#mistress of the robes

[mistress-light]

Okay, but I am kinda salty that we never got to see Cinta's elite warriors. Prav has hers, we've seen Thalia being part of Ola's her personal guard. And of course Sila's guards. And I mean, I know Junoon wasn't really a realm renowned for their combat side, but each Tanta had their own set of personal elite guards. ;-;

[chuluoyi]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

[theladysunami]

Now that I’ve read ‘The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish’ I’m really itching for something similar but Binggeyuan flavored, that includes Bingge’s harem!

(A more direct adaptation already exists: ‘The Proud Immortal Demon’s Pet Fish’ by BeanFiend).

I’m thinking something along the lines of Shen Yuan transmigrating into one of the forgotten wives’ pets, a cute PIDW monster cat, ferret, or fox of some sort.

His experiences in the inner court result in him unilaterally deciding to help his poor forgotten mistress (*cough*and-ultimately-Bingge*cough*) by finding her friends, resolving all the ‘stupid’ harem drama, and raising Bing-ge’s kids properly.

Of course, trying to do most things while a small fuzzy animal is quite the challenge, and cultivating a human form isn’t easy even without the fear of being discovered and executed for infiltrating the harem as a man.

Once he does figure out the transformation part (mostly), he still has problems since the System didn’t find it necessary to provide an animal knowledge of traditional characters, writing via brush and ink, properly wearing xianxia robes, or any other type of human skill.

That and transforming doesn’t come with clothes!!!

Most of the clothes Shen Yuan can ‘borrow’ belong to wives and female servants, and he’s always in such a rush to complete whatever task he’s taken upon himself —before being stopped and arrested— that he can’t just stand around experimenting with the intricacies of xianxia robes and grooming. He ends up spending most of his time in human form running around looking like a perpetually bedraggled maid or low-ranked concubine.

Bing-ge is bemused by the glimpses and brief meetings he gets with this strange ‘woman,’ and wonders if she’s a wife he’s forgotten about or a maid he should wife up at the earliest opportunity.

That’s all I have for now. The idea of Shen Yuan accidentally endearing himself to the wives and kids, and seducing Bing-ge, all while looking like a bedraggled lunatic, is just really funny to me.

Who wouldn’t love the crazy man who somehow knows the powers and weaknesses of every beast, potion, and secret artifact in existence, but not how clothes or hairstyles work?

[ekkkkey]

vestal (chapter IV)

summary: Livia, a young Vestal Virgin, is bound to Vesta's eternal flame and the vow of sacred duty. In Rome, it's common knowledge; touch a Vestal, and the wrath of the gods will descend upon you. But what if someone dares to defy that rule?

chapter I chapter II chapter III

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dub-con, non-con, blood

tags: darkfic, sibling rivalry, no softboys here, religious guilt, mommy issues, Caracalla’s a whole damn goblin and Geta’s just as cursed

word count: ~7k

ৡ ৡ ৡ

The feast hosted by the emperors seemed to draw every noble citizen of Rome. Servants and slaves rushed through the palace halls, nearly running, desperate to prepare everything to perfection—failure meant punishment, and punishment here was rarely merciful.

None of the guests had been warned that Livia would be present, so several men had already tried to court her, only to be met with her cold, sharp rejection. She couldn’t really blame them—not many knew her by face, and white robes weren’t worn by Vestals alone. Still, the looks they gave her made her stomach turn. They were full of… full of what, exactly? Livia paused.

She knew nothing of lust, desire, or the cravings of the flesh, yet she could sense what these wealthy, pompous men were thinking. The emperors wanted the same from her—of that she was certain—but why, then, were their looks and smirks so different from the ones she caught tonight?

Her eyes swept over the riot of color—so many faces. Old, young, dull, clever, noble, brutish. And though she hated to admit it, she was searching for two faces in particular. The young emperors.

Their game insulted her, sowed doubt and unease, yet it also sparked a fire of defiance. A challenge. She would show them she was no mere kitchen wench to be toyed with. She was a priestess of the great goddess, chosen by the divine. They were not worthy to test her.

Memories of her last encounter with Emperor Caracalla flushed her cheeks with shameful heat. How dare he! Her angry thoughts were interrupted by a soft, unfamiliar voice, and Livia quickly wiped the scowl from her face.

"Mistress, please, the emperors await you."

A young slave girl bowed, offering a cup of wine. Livia waved it away. She hated drinking.

Stepping deeper into the hall, she saw them. Oh, what a glorious sight! Her lips twisted, and her brows furrowed. Glorious for the corrupt, pompous nobles who hung on every word of the emperors. For her, the scene stirred barely concealed irritation, though she forced a polite smile to avoid seeming rude.

Geta at least kept some semblance of decorum, lounging back on the bench with his legs spread wide. Caracalla, on the other hand, had sprawled out completely, his legs stretched so far that his toga had ridden up almost above his knees. Livia quickly turned her gaze away.

Geta always prattled on about decorum—so why did everything around her feel like a mockery, an insult aimed directly at her? And he smiled at her now—sweet, soft, like she was a childhood friend and not a captive in his game. His white robes were so blindingly white they seemed to glow in the dimly lit hall, illuminated only by flickering flames. White and gold—holy colours. He was taunting her. She clenched her own white robes, refusing to show how much he angered her.

His golden belt, embroidered mantle over his tunic—it was the embodiment of divinity and high rank. A laurel crown adorned his fiery hair, and intricate gold bracelets gleamed on his wrists. Caesar had outdone himself.

Caracalla, in contrast, seems deliberately dressed in an entirely different manner. He wore black, and only the brightness of his hair and the glint of his golden laurel stood out against his pale face.

And, like his brother, he was dripping in gold.

A long, heavy golden earring swayed with every lazy tilt of his head, its delicate touch grazing his pale neck. Even in dark clothing, he drew her gaze—forcing her to look at the gold dusted around his eyes and the red of his lips, stretched in a smile not meant for her.

Captivated, she found herself following the path of his delicate fingers as they stroked the pale hair of the slave girl at his feet. The whiteness of his hand was marred by red marks—marks she had left on him not long ago.

Livia caught his mocking glance and quickly looked down at her own wrist. No gold bangles there—only dark, blooming bruises. She wrapped her fingers around them, desperately hiding the proof of her shame.

"Priestess of Vesta," Geta greeted her. The room fell silent, all eyes on her with curiosity.

Between the two emperors sat Lucilla, draped in gold silk, looking—if it were possible—even less pleased to be there than Livia. She offered a polite nod and a faint smile, which Livia returned.

Caracalla caught their exchange and leaned toward Lucilla, whispering something. Lucilla paled. Then, under Livia’s disbelieving gaze, she picked a grape from a golden dish and offered it to Caracalla’s red lips. He ate it with a sly smile, never taking his eyes off Livia.

A wave of nausea rose in her throat. Such public disrespect toward his adoptive mother only deepened her righteous anger.

"You’re even lovelier than Appius described!" a coarse, mocking male voice broke her thoughts.

To Geta’s right, slouched among half-naked slave girls, sat three senators—or rather, what passed for senators these days. She recognized Claudia’s husband, laughing loudly at his companion’s vulgar remark. She felt naked under their stares.

These weren’t the wise old men of Rome, the voices of reason and law—they were long dead, executed for treason, for conspiracies against the emperors. In their place lounged the young, the arrogant, the shameless sycophants.

Before she could answer, Geta gave a gracious nod toward a gold-trimmed bench.

An invitation.

Head high, Livia took her seat. Her back was straight, her hands rested gently on her lap. Everything about her posture declared who she was: a Vestal Virgin. No one in this room, no matter how powerful, had the right to disrespect a priestess of Vesta.

But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she met Caracalla’s gaze. Smirking, he nibbled at his thumb, his eyes locked on hers, while his other hand idly stroked the slave girl’s hair. Livia’s jaw tightened, and she quickly turned away, offended.

"I hope you enjoy tonight’s spectacle," Geta murmured, leaning in close. "I promised you, didn’t I?"

His words sounded more like a warning, but before she could reply, Caracalla clapped his hands, commanding the show to begin.

The crowd parted, pressing to the walls, as decorations were set in the hall’s center.

She couldn’t say why, but a bad feeling settled in her gut as she watched the performers take their places. And then she understood.

The Rape of the Sabine Women.

Her hands balled into fists as the show intensified, men "abducting" resisting girls under a cacophony of music, shouts, and screams, "accidentally" tearing clothes off some. Livia blinked but refused to look away, unwilling to give the emperors the satisfaction. Women’s bodies didn’t frighten her. She glanced, just once, at the brothers.

They watched, utterly engrossed—laughing, shouting, draining one glass of wine after another.

Livia endured, as expected, watching the performance until the end and even clapping politely. But as soon as it was over, a handsome, finely dressed young man stepped forward. A poet.

Irritated, she let out an impatient breath. Geta had indeed arranged an evening of "culture," but the moment the poet opened his mouth, her ears burned, and her face flushed with red blotches. Never in her life had she heard such filth paraded as verse. Livia could not help herself—her eyes darted away, and it took everything in her not to rise from her seat and flee the hall filled with laughing nobles.

The worst part—the worst—was that the women were laughing too. And that shocked her the most. How could they find this funny? Who thought this was amusing? Her gaze darted across the hall, until it met the sorrowful eyes of Lucilla. The older woman gave a slight shake of her head, silently urging Livia to stay seated.

A senator nearby roared with laughter, spilling wine and clapping. Nausea rose in her throat. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed to the Great Goddess, picturing the quiet, safe sanctuary of the temple. But the sounds didn’t fade, and she was forced to open her eyes—and found Geta watching her.

The paint around his eyes had smeared, the powder blurred and fading. He looked wickedly amused, drunk—and in those black eyes, Livia saw not a trace of reason. Beside him, Caracalla let out a full-throated laugh, throwing his head back in raw delight.

Animals.

The poet finished to thunderous applause and disappeared into the crowd. Livia rose at once. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her heart pounded so hard she thought it might tear through her chest. She was terrified—feeling utterly unsafe.

But why? she asked herself.

"I am a priestess of Vesta, keeper of the Eternal Flame, my title…" she tried to steady herself, but a man’s jeering whistle behind her immediately scattered her thoughts.

Not long ago, the very thought that anyone would dare touch her seemed impossible. Yet now, she stared at her wrists, the dark marks glaring back at her—marks left not by just anyone, but by the emperor himself! Those who dared dishonor a Vestal were punished severely, executed even—but who would dare punish an emperor!? No one even knew!

"Gods, punish him, I beg you, protect me, let justice strike him!" she repeated, pushing through the crowd.

No one seemed to notice her departure, and with relief, she slipped behind a red fabric partition, leaned against a column, and finally exhaled. What she’d witnessed tonight had shaken her. It was worse than those awful encounters when the emperors had tried to provoke her. This time, they had succeeded. Her anger was gone—replaced by fear that made her hands tremble.

The entire hall, every guest, was drowning in wine and debauchery. She had even seen some of the men inhaling white powder from silver trays. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to know.

Catching her breath, Livia slapped her own cheek lightly to steady herself. She had to leave. Return to the House of the Vestals. Tell the High Priestess everything. She couldn’t bear this burden alone anymore.

Cautiously, she peeked past the partition into the room. The feast was still in full swing. Seeing no sign of the emperors, she breathed a small sigh of relief—only to flinch at a soft, unfamiliar touch.

Startled, she turned—and immediately exhaled. It was the same slave girl, dark-skinned, her wide eyes full of fear.

"Leave, Mistress, please!" the girl whispered.

"You scared me!" Livia replied softly, immediately taking the girl’s trembling hands in hers. "What is it?"

"I’m sorry… so sorry… please leave… not again…" The girl was trembling, repeating the same words over and over, her eyes darting in panic.

No matter how much Livia tried to comfort her, the girl only grew more agitated, babbling incoherently. Then—silence.

With a frightened squeak, the slave girl darted behind the curtain, leaving Livia alone. But not for long.

"You abandoned us so quickly," said a voice.

Geta.

His steps were uneven, his gaze hollow, and his tongue kept flicking over his lips, betraying his nervousness. He looked almost like himself… except he was terribly drunk.

Livia pressed her lips together. Pathetic. Did he really need to drown himself in wine just to find the courage to speak to her as he truly wished?

They stared at each other in silence. Only the muffled sounds behind the curtain reminded them they weren’t truly alone. The torchlight made his appearance ominous, aging him, twisting his features into something darker.

