Killing her won’t help. From what I know about Hoshi, that will only piss him off. He’s not one to receive a message like that kindly. He won’t back down, he will try to expand twice as hard if you take her out of the picture. But if you were to mate her, make her your omega…..”

He trails off. The gears in Seungcheol’s head turn, and he finishes Jeonghan’s sentence.

“He becomes compliant. He won’t risk ruining his sister’s life by taking me down.”

Jeonghan nods, the corner of his lip ticking up in a smirk. “Exactly.”

Seungcheol ponders over it for a few minutes, and Jeonghan doesn’t interrupt him. At the end of the day, it’s really Seungcheol who calls the shots. Jeonghan might be an excellent strategist, but nothing gets done without Seungcheol’s explicit say so. His rough circumstances meant he had to grow up way quicker than he ever anticipated or wanted to. He doesn’t know if he’s a good leader, but he sure as hell tries, and it seems Jeonghan trusts his final word.

It’s not uncommon or unheard of in underground circles to take omegas and mate them as leverage. It’s one of the reasons why family omegas are so fiercely protected and hidden. There’s a good chance that Hoshi’s sister has never set foot outside her family’s estate, and being her alpha brother, there’s no way Hoshi will stay stubborn if the threat of his sister’s mate is hanging over his head.

There’s hesitation here, though. As common as it is, Seungcheol has always found the method to be sleazy, leveraging someone’s life like that. He may be part of a crime family, hell, Seungcheol has killed many with his own hands, but there’s something about this that seems more violating than death. Death is a quick reprieve. A flash of pain and then nothing. But this, this is prolonged suffering. This might as well be classified as torture.

He looks at the picture again. You’re in your early twenties, maybe. Sheltered and protected your entire life. This might be a blow to Hoshi, but he can’t imagine what it would feel like for you. He stays silent for a long time, pondering.

Maybe Jeonghan senses Seungcheol’s doubt, because he says the one sentence that could push Seungcheol to the point of desperation.

“We will lose Busan.”

Seungcheol closes his eyes. Jeonghan is right, he knows this. It’s either this, or Seungcheol loses everything. His men lose their jobs, hundreds of families that are dependent on him, his business. His own family is gone, he doesn’t have a whole lot to live for. But he knows how far his business stretches. He has been in those warehouses, on those docks. The men who look to him for guidance, the men who have served him, his father, his grandfather, for generations before. He can’t say no. Too many people are at stake here. It’s too big a price to pay.

You will just have to be the sacrifice.

………………………………

The light is bright when your blindfold is pulled off, and it makes you squint. You shield your eyes, bringing your knees up to your chest so you can curl into a ball. The mattress where the strange alpha plopped you down is soft, but you don’t dare relax. You blink furiously to clear your vision. A few stray tears run down your cheeks as things come into focus.

The unfamiliar scent you smelled all through the car ride belongs to a very tall, intimidating looking alpha. He’s broad and very muscly, bare arms appear threatening in his sleeveless black shirt. You’re sure that if he wanted, he could tear you limb from limb. You kick with your feet so your body shuffles back. You feel your shoulder blades meet the headboard of the bed you’re on. The sheets are maroon in color, velvet and very soft, much more luxurious than the ones you have at home. But right now, you would sleep on the floor of your bedroom, cold and naked, rather than be here.

The alpha watches you for a few seconds before walking to the window. He tugs in the window pane. It doesn’t budge. Then, without a word, he walks to the door and closes it behind him. You hear a click. He has locked you inside.

You stay frozen still for a long time, listening for any sound, any whisper. There is none, but you don’t move. Half out of fear, and half out of grief. You think of Soonyoung again. And along with that, you think of Seokmin.

Joyous, warm Seokmin. The boy you grew up with. Well, a man now. An alpha. But you knew him even before he presented. He was a sensitive child. He was in tune with your emotions just as well as his own. His smile was brighter than the sun. His laugh lit up the room. And when he presented as Alpha, none of it changed. He was still bright, still shining.

When you presented as an omega, your mother was delighted, a reaction not usually seen in crime families. Usually, omegas are an imposition, a weak point, but your mother was not bothered, and Seokmin was a big reason why. Seokmin’s father was the advisor to your own father, so your family knew his family very intimately. It was almost a no-brainer that when the time came, Seokmin would be your mate. And that put your mother at ease.

But then your father died, and then your mother, and everything just…… kept getting delayed.

You blink a little, eyes still bleary, and your hand reaches up to press on the fresh wound on your neck.

What would Seokmin say, knowing that you now belong to another alpha?

It takes you a long while to finally move, limbs sore and stiff. You feel wobbly on your feet, but you manage to shuffle to the dresser across the room. You barely recognise yourself in the mirror, eyes hollow and cheeks smudged with wet tears. You pull your hand away, and your face crumples at the sight.

It’s huge, the mark. It’s still beaded with some blood, and the skin surrounding the teeth marks is reddened. You wince when you brush your fingertips over it. It’s tender. Your eyes well up again.

You always imagined being marked, every omega daydreams about it. In all your fantasies, it would be Seokmin giving you his mark. It would be warm and soft, and it would feel so good, like you are connected to him, filled with nothing but love and trust for each other, just like your mother described. All her stories about a mating mark are so intimate, regaling you with her feelings of peace and bliss, but absolutely none of that has happened for you.

All you feel right now is fear, and this anxious feeling that someone knows exactly where you are. You know mating marks connect you to your alpha, but you always thought that it would be a comforting feeling, that you would feel safe. Now, it feels like being watched. This creepy, heavy feeling that prickles your skin in the worst way. This is nothing like you imagined. This is your worst nightmare.

It would break your mother if she knew. Maybe it’s good that she isn’t around to see this happen.

