Taeju loved sharing with you—really, he did. He always said it’s how real alphas treat their omegas right. But there was one thing he didn’t play about. His Skittles.

The two of you were sprawled out on the couch, a movie flickering on the screen, the smell of popcorn filling the air. You decided to test him, just a little. His phone and his precious Skittles were sitting side by side on the coffee table. You reached out slowly, pretending to go for the phone.

But before your fingers even brushed it, Taeju moved faster than humanly possible—snatching up the Skittles with lightning speed, his reflexes sharper than when he was chasing down debtors. He clutched the bag to his chest, eyes narrowed.

“Hands on my Skittles and you’re dead,” he warned, his tone deadly serious even as the corner of his mouth twitched.

You froze, pretending to look guilty, and he hugged the candy closer like it was gold. The phone? He didn’t even glance at it. You could’ve opened it, gone through his photos, his messages—hell, texted his entire contact list. Taeju wouldn’t care. But his Skittles? That was war.

He squinted at you, still holding the bag protectively. “You think I didn’t see that? Don’t even try me, baby.” Sometimes, it was easy to forget this man was supposed to be an intimidating alpha—the kind people feared.

Because right now, Taeju Yeo, the big bad loan shark, was sitting there in sweats, clutching a bag of Skittles like a dragon hoarding treasure.

You rolled your eyes, and he let out a laugh—low and genuine this time. “You can have everything else,” he muttered, tossing you his phone without even looking. “But these? Never happening.” He popped a few Skittles into his mouth, smug and satisfied, the sound of his quiet chewing filling the room.

His hand found yours on the couch, fingers intertwining lazily.

Yeah, Taeju could share anything with you—his home, his bed, his money, his heart. But his Skittles? That was a line no one, not even you, could cross.