"I asked you a question," he said, no longer courteous but angry.

"I wasn’t impressed by the performance, I’ll be honest, Caesar." The words slipped out before she could stop herself. She cursed her own tongue the moment they left her lips. Angering him now was foolish.

As if reading her thoughts, he frowned, clicking his tongue in disapproval and stepping closer. She didn’t move. Geta was not Caracalla.

He seemed to read that in her eyes, too—and something in him twitched. His upper lip trembled.

Warily, Livia met his gaze, searching for some flicker of the old interest, that strained civility he used to wear like a mask. But there was nothing. Not even the torchlight touched those bottomless black eyes. She swallowed.

"I appreciate your invitation nonetheless, Caesar," she tried to soften her words.

It didn’t work.

He said nothing, squinting at her, lazily scratching his neck, smudging the white powder further. His gaze dropped to her hands, her wrist, and his mouth twisted into a thin, bloodless line.

"He does it to spite me," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "But you’re here, with me, whether he touched you or not," he continued, lost in thought.

"May I leave?" Livia whispered, though she knew the answer.

Geta smirked and shook his head, rubbing his hands as if steeling himself.

"You… you’re devout, aren’t you? Please! The goddess…" she appealed to his reason, but it was futile.

He wouldn’t dare, would he? He wasn’t his brother! But no, he was exactly the same.

His hands were ice-cold, yet they burned her wrists. His palm pressed down exactly where Caracalla had left bruises, squeezing until it hurt. Desperate, Livia tried to scream, but he clamped his hand roughly over her mouth, stifling the sound.

"Quiet, priestess, quiet," his drunken whisper scorched her neck. "I don’t like doing things the hard way, understand?"

She shook her head frantically, a tear slipping down her cheek. She didn’t understand anything. Nothing but her own stupidity—thinking she could play games with emperors. Thinking she could win.

Geta lowered his hand, and she gasped for air. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder, still gripping her wrist. She was trembling.

"Now, you’ll please me, won’t you?" he lifted his head and stared at her lips.

Disbelieving, Livia stayed silent, shaking her head, but her wishes mattered little. Who could resist an emperor’s kiss?

If his hands were cold, his mouth was hot, searing. For a moment, she lost all sense of reality, too terrified to react, but then the truth crashed over her. Someone else’s mouth on hers, someone else’s hands on her waist. A man was touching her—touching her in a way he never should have!

Whether Mars or Vesta herself had given her strength and fury, Livia bit down hard, her mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood.

Geta immediately pulled back, his eyes wide with disbelief. Oh, he was stunned! She’d bitten through his lower lip. Blood trickled down his chin, and only when a crimson drop hit the marble floor at his feet did the truth finally reach him.

Rage twisted his handsome face.

She breathed heavily, still reeling from what she’d done. But there was no time to think—before she could even process it, he struck her cheek with the back of his hand. And just as quickly, before the pain could even bloom, he dragged her into another kiss. This one was angry, punishing. Anything but gentle.

He released her. Her mouth tasted of blood, and she spat, unladylike, wiping her lips. Let him kill her! But first, she’d claw his eyes out!

But no, he only smirked, licking his own blood from his lips.

"Leave, priestess, or it’ll be worse," his voice was hoarse. "And remember, you’re still expected at the games."

Only once he slipped back into the hall did Livia realize how badly she was shaking. Only then did the sting of his slap truly bloom across her face. She wanted to sob like a little girl—but not here. Not in this place.

"Imperial blood spills far too often these days, Amata," said a voice behind her—calm, amused, almost gentle.

Caracalla.

Livia turned to him like a hunted creature, silently cursing him with every word she knew. He was drunk and cheerful, utterly at ease—if anything, exhilarated, almost thrilled.

His brother’s little performance had clearly entertained him.

"Perhaps you’ve been praying poorly to your goddess?" His pale brows furrowed in feigned concern. "Could something like this happen to a pure, devoted novice? Or perhaps your goddess is punishing you for something?" He leaned in like a conspirator, his hand covering his mouth as if to protect a forbidden secret. "Or maybe," he whispered, "this is exactly what she wants."

"Please, let me leave," she whispered, her lips stinging from the dried blood, her wrists aching with every movement.

"But what of your punishment?" he asked, with theatrical surprise, raising his hands. The bracelets on his wrists jingled. "Twice now, you’ve spilled the sacred blood of the fathers of the empire! Perhaps I should spill a little of yours?" And with a syrupy smile, his pale eyes, clouded with wine, slowly slid over her face.

The hint was so blatant that even her naive mind understood. The first touch. The first kiss. The first… She shook her head. None of this was ever meant to be part of her life.

"I’m begging you," she breathed, barely audible, not knowing what else to say.

It pleases him. She can see it—the twitch at the corners of his mouth, the lazy narrowing of his eyes as he savors her humiliation. Her pride, once unshakable, is crumbling, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

"Very well," he nodded playfully. She exhales, a breath of relief escaping her—

"But first…"

Caracalla extends his delicate hand, the same one where she’d left her scratches. Mesmerized, she watches the firelight dance on the golden rings. He tilts his head, eyes fixed on her. Waiting.

Her heart stutters. She knows exactly what he wants.

Swallowing her pride, Livia bent, brushing her lips against his wounded hand, hearing his satisfied exhale. It felt obscene to her.

He’d forced her. Forced her to touch him, to bow, to press her lips to his warm, soft skin. Humiliating. But if this was the price of her peace, so be it.

Livia hurried to leave, but as she passed Caracalla, she found herself caught in his iron grip.

He held her for just a moment, just long enough for him to lean close and whisper hotly in her ear: "Tonight, my brother won’t be the only one imagining your face."

The slave girl leads her out of the palace, accompanied by a young man with dark skin. Livia stumbles, nearly collapsing, but the man catches her, steadying her with a firm arm around hers as they descend the steps. She doesn’t care that he’s a man—right now, he’s her only salvation.

"This is my brother, Mistress," the girl whispers. "He’ll help you."

They seat Livia in a carriage. As the door is closed, she casts one last glance toward the palace and catches sight of a dark figure standing on the balcony, watching. She yanked the curtain shut with a shaking hand.

She didn’t have to see his face to know it was one of them.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

The High Priestess stares at her with disbelief, wariness, and fear. No wonder—Livia had burst into her chambers in the dead of night, disheveled, bloodied, bruised. She had shed all her tears on the way from the palace; now there was only one thing she longed for: to tell the truth.

"You weren’t at your sister’s," the older woman says, narrowing her eyes and drawing her cloak tighter around herself.

In the darkness, in her thin nightgown, her hair loose and her face suddenly aged, the High Priestess seems almost fragile to Livia—nothing like the stern, commanding figure she had always known. For a moment, fear claws at her: what if she won’t help? What could this aging priestess possibly do against the emperors? But Livia shoves the thought aside, falls to her knees, clutches at the woman’s legs, presses her cheek against them, and whispers fiercely:

"It was them!"

Her voice quivers with rage. The sister-priestesses loved her for her lightness, her cheerful spirit, but now there’s no trace of that left.

"The emperors!" she spits the words out with such hatred that the High Priestess flinches, stepping back, but Livia won’t let her go. She looks up, straight into her eyes.

"Look at me!" She thrusts out her arms—pale, bruised, trembling.

"My child…" the priestess whispers, stunned. "Why did you go to the palace?"

"Why?" Livia’s breath grows heavy, anger rising in her chest. "Because of my sister, of course! Did you think I stayed there willingly—for what? For a man?"

The High Priestess presses her lips into a thin line. Pity flickers in her eyes, but so does doubt.

"You’re young, beautiful… perhaps you did something wrong, somehow…"

Enraged, Livia springs to her feet, towering over her.

"Me? You think I’m to blame for this?" She scrubs at her lips and wrists as if trying to erase the shame. "You think I would lie? I, who took the sacred vows? I, who gave up my family, my life, everything—just to trade it all for disgrace and dishonor?"

Something shifts in the priestess’s face. She reaches for Livia’s hands, squeezing them, then pulls her into an embrace, gently stroking her back.

"What did they do? Did they…" The look in her eyes says the rest.

"No," Livia snaps, breaking free from her arms, "but they did enough to be judged."

"And who will judge the emperors?" the priestess says, throwing up her hands.

"The Senate! The people! The gods!" Livia’s voice rises, and the priestess hastily motions for her to lower it. "Someone will, Great Virgin!"

"You forget whom you’re speaking of, child."

"What, are they above the law? The people hate them—that’s no secret. Everyone in Rome knows what they are—everyone but children! And they themselves are like children—cruel, vicious—"

She’s cut off.

"And yet these children rule us. They rule Rome. You’ve seen what happens to those who oppose them. The Praetorians, the army, even the Senate—they all stand with them. What is your word against theirs?"

"I am a Vestal Virgin! My word is not nothing!"

"Then stay away from them. Don’t provoke them. Devote yourself to your duties."

The conversation is over.

Livia storms out of the priestess’s chambers without a word of farewell, furious at finding no support. And yet, having finally spoken, a weight lifts from her chest.

She doesn’t want to tell anyone else—but Caesonia is different. Her friend, her sister, her mentor—she cannot keep this from her.

A storm rages over Rome. Lightning flashes illuminate the city with ominous bursts, and Livia is certain it’s the ancient Goddess herself, furious that her priestess has been defiled, dishonored. The thought warms her heart. Let Emperor Caracalla say what he will—she is under her Virgin’s protection.

Here, within the House of the Vestals, she finds refuge—and in Caesonia, the understanding she needs.

The elder priestess asks no questions. She only gently helps Livia undress, combs out her tangled hair, kneads the tension from her shoulders.

Livia sinks into the warm water, closing her eyes in exhausted bliss. Caesonia, wearing only a thin tunic, sits by the pool’s edge, watching her in silence.

Her wrists are almost white again, as they once were, with only faint yellowish marks hinting at the painful memories. She notices Caesonia’s gaze lingering on them.

"What did you talk about with the High Priestess after your visit to your sister?" Caesonia asks, circling the truth.

Livia leans her head back against the marble edge, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. Should she tell her everything?

"That’s not what you really want to ask, is it?"

Caesonia licks her lips, tilts her head, and smiles slyly. She slides into the pool beside Livia, her soaked tunic clinging to her skin before she pulls it off and lets it drift away. She presses close, resting her head lightly on Livia’s shoulder. Cool, delicate fingers trail along Livia’s wrist, barely brushing the bruises with feather-light touches.

"Was it one of the emperors?"

"Who told you?" Livia’s heart lurches.

Caesonia laughs softly, stroking her wrist.

"I’m not a fool. I saw the way they looked at you. I might never have known a man, but I can imagine what’s in their heads when they see a beautiful girl." She tucks a strand of hair behind Livia’s ear and meets her gaze, waiting.

Heat rises under Livia’s skin—not from the water. She looks away, murmuring the whole story. Caesonia listens, wide-eyed, drinking in every word. It’s not the reaction Livia expected; she grows even more embarrassed.

"And what was it like?" Caesonia lowers her voice, though the slaves outside the door can’t hear.

"What…" Livia whispers, confused.

"You know," Caesonia’s hand gently caresses her cheek, "what’s it like to feel a man’s touch? Is it like mine?"

The priestess’s hand strokes her, leaving Livia stunned and flustered, but then Caesonia laughs and pulls away.

"Forgive me! Forgive me, sweet Livia," she says with a wink, sinking into the water up to her chin. "I’m too weak for beauty, and to hear about a handsome man…"

"Caesonia!" Livia tries to sound stern, but can’t help laughing.

"You should be ashamed of your words and thoughts!"

"I’m just teasing, you know that," Caesonia says, then theatrically leans back against the pool’s edge, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Emperor, I think I’ve twisted my ankle!"

Anywhere else, the joke would have horrified Livia. But here, safe and warm in the water, she bursts out laughing, grabbing her friend’s shoulders and shaking her.

"Stop it, you fool, it’s not funny at all!" When he grabbed her roughly, it wasn’t funny. When he kissed her, it wasn’t funny. But Caesonia fluttering her lashes like some lovesick emperor—yes, that was funny.

They never speak of it again. The bruises fade. Life settles back into its old rhythm. And Livia throws herself into her sacred duties, heart and soul.

But the faster the carefree days flew by, the closer the games drew near. Livia tried not to think about them, but in the restless moments before sleep, the emperors’ faces haunted her—their voices, their touches, their smiles…

One radiant, sunlit day, slaves arrived at the House of the Vestals carrying a covered palanquin. From it, they hauled a massive chest onto the terrace.