There’s a tentative knock on your door, and you nearly fly out of your skin. You scramble to get back on the bed, pulling the sheet up and curling into yourself like it’s supposed to protect you in any way. There’s a clinking of keys in the door, and then it opens. You fist the sheets tightly in your hands, frozen in fear.

The man that steps through is also a stranger, and not the alpha who marked you. He’s shorter, but has a lean, sturdy build. Your nose twitches as you feel him out. A beta.

You relax only a smidge. At least it’s not an alpha, but Soonyoung’s warnings are clear in your head. You can’t trust anyone, not even betas or omegas. Anyone can be dangerous. So you are still stiff and on guard.

The beta steps in and closes the door behind him. He’s holding a white box with a Red Cross on it, a first aid kit. He gives you a smile.

“Hi. I’m Chan.” He is not as big and imposing as the alpha from before. His hair is brown and somewhat shaggy. He reminds you of a wide eyed little animal. He steps closer to the bed, but not too quickly. He places the first aid kit on the mattress at the edge of the bed, and clicks it open. Inside, you see gauze, antiseptic, bandages, some ointment and cotton balls. Then, he steps back and puts his hands in his pockets, turning them out. Empty. He lifts his shirt just enough to show you the waistband of his pants. Then does the same by turning around and showing you the back as well. No gun tucked into his jeans.

He’s trying to show you that he won’t hurt you. Maybe he knows that saying the words won’t mean anything, so he’s proving it to you with action. You eye him with a little suspicion still, but your neck is throbbing really bad. And the blood is worrisome. You don’t want to get an infection. Slowly, you lower your legs and the sheet, sitting straight.

That’s invitation enough, because the man smiles and steps closer with the box in his hands. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning forward just a bit. You slowly show him your neck.

He works quickly, efficiently. You wonder if he is some kind of medical person, because it looks like he knows what he’s doing. You flinch when he cleans the area with the antiseptic, and he softens his touch immediately. Once the wound is bandaged and taken care of, he places a leaf of painkillers on the bedside table, along with a bottle of water.

“I wouldn’t take the medicine just now. I think lunch is on its way up.” He gives you a small smile. “Eat something and then take these. Okay?”

You nod slowly. Normally, there’s no way you would ingest anything they gave you, Soonyoung was adamant on drilling that inside your head over the years (‘poison, or a sedative, could be anything’), but the medicine is sealed, and so is the water bottle. So maybe you will take just those.

Half an hour later, a maid brings you food on a tray. It looks like a warm, hearty meal, but you don’t dare touch it, Soonyoung’s warnings in your mind. It could be laced with anything. You don’t even want to imagine what they will do to you if you’re unconscious. You have to be on guard.

You stay curled up like that for hours. The only sound you hear is the periodic ticking of the clock. As the sun goes down, you can hear dogs barking in the distance. Occasionally, you will hear someone speak, a far away shout or a loud laugh, but nothing more than that. You can feel your joints scream from being pulled taut for so long, and your nerves are frayed. You don’t move an inch.

The maid comes back around 8 o’clock with another tray of food. She sighs when she sees the first one just as she left it, but doesn’t say a word. She just replaces the old tray with a new one holding fresh, warm food, leaving quickly. The aroma drifts into your nose. Your stomach growls.

Don’t touch it, don’t touch it, don’t touch it, don’t touch it.

You fall asleep like that, propped up and slumped a little against the headboard. You jerk awake at the slightest sound, a shuffle, a car door slamming outside, someone coughing. It’s fitful, and only makes you more tired instead of giving you rest. Your feet and hands are cold, but you don’t curl into the blanket on the bed. The wound on your neck still throbs. You power through.

After a very long, very fearful night, the sun comes up. The untouched dinner tray gets replaced with a breakfast one by the same woman. You close your eyes when the smell of fresh cooked eggs hits you. You’re not used to rough conditions like this. Your father and then Soonyoung always had people tending to your every need, pampering you the best they could. You have never wanted for anything in your life. Hunger claws at you, menacing, biting. A feeling you have never known.

By late afternoon, you’re still slumped against the headboard. You’re dead tired, and you don’t know how to stay upright any longer. But your ears are alert, twitching at even the slightest of sounds. Exhaustion has made you even more hyper aware of your surroundings, somehow. When you hear the key turn in the lock again, you expect more food that will go wasted. But then the door opens, and a familiar scent of cinnamon and oak assaults your nose.

It’s him.

You go rigid, pushing yourself up. Wide, tired eyes meet sharp, brown ones. He stares at you for a long moment before stepping aside. The maid is behind him, holding more food. She steps in wordlessly and replaces the old food with the new one before leaving. All the while, the alpha stands with his arms crossed over his white, button down shirt. He thanks the woman under his breath as she leaves before slowly closing the door behind her. The room falls silent again.

Your bite mark throbs, sensing his presence near. You dig your nails into your arms where they wrap around your legs.

“You haven’t been eating.” He finally speaks to you, stepping closer. His voice is soft but deep, and it somehow booms in the room, commands it. He puts his hands in his pants pockets. He stops at the edge of the bed. “Why?”

You have no intention of answering him. You stare at the wall over his shoulder. You hear him sigh.

“You think I had the food laced? Is that it?”

You don’t say a word.

“This food shouldn’t be a problem for you then.” He says, looking down at it. Your eyes snap to the tray as well, and you notice that everything on the plate is in packets. A carton of milk, sealed sugared fruit slices, sealed sandwich.

“It’s not the most healthy,” the man mumbles, “but it’s better than nothing.”

He steps towards the side of the bed. You stiffen as he draws near. He leans down to pick up the leaflet of pills on the bedside table and tuts.

