[✔️] Hazy Memories | YuWin

4

WARNING: Smut, but not the actual thing if you know what I mean; Drugging/Spiking drinks; this my first time writing smut so... bear with me;!when I say 'ravenet' I mean someone who's got black hair, I know Sicheng got that that grayish + black hair but imma just say ravenet mkay?

also at some point in the chapter, if at some point like halfway through if the writing sudden starts getting descriptive and like, starts reading like good writing, yeah, I too dunno how; I just, my mind and hands went "it's how time biTch" and then it got bad again after a night lmao

ALSO
This bitch like 3000+ and the like, the smut smut starts like, 1.6k words I'm so....
you get 1.6k of thoughts and emotions and all that spazz

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

"Yuta?!"

  

   "-collab one day." Sicheng was in the midst of talking with Jackson Wang, a Hong Kong solo artist, as well as Jinyoung's alpha mate and plus one, about doing a future collab together when he was interrupted.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dong? Director Kim sends this drink to you and wishes to meet you in room 119 to have a talk privately." The waitress said. Taking the thin glass, he thanked her as she quietly left.

   "Sorry Jackson, seems as I'm needed. I'll go first." He bowed respectfully to the elder before walking towards the exit. He downed the drink before exiting, not noticing the identical glass he set his own besides.

   His white shoes made thuds on the the carpet-but-not-carpet floor of the hotel's halls. As he read the room numbers he shook off his jacket, feeling that the temperature was higher out here than in the party room. He looked at each door's number as he tied his jacket around his waist when suddenly.

   "Eighty two... ei... nin-, no... what is that number again? 八十三(Eighty three) but... in korean? How... Ah, Eighty three." He lightly scolded himself, How can I forget something so simple? Maybe I drank too much. He had had two cups of beer since he got here two hours ago, but surely the alcohol content wasn't that high, was it? He was almost sure the director said that there wasn't anything strong enough to get you drunk, unless you're a "lightass lightweight" as the older man had said, or drank... probably twenty cups; and he's sure didn't drink twenty cups, that's for sure.

   He found his mind getting foggy, his skin crawling with want. But for what? He didn't know. He rolled up his sleeves and pulled down the neck of his black turtleneck as much as he could, the heat feeling much more intense. Somethings not right.

   He rounded the corner, he expected an empty hallway, as everyone here was either sleeping, in their rooms, or at the party; but there, lying against the wall besides a door –the one he see marked "119"– shaking, panting and whimpering, was the person he hated the most.

   "Yuta?!"

   He stood shock in place momentarily forgetting the rising heat. He's never seen an alpha look so... weak. In his state of shock he had forgotten to breath so he took a deep breath, only for his nostrils to be assaulted by a scent— No, can this even be considered assault? The scent was sweet, like warm vanilla and caramel. Mixed in with the scent was a sort of smoky scent, assuring anyone that this scent belong to an alpha; Yet, the sweet, alluring scent overwhelmed the smokiness— actually, no, it helped it, the scent smelling like a sweet caramel cappuccino.