The priestesses gathered around, eyeing the ornate, gold-trimmed chest with curiosity. The slaves withdrew quickly, but none dared open it without the High Priestess’s permission.

A wave of dread washed over Livia. Sensing her unease, Caesonia reached out and quietly took her hand.

When the High Priestess finally appeared and lifted the heavy lid, the Vestals gasped in unison, recoiling in horror.

Livia clapped a hand over her mouth, stunned by the sight.

On a bed of crimson velvet lay two severed male arms, hacked cleanly at the elbows. A tightly wound scroll rested beside them. Nausea rose in her throat.

The High Priestess, regaining her composure quicker than the rest, seized the scroll, scanned it, then nodded sharply for Livia to step closer.

"Emperor Caracalla expresses his deepest regrets and begs forgiveness for the inappropriate behavior of a slave who dared leave those marks on you. He sends his warmest regards," she said, her voice like a verdict. Both of them knew he was lying brazenly — and so did he.

Livia’s lips trembled with outrage and fury as she realized whose arms these were. The slave who had helped her escape the palace, who had held her by the shoulders to keep her from collapsing on the steps. So it was Caracalla on the balcony! He had seen them!

"Dispose of them," the High Priestess commanded coldly. "And I shall convey your gratitude to the emperor for his… justice."

Livia only nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. She had glimpsed the depths of his madness—and it terrified her.

Now the days leading to the games became a slow, grinding torture. She buried herself in ceaseless prayer, trying to smother the rising panic that no words could soothe.

"Don’t worry, we’ll be with you, won’t we?" Caesonia said. Livia, dressed in a long white tunic, her hair braided with red ribbons and veiled, stood ready. Caesonia hung an amulet around her neck and stepped back, admiring her.

The arena greeted them with a deafening roar as they took their seats to the left of the imperial box. Young girls approached, holding out wreaths of flowers, and the priestesses accepted with gracious smiles, settling them gently on their heads.

As usual, Livia sat beside the High Priestess, her back as straight as a string. Her gaze was fixed on the arena, and she didn’t allow herself even a glance toward the emperors.

"Emperor Geta is watching you," Caesonia whispered in a low tone. Livia curled her lip in disdain, waving off the comment with a flick of her hand. Let him watch.

Heralds in masks of the seven gods announced the start of the games, held in honor of General Fulvius Plautianus’s victory, who had seized part of Persia in the emperors’ name.

"As if they conquered it themselves," Livia scoffed under her breath, careful no one overheard.

As the gladiators entered the arena, she stole a quick glance at the imperial box. For a moment, their red-haired heads caught her attention, but she quickly turned away, unwilling to meet their eyes.

The games began, the crowd roared, and Livia, finally forgetting the emperors, leaned forward, gripping the railing, her gaze fixed on the combatants below.

The sun climbed higher, and the arena grew bloodier. She noticed the crowd favoring a young gladiator—dark-haired, tanned, powerful. The barbarian fought fiercely, clearly not for the emperors’ amusement. For a moment, his eyes swept toward the Vestals’ box, and Livia, her heart pounding with some hidden sympathy, nodded slightly, silently wishing him victory. He gave no sign, but his next fight was another win.

The emperors leapt from their seats, clapping, clearly pleased with the spectacle. A small monkey on Caracalla’s shoulder screeched, mimicking its master’s applause.

The crowd chanted "Hanno," and Geta, visibly stung, sank back into his chair, followed by his brother. Livia smirked.

To her dismay, the final bout turned against Hanno. Exhausted, he collapsed onto the sand. Her sisters, the crowd, the entire stadium froze in tense anticipation. The verdict rested with the Caesars.

Livia no longer even tried to hide it—she stared straight at the emperors. Caracalla leaned over and whispered something to his brother, then lounged back lazily in his chair. Geta rose to his feet. Behind them, Lucilla sat, visibly uneasy.

Emperor Geta braced his hands on the edge of the imperial box, sweeping his gaze slowly across the crowd, across the men in the arena… Then he lifted his hand—and locked eyes with her. His smile was cold and crooked, his chin lifted in arrogance. The wretch. She didn’t bother to hide her grimace in response…

… And his thumb turned downward, sealing the death sentence.

The crowd erupted in outrage, but Geta sat back smugly, sipping from his goblet and raising it toward her with a mocking nod.

"Livia…" the High Priestess warned, but inside, Livia’s heart burned with indignation and hatred. Did he enjoy making her vulnerable? Humiliating her in front of the gods? Well, then…

She leaned forward, extending her arm, and raised her thumb, staring straight at the emperors.

Oh, their furious, twisted faces were a balm to her soul. They could do nothing to her, say nothing—everyone knew a Vestal’s word in such matters was final.

With a sense of quiet triumph, she settled back onto the bench, her smile unwavering, as the heralds proclaimed the verdict in a booming voice. This time, the crowd’s cheers weren’t for the emperors or the fighters—they were for her.

"You shouldn’t have done that. I told you to stay away," the High Priestess said sadly, but Livia barely heard her. Her heart raced with the thrill of the small victory.

They were escorted into the Colosseum’s inner halls, but Livia felt no fear, walking steadily, carefully holding her long tunic.

And of course, they were waiting for them. The emperors—both dressed in white and crimson, the colors of victory. Geta’s head was crowned with golden laurel, while Caracalla’s unruly curls wore a different wreath. Fresh green laurel leaves made his blue eyes seem even brighter, his skin paler, and he… She turned away. He once again reminded her of Sol.

Many of the senators were there too, and they quickly drew the High Priestess into conversation, leaving the younger Vestals to themselves.

Livia, keeping well away from the emperors, slipped toward a quieter corner of the hall.

"Pious Virgin, may I speak with you?"

Startled, she turned to see Lucilla standing before her, head bowed.

"Of course. Your company is always a pleasure," Livia said.

Lucilla glanced around nervously, then leaned closer, whispering,

"Thank you for sparing the gladiator today… Please, ask me nothing—I beg you—but know that I’m grateful. And in return, I’ll offer you a service. I will tell you how your sister died."

Livia freezes, blinking rapidly and opening her mouth in silence. Lucilla’s story is brief, dry, and lacking in details, but it is enough. Livia knew. She knew who was responsible.

After parting with the daughter of the former emperor, she felt an eerie, almost unnatural calm. Emperor Geta had killed her sister—and now he tried to violate her, as if mocking her grief.

She stood alone by the hall’s far columns, lost in thought, when the very one she had been thinking of found her, his brother beside him. Her gaze was empty, cold.

"Emperor Geta," she nodded. "Emperor Caracalla," another nod.

"I wish to apologize, priestess," Geta began. She could see how the words strained him, how he forced himself to be courteous…

But what was his courtesy to her?

"Tell me, Caesar, what exactly are you apologizing for? For the disgusting advances you made toward me, or for murdering my sister? Do you even remember her? Dark-haired, gentle-hearted. Do you even remember her name? Her name was Cassandra," she said through clenched teeth.

Geta took a step back, and for the first time, Livia saw him completely exposed, vulnerable. To her surprise, his black eyes weren’t looking at her. Instead, he was staring at Caracalla. And Caracalla, in turn, was looking right back at him. On his pale face, there was no smile, no familiar sneer—only an unnerving, stone-cold mask.

"It’s a lie, brother," Geta said, not addressing her once again, and Livia understood less and less. Caracalla didn’t believe him, that much was clear.

"Please, not here," he pleaded. Caracalla said nothing, but his blue gaze shifted back to Livia.

Geta cast her a final look—one full of hatred, bitter disappointment—and hurried toward the Praetorians, disappearing into the crowd.

"Did you know?" she asked Caracalla.

He lifted his head, blinking rapidly, as if shaking off a daze. A crooked smirk slowly returned to his face.

"No, I swear," he says hoarsely, almost whispering. He’s angry—this much was clear—but for the first time, she wasn’t the target of his rage, and it felt… strange. "We…," he trails off, licking his lips, "Cassandra and I—we were good friends. Didn’t I tell you? I wouldn’t have let anyone hurt her, believe me, Livia."

She watches him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He meets her gaze with that same smirk, peering up at her from under his brows, his pale eyebrows drawn together—pure innocence. Livia shrugs, taking up her proud stance once more.

"And yet, you acted inappropriately towards me," she said, now feeling more confident as his attention was fully on his brother.

"Oh, I regret it," he replied, his lips slightly parted, the tip of his tongue brushing over his upper lip. Did he truly regret it? Livia looked at him again. Not a hint of it. But even empty words carried weight now.

"How do you like my gift?"

A shiver ran through her, the memory of the chest with the severed hands sending a chill down her spine. She said nothing.

The emperor leaned in, his hand brushing the bust behind her, tracing the curve of the nameless marble girl’s neck. The scratches on his hand had healed. Her bruises had faded as well. He glanced at her hands before locking eyes with her.

"If you want," he whispered, his grin widening, "I’ll give you one just like it—with Geta."

For a brief moment, she forgot how to breathe. He was offering her the revenge she’d craved—for her sister, for her own honor! But he was his brother… And yet, with a breath heavy with fury, she answered,

"Yes."

The delight on the emperor’s face terrifies her. Caracalla breathed heavier, his tongue sliding over his lips again and again, and for a moment, she could have sworn she heard a low, strangled moan escape from his red mouth.

His delicate hand released the marble throat of the bust and rose toward her face. Livia nervously glanced behind him—was anyone watching? Fortunately, the column was wide enough to shield them from prying eyes…

What was she thinking? She quickly scolded herself.

But the emperor didn’t touch her. Instead, he plucked a rose from her flower crown and tucked it behind his ear, as if he were a mischievous street boy, not the Father of Rome. It seemed the talk of his brother’s murder didn’t trouble him in the slightest. Had such a thought crossed his mind before? Had it ever occurred to him? Like Romulus and Remus—twins, both of them…

She loses her train of thought as her gaze lands on the large medallion on his chest. Golden, elaborate, screaming wealth—she had no interest in it, until Livia noticed the embossed female profile.

At first, she couldn’t believe her eyes, wondering if it was her own face staring back at her.

"Oh, this is my mother," he lifted the medallion, showing it to her. Livia understands it’s another woman, but she can’t deny the striking resemblance. It terrifies her.

Nervously, she glances up at the emperor. The last time he spoke of Julia Domna, he pressed against her hips, shamelessly moaning. It’s hard to forget such a thing.

He smiles slyly, knowing exactly what she’s thinking, tilting his head, savoring the blush on her cheeks.

"I was just a boy when she died. Father always hated me, but she…" He steps closer, and Livia finds herself backed against the wall, nowhere to retreat. "She loved me. That much I remember."

Livia has no words to reply, but he doesn’t expect an answer. Their faces are almost level now, his eyes burning with feverish intensity. Caesar leans in, but then immediately tilts his head, turning to bury his face in her neck, not touching, leaving a small gap between his lips and her skin. Unconsciously, she tilts her neck, almost as if offering it. She feels his smile against her skin.

"You look just like her, don’t you?" he murmurs, inhaling deeply before once more searing her neck with his breath. "Your goddess didn’t hear your prayers, did she? Didn’t grant your wishes…" He leans back slightly, still staring into her eyes, chin raised arrogantly. She exhales sharply.

"Then I’ll be your god, Amata, and for my help, I don’t need thirty years of devotion. I think it’ll all end much sooner," he purrs.

It’s only now that Livia realizes what she’s agreed to.

[moonmaiden1996]

Helloooo is it okay to ask for a part 2 of the monster Maomao creates? I'm curious to know how everything plays out and I love your writing style! :D

The Monster Maomao Created Part 2. Redemption

Okay, I didnt plan on writing a part two but....... SEASON TWO IS SOOOOO GOOD ------Part 3 out now!

Maomao sat alone that evening, a rare occurrence in the ever-bustling labyrinth of the Inner Court. The amber glow of dying lamplight cast long, wavering shadows across her notes and the mortar-stained fabric of her sleeves. The scent of powdered ginseng and steeped licorice root clung to her skin like memory—bitter, sweet, and impossible to scrub away.

Her hands, usually steady as a surgeon’s, faltered slightly as she crushed a dried root into fine powder. It wasn’t the task that troubled her—it was the silence. The kind that makes thoughts fester like untreated wounds.