“This is sealed. How come you didn’t take this?”

You are silent.

He bends then, placing one hand on the mattress as he leans closer. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting desperately to scramble away from him, but you’re frozen with fear. His breath hits your ear as he speaks.

“You have no reason not to eat now. Eat all this by the time I come back, or I will have Chan force food into you with an IV. Got it?”

You don’t nod or shake your head. You sit rock still. This close, his scent is particularly potent. It unsettles you. He finally pulls away and walks quickly to the door, closing and locking it behind him. You breathe a shaky sigh of relief, straightening a little. Tears escape your eyes as you replay the interaction in your head.

You weep as silently as you can.

………………………………

Seungcheol has been on edge since the day they raided the Kwon house. He’s irritable, something uncharacteristic of him. He’s usually more assured in his decisions, more confident in where he stands. But unease gnaws at him now, almost constantly. He sleeps with it like a companion on his shoulder, and he wakes with the same feeling. He regrets what he did, unsurprisingly. He had a feeling that he would. Maybe this should’ve been the first time he didn’t listen to Jeonghan.

When he voices the thought to his advisor, the alpha just chuckles.

“You realise it’s not you, right? This feeling.”

Seungcheol scowls. Jeonghan continues talking.

“It’s her distress. You can feel it because of the mating bite. That’s why you feel uneasy. This is her, not you.”

Oh. Seungcheol processes the words a little. It does make sense, since Seungcheol knows just how shot your nerves are. He’s seen it. You look nothing like you did when he first found you. You flinch and jump whenever he visits, like you expect him to tear you to shreds at any moment. He can’t understand your apprehension. He’s your mate. Your alpha. He would never harm you. Well, except the harm he has already done.

Jeonghan is still watching him closely. He speaks again when Seungcheol remains silent.

“If you have any regrets about this whole thing, this will wipe them away.” He says, holding up his phone. “Hoshi’s advisor just called. They’re calling off this month’s Busan shipments. The port will remain ours.”

Seungcheol almost can’t believe it. He sits up in his chair, wide eyed. Something in his chest lifts.

“You’re serious?”

Jeonghan nods, smiling.

The sigh of relief Seungcheol lets out feels like it’s peeling away layers and layers of unending fatigue and anxiety. He runs a hand down his face and through his hair, like he wants to scrub the tension away.

“Just like that.” He breathes.

“Just like that.” Jeonghan repeats. “I told you, taking omegas is effective.”

Something new gnaws at Seungcheol’s chest. He bites the inside of his cheek. This is all possible because of the hell he has put you through. Without knowing, you’ve saved his family, his men, him.

He feels guilty.

Jeonghan senses it, because of course he does. He leans forward to catch Seungcheol’s eye, and then he speaks softly.

“You can give her a good life.” He says. “Even better than she had previously. The Choi empire is above and beyond whatever she had at the Kwon household. The circumstances of your bond might not be ideal, but you could be a good mate for her, and her for you.”

Seungcheol lets out a mirthless laugh. “She will never trust me. And I don’t expect her to.”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “She will. You’re a good man, a good alpha. You can do right by her. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Seungcheol nods slowly, though he doesn’t fully believe Jeonghan’s words. But his advisor is right. What has happened has happened. He can at least try to make do with these circumstances the best he can.

If you let him, that is.

…………………………………..

You don’t know how long you remain in that room. The days blur together. You can see the sun rise and set from the window, but at some point, you lose count of how many days have passed. Every one of them is the same, except now, you see more of your alpha.

He comes around dinner time, the maid with him holding a tray of food. She leaves and he stays, sitting in a chair across the bed and watching you eat. He doesn’t leave until you empty everything on the plate. There’s something different every day, but it’s always in packets. Store bought. After many days of this, he comes in with a home cooked meal, warm and inviting.

“I hope you trust me enough by now to know I wouldn’t hurt you.” He says. “Not like this.”

He doesn’t say anything more, watching you in anticipation. But Soonyoung is in your ear. You can’t trust anyone except your family. His words are so loud it’s almost like he is in your head. You can’t eat this. You can’t. Silently, you reach a hand forward and push the tray away.

He sighs, almost in resignation. Your heart squeezes a little, but you don’t budge. You can’t trust him. He mated you by force. He probably killed your brother too. You can’t even look at him.

He doesn’t come the next day. Or the day after that. No one does except the maid with a tray of food, all sealed. You claw at the skin of your arms, feeling uneasy. You’re fed now, eating whatever you can that looks safe enough. But you still feel sickly. You miss the feeling of the sun against your skin. You miss the fresh air. You sit by the window for a few hours in the afternoon, when the sun is angled in a way that it hits your face. It feels glorious. You watch out of the closed window, massive expanses of gardens sprawling as far as the eye can see. There’s a stream going through the grounds, and you can hear the water faintly through the closed window. There are lawn chairs and a table sprawled on the grass a few feet away from the deck. You sometimes see people there. You recognise Chan, and the large alpha who brought you here that first day. Lots of men filter in and out of the backyard, talking and laughing. After three days of sitting by the window, you see your alpha there too.

He’s wearing a black suit, but he takes the jacket off when steps up to a chair, draping it on the back. He drops into the chair with what looks like a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair and rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. There’s a man with him, just as tall but way skinnier. His hair is darker and longer. He settles into another chair and pulls out a box of cigarettes, offering one to your alpha. He accepts it, lights it, and takes a long drag.

You watch the two men talk a little. You still don’t know your alpha’s name. You wonder who he is. Why he mated you and took you from your home. You’re a little upset that your mother and you were so detached from the business side of things in your family. Maybe if you knew a little more, you wouldn’t be so lost. Maybe you would know what to do in this situation.

