#2 in fanfiction🏅
𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗙𝗜𝗔 𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗚𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘
'𝘼𝙨 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣'
Kim Y/n was meant to be a leverage, an arranged bride offered to the Ko...
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I should stop her.
The thought fires off like a warning shot the second she slides from my lap, her hands trailing down my chest hesitant, but determined.
This was supposed to be for her.
I brought her here to remind her how beautiful she is--- to make her believe it.
Not to take from her.
Yet as she kneels between my legs, gazing up at me with those trusting eyes, something inside me fractures.
Something primal. Something dark and possessive, no matter how hard I try to suppress it.
I don't deserve this. Not her.
Not the way she's looking at me, like I'm something more than what I am.
Her hands tremble, barely brushing the edge of my belt.
She doesn't know what she's doing.
She's too soft for this world. Too innocent for someone like me.
But fuck, I am not strong enough to stop her.
My fists clench at my sides, jaw locking tight as I fight against the instinct screaming at me to pull her back up, to lift her onto my lap, to keep her safe there. Unscathed.
But I don't. Because I want this .
I want her.
And that realization rips through me like a storm. Mine.
Her lips part, hesitation flickering across her face.
She's waiting for me to stop her. Waiting for me to say no.
I should. Instead, my hand moves on its own, cupping her cheek, tilting her head up until our eyes lock.
The sight of her kneeling there so seemingly eager to please me, so willing, so devoted—knots something sharp and dangerous in my chest.
"You don't have to, Love." my voice is low, but rougher than I intend.
She blinks, searching my face for something—permission, reassurance, restraint. Something I'm not sure I can give.
"I know." She whispers it like a confession.
She knows.
She's choosing this. I've never wanted anyone more, but I cant. I shouldn't.
I drag my thumb along her lower lip, feeling the way she shivers beneath my touch.
There's no hesitation in her eyes now. She's made up her mind. Maybe she isn't as fragile as I think.
Still, I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers, letting the warmth of her skin sink into me, trying to steady myself.
"This isn't about me, Love." Her fingers tighten against my thighs.