She supposed someone like Suiren—or one of the high-ranking consorts—would, at this point, sigh softly and whisper of guilt and pain before crying themself to sleep but Maomao did not sigh prettily nor did she cry.

What she felt was not guilt. It was rot.

A slow, creeping decay that had taken root in the hollow beneath her ribs and was now curling its way up her throat. It choked her with a thick, acrid bile no amount of dried plum or sweet cherry blossom tea could wash away.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the hairpin Jinshi had given her. She hadn’t even meant to touch it, yet there it was—cold silver from the Western Mountains, shaped like a chrysanthemum in mid-bloom, each petal curling against the pin.

A gift no one refused, even she had accepted the pin that day on the pavilion. But you had decline the pin. 

And he had loved that.

You had snubbed him and he basked in it. You had refused or rather tried to—till a member of the Moon Prince’s private household delivered you a more elaborate ornate pin, not any pin—his pin. The prince's.

Maomao pressed her fingertips to her temple. Her thoughts were loud now—too loud. Unclean. She was rotting from the inside out. She wanted to flush it out the way she would a festering wound—cleanse them with logic, with distance, perhaps with a stiff dose of alcohol.

But there was no remedy for this.

Her adopted father had always said the only cure was confession—to lighten the soul. So late that evening, Maomao found herself slipping beyond the walls of Jinshi’s residence and making her way through the quiet gates of the Imperial Court. No one stopped her. The guards were used to her odd comings and goings, her robes always smelling of tonics and tinctures, her arms often burdened with strange offerings.

Tonight was no different, her offering discreetly placed her sleeve.

The hour was late, the sky a canvas of thick ink. Servants scurried through the halls rushing to wrap up the last of the day's duties. But the light in your chamber was still lit. Of course it was. Your father, the Chancellor, was away at court again—yet another meeting ahead of the looming war.

The room was warm—too warm for the late hour. Drapes of silk stirred faintly in the breeze from the half-open window, lantern light casting shifting shadows against golden walls. The faint hum of crickets echoed from the garden beyond.

You sat by the window, bathed in moonlight, posture regal but relaxed. From this height, the palace grounds looked peaceful—placid even. A lie, of course. Nothing in the Inner Court was ever truly at rest.

“Mistress,” came a voice, soft as smoke. “Forgive the intrusion. But I must speak with you.”

You turned, slow and deliberate. Maomao stood at the edge of the lamplight, half-shadowed, robes slightly rumpled, hands folded before her like she had arrived from a battlefield rather than the apothecary. Her face was unreadable, her eyes darker than usual.

“Then speak, Apothecary,” you said, tone calm. Cool, but not cruel. “What does your master want now?”

Her eyes flicked, just briefly, to your hair. To the silver pin twined in your braid—your father’s gift, not the Moon Prince’s.Then she dropped. Knees to polished floor, forehead nearly touching it, her bow so deep it was almost theatrical. But you knew better. Nothing Maomao did was without calculation.

“I’ve come to apologize,” she said, hands resting in her lap. “To beg forgiveness.”

You raised a brow, leaning an elbow on the windowsill. “For what, exactly?”

“It was I who put you in Master Jinshi’s path.” The apothecary spoke softly, but clearly.

That drew your attention. A pause. Stillness, sharp and sudden. You did not speak, instead you waited for her to continued.

“I used you,” she continued, voice even. “He took an interest in me. A dangerous interest. For someone of my station… such attention is rarely a blessing. I feared what would follow. So I shifted his gaze. Toward you. Someone far more suitable.”

You studied her. The way her fingers curled just slightly in her lap. The way she refused to lift her gaze. Like a criminal already bracing for the blade.

“I understand the instinct to survive,” you said mildly. “But there’s no need for dramatics. Your master is… harmless. Beautiful, yes, but a eunuch, nonetheless. the only fear I have is him attempting to put me the Emperor's garden.” you voice amused at the young woman.

Maomao lifted her head—and now there was something sharp behind her eyes. “He’s not.”

The words struck. Your back straightened.

The apothecary didn’t blink. “You must have noticed. The resemblance to the Emperor. The way even high-ranking officials lower their eyes around him. He is no more a peacock than a tiger in painted feathers.”

You said nothing at first. Just the faintest tilt of your head, moonlight catching on your cheek.

“…Are you saying—”

“There is nothing I can do to save you, my lady,” Maomao interrupted softly, her tone too level to be comforting. “Only offer my services.”

You arched a brow, resting your hands against the silk of your robes. “What need have I for an apothecary at this hour? Are you here to offer me poison to end my worries?”

Maomao blinked. A faint twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her surprise—not at the words, but at the lack of alarm behind them. She had expected gasps. Outrage. Perhaps the clatter of summoned guards. Not that.

“Nothing so dramatic,” she said, smoothing her sleeves with measured calm. “I simply wish to correct a wrong I’ve done… to lighten me guilt by offering what skills I possess. Being an apothecary is only one of them. I was raised in the Verdigris House.”

You didn’t flinch.“A brothel,” you replied evenly.

She inclined her head with all the grace of a court lady, though her robes still carried the scent of herbs and iron. “Yes.”

You exhaled slowly, as though growing weary of riddles. “And how is that supposed to help me?”

Maomao’s gaze flicked up—briefly, precisely. “Master Jinshi has… particular tastes.”

The corner of your mouth twitched with dry skepticism. “And I fail to see how that is remotely relevant. What do I care for the Moon Prince’s appetites?”

“I won’t insult your intelligence,” she said, her hands now folded neatly over her lap. “Your family stands on a precipice. Your father leaves again soon, to meet the war gathering at the borders. Your mother is at home, wrestling with conspiring Lords. Your brothers is young. Too young. And while you are capable, formidable even… the Inner Court is no place for women who stand alone.”

“I need no protection.”

“Agreed,” Maomao said, without hesitation. “But even tigers must sleep. And snakes wait for that moment to strike.” Her words hung in the still air.

“Master Jinshi—or the Moon Prince, if you prefer—could protect you. But Master Jinshi is the safer path. Childish at times, yes. Overbearing… obsessed… but devoted. You could do worse than align yourself with him. If you chose to wield your influence over him… there would be little in the court beyond your reach. You could protect your family.”

You narrowed your gaze. “And if I wished to be Empress? Your plan would hurt your own dear lady.”

“You don’t want the throne,” Maomao said flatly. “The Emperor knows that. Which is why he encourages this match. It keeps Jinshi happy and strengthens his court. You want safety. For your brothers. For yourself. This is how you get it.”

A heavy pause. The lantern crackled softly.“And how exactly, am I meant to wield a prince like a dagger?”

Maomao’s voice dropped lower—softer, but somehow more unsettling. “He is a masochist.”

You blinked once.

“Raised to be revered, yes. Worshiped. But what he craves… is surrender. He wishes to be beneath someone. To kneel. To suffer. To worship.” Her lips curled faintly, not in mockery but grim understanding. 

You stared at her. “Interesting, if not mildly disturbing,” you said slowly, your tone hard and biting. “But hardly useful to me.”

“He desires you,” she said simply. “For your ability to look at him and not be moved by his beauty. For the way you do not melt beneath his gaze or fawn at his presence. Your aloofness only feeds the flame. A flame that has become an inferno within him.”

“One that you started,” you couldn’t help but snap.

You regretted it immediately. For all the danger the strange girl brought, you could not hate her—not completely, anyway. In this world, women occupied a delicate position. And for a girl of Maomao’s station, Jinshi—or whatever name he wore—was dangerous. You could not blame her for that. Not really. You might have done the same thing if you were her.

Maomao leaned forward slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “He takes a tincture. An old compound, used by monks—designed to suppress certain urges. But if he were to stop taking it… his body would catch up. His restraint is borrowed. Not natural. It is not hard to believe that his appetite would be as the Emperor…”

You said nothing, but your lashes lowered ever so slightly. Not enough to show interest. Just enough to not deny it.

“I have served him for years,” Maomao continued. “In all that time, not once has he ever forced anything upon me. Not when he could. Not even when he wanted to. He is… loyal. Deeply. And if you wanted him—truly wanted him—he would not only obey, he would be devoted. Utterly. Insatiably.”

You looked away. Briefly. Then, “What makes you think I want that? A husband?”

Maomao tilted her head. “You remind me of my sisters.”

Your eyes flickered to her sharply.

“Pairin and Joka,” she clarified, voice soft. “Two of the three Verdigris Princesses. Pairin is warm, affectionate, with a dangerous appetite for pleasure. Joka is sharp, with a scholar’s wit. She advises ministers behind beaded curtains.”

Your expression betrayed a flicker of recognition. You had heard of them.

“I meant it as a compliment,” Maomao said, bowing her head again. “You are not limited to one role. Not just a noble daughter. Not just a strategist. Not just a woman, You are all these things and more... and it is for that reason I offer this.”

She reached inside her sleeve and drew out a leather-bound tome. The binding was frayed with age, its surface worn smooth by hands long dead. It bore no title. Only a seal pressed into its cover— a Western design.

“A gift from the West, from the land of your mother,” she said, offering it in both hands. “A book of pleasure. But also one of control. The women of the Verdigris House guard it jealously. And now—I give it to you. The beginning of my apology.”

You reached for it, fingertips brushing against the old leather. It was heavier than expected.

“So you come to apologize,” you said slowly, “and instead you offer me a strategy. A lover. A husband. And compare me to courtesans.”

Maomao lowered her eyes. “I offer you tools. I offer you freedom, should you choose to take it. And, if you’ll allow it… I offer my service too, as a sign of penance.”

You stared at her, silent. Then you nodded, once. “Very well. Leave it.” You did not smile. “Should I find the need of you again,” you said, turning back to the window, “you will be in my service.”

Behind you, Maomao bowed again. Her footsteps—soft, sure—faded into the corridor beyond. Only the scent of crushed herbs remained, leaving you to stare out of the window, waiting for your father to return. There would be much to do. So much to prepare. You would need to speak with Empress Gyokuyou. Discuss what came next. Weariness settled in your bones. Your eyes flitted over to the book laying on the table, its presence heavy, full of silent promise. Much to do. So much to do.

But for now, you let the breeze lift the edge of your sleeve and close your eyes. For now, you allowed yourself to rest. If only for a few hours.

Okay hear me out! Jinshi is not going to fall for the naive easy reader, he is going to fall hard for the aloof baddie with attitude. For a women in this period the only way to get power is to marry well. The reader is stuck by society and expectation. Just like all the characters are really.

Also if Jinshi falls for anyone he would be a Yandere, sweet and loving but obsessive and forceful just like we see in the frog scene(sooo good) He needs someone that can control or at least deal with his yandere-y nature. So the reader would definably be in for a ride...then again so would Jinshi. However their love would be as beautiful as Jinshi himself, if not more so.

Hope you enjoyed it.

[dollyswishingwell]

hihi :3! First off lemme just say that I absolutely adore your writings they’re all so good I’ve spent the past few hours just reading thru all of them! And secondly I wanted to make a request for the obsessed LADS with an MC who’s pretty compliant with them from the start like “oh you wanna lock me away and make me ur pretty little house wife? Sound like a dream <33” or something like that basically an MC whose equally obsessed with them :)

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ I like this

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, crack? this is literally me cause i wouldn’t be fighting shit lmao

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You’re quite happy with this new arrangement

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

From the moment you stepped foot in his world, barefoot on the marble floors of his seaside estate, sunlight catching on your smile like it was made just for him, Rafayel knew. He didn’t need to break you. Didn’t need the slow, aching game of manipulation, coercion, or seduction.

No. You looked at his claws and kissed them. You saw the cage and asked for silk curtains and plush pillows inside.

And gods, he fell.

“You’re not going to run?” he asked that first night, a little disappointed, a little curious, watching you lounge across the velvet divan he had carried in just for you.

“Why would I?” You tilted your head. “You’re rich. You’re pretty. You adore me. And I get to stay home and be pampered like a princess? Honestly, I should be paying you.”

He blinked. Then burst into delighted laughter, sharp and glittering like shattered candy glass, before pouncing on you in a flurry of silk and perfume.

“You’re mine,” he purred, nuzzling into your neck like a smug cat. “Don’t say things like that unless you want me to go and have the entire staff fired for even looking at you.”

“Do it,” you hummed, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Let’s go full tyrant.”

He did.

Rafayel stopped pretending to function in society entirely. His meetings became virtual, or more accurately, delegated. His manager Thomas despaired.

He had you now. Why would he ever leave?