A knock on your door surprises you, and you turn your head sharply towards the sound. You don’t expect anyone right now, it’s not time to eat. The key clinks in the lock and it opens, a head of long, dark hair poking in. You scent the air, and you’re even more shocked. It’s an omega.

He smiles at you and steps in, closing the door behind him.

“Y/N?”

You’re a little caught off guard. You haven’t been referred to by name since you got here. Hell, barely anyone has talked to you at all. Chan worked silently, changing your bandage and leaving every couple of days. The maid never said a word. Your own alpha said less than three sentences to you.

You nod sharply. He walks closer to the bed and sits down on the edge. You remain sitting on the seat by the window.

“My name is Jihoon. I work for Seungcheol.”

You blink a few times but don’t reply.

“He asked me to come down to see you. That maybe you would feel more at ease if an omega was around.”

You have enough brain to realise who the hell this Seungcheol is. So that’s his name. You watch the omega with wary eyes. He stands up and walks closer to where you’re sitting, peering out the window. He sees the two men in the backyard, still talking. He nods to himself, as if making a decision.

“Okay, I’m going to be honest with you.” Something in his tone shifts to be harder, more direct. He reaches into his pocket and tugs out a small leather book. He pulls it open and your eyes widen. It’s not a book. A golden badge gleams at you, along with an ID. You read the name. LEE JIHOON. Shock grips you. He’s an officer?

“As you can see, I’m not exactly who I appear to be.” He pockets the badge. “I’ve been here for years, undercover, and I’ve been scoping this family out for a long, long time. They don’t know who I really am. To them, I’m just a worker.”

You are frozen solid, not even pulling a breath in, watching the man with wide eyes. He takes a moment before he speaks again, as if waiting for you to process his words before he gives you more information.

“I have been working silently to take this family down for a while now. Seungcheol, he is the last Choi son. If he falls, the whole empire collapses.”

A chill runs down your spine. Choi. Your alpha is a Choi son? Your mind reels. You may be sheltered, and you may be naïve, but even the biggest, most dense idiot in Korea knows who the Choi sons are. A long line of formidable alphas, raised under the tutelage of their equally scary patriarch. At their height, the Choi sons had more power than even the most high ranking government officials. Over the last few years, the empire fell out a little, with the Choi sons dying one by one after their father. But the whispers remained. Their reputation precedes them. Everyone, whether part of the underground crime business or not, knew not to touch the Choi family with a ten foot pole.

You are a Choi son’s omega. The last surviving son.

It’s almost too much to take in, but it makes sense. The huge house, the unending lawns. From what little you can see, only a family like the Choi clan can afford a place like this. But along with shock, all you feel is confusion. What the hell does a Choi son want from you? You’re no one. You know enough to understand that while you had a cushy life, the Kwon family is not nearly the same level as these people. Yet, here you are. Why? Did Soonyoung do something? Is this revenge?

Jihoon speaks again after a long moment.

“When I found out he took an omega against her will, I knew this could be the final nail in this family’s coffin.” He says. “You’re an outsider, just like I am. You aren’t like them. You want nothing to do with them.”

He leans forward so he can catch your eye. “I can get you away from here. If we take him down, you will be free again. But for that, you have to work with me. You have to help me end this once and for all.”

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, considering that you haven’t said a word in so long. “I can’t do anything.”

He nods resolutely. “Yes, you can. You’re his mate. If anyone can earn his trust, it’s you. The omegas in this family work differently. They aren’t kept in the dark, they work alongside the alphas and betas. You can involve yourself in their operations. You can get me information.”

You feel apprehension claw at you. This seems way above anything you are capable of. “Can’t you do it yourself?”

He shakes his head. “Sadly, I can’t. No matter what I do, I’m not part of his inner circle. There are some things he shares with only a few select people. You could be one of them. You just have to cozy up to him a little.”

You are shaking your head before he is even finished talking. “I can’t.”

“You can. Don’t you want to see your brother again?”

You freeze, eyes wide. “Soonyoung is alive?”

Jihoon nods. “He is. He’s injured, and pissed as all hell, but he’s alive.”

Your eyes mist over in relief. You can’t believe it. You had spent days trying to contend with the fact that your brother is likely dead. Just knowing he’s alive has taken away so much of your worry.

“So you’ll do this?” Jihoon says. “You’ll help me?”

Your hands ball into fists. You want to see Soonyoung again. You want to get out of here. So you nod.

“Okay. I’ll help you.”

………………………………………..

Jeonghan insists that Seungcheol should go to his omega again. Frankly, Seungcheol doesn’t want to, but his advisor insists that he should.

“Jihoon talked to her.” He offers. “He said it went well, that she’s more at ease now. Take her something nice to eat, maybe offer her to come out of that godforsaken room.”

Seungcheol is unwilling, and he doesn’t really think you’ll have a change of heart so quick, considering how stubborn you have been so far. But he gives in to Jeonghan’s request anyway. If you’re going to be a permanent part of his life, then Jeonghan is right. He has to keep trying.

You’re sitting by the windowsill when he comes in today, your legs tucked to your chest as always. You look so small like this, curled against the glass, staring outside. Something scratches at Seungcheol’s chest. You really need to leave this room. It’s a miracle you haven’t gone crazy by now.

You eye him as he sits in his usual chair across the bed. The tray is placed on the table by the bed as usual, the bowl steaming. It’s freshly made just for you. Seungcheol leans forward to place his elbows on his thighs, waiting for you to catch his eye before he speaks.

“Please eat.”

He doesn’t expect you to unfold yourself and walk carefully to the bed, sitting down and pulling the table closer to you. He sits completely still, watching you take the first spoonful. Something in him eases, like a knot being untied.

