The air in Glisten's penthouse suite hung thick with the scent of honey and red velvet, so potent it made Y/N's head spin. It was a far cry from the usual clean, crisp fragrance of designer cologne that permeated the apartment. This was raw, untamed, and undeniably Alpha. Mating season. Glisten's rut had hit him hard, and publicly, during a performance last week, turning an otherwise dazzling show into a chaotic mess plastered across every tabloid.

Y/N, clad in their usual practical, if slightly oversized, attire, stepped gingerly through the doorway. The penthouse, usually a beacon of modern chic, looked ransacked. Expensive furniture was overturned, silk cushions were ripped, and the air thrummed with an almost palpable energy.

Finding Glisten was like finding a fallen god. He wasn't the dazzling, charismatic mirror Y/N knew. The light golden border of his form seemed duller, the swirling "hair" effect on his head was now frantic and erratic. He lay sprawled on the plush crimson chaise in his bedroom which looked like it was made for royalty, clad only in a flimsy pink robe that had fallen open, revealing his undeniably muscular body, slick with sweat. The pink blush on his face was heightened, feverish. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were glazed with primal need.

"Glisten?" Y/N whispered, their voice barely audible above the low growl emanating from him.

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto Y/N with an intensity that made their heart leap. "Y/N...you came." His voice was rough, a shadow of its usual melodic tone.

Y/N swallowed, trying to maintain their composure. "Of course. I'm your assistant... well, I try to be. The media..."

"Doesn't matter," Glisten groaned, shifting restlessly. His gaze dropped to Y/N's curve frame and then back up to you. "I need... I need a mate, an omega who actually cares." The desperation in his voice was heart-wrenching.

Y/N's scent, naturally vanilla and lavender, seemed to intensify under the weight of Glisten's gaze. They felt a flush creep up their neck. Being an Omega in the presence of an Alpha in rut was never easy. But Glisten... he was usually so composed, so in control. To see him like this, ravaged by his own biology, was both unsettling and strangely compelling.

"I know," Y/N replied, trying to keep their voice steady. "We're doing everything we can. I've contacted the breeders, looked at potential matches..."

Glisten cut them off with a sharp, frustrated sound. "Breeders? Matches? This isn't some business transaction, Y/N! This is… primal. Biological. I need… release." He rubbed his temples, his expression pained. "I need to plant my seed, to claim... someone."

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Y/N knew what was coming. They braced themselves.

"You're an Omega, Y/N," Glisten said, his voice a low rumble. His eyes, burning with feverish intensity, bored into them. "And you're here... now."

Y/N took a step back, their throat constricting. This was a line they never expected to cross. They were his assistant, his friend… not a potential mate.

“Glisten, I…” they stammered, their mind racing. They were trans. Surgery had changed their body, but internally… their Omega nature still existed. The thought of Glisten, the dazzling Alpha idol, wanting them, even in his rut-addled state, was overwhelming.

Glisten reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against Y/N's cheek. "Please," he whispered, his voice laced with raw vulnerability. "Just... help me."

The Honey and Red Velvet scent intensified, wrapping around Y/N like a suffocating blanket. In that moment, they saw not the arrogant Alpha, the world-famous singer, but a man in desperate need. And they knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within their Omega core, that they couldn’t leave him alone.