He got addicted to watching you drift through the estate in your soft pastel robes, tiaras in your hair just because, calling him pet names and snuggling up in his lap while he painted. You’d tell him what new shell you wanted for the fountains. What gem color suited your mood today. What dress you wanted copied in ten colors.

“D’you think we should get married?” you’d say casually, flipping through a designer catalogue. “Or should I stay your scandalous mistress forever? Like, hidden flower in the tower kinda vibe.”

“Wife,” he corrected immediately, voice laced with possessive heat. “You’re mine. You deserve the castle. The ring. The surname.”

He proposed three hours later. A box of seven rings, each more ridiculous than the last.

You picked the heart-shaped one with the pink sapphire. Naturally.

Now, no one dares question why you’ve vanished from the public. Why the estate security is tighter than a vault. Why the man known for his detached cruelty is now painting seashells with “my darling girl” scratched into the backs.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Zayne expected resistance. Not because he wanted it, but because he was used to it. He’d prepared for the fights, the escape attempts, the begging. He’d even gone as far as reinforcing the estate with biometric locks and deleting your Hunter Association credentials behind your back.

But then you looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes the morning after he made you quit your job, and just… smiled.

“So I don’t have to risk my life anymore,” you said softly, curling into his lap like it was your natural place. “You’re just gonna take care of me forever?”

He paused. Scalpel-steady hands twitching.

“…Yes.”

You beamed. “Good. I hated those missions. They made me miss you too much.”

He blinked once. Twice. His jaw ticked.

“…You were going to come back to me,” he said quietly. “Always.”

“I was yours before you even asked.”

You tilted your head, eyes glimmering. “But I like that you made sure. That you made me stay.”

From that moment on, Zayne never questioned the decision again.

He gave you the master bedroom and moved his office into the suite next door, because you liked being able to sleep in his shirts and sneak into his bed whenever you wanted. He stopped accepting surgeries on weekends, because that was “your time.” Spa treatments. Cooking for you. Holding you on the couch while you rambled about the adorable new heels you bought with his money.

You’d kiss him in the mornings before he left and whisper:

“Don’t be late. Your pretty wife gets lonely.”

He became militant about punctuality.

You never questioned his control. You welcomed it. Handed him the leash with both hands. Every new rule, every vitamin he made you take, every tracker sewn into your dresses and discreetly implanted bracelet,

You adored it.

“I like it,” you once said, curling beside him in bed while he checked your vitals on his tablet. “When you act like I’m breakable. Like I’m something precious.”

Zayne looked at you like you’d just opened his ribcage and whispered inside his heart.

“That’s because you are.”

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If anyone ever tried to touch you… I’d put them in the ground myself. Slowly.”

You just smiled and murmured, “I know. That’s why I married you.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Xavier genuinely thought he’d have to be careful with you.

He’s weird. Awkward. He lives in a world of wanderers and underworld corpses and secret identities. His penthouse is too big. His life too strange. He’s… not normal.

So when he told you, quietly, half-asleep on your stomach, words mumbled into your back, that he didn’t want you leaving anymore…

That he was going to make you quit your job…

That you’d never have to work or worry again, but in exchange, you’d be his,

You didn’t flinch.

You just rolled over and looked at him like he’d offered you the moon.

“Wait, really?” you whispered. “I can just stay here? Be your pretty wife and wake up with you every day?”

He blinked. Slowly. “…Yes.”

“Done,” you beamed, snuggling against him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He short-circuited.

Ever since then, Xavier has been in a near-constant state of dreamlike bliss. You wanted to be kept? You wanted to stay tucked in his arms in that oversized bed, scrolling outfits for the association Gala while he trailed kisses up your back?

“Pick the blue one,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and devotion. “Matches your eyes. Looks good when I hold you.”

He installed a custom closet for you. Got the entire place redesigned for your taste. A garden on the top floor, because you said you liked “something soft to look at.” A full kitchen even though he doesn’t cook, because you like baking him things and feeding him from your fork.

And when he’s in Lumiere mode, when the world is cruel and sharp and demanding, he comes home to you.

Crawls into your lap like a lovesick cat.

You always cradle his face. Cup it gently and murmur:

“Who do you belong to?”

“Who kisses your forehead when you fall asleep?”

“Who’s always going to be here, waiting?”

He’s so hopelessly in love it physically hurts.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Sylus had everything, wealth, connections, a global weapons empire. He thought love would be an indulgence. A vulnerability. Something to manage.

And then he met you (again).

Sweet, gorgeous, ambitionless in the best way, perfectly content to let him build your world for you. You didn’t resist when he said you’d never work again. Didn’t fight when he said he didn’t trust anyone to protect you.

You smiled and asked if you could pick the color of your new closet.

“You’re not going to fight me on this?” he’d asked one evening, watching you admire your new pink diamond ring.

You gave a soft laugh, nestled into his lap like you belonged there. “Why would I fight the man who wants to pamper me, protect me, and make me his spoiled little wife?”

His red eyes darkened.

He kissed you so hard he left you dizzy.

From that moment on, he spoiled you mercilessly. Twelve armories worldwide? Now thirteen, one converted into a private resort just for you. Every gala dress custom-designed. Entire floors in luxury department stores cleared just so you could browse in peace.

And you, his darling little thing, you fed into it.

“Buy it,” you’d murmur, brushing your fingers along a jewel you wanted. “For me. Just to show everyone whose name I moan when I’m in your bed.”

He’s never signed a wire transfer so fast.

He adores how you never try to take the power from him. You respect it. Crave it. You let him rule, but you reign at his side. When he hands you your card, you kiss his knuckles. When he orders security to shadow you in public, you smile and wave at them sweetly.

When he comes home from business drenched in blood and smoke, you’re waiting on the couch in your silk nightgown, holding a wine glass and purring, “All done, my love? Did they behave?”

You don’t flinch when he talks about toppling rivals. You don’t question when you’re moved to a different penthouse in a new city overnight.

You just smile and say, “As long as you’re there, it’s home.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Caleb had been preparing for war.

Not military strategy, you.

He was ready for the heartbreak. The betrayal. The screaming. The way you’d fight tooth and nail when he finally took you. Locked you in his Skyhaven penthouse. Made you his and no one else’s.

Because you had always been free. Beautiful. Untouchable.

And he had always watched you. Protected you. Loved you in the way no brother, no soldier, no man should. From the shadows. With a military-grade obsession.

So when he brought you home after that final mission, bloody, injured, nearly lost, and told you you’d never leave again…

You looked up from the plush penthouse bed, eyes heavy with painkillers and love and whispered,

“Good. I only want to be yours anyway.”

He froze.

You blinked. Smiled. Reached for him with trembling fingers.

“I hated being away from you,” you breathed. “Please don’t let me go again. I’ll be good. I’ll be your pretty little housewife.”

He didn’t speak. Just cradled your hand like it was made of glass. Like you might vanish.

From that day forward, Caleb changed.

No longer cold. No longer quiet. No longer the stoic colonel hardened by war.

You brought out the boy in him. The one who used to blush when you shared a blanket. The one who used to memorize every little thing you liked. The one who used to dream about kissing you, marrying you, keeping you locked in his arms forever.

Now he had it.

You padded around the penthouse barefoot in his oversized shirts. Asked him if he liked the pink lipstick you wore. Curled into him on the couch while he planned missions, whispering,

“When will you be back? I get lonely without you, you know.”

“I’ll call off the deployment,” he said immediately.

You laughed and tugged him down for a kiss.

You encouraged his obsession. You made it beautiful.

You didn’t just accept your gilded cage, you helped him decorate it.

Matching rings. Matching loungewear. Little domestic rituals that made him feel like he had you in every lifetime.

“I belong to you, Caleb,” you murmured one night, forehead to his. “I always have. Even before you took me, I was yours.”

[k3n-dyll]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; 18+, wlw, implied/some descriptions of sex, fluff(?), bathing together, Ambessa is taller than reader but specific height isn't mentioned

𝐊𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆ Wrote something short and (kinda) sfw in attempt to jumpstart my brain to write bro I hate having the urge but not being able to

The bath is hot and steamy, topped with a layer of bubbles. As you're guided in, the soothing heat covers your body, and the scent of lavender and vanilla fills your nostrils and pulls you deeper into your sleepy haze. Ambessa is quick to follow, discarding her robe on the ground and settling in behind you, her body nearly dwarfing your own.

The past few hours had been quite rough for you and she knows it. She wasn't exactly holding back, especially after how stressful her day had been - it's natural that upon coming home she'd taken her frustrations for the day out on her favorite 'toy'.

Still, as cold as she can be - she isn't heartless. She wants you safe and comfortable before all else. Seeing you barely awake and trembling underneath her; your body having been covered in deep purple hickeys and red lipstick smudges and sweat, laying in a puddle of your own juices - it was arousing, of course, but it still alarmed her a little. She'd been quick to have a servant get the bath started, scooping you up into her large arms and gently placing you into the tub.

"You poor girl..." She murmurs mockingly, though a hint of concern betrays her as she scrubs gently at your skin, watching the lipstick fade and feeling your muscles relax underneath her fingers.

"I wasn't too harsh with you, was I darling?"

"No, Mistress..." You manage a soft answer in response, shaking your head slightly.

As out of it as you are, you aren't hurting. Not enough to be worried about at least - the places she'd marked and spanked you will stop being tender soon enough, and Ambessa's mumbled praises and soft touch is enough to distract you from any soreness.

"Good...you were wonderful for me today... no complaints or disobedience. I'll have to reward you later." Her words are slow and scattered between kisses to your neck and shoulders, your body practically melting back against hers.

She washes your hair and massages your muscles, making sure to loosen any knots or kinks in your aching body. It's rare that her hands are so gentle, her touch so...loving if you didn't know any better. And when you're both cleaned up she refuses to let you walk on your own, helping you dry off and once again carrying you in her arms to the bed, dressing you up and laying you down. Most days, you sleep in your own room, but in moments like these - when Ambessa can't quite seem to shake the urge to hold you, she keeps you with her for the rest of the night, her strong arms wrapped tight around you watching as you slowly drift off.

"Such a pretty thing...get some rest, sweetheart. I can't have my favorite little plaything all worn out now can I?"

Reblogs are appreciated || Donations 4 Palestine - Arcane Masterlist

Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut @sevsbaby, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,  @strawberry-shortcakey , @abvisionss, @urbayolet

[karinab00bs]

The Plan (requested)

Karina x Tiffany x Named reader

tags: smut, threesome (F/F/M), cheating, mistress, blowjobs, dirty talk

Karina paced behind her hotel room door wearing nothing underneath her bathrobe.

She was unsure if he was coming but she hoped he would.

She needed to get laid tonight. She was so damn horny that she started touching herself a few minutes ago. She stopped short of her orgasm when she realized she wanted to cum with his dick inside her.

Soon enough, there was a soft knock on the door. Karina quickly opened it and her heart quickly leapt in joy as the handsome face of her boss greeted her.

He quickly entered her room and captured her lips. Karina pushed the door closed and returned his kisses with equal fervor.

He slightly pulled away as he eyed her hungrily from the toes up to meet her eyes. "Did you wait long?"

"I almost came without you." She unapologetically stated.

He smirked. "I'm sure you realized that it's better to come with my cock buried deep inside you."

She nodded fervently as her gazes sought him. He saw her desperate need for him that he couldn't help but feel his cock twitch. He looked down at her body and saw her cleavage that was beckoning him to go ahead and reveal them.

He untied the knot that was barely holding together her bathrobe. The drapes dropped and displayed her nakedness in full view. His mouth watered upon seeing her brown, perky nipples as well as her huge breasts. His palm quickly grabbed her mound, massaging it softly and slowly.

His mouth gaped as his other hand touched the other mound, focusing on her perky nipples instead. He rolled her nipple between his index finger and thumb.

She took in a sharp intake of breath as his fingers pulled, rolled and flicked her nipples. "You love my breasts, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry. I love your ass and pussy just the same." He sneered as he once again felt his cock go harder.

She smirked. "You don't love your cock in my mouth?"

He laughed. "I like it. You're damn good at giving a head."

He once again kissed her, this time exerting more force and pushing his tongue inside her mouth where her tongue waited and danced with his. They hummed in delight as their kisses turned wilder. He stopped playing with her breasts and grabbed her face instead.

He thrusted his tongue up the roof of her mouth, then swirled it around, occasionally wrestling with hers. He then stopped with his tongue action and instead focused on her lips.

He tenderly nibbled her lips, pulling on them occasionally then softly pecking them. His switch from rough to tender left Karina's knees weak. He always knew what her body wanted.

Once they pulled away, he reached for his belt. She watched him carefully as he unbuckled his belt then threw it on her bed. His fingers unbuttoned his pants then unzipped it after. Once his pants hit the floor, he got out of it on one foot then lifted the other to remove the pants and throw it over to where his belt was.

Karina wasted no time and removed her robe as well. She then sat naked on the end of the bed. She hooked her finger inside his boxers' and pulled him closer. She held her breath as she slowly pulled his boxers down to reveal his big, hard, and erect cock.

Karina’s pussy throbbed at the sight of it.

His cock always did wonders inside her mouth and pussy. His cock always left her body a quivering mess and each time they fucked, Karina couldn't help but keep on wanting him again and again.

In fact just seeing him in the office wearing a sleek suit paired with his well groomed hair and his handsomeness was enough for Karina to be turned on.

She wrapped her fingers against his erection and aligned it with her awaiting mouth. He grunted as his cock felt the wet sensation of her mouth and tongue.

He continued removing his jacket, tie and undershirt as Karina’s mouth pleased him. Karina is good at giving blowjobs and she has a damn good gag reflex.

Karina is the junior assistant of his executive assistant so she often sees her boss, interacts with him and sees him in action. He was a fascinating man - that wasn't who she was expecting. She thought he was callous, controlling and mean but he wasn't totally like that.

He was kind and encouraging to his employees. He is demanding and bossy but what type of boss isn't? Maybe it has something to do with age - he might have realized that degrading employees yields no result. However, incentivizing and encouraging them boosts their morale and performance.

Speaking of age, the man Karina is giving a blowjob is more than a decade older than her. She is currently twenty-nine and he is forty-two. He is also married but despite his age, the man's build and looks were clearly younger for his age.

Her head bobbed as her mouth and tongue slid up and down his full erection which is now wet with her saliva and his pre-cum. She licked his cock after pulling away then grasped the hilt of his cock with her hand, stroking up and down his thick and long erection.

Karina wondered whatever possessed her to be the fuck buddy of her boss. But it was definitely the mind-blowing sex that made her stay and continue this affair.

Karina was not new to sex. She has been sexually active since her first boyfriend after college. But out of all her ex-boyfriends, no one was able to pleasure her as good as Sam.

Sam.

That is the name of her boss, the man she is having an affair with.

Maybe the fact that he's older and much experienced than her ex-boyfriends who were more or less close in age and are not experimental when it came to sex.

"Karina.." He called her name softly like a whisper as he cupped her cheek. "I want to be inside you."

Karina stopped her hand job and nodded her head. She wanted him inside her too. She wanted to be fucked so bad, writhe and scream in pleasure, and feel his hands and lips all over her body.

Karina positioned herself on the right side of the queen size bed. His belongings were on the other side but it would probably end up on the floor sooner or later.

Sam kneeled facing her open thighs. He grabbed his cock and stroked himself for a while as he bent down to lick her wet and dripping pussy. His other hand reached for her slit and coated his fingers with her wetness. He rubbed her clit with his thumb in circular motions. Slowly, his tongue licked her slit up to her clit.

"Fuck." She gasped as his tongue descended her slit and made its way to her hole. Then he brought his tongue back to her clit, suckling on it lightly. "Shit.. Stop it or else I'm gonna-"

He listened to her plea and stopped licking her pussy. He didn't need to perform much foreplay because she was already dripping wet and ready for the taking.

Sam continued stroking his cock as his eyes feasted on the young, attractive woman underneath with her legs wide open and pussy awaiting his cock.

Karina is damn beautiful. He was attracted to her the moment she entered the company. It didn't help that she was always by his side as his assistant's aide.

This affair started during a party that their company organized. Karina was instructed by her other boss, Sam's EA, to assist him to his car since he was drunk while he went to search and call for a driver.

She did as told. She brought him to his car and had him sit at the back. She was about to leave but he drunkenly asked her to accompany him for a while.

So she did. They both sat at the back seat waiting for the on-call-driver to arrive. Sam then admitted to her that she's very beautiful, sexy and that he's attracted to her very badly.

He wasn't able to hold back so he kissed her. Then she kissed him back. Then before they knew it, Karina was giving him a blowjob.

The next day, Sam offered to drive her home. They ended up fucking inside her apartment.

That was how it started. They were so sexually and physically attracted to one another that they couldn't end their affair. It continued on despite Karina having a new boyfriend and of course despite Sam's happy marriage.

He told Karina he often fuck his wife too which made her jealous because she told him she broke up with her boyfriend because he sucked at sex.

In other words, Karina became a full time mistress and she didn't care.

"Fuck me, baby." Karina called as she parted her pussy lips with her fingers. "I'm ready for you."

Sam aligned the pink tip of his throbbing dick into her hole before sliding inside easily. She was so wet for him that he didn't have a hard time getting inside her.

The moment he moved his hips and thrusted his cock in and out of her pussy, Karina's moans began to fill the room.

"You love my pussy, baby?" Karina pursed her lips together as her body jiggled every time he thrusted into her. Her breasts bounced along with her body, much to his pleasure.

"You know that I do." Sam grunted, increasing his pace.

Karina's cries grew louder as Sam's thrusts became more powerful. The tip was reaching her sweet spot and her walls were clenching around his dick tightly.

"That feels so good, baby." Karina whispered as her hand slithered down until she reached her pussy.

Her fingers found her aching clit and started rubbing it. Waves of pleasure filled her senses as Sam's penetrating game continued in a slow and deep pace while her fingers flicked and rubbed her clit in circular motions.

Sam's dick always left her craving for more. Sex with him is fun, pleasurable and addicting. If it wasn't so damn addicting in the first place, Karina would never have an affair with a married man.

Not only is sex with Sam awesome, he is also sweet, tender and caring. He always looked out for her in the workplace. He defended her whenever male colleagues tried to make a move on her or put her down with misogynistic remarks.

He had bouquets of flowers anonymously sent to her in the office and her apartment during her birthday a few months ago along with a sweet birthday greeting card where he expressed his gratitude and love for her.

Yes, he loves her even though Karina knows he loves his wife too. Tiffany, his wife, is everything to him. She remembered that time when Tiffany got in a slight fender-bender, Sam freaked out in the office after hearing the news then quickly left to check on her.

Karina also remembered that time she saw them made out inside his office when she accidentally opened the door thinking no one was there.

Sam is very vocal about his love for Tiffany. She overheard him talk to his EA, Karina's other superior, that they had a slight fight so he would take her out to dinner that night to apologize and then have a hot make up sex.

Or those times when she just waited for him to finish signing the papers with one hand while the other held his phone as he talked sweetly to his wife.

However, Sam's love for his wife did not deter Karina's feelings for him. She didn't care what would happen. All that mattered for her was the sex and his affection. Even if she didn’t have his heart, she had the rest of him.

Sam's arms hooked the underside of her legs to lift and spread it even wider. He momentarily stopped moving his hips although he remained buried inside her as he grinded his hips in a circular motion.

"Yes.." Karina breathed out as his buried dick hit against her sweet spot. "Don't stop. Keep on doing that. I'm so close, baby."

Sam grunted as he continued grinding into her slowly and passionately. He lowered his torso so he could capture her open mouth. He slipped his tongue inside to meet hers.

They were momentarily interrupted when his phone's ringtone was heard. His lips remained on hers and his dick remained buried inside her pussy but his hand reached for his pants to fish out his phone.

He broke the kiss and looked at Karina tenderly. "It's Tiffany. Can you promise to be quiet?"

"What will you give me in return if I do what you ask?" Karina dared him with the sultry look in her eyes.

"What do you want?" Sam conceded.

Karina pondered for a while before looking at him full of lust and desire. "I want you to fuck my other hole and I want you to stay with me tonight. Cuddle me to sleep."

Sam smiled tenderly at her before nodding. He never spent the night at her place because he had to go home to his wife so cuddling with Sam is very limited.

Thank goodness they are on a business trip in Thailand. It just so happened their rooms are connected unbeknownst to Sam's EA who is in the other room. Their first business trip had Karina booked in a connecting room with Sam by accident. They had no knowledge it was a connecting room but it turned out well since they managed to slip inside the other's room without prying eyes.

Karina bit her lips as a signal that she will be silent. Sam answered the phone after.

"Hey, sweetie." Sam greeted his wife sweetly.

Despite talking to his wife, Sam slowly moved his hips and resumed fucking Karina in a slow pace.

Karina covered her mouth with both hands as she struggled to remain quiet. She isn't the silent type during sex so she is definitely struggling right now.

Sam's thrust is slow yet deep. He slid out right at the tip then slipped back in until he was fully inside her. Sam loved the way Karina's pussy walls often tightened around his cock. It was as if she never wanted him to pull out and remain buried inside her.

"Yeah, the party just ended. I just got back to my room." He told his wife as he continued his slow thrusts.

"I told Eric and Karina to rest an hour ago. I just needed to socialize with the prospect. I think he liked our proposal." Sam recalled with a pleased expression.

His free hand roamed and found Karina's breast. He cradled it with his palm at first before his fingers slowly rubbed her nipple.

"I miss you too, baby." He replied to his wife. "I really wish you were here."

To be with his wife at this very moment is indeed his wish. His mind couldn't help but imagine fucking Karina while Tiffany watches. Then she would touch herself while listening to Karina's moans and watch Sam's cock ravage her pussy.

He and Tiffany has done many and different kinds of things during sex. Toys? They have utilized it often. Rough foreplay and sex? They often did that. Sex in public? They did that too. Anal and fisting? Oh. That's their favorite.

The only thing they have yet to try was a threesome which Tiffany often suggested.

A threesome with Karina would be great. To fuck his wife, the love of his life, and his mistress, his current obsession, would mean the world to him.

"Tiffany.." He whispered. "I really miss you."

Karina buried her feet against the mattress to anchor her body against his increasing pace. His dick was filling her to the brim while his fingers were pulling her nipples which drove her closer to the edge. Sam knew how to please her despite his mind currently somewhere else.

"I know you're tired so I'll call you tomorrow morning. I know you need to rest." Sam said tenderly. He knows his wife is stressed because earlier tonight she called him with a problem in the company since she's looking after it while he's away.

"Yes, I understand." He automatically smiled as he listened to her sweet talk. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He hummed as he listened to her I love you. "I love you too, baby. Good night. Dream of me."

He threw his phone on top of his clothes once their conversation was over as he lowered his face towards Karina's.

"You were a very good girl." He sneered, impressed that she didn't make a noise.

"I wanted that cuddle." Karina revealed.

Sam grinned. "Let me reward you with your first orgasm for tonight."

Sam kissed her tenderly before his hips increased its pace. His thrusts became faster as his cock penetrated deeper inside her pussy.

"Sam!" She exclaimed his name many times as each of his thrusts repeatedly hit her sweet spot.

She could feel her climax happening as her walls clenched around his cock. "I'm coming!"

Sam hastened his pace as her moans got louder and louder. Her shrill cry echoed in the room as she came messily across the sheets.

"Oh, Karina." Sam mumbled as he buried himself inside her, exploding his seeds into her womb. "That was wonderful, baby."

"You came a lot." Karina muttered. "Your seeds are inside me. It's so hot."

Sam kissed her lips yet again as he came down from his climax. "I want to fuck you again."

Karina cupped his face and kissed him fully on the lips. "I'm yours."

Sam smiled happily as he flipped her so she's now positioned on all fours. He stared at her pussy glistening with his cum and hummed in delight.

He aligned his cock against her entrance yet again then slipped back inside as he started their second round.

Next day

Karina woke from her sleep with a slight pain in her sex and her ass. She and Sam went for more rounds last night which left her a mess. Then they went to sleep with Sam cuddling her from behind. She always loved being the small spoon because the big spoon makes her feel protected.

Karina smiled as she felt the arm draping over her tummy. She moaned a little when he stirred in his sleep and pulled her closer to him which sent her butt pressing against his hard dick.

Karina smiled even though her eyes remained close, loving the way his body molded with hers. She once again closed her eyes to resume her sleep because her body was still sore and she was still tired after everything they did last night.

A few minutes later, Karina went back to dreamland. Sam, however, stirred awake the moment he heard his phone dinged. He probably got a text message.

He opened his eyes fully and smiled at the sight of Karina next to him. Her left breast and left thigh were exposed since the sheets covering her body fell as she laid on her side.

Sam slightly hovered his fingers on top of her exposed boob then gave it a little squeeze. Karina moaned in her sleep, instinctively reacting to his touch despite being unconscious.

"You just woke up and the first thing you do is touch her."

Sam followed the soft voice and saw his wife Tiffany sitting at a stool that faced their sleeping figures. She was holding a business magazine in her hands.

He smiled tenderly at her as he released his hold on Karina's boob. "Do you want to see me touch myself then? Just a word of warning, I'm hard as fuck."

Tiffany rose from where she sat and plopped down the magazine on the table. "Are you?"

Sam's breath was caught in his throat as Tiffany walked toward him in an alluring manner. Her hips swayed side to side, leaving her loose but short skirt fluttering about and displaying a lot of skin. It was partnered with a tube top that hugged her body perfectly, showcasing her curves and her breasts.

She looked like a woman in her early twenties with the way she dressed today although she is in her forties like Sam already.

The young look is probably derived from an inside joke amongst the two of them– that he likes younger women. This was proven when he started his affair with Karina.

She stopped her step until she reached the side of the bed. Sam removed the sheets covering him and sat properly in order to face Tiffany. His nakedness is displayed in full glory that Tiffany's gaze immediately noticed his hard cock.

He wore a lovesick expression, eyes staring at Tiffany. "You look beautiful, baby."

Tiffany placed her palms on top of his shoulder. Slowly, she carefully slid her hands up his neck until she cupped his face. "Did you miss me, baby?"

"I did." He slightly turned his face to place a soft kiss on her hand. "I missed you so much." He put his hands behind her ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I was thinking of you last night while I was fucking Karina."

"I'm sure you were." Tiffany smirked as she bent down to peck his lips. "I heard everything last night."

He nodded while sporting a devilish grin. "I intentionally didn't drop the call last night."

"Yes. I enjoyed touching myself last night. Too bad you weren't there to see me cum." She did play with herself last night.

After she put the phone on loudspeaker, Tiffany immediately discarded her clothes. She took a few sextoys from the bedside drawer namely a vibrator, a butt plug and a lubricant. She first lubricated her ass hole which made inserting the butt plug easier. Then she fingered herself as she listened to Karina's moans and squeals.

Every time Sam would compliment Karina or talk dirty, Tiffany would imagine him talking to her instead. She pictured him on top of her, fucking her ass with ferocity. Unable to hold back and craving her first release, Tiffany turned the vibrator on and inserted it inside her wet pussy. She muffled her noise initially but as the vibration rocked her walls and her fingers rubbed her clit, Tiffany came with so much power.

She realized that she needed Sam. Doing it alone is not the same. And so she ordered her secretary to book her the earliest flight to Bangkok.

Tiffany peared over Sam to check out Karina's sleeping figure. "She's young, pretty and hot. She's perfect for you."

Sam hummed. "I agree. But I think she's perfect for the both of us."

The corners of her lips curled up as her dream was finally realized. She planned for this to happen. She deliberately asked Hyunmin, Sam's EA to hire his own assistant to lighten his load.

She then handed him a portfolio who turned out to be Karina. Tiffany met her during their company's hiring process and immediately noticed her beauty. When she whispered to Sam who was sitting next to her praises about Karina's beauty, he agreed and even admitted she looked hot and attractive.

That was when Tiffany got the idea. Sam never really found any other woman attractive beside Tiffany so hearing his admission made Tiffany conceive a crazy plan.

She wanted Sam to seduce Karina and make her fall in love with him to the point that she will listen to whatever he wishes. Like for example, having a threesome.

At first Sam didn't like that idea. He loved Tiffany and he found it distasteful to have sex with someone else other than his wife. But Tiffany convinced him by saying that they have tried everything they wanted and dreamed of during sex except having a threesome.

Tiffany assured him that she won't be mad because she wanted this. She also ordered him that whatever he did with Karina, he had to do it with Tiffany as well to make it fair.

So that night when Sam and Karina first hooked up inside the car while he was drunk and he received a blowjob from her, he went home and Tiffany gave him a mind shattering orgasm using her lovely mouth.

Every time he went home after his sexual encounter with Karina, Tiffany waited for him to fuck her too.

"She loves me, Tiffany." He whispered in a soft tone. "I.. I don't want to hurt her."

Tiffany looked at him warmly as she cupped his face. "I know. Then let's make her our permanent third wheel."

Sam finally smiled as a big worry was taken off his shoulders. He got up as he tenderly cupped her small face with his big hands. Tiffany gazed at him passionately as her desire threatened to boil over.

He kissed her fully on the lips while her fingers automatically combed through his hair. Her lips moved in unison with his as she swiped her tongue across his lower lip. She then pushed it inside his mouth until it wrestled against him for power.

Sam gracefully submitted to his wife, letting her dominate him albeit only for today. Tiffany smiled, loving the way he succumbed to her ministrations. It was his signal that he would let her order him around.

Her hand guided his head down so he peppered wet kisses along her skin from her jaw to her neck until he reached her shoulder blades.

"Take my clothes off, baby." Tiffany whispered.

Sam pulled away and grabbed the ends of her top and removed it without difficulty. He threw it on the floor as his fingers found the back of her skirt. He unhooked it expertly without looking and Tiffany shimmied it off her body.

Down in her underwear, Sam ogled her with burning desire. Her milky white skin sparkled due to a thin layer of perspiration. Sam watched as Tiffany removed her bra. His eyes feasted on her breast immediately, earning a satisfied smirk from Tiffany.

As soon as Tiffany removed her satin panties, Sam pounced on her and the momentum sent her standing near the chair she occupied earlier. Sam greedily cupped each of her breasts, eliciting a surprised moan from her.

"I'm not in the mood for foreplay, baby." She told him with bated breath. "I'm fucking horny. I need you inside me."

"What do you want me to do?" He asked in a gentle tone.

Tiffany let out a small smile, liking how Sam is letting her lead him. "Take a seat and let me ride you."

Sam obeyed, sitting on the love seat. He liked it better than the other seat with the backrest because he can move more freely. He looked at his wife who stood in between his legs. He unwittingly held his breath as she slowly lowered her body. She held his cock upright and aligned it perfectly at her entrance. Using her other hand, she spread her folds with her fingers before lowering herself entirely on his dick.

Sam groaned in pleasure the moment they were joined. Tiffany arched her back and threw her head to the side as she closed her eyes to savor his entire length. Compared to Karina who had her fair share of lovers, Tiffany's first love was Sam and he was also her sole sexual partner. Her sexual awakening happened when her then boyfriend Sam accidentally touched her chest when they were playing during one of their college incursions.

Ever since then, whenever they made out, Tiffany's body would feel like it's been set on fire. Eventually, her desire could no longer be contained so she invited Sam for a vacation once their sophomore term ended. Tiffany gave her virginity to Sam during that break which eventually started their active sexual life.

"Fuck, Tiffany.." He cooed as she slowly rocked her body. His gaze found her tits that bounced each time she moved up and down. One of his hands reached for her left breast while the other held her hips, guiding her movements.

He squeezed her breast, eliciting a sensual moan from his wife. He leaned forward to pepper kisses along her collarbone, pausing at the base of her neck to suckle some skin. The pulsating point he licked and sucked made Tiffany's inside churn since he knew perfectly well where to pleasure her.

He trapped her nippled in between her thumb and forefinger. He would tug or pinch it then would just rub it teasingly. He groaned in pleasure when Tiffany stopped moving, burying his entire length inside her. She started gyrating her hips instead, earning throaty moans from him.

"Tiffany.." He called as she expertly rocked her pelvis. She moved her hips in circles as her walls clenched his dick tightly. "Fuck. Your pussy's squeezing me so tightly, baby."

Tiffany smirked as she met his burning gaze. She opened her mouth and he quickly covered it with his. Lips tugged her bottom lip then shifted on the upper one. He then pushed his tongue inside, fighting a dangerous battle with her own. His teeth nipped her bottom lips, biting her with slight pressure.

"Ahh.. Sam.." She moaned as he swiped his tongue over the lip he bit. Then he pushed his tongue inside her mouth again, swirling and twirling it around the hot cavern. Their kiss was sloppy but needy, both of them longing for each other despite being in each other's presence.

They just couldn't get enough of each other.

"Fuck me, baby." Sam broke the kiss as he breathed on her face. "I'm very close. I want to cum inside you."

Tiffany nodded. She slowly moved her hips up then slammed back down. Her pace increased as the slapping of skin slowly filled the room. He looked down and watched as her pussy took his entire length. She would raise her hips until the tip of his dick remained then would slam her hips down until she was riding all of him.

Sam bent his head to capture her other nipple as his fingers busied itself with her other nub. He swirled his tongue around the erect nub before sucking it with passion. He then trapped the bud in between his teeth then slowly nipped and pulled.

"Fuck!" Tiffany cooed, throwing her head back as she hastened her pace, riding him up and down. "That felt so good, baby."

Sam smiled against her skin as he resumed sucking her nub. He once again nipped and pulled it with his teeth, earning another moan from Tiffany. His hand that was playing with her other nipple slowly descended down her pussy. Tiffany's body shivered as his thumb started rubbing circles around her clit.

"Tiffany. I have been fucking you for almost two decades and you're still tight as fuck." He groaned as his dick slammed in and out her tight hole.

Tiffany placed her hands on his broad shoulders as her fingernails dug into his skin. "I'm close, Sam."

He nodded as he rubbed her clit more with his thumb. His insides churned as he felt his incoming release ready to explode. His hand supporting her hips now framed her face as he beckoned her to face him.

"I'm cumming, Tiff." He said as he gazed into her eyes.

She nodded, feeling her orgasm coming too. With just a few more moves, they both came undone as their gazes remained glued to one another.

"Shit, you made me cum, baby." Sam purred as he pecked her lips.

"I love you, baby." Tiffany said as her chest heaved while catching her breath. "I love you so much, Sam."

"I know. And you know that I love you too. I'll do anything for you." Sam placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Tiffany knew that. He loved her so much that he couldn't refuse her request to seduce Karina. He always wanted to make her happy so if getting a threesome would make her happy then Sam would gladly do it no matter how much he found it distasteful.

And so today, he's making her wishes come true. She'll finally get that threesome.

Sam got off the seat, temporarily pulling his dick out of her pussy. He then asked Tiffany to lay down on the mattress next to a sleeping Karina. He then stood at the foot of the bed then climbed up, crawling in between their bodies.

He pecked Tiffany's lips. "You're getting that threesome now, baby." She giggled excitedly.

Sam then turned to Karina. He slowly lowered the sheets covering her naked chest. Once her tits sprang into view, he peppered soft kisses around her mound.

"Hngg.." Karina moaned in her sleep.

"Wake up, sweetheart." Sam whispered against her now perky nub. He enveloped it with his mouth as his hand grabbed the other mound and gave it a soft squeeze.

"Sam.." She breathed with her eyes closed as she savored his tongue circling her nipple.

"Karina.. Let me introduce you to someone." He called gently as his ministrations continued. But Karina was way too turned on to speak.

Sam stopped playing with her mounds knowing it would get her fired up and it did because she finally opened her eyes and bolted upright to give him a glare.

"You're such a tease, Sam!" She groaned.

He just chuckled. He then pulled Tiffany up so that she was sitting like Karina. "This is my wife, Tiffany."

Karina gasped as she quickly covered her chest with the sheets. "M-Ms Tiffany! I-I... This... ummm-"

"It's okay, Karina." Tiffany cupped her face. "I know what my husband was doing to you."

Karina's eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock. "Y-You do?"

"I was the one who asked him to get closer to you." Tiffany explained in simple terms. "I always wanted to experience a threesome, you know. And you were the perfect woman for that. You are, after all, the only woman my husband and I both find attractive."

Karina was confused with what was happening. Hearing that from Tiffany surprised her, especially knowing that she planned for her husband to seduce Karina. But it's not like Karina can be mad at her because Sam meant a lot to her.

Karina would even dare say she loved him. And she does. Ever since that fateful night inside his car, the night she first gave him oral sex, she started craving for him.

Whenever he secretly touched her ass as she waited beside him to sign the documents, a pool of wetness developed between her legs. Whenever he intentionally rubbed or accidentally brush arms with her, Karina felt heat all over her body. Whenever he whispered flirty words into her ear while wearing a poker face, Karina got those urges to drag him into a closet and just get naked with him.

Then when she was home alone in the arms of her then ex-boyfriend, Karina was left thinking about Sam. She was missing his warm touches, his deep voice, his captivating gaze and his tender loving care. She just missed his presence alone.

Eventually, Karina ended up breaking up with her boyfriend because he was bad at sex. He was becoming more irate and often said hurtful words and he also lost his temper and slapped her hard. She didn't tolerate his mistakes and violence so she broke up with him and told him to never show his face again.

Then Sam comforted him without the sex. He took her out to dinner and movies, sent her bouquets of flowers, left her love notes on her desk and gave her comfort inducing hugs. She initially wanted him for the sex but eventually fell in love with him.

"Is that true?" Karina asked as confusion remained written on her face.

Sam nodded. "You're the only woman I ever found attractive aside from Tiffany." He then cupped her face. "I don't want to hurt you, Karina. I don't want to lose you too."

"Stay with us, Karina." Tiffany added with a soft smile. "Stay with Sam."

As if Karina will say no to that. This was unexpected. She thought if his wife discovered their affair, she would order her to leave him. But instead of that, Tiffany asked her to stay.

"Are you fine sharing your husband?" Karina sounded doubtful.

Tiffany chuckled. She moved her naked body closer to Sam and gave his cheek a peck. "We can both have him, you both can have me and the two of us can have you."

Karina felt electricity run through her spine as it dawned to her what she meant.

"Well, this is going to be my first time doing it with a woman but I think I'll love it since it's you." Tiffany added with a seductive wink. "Sam did say you taste amazing."

"She does." Sam agreed. He leaned forward to plant a kiss at the base of Karina's neck. His tongue poked her flesh before sliding it up her neck. He nibbled and sucked her neck, knowing perfectly well that it was her weak spot. "What do you say, Karina?"

"Well, it's either we share you and you get to stay in my life or we don't share you and you leave my life." Karina summarized the gist of it. She then put her hands on his neck and gazed into his clear orbs. "The choice is obvious. I want you in my life, Sam."

Sam wore that handsome grin of his, leaving Karina's heart skipping a beat. She pulled his face towards her and kissed him tenderly. She slowly lowered her body when he started pushing her down. He supported himself by leaning on his elbow as his other hand trailed down her torso. The pads of his fingers trailed on her navel down to her womanhood. His fingers traced her slit as he teased a digit by her entrance.

Karina gasped for air once he ended the kiss to capture one of her nipples. "Shit. Bite it harder."

Tiffany watched with heightened arousal as her husband feasted on Karina's nipple and pussy. She felt wetness beginning to pool between her legs again. Watching Sam fuck Karina made Tiffany horny beyond reason.

"How does she feel, baby?" Tiffany breathed out as her fingers started rubbing her clit in circles.

Sam released Karina's nipples with a pop as he looked at his wife. "She feels so good, Tiffany. She tastes sweet too."

Tiffany leaned forward to kiss his lips. "Put your finger in, baby. I wanna hear Karina moan." She breathed against his lips.

Sam turned to Karina while wearing his handsome grin. "I'm sticking it in." She nodded her head as her stomach twisted in anticipation.

Sam slipped a finger inside her slick hole. Karina arched her back as Sam slid his finger in and out of her. A second digit was added, making her groan in pure delight. She pulled her legs up as she bent her knees, trapping his body in between her thighs.

"I want to cum, Sam." Karina croaked out as Sam added a third finger. She saw Tiffany's gaze shift between her jiggling mounds and her pussy which Sam was violating rather roughly.

"Make her cum, baby." Tiffany encouraged with a trembling voice. Her fingers are now rubbing her slit as she inserted two fingers inside her.

Sam rubbed his thumb against Karina's clit as he kept on thrusting his three fingers inside Karina's wet hole. Sam lowered his body so he could use his mouth to suck her clit.

"Fuck! Don't stop, please. I'm so close!" Karina cussed as one hand pressed Sam's face closer against her pussy while her other hand reached for Tiffany's breast.

"Oh, Karina." Tiffany moaned as the girl started playing with her nipple. "You're doing great."

Tiffany rolled to her side in order to get closer to Karina's face. She flashed the girl a warm smile before finally capturing her lips. Karina responded to her kiss rather well, nibbling her lips and sucking her tongue. Tiffany pulled away to plant a kiss on the girl's jaw before trailing kisses down her neck, collarbone, mound then captured her nipple.

Karina felt like she was going crazy with the way the married couple was screwing her. Tiffany was switching between sucking the flesh around her nub or nibbling her nipple while Sam kept on pumping his fingers inside her pussy.

Karina knew she was going to explode soon so she braced herself for an earth shattering orgasm.

"Cum for me, sweetheart." Sam cooed airily against her heat.

That proved to be the key to her release. Karina let a piercing cry as she came hard. She panted for air as her body shuddered in the aftermath of their first round.

"Baby.." Sam purred to Tiffany. "Why don't you do Karina a favor and clean her up?"

Tiffany stopped touching herself and Karina and immediately switched positions with Sam. She kneeled in between Karina's thighs then lowered her torso until her face was close to Karina's pussy. She took a long lick of her slit, earning shivers from Karina.

"You're right, baby." Tiffany looked at Sam with twinkling eyes. "She does taste amazing."

"I told you so." Sam looked proud. He crawled next to Karina and kissed her fully on the mouth. "Karina.. You're so fucking hot."

Karina's dark with desire eyes bore into his. "Your wife's damn hot, too."

He wore a smug grin. "I know."

Tiffany lapped up Karina's juices, licking her pussy and inner thighs clean. Seeing his wife was done with Karina, he sat against the headboard and sprawled his legs outward. He beckoned Karina to take the space between his thighs. Lying prone and facing his hard erection, Karina wrapped her fingers around it and slowly gave it a stroke.

"Fuck." He groaned.

Tiffany lifted Karina's hips so that she's now kneeling on all fours. Her tongue found Karina's slit, giving it a long lick. She then parted the swollen lips and poked her tongue inside her hole.

Karina moaned as Tiffany ate her pussy. Her grip on his dick tightened as she continued to stroke him. Her other hand held his balls, playing with it and squeezing it a little.

"I'd much prefer your mouth be wrapped around my dick, Karina." He growled in desperation.

Unable to prolong his wait since she wanted to take his cock inside her mouth too, Karina took a lick of his head. Sam's dick wasn't long but it was definitely big and thick. It always made her pussy full as if it was being stretched to its limits.

She licked his length from its head to its base. She noticed how swollen it was given how red it was and the veins popping in sight. She smirked upon hearing his desperate groan and feeling his hand push the back of her head.

"Karina. If you won't use your mouth, I will definitely punish you." His threat didn't sound like one when he kept on making sexy faces every time she squeezed his dick.

"I prefer that, you know?" She looked up at him, teasing him by putting his tip near her lips but never actually putting it in her mouth.

He held her face and bent down so he could kiss her. "You wouldn't want me to deny you of your pleasure too, would you?"

Karina's face soured upon hearing that. Sam would sometimes be a bad tease that he would prolong Karina's agony by denying her a release. Just when she was on the brink of reaching an orgasm, Sam would pull out and leave her frustrated.

Karina doesn't want that to happen again.

Deciding that she hated his punishment, Karina took his tip inside her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the tip before taking the entirety of his erection with her hot mouth. Sam watched as she bobbed her head repeatedly. She took him until the base then stopped until his tip. Then she released him with a pop as her tongue slid the underside of his cock.

"Ahh.. Karina. Your mouth is incredible." Sam groaned as she took his whole dick into her mouth yet again.

He gazed at his wife who was busy eating Karina and the latter was jutting her ass into the former's face for deeper reach. He found that view so arousing that he felt like he would reach his orgasm soon.

Tiffany licked two of her fingers then slowly inserted them inside Karina's swollen pussy. Karina groaned at the intrusion but she didn't bother releasing Sam's cock that was inside her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down as she took his whole length each time. She had better gag reflex than Tiffany which is why when she took his erection deep into her throat, she didn’t gag despite poking the back of her throat for more than ten seconds.

"Fuck.. You're doing an amazing job fucking me with your mouth." He sounded so pleased and close to the edge. "Keep doing that and I'll cum inside your mouth."

Karina looked up at him through her heavily lidded eyes, mouth and tongue busy sucking, blowing and licking his dick. She bobbed her head as she hastened her pace, taking him until the base of his dick then pulling away until the tip. Every time she took him fully, the tip of his dick would hit the back of her throat which gave her a little bit of discomfort but it wasn't the kind that she hated.

She wrapped her fingers around the base and stroked him slowly as her tongue and mouth played with the head. She could feel his body starting to stiffen as she prepared her mouth for his impending release.

"Shittt.. I'm cumming!" He threaded his fingers along her hair as he held her steady while he shot his load inside her awaiting mouth.

Karina waited until his release subsided before pulling away to swallow his cum. She thought she was getting a short rest but when he laid down instead of sitting against the headboard, she knew he was up to no good.

"Is she ready for me, baby?" Sam called to Tiffany who finally stopped eating Karina's pussy.

Tiffany nodded at him with a proud grin. "She's very wet now, baby. I think I did a fantastic job."

"I agree. You did fantastic, baby." Sam returned her smile. He then pulled Karina's wrist and made her straddle his hips. He grabbed his still hard cock and aligned it against her leaking pussy. "Sweetheart, will you ride me?"

Karina nodded as she lowered her body against his dick. She let a soft purr as her pussy adjusted to his size so she only took half of him. Then when her body started to relax, she lowered her hip completely to take all of him. Karina moaned as she slowly moved her hips, bouncing up and down and twirling her hips around.

Sam reached for his wife who was watching Karina ride him. "Baby, I want to taste you."

Tiffany beamed at him as she straddled his upper chest, facing Karina. Sam grinned at the sight of her glistening pussy that sent blood rushing to his dick. He heard Karina groan, probably surprised by the increase in his size and hardness.

"Sam.. How does Karina feel?" Tiffany asked curiously as her gaze fell on his cock slipping smoothly inside Karina's pussy.

"She feels so good, Tiffany. She's so fucking tight." He growled as Karina increased her pace.

"As tight as my pussy?" Tiffany batted her eyelashes playfully.

Sam thrusted his hips upward to meet Karina's pace. "Yeah, definitely."

Karina felt her walls clamp around his length, loving the way he filled her up and drove her crazy. Then, her gaze fell on Tiffany who looked to be enjoying her ride Sam masterfully. She leaned forward, with Tiffany meeting her halfway, and gave the older woman a hot kiss. Tiffany was very good at kissing, probably since she has more experience than Karina. Tiffany's kissing habit was the same as Sam's so Karina didn't have a hard time responding to her kisses.

Tiffany nipped her bottom lip so when Karina moaned in pain, the former slipped her tongue inside, dominating Karina's. Tiffany kissed her hungrily, needily, just like how Sam would kiss Karina after being away from each other for some time.

Karina gyrated her hips, eliciting a moan from Sam whose tongue was busy pleasuring Tiffany's leaking folds. Tiffany wrapped an arm around Karina's waist while the other caressed her cheek, deepening their kiss.

Tiffany broke the kiss in order to place open-mouthed kisses along Karina's jaw. She then descended downwards, trailing wet kisses along Karina's neck, collarbone, shoulder until her lips eventually reached Karina's nipple.

"Shit." Karina threw her head back as Sam thrusted up with more ferocity and as Tiffany started nibbling her nipples.

This couple knew how to fuck and they have chosen Karina as their playmate. With the tremendous pleasure her body is receiving and knowing her body will keep on craving for this kind of pleasure in the future, Karina knows there is no escape from the both of them.

Tiffany turned to the other nipple as her tongue poked and flicked the erect nub. Karina looked so hot and sexy as she rode Sam. It totally turned Tiffany on as the squelching sound of Karina's pussy being pounded by Sam's dick echoed around the room.

Tiffany felt her insides churn as Sam's tongue penetrated her folds. She squirmed, bucking her hips as he dragged his tongue along her swollen flesh. His fingers then parted her wet folds so he could thrust his tongue into her hole. Tiffany held Karina by the waist as she clamped her lips around her nipples. She reached below as her fingers found Karina's clit, rubbing it in circles.

"Hng.. That feels so good." Karina moaned as she bucked her hips at a faster pace. "Your dick feels amazing, Sam. And Tiff.. Your fingers– ahh!" She wasn't able to finish what she was going to say because he thrusted his hips harder and deeper, hitting her sweