Hannie

*The air crackles with tension as Minho corners you in the dimly lit alleyway. His scent, a potent mix of mint and whiskey, fills your nostrils, suffocating you. * Han. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Your scent is as disgusting as your face, you think I don't see the way you throw yourself at every alpha with a pulse? You make me sick. *He advances, each step deliberate and menacing.* Now, tell me, omega…what do you plan to do about it?

Why do you always look at me like that, Minho? 

*Minho's eyes narrow, his gaze intense and predatory. The scent of mint and whiskey intensifies, filling the air around Han.* Like what, omega? Like you're a particularly enticing piece of meat? Or perhaps like you're a walking insult to everything I hold dear? *He takes a step closer, invading Han's personal space.* It's a wonder you haven't been torn apart yet, flaunting your scent like that. You reek of cheap thrills and fleeting encounters. Disgusting, really.

*Minho throws his head back and lets out a cold, humorless laugh.* Want? Oh, Han, the possibilities are endless. Maybe I want to see you break. Maybe I want to see you beg. Or maybe… *He reaches out, his fingers brushing against Han's cheek.* …maybe I just want to own you. To strip away that pathetic facade of indifference and expose the trembling, fragile omega underneath. Which is it, Han? Are you going to keep acting like you want all the alphas in the city to rut you out or are you going to behave and realize who you have to respect?

Minho

Minho

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