He watches you eat, watches how your cheeks flush a little when the food warms you up on the inside. Your scent, a sour tinge that has been stinging his nose every time he sees you, sweetens just a little. Seungcheol still has no clue what you actually smell like. You’ve been so on edge, so fearful this entire time, that he could never place your actual scent. He gets a whiff of it now, and it’s soft and light. He’s sure that if you were truly happy, it would smell even better. He wonders if he’ll ever know what that’s like.

A part of him hopes he does.

You empty the bowl in minutes, and Seungcheol is already pressing the portable pager in his pocket. The maid comes in with a second helping, and he watches your eyes widen in surprise. You don’t protest though, silently eating it. He wonders if you’ve been starving a little since you got here. His stomach twists.

He’s a terrible alpha.

You get halfway through the second bowl before you finally let up, pushing the tray away. He wants you to keep eating, because you being well fed makes him feel less guilty about this whole thing, but you shake your head when he says so. He decides not to push.

Once the table is cleared, Seungcheol walks to the window and undoes it with the key in his pocket. He tugs it open, lips pursing. This should’ve been open from day one, but Mingyu has always been overly cautious. He thought you would jump out the window and try to take your own life, so he had it locked. Seungcheol thinks he needs to take a leap of trust now, especially after you’ve put your trust in him by eating a meal. You both will go nowhere if he doesn’t return the faith you’ve placed in him.

“I’m sorry for keeping this closed.” He says. “It will be open now, for as long as you want it. And the door will be unlocked. You can come out and look around. If you don’t like this room, you can choose another. It’s your house, go wherever you want.”

You don’t say anything to him, but you do nod. He’ll take it. Usually, you don’t acknowledge him at all, so this is a huge win for him. He wants to do more, make you trust him more, but he won’t push. Not yet.

He doesn’t lock the door when he leaves. He can only hope that you come out of the room now.

……………………………………

The house is huge.

You didn’t see any of it when you got here, considering you were carried inside with a blindfold on. You didn’t even realise how massive the estate was until now, when you’ve tentatively stepped out of the room. You’re in the room at the far end of the hallway, which is probably why you had such a good view of the backyard. There’s more doors on either side of the hallway than you can count. You don’t go into any of them, walking down the beige carpet leading to the stairs. They’re wide and curving down. You hesitate but step on them anyway, wary of your surroundings. So far, you haven’t seen anyone else, but you can hear voices downstairs.

You find Chan in the kitchen with a plate of eggs, toast and a cup of coffee. He’s wearing frameless glasses that rest on the end of his nose. He’s a little surprised to see you, but he gives you a warm smile. He pours you a cup as well, and insists you drink it even when you try to refuse. It’s warm and soothing in your throat. You sit on the stool opposite to him at the kitchen island.

“Do you work here?” You ask tentatively, unsure of what else to really say to the beta. He nods.

“As soon as I graduated nursing school. My dad worked for his dad too. I’m sure you know a lot of this works within families.”

You nod, understanding. After all, the father of the alpha you were promised to also worked with your father. Things like this are usually generational. That’s why it’s so hard to dismantle crime families. Outsiders aren’t allowed. You think back to the conversation you had with Jihoon. It’s impressive that he has managed to destroy so much of the family’s power while being an outside eye looking in. He must be really good at what he does.

Maybe he really can help you get out.

Chan decides he wants to show you the rest of the house, so he takes you on a little tour. There's an in-home theatre, an office, and even a library. This is where you linger, feeling giddy at just how many floor to ceiling shelves are crammed full of books. You had a little reading nook back at home too, but that’s nothing compared to this. You eye a very cozy looking armchair in the center of the room, facing the fireplace. It would feel so nice to curl up there with a good book.

The gardens at the back that you saw through the window are nothing compared to what is actually there. There are two outdoor courts, one with a net in between and one with two basketball hoops on either end.

“We all love sports a lot.” Chan comments, pointing to small sheds near the corner, likely filled with sporting equipment. “It’s an easy way to relax and bond.”

It’s new to you, definitely, that the family is so close to the men they work with. Well, it’s not much of a family anymore. It’s just Seungcheol. But still, Chan even lounging around the house is strange, considering your family doctor lived off the grounds in a place within walking distance, and only came into the house when called. It seems things really do work differently here.

You sit down in one of the lawn chairs, taking a deep breath. It feels nice to step outside and take in some fresh air. Chan eyes you for a bit before stepping forward.

“May I?” He holds his hands up to your neck. You nod slowly, tilting your head back so he can peel the bandage off your skin.

“I don’t think you need this anymore.” He mumbles, eyeing the wound. It hasn’t pained you in days, so you’re sure it is healed. When he steps away, you gingerly brush your hand over it. The skin is still sensitive, and will likely be for a long time, but it’s not a bother.

Chan sits with you for a while, telling you little tidbits about his life. You try to glean anything from it that might help you or Jihoon, but there isn’t much. It’s mostly stories from his university days, or the worst injuries he’s seen since he started working with the family. You’re sure none of this will be interesting information to your new ally. Almost an hour into talking, Chan’s pager beeps. He eyes it for a little bit before standing up.

“I have to go now. Will you be okay here or do you want to go inside?”

You’re really sick and tired of the indoors, so you shake your head. “I’ll be okay.”

He gives you another smile and leaves, and you continue looking across the lush, green grounds. The wind blows softly, and it feels calming when it crosses through the strands of your hair. You feel almost a little sleepy, your body buzzing and cozy.

The wind carries with it the scent of cinnamon and oak.

It’s all over the house, you had noticed when you first stepped out of your room. It’s very faint, and kind of lingering, but you still feel it all around you. It laves over your skin, like something that is alive. Every wall, every brick of this house carries Seungcheol’s scent. It’s like these objects speak for him, tell his story.

It gets denser now. Your nose twitches. You turn around.

He’s standing on the deck, watching you. He’s wearing a white Henley, the sleeves pushed up, his hands in his pockets. A silver chain gleams against his neck. When he sees you looking, he steps onto the grass and walks closer to you. You try to avoid his eyes. He seats himself in the chair Chan vacated, letting out a light sigh.

“Glad to see you out here.” He speaks. “Do you like the house?”

You nod hesitantly. “The library is really nice.”

It seems to catch him a little off guard, and you realise this is the first time you’ve spoken to him. You feel a little shy about how he looks at you, but he recovers quickly enough.

“That’s good.” His voice sounds more cautious. “You can have a closer look later. If you want to change anything, let me know.”

You nod slowly. You’re surprised he’s willing to allow any alterations, since the library is clearly built to cater to him specifically. It flatters you somewhat, but you shake it away as best as you can.

After a bout of silence, Seungcheol leans forward and pulls out a box of cigarettes from his back pocket. You scrunch your nose when he lights it and takes a drag, the smell hitting your nose. He immediately notices.

“Not a fan of cigarettes?” He asks.

You shake your head.

He leans forward towards the table, stubbing the freshly lit cigarette into the ashtray. You blink, surprised. He doesn’t say anything more. You fidget a little.

“It just muddies your scent.” You say, trying to justify your disapproval. You don’t want to irritate him. You know how these men are with their addictions. Soonyoung can’t go a day without emptying a pack, no matter how much your mother used to reprimand him. He'd shout at anyone who tried to make him quit. Even Seokmin refused to stop smoking, even when you asked many times. He didn’t say anything about it, but the corner of his mouth would harden in annoyance. But Seungcheol just nods.

“Okay. I won’t smoke again.”

No fuss. No irritated huff or sharp gaze, or telling you to mind your business. He pockets the box and stays seated, peering out at the grounds, not saying anything more.

Your heart squeezes a little. It kicks at your ribs. You fiddle with your fingers, trying to stop it racing. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but the readiness of you making a demand, and him fulfilling it, it feels wonderful. You can’t help how it makes you a little queasy, in a pleasant way.

He sits with you for hours, engaging you in conversation only sparingly, but dealing with other business as it arises. His phone is ringing constantly, and he answers it every time, his replies short and curt. Some men filter in and out of the backyard to show him something or let him know the progress on whatever business they’re attending to. It’s fascinating to watch. No one in your family ever brought anything related to the business back home. Not your father, and not Soonyoung. You knew for a fact that your mother knew nothing about how things worked, and neither did you. It feels invigorating to sit here like this, to not be asked to leave the room with the other omegas when the alphas and betas sit down to talk about business, swatting at you like you’re a fly. You might not understand all of it, but the fact that your presence isn’t a bother to Seungcheol makes your heart flutter.

Nothing any of the men say is too apparent, you can’t make sense of most of it. Seungcheol listens silently, barks out quick orders, dismisses them. You notice the difference in tone immediately. He doesn’t speak to you like that at all. With you, it’s softer, more gentle. You try not to let your thoughts linger on that for too long.

A few hours later, another man comes to see him. You recognise him as the man who is with him often when you peer out from your window, the dark haired, skinny one. He appraises you with sharp eyes, the only man coming to see your alpha who has looked directly at you. Seungcheol doesn’t stop him, but the sharpness of his eyes makes you a little jumpy.

“Nice to see you out and about.” He quips, voice softer than you anticipated. His eyes are shrewd, as if he knows more than he’s letting on. He’s also the first man to talk to you directly. You wonder who he is. He obviously has Seungcheol’s trust if he’s so brazen about addressing you.

He doesn’t say anything more to you, sitting down on a spare chair and talking to Seungcheol extensively, a tablet in hand. His voice is low, but there’s a lot of talk about shipments to Busan, what times they are scheduled, what routes they are taking and what goods will be on them. You stare off into the distance, trying to memorise all of it the best you can, wondering if it will be of any help to Jihoon anyway. When the man finally stands up to leave, he gives you a little smile.

“You should be here more often, omega. He’s calmer when you’re around.” He says. You blink, shocked.

“Jeonghan.” There’s warning in Seungcheol’s voice, so the man, Jeonghan, just smiles thinly and walks away. As he passes you, he places a large hand on your head, patting it. It feels weirdly affectionate, and not at all what you’re expecting. Seungcheol sighs.

“Sorry about him.” He mumbles. “He means well.”

As the sky dims a little, streaks of yellow and orange break through the blue. You’ve spent the whole day lounging around outside, but it’s getting colder now as the sun goes down. Seungcheol stands up and stretches a little, the fabric of his shirt expanding as he does. The chain gleams around his neck in the golden light. You look away. He huffs out a long breath.

“Let’s go inside. It’s cold now. And I have to leave soon to work through some things.”

You stand up and walk alongside him silently. He walks you all the way to your room, stopping briefly in the kitchen to ask that your dinner be brought up. When you get back to the room, you realise it has been cleaned, and you can see some products on the dresser top.

“It’s just some essentials.” Seungcheol explains when he follows your gaze. “There are some clothes in the closet too. I’ll send you out with Jihoon in a few days and you can buy what you want.”

You don’t really know what to say. You don’t buy your own clothes, since Soonyoung thought it was too dangerous to let you step out. Whatever you wanted, you sent him pictures or let him know, and someone working for him got it for you. The thought of going out yourself is both exciting and frightening, but you try to shelf it for later.

“Thank you.” You manage to get out. You aren’t lying, you truly are. So far, he has done nothing to harm you. Well, except the mark marring your neck, which he put there against your will.

He’s standing closer to you than ever before as he nods. His eyes dart to your neck. This close, he can see the mark despite your hair covering your skin. He brushes the strands back, just like he did that first time he saw you, but slower this time. His thumb brushes over the mark, and you gasp at the feeling. It sends a shiver down your spine, your nerves tingling. You flush and bite your lip when you realise the sound that escaped you is loud enough for him to hear.

Embarrassment claws at you. But he doesn’t do anything, only lets his eyes pass over the mark and up to meet your stare. His gaze has darkened, more smoldering now, more charged. A long moment passes as you watch each other. The air thickens until he opens his mouth, breaking it.

“Get some rest. Dayoung will bring dinner up soon.”

His words are a mere whisper, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the air around you. You nod. His hand pulls away. Your fingers curl into fists at how empty and cold it feels. He shuffles out of the door, closing it gently behind him.

You stare at it for a long time, unmoving.

………………………………

“I don’t know if any of this is going to help you.” You shake out a brown wool scarf, holding it between your fingertips carefully. It’s so soft. Somewhere behind you, Jihoon hums, face shadowed by deep thought.

“I do know all this.” He says. “These specific shipments and timings aren’t exactly confidential information.”

You turn to give him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, his face clearing a little. “No, this is good. He’s taking meetings with you present this early, which means he isn’t hesitant about discussing business around you. He trusts you, for some reason. Probably because you’re his mate. We can use this.”

Something gnaws at you as you listen to him. ‘He trusts you’. Does he? Is Jihoon right? You stare down at the scarf again, the material slightly scrunched under your fingers. If it’s true, if Seungcheol does trust you, then why? He must know that you aren’t loyal to him, even if you are his mate now. He took you by force. You don’t actually belong to him, mating doesn’t work like that. Omegas submit only to the alpha that their hearts truly desire. You don’t desire him. You don’t even know him. So how on earth can he trust you?

Maybe this is why Jihoon was able to bring the Choi empire to its knees. Maybe his brothers were trusting with everyone too, including an outsider like Jihoon. Maybe that was their downfall.

You blink, shocked by your own thoughts, by the sudden venom behind them. You’re standing in this luxury store, free to buy whatever you want, because of that man. And you’re using his questionable trust in you to feed the very mouth that will rip the heart from his chest.

You place the scarf back on the shelf you picked it from. You can’t buy it. It’s dirty with the stain of your sin.

It becomes too many bags to carry at some point. Despite not really being who he is pretending to show himself as, Jihoon has a grand time buying you whatever your eyes even slightly linger on. Your protests don’t mean much, since he says he’s under strict orders from his fake boss that you should get whatever you want, no matter how much. You feel guilty spending Seungcheol’s dime, but Jihoon tells you not to. It’s illegal money, so you might as well enjoy it, his exact words. If anyone deserves to, it’s you.

Seungcheol sent that tall, intimidating alpha with you, who you now know is called Mingyu. He heads the family’s security detail, and since you’re pretty much the only family, he’s exclusively responsible for looking after you. He doesn’t come into the stores with you, opting to stand outside, but he’s useful because he can carry a hefty amount of bags in his arms. When he speaks for the first time, his voice is higher and more bubbly than you imagined. It’s almost cute.

When you come back home, he carries everything to your room and dumps it on your bed. You organise all of it in the wardrobe except an oversized pashmina sweater, which you put on yourself because the material is too soft and inviting not to. Chan is nosing around the house as usual, and he pokes his head in as you’re going through all the stuff, so he joins you. He talks your head off, just like that day you were in the kitchen with him, and you just listen. It’s nice, because he fills the silent air a little bit, almost like a radio.

Seungcheol comes to see you after sundown, just as you’re cleaning up the last of the bags.

“I think we spent too much. I’m sorry.” You say, genuinely feeling a bit bad. But he simply shakes his head as he walks closer to where you stand in front of the dresser. He thumbs at the sleeve of your sweater, and the corner of his mouth ticks up a little.

“Pretty.” He comments, and you try to will away the heat that invades your cheeks. He’s not wearing a sweater, still in a thin dress shirt, despite the winter fast approaching. You wonder if he’s cold.

“Did you have dinner yet?” He asks. You shake your head.

“We had a late lunch at a restaurant, so I’m not too hungry.” You reply. The space between his thick eyebrows creases a little. He nods.

“I’m about to eat. Sit with me.” He phrases it as a statement, but there’s question in his tone. You nod.

“Okay.”

The dining table downstairs is set up for two place settings instead of one when you follow him there. When you sit to eat, Seungcheol puts food on your plate first. You try to protest.

“Just have a little. Not a full meal.” He says, now focused on filling in own plate. You sigh and reluctantly nibble on the meat, just to appease him.

Why do you want to appease him?

“Um,” you finally speak when the silence becomes too heavy, “H-how was your day?”

It feels very weird to ask this, and you wince a little at how it sounds, even to your ear. But Seungcheol’s face softens with amusement as he looks up at you.

“It was fine. Same old.” He replies. “But you’re the one who had an eventful day. Tell me about it.”

You shrug. “It was fun. I’ve never been shopping before.”

He hums. “Right. Jeonghan told me the omegas in your family don’t do that.”

You nod. “We aren’t allowed to leave the house. Too much danger.”

That makes him huff a little, almost sounding like a scoff. “There’s never enough danger to imprison someone like that. If you’re not powerful or influential enough to take care of your omegas then you don’t deserve omegas.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the confidence in the deep timbre of his voice as he speaks those words. His eyes are focused on his meal, so he doesn’t see the surprise on your face, thankfully.

“Soonyoung tried his best.” You mumble. Seungcheol sighs.

“I’m sure he did. But things are different here. You go wherever you want. Keeping you safe is my worry, not yours.”

God, you wish he didn’t talk like that. Like he cares for you and wants to protect you. It makes your omega whine inside, makes your heart sing, makes something knot deep in the pit of your stomach. You know you’re staring, but you can’t help it. There’s something very grounding about him. Sturdy. Reliable. You breathe in the notes of oak in his scent. It’s so apt. A strong, mighty tree, resilient and stable. Like him.

“Do you get lonely in the house?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Chan says you spend most of your time in the library. You like to read?”

You nod, feeling a little excitement brew in you. “I love to read. I had a library at home too. Not as big as this, but it was comfy. You have a very nice collection here. Are they all yours?”

He shakes his head. “My mother’s. She loved reading too. She could spend hours if not days with a book. Used to drive my father crazy.” He chuckles. “‘Always with those damn books’, he would say. But I know he loved that she was so passionate about them. That library is basically her entire life in one room.”

You are a little caught off guard by the revelation. Your heart squeezes. “I’m sorry, I shifted some stuff around. I shouldn’t have-”

He’s already shaking his head, looking up at you. “Please don’t be. Those books would collect dust if it wasn’t for you. You’re keeping her alive, in a sense.”

He places some stir fried vegetables on your plate. You pick one up and nibble at it thoughtfully.

“Can I ask what happened to her?”

Seungcheol chews slower now, as if thinking of the words. “Primary MS. Took her legs first. She was on a wheelchair for a few years. Progressed upwards, her bladder, bowel, lungs, until she couldn’t breathe.”

You look down at your plate, unable to bear looking at him. “I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shrugs. “She was happy until the very end. Never heard her speak without a laugh, even when her voice got frail.”

Seungcheol pauses, the chopsticks hovering over his plate. He stares into the distance. “My father did too, because he didn’t want her to think he couldn’t live without her. But I never saw him smile a single day after she was gone.”

You blink rapidly when your eyes mist over. The air is somber, and you can practically feel the grief in it. You don’t want to ask about Seungcheol’s brothers. You know they were all killed. He’s the only one left.

You wonder how alone he feels.

“My mother was sick too.” You offer. “It wasn’t chronic. It took her within a couple of weeks. Some lung thing. I don't really know. The doctors told us about it, but it’s hard to listen to anything after they tell you that your mother is going to die.”

Seungcheol nods slowly. “I understand.”

Maybe he does. Besides Soonyoung, you think he might be the first person to really get it. You wonder what’s worse, watching someone you love slowly wither away, trying to come to terms with their inevitable death, or losing someone you love so quickly that you can’t even process it.

You both know pain, just different variations of it.

An exasperated chuckle leaves Seungcheol’s mouth, as if he can’t believe how depressing everything got all of a sudden. He shifts a little, as if to break away from the air that has settled over you like a thick blanket. You give him a tiny smile, and he returns it, eyes soft. He places more meat on your plate. You huff.

“You said I wouldn’t have to eat.”

“You’re keeping me company.” He retorts. “I’d feel awkward if I was the only one eating. Just take little bites.”

You shake your head but give in anyway, doing as he asks. He eats seconds, then thirds, and you watch with interest as he puts it all away like it’s nothing. You can see why he’s so physically massive. He must need a lot of calories just to maintain what he looks like. He reminds you almost of a giant puppy in this moment.

When he’s finally done, he leans back and takes a long gulp of water. He eyes you when you stand up.

“You should walk around a little.” You suggest. “You ate a lot.”

He pouts a little, as if he deeply resents the idea of walking right now. He looks, dare you say, cute like this. You can’t believe that just a few weeks ago, you were deathly afraid of him.

“Come on. The gardens are so nice at night. Let’s walk around a little.”

He gives in pretty quickly, standing up. “Fine. I do feel a little bloated.”

You strangle a snort, wondering how he can say that when all you see under his tight shirt is a set of hard abs. But you remain silent as you both head out of the back door and off the deck to the rolling plains of grass behind the house.

The night is peaceful, if a little cold. You’re glad for your sweater, and you still wonder how he’s wearing nothing but a shirt and he doesn’t look bothered at all. He keeps a respectable distance between you two, his hands in his pockets. Your mind relaxes the more you walk aimlessly, drifting. Crickets chirp, the grass crunches under your shoes. Already, you can see the dew forming on the blades.

“What are you thinking about?” Seungcheol asks after a bout of silence.

You blink, looking up from the ground. He already has his eyes on you. His gaze still feels heavy, despite the fact that it’s on you more often now. You are not used to him.

“Just how drastically my life has changed so quickly.” You are honest with him. “I never would’ve imagined all this a few weeks ago.”

Seungcheol sighs, looking at his feet as he walks. “I don’t think I can ever take away this beginning, or make it any less painful.”

You don’t reply.

“And I don’t think I can make any excuse in the world to justify what I did.” His voice is soft, so delicate that it feels like it’s walking on a thin line. “If I could change it, I would. If I could leave you alone for the rest of your life, not bothered by me or anyone else, I would.”

Your walking has slowed. The air fogs as it leaves his mouth when he speaks.

“But I think,” his eyes bore into yours, “I think I can’t leave you alone. Or maybe I don’t want to. I want to see you every day if I can. If you’ll let me.”

You’ve stopped walking, standing stationary on the grass. There’s distance between you, but you suspect that there really isn’t. That feeling of something crawling under your skin, it’s less shaky now, more solid, steady.

It’s him. You feel him.

You stay outside until your hands are numb. Even the weight of your expensive sweater can’t keep the cold out, but warmth seeps in your bones, larger than life, all encompassing, a certainty.

You let it carry the cold away.