Step Brother ®

🦋☆. Bunny's dress .☆🦋

༺𓆩snake𓆪༻

The engine's growl is my sole companion as I tail the car transporting Y/n, the sound rumbling beneath my feet like hell's lullaby.

The sight of Villi slipping Hwan's card pissed me off. It's almost as if he's trying to mark territory with her, but my instincts rebel against the notion. She's not his; she's mine. A primal, possessive surge courses through me, compelling me to assert my claim. It's a raw and domineering urge that controls me.

My fingers unconsciously clenching the steering wheel. She's not his to purchase, keep tabs on, or twist around his finger. That privilege is mine, solely mine.

When Danie finally halts the car, my eyes are glued to her as she emerges. A fucking dress boutique, of course. I'm out and inside before my heart beats again.

I can't afford any uncertainty, not when she's part of the equation. And right there, in the midst of it all, stands my enchanting little bunny, bathed in the sunlight, draped in the elegance of silks and satins of the clothes around us. Her delicate fingers dance over the fabric of a gown, and against my better judgment, my imagination takes a detour.

I can clearly picture this damn gown sliding from her supple form, revealing her body to me. It's a tempting image that sends a jolt directly to my cock, stirring desires that had been carefully restrained.

I'm in my element, stalking my prey, the murmur of conversation, the seductive scent of fresh fabric. But my eyes are fixated on her. Surrounded by tulle and lace, she's a mesmerizing revelation that leaves me fucking breathless.

Hwan believes his riches will bind her and hold her nearby. But he's got it twisted. I've put my eyes on her, and now I'll never look at someone else again.

Rooted to the spot, I'm fucking obsessed as she sifts through the array of gowns, each selection a testament to the defiance sparkling in her gaze. Watching Y/n trying on outfits, clueless of the predator lingering in the woods' shadow, reels me in.

I can nearly savor her, an exquisite blend of naivety and temptation that latches onto me, refusing release. She's oblivious, but she belongs to me, and I'll play dirty to keep it that way. I don't mind being the villain in her story if it means caging her in my arms.

I'm about to make my presence known when the atmosphere twists, hitting pause. A dress snags her eye, a black dress with little chains as straps. Her pick hits me like a stealthy blow to the gut. I'm thrown off balance, yet a grudging smirk creeps over my face.

Alluring, yet guarded. That's Y/n, a tantalizing siren unaware of the peril in her waltz. But I see it clearly. I'm wrapped up in it. She's mine. And no fancy card from Daddy dearest is about to alter that reality.

"Hey, sis," my voice makes her jump as I sidle up to her. She rolls her eyes before shooting me a lethal glare.

"Why the hell are you here? Did you crawl out the floor like the insect you are?"

"I followed you." My blunt honesty throws her off balance.
Someday, I'll paint that pretty confused face with my cum. But for now, she needs to get the hell out of my sight. "When are you gonna fuck off?" I ask.

"Never, asshole. Now, back off, I'm shopping for a dress for tomorrow."

Ducking behind a wall of fabrics, shielding myself from any prying eyes, I stealthily approach her. A deep, ominous growl rumbles from deep within me as I lock eyes with her, the intensity of my gaze loaded with a potent mix of desire and danger.

I close the distance, the air thick with a charged energy that transcends the realm of the ordinary. A guttural expression of primal instincts escapes my lips, a visceral proclamation of possession reverberating through the clandestine space between us.
With every inch, the atmosphere intensifies, a convergence of raw sensuality and the unmistakable undercurrent of a predator marking its territory.

I whip out my trusty knife, always hidden in my pocket. She's tough as nails and doesn't cringe a bit when I start to drag the blade across her skin, pressing just enough to leave a red mark down her arm.
Her eyes, those wild, amber jewels, don't budge, staying fixed on mine. "You don't get the danger you're in."

She swallows hard, but my little spitfire doesn't move. My blade, now teasing the valley of her breasts, I press the point, and she barely jumps.

"You've wandered into a snake pit, little bunny. You're gonna get eaten alive. Run."

Her audacity steals the breath from my lungs as she inches closer, the sharp kiss of the blade biting into her skin, a crimson bead swelling at the puncture. My nerves ignite in alarm.
"Fuck you. I'm the snake. You and your fucked-up family are the bunnies."

I'm smitten. I'm obsessed.

Pocketing my knife, I shamelessly admire her beautiful, now blood-streaked breasts. I whip out a credit card from the back pocket of my jeans and slip it into her cleavage. "Use this one." Before she can react, I snatch her handbag and hoist it out of her reach. She's so much shorter than me. It's hopeless for her.

Fishing out her wallet, I yank out my father's goddamn card. She lands a punch right in my gut, knocking the wind out of me as I hand her bag back, grinning affectionately. "See you at tomorrow's Gala, bunny."

* * *

I'm pacing like a wild thing stuffed in a box, the kind of seething rage bubbling up inside me that's just itching to blow. I charge into the old man's office like a goddamn hurricane, tearing through that space of hush-hush power plays. "Back the fuck off of Y/n!" I roar, my rage smacking against the walls decked out in dusty paintings of dead folks with their eyes glued to the shitshow.

I'm not clued in about his complete scheme yet, but I can feel it: dark things are scheming and plotting in hidden corners of his twisted mind.

Old Hwan's just lounging there, smug as hell in his big-boy chair, and he has the nerve to chuckle. It's the kind of laugh that gives you the irresistible urge to punch him in the throat. "Know your damn place, son," he taunts.

The crap weasel starts in on about the gala, that farce happening tomorrow where they all jerk each other off about how loaded and fake generous they are. "Watch your back," he barks at me. I'm supposed to be the watchdog, the monster.

"Keep her out of your games," I say firmly. My hands curl into fists, tight as a vice. I'm just another chess piece to him, shoved around this glitzy meat market full of schmoozers too shit-faced to remember whose pockets they're in. I've always been an object to him, but I refuse to see Y/n suffer the same fate.

The fury is like a blaze inside me, but I slap on my ice-cold game face because I know stepping out of line with him costs a hell of a lot. In this sprawling Kim kingdom, even the prince has gotta toe the line, or he's going down with the rest of the pawns. And I really never give two shit, but right now, something has changed. Someone, I can't fucking make a run for her damn life.

Stubborn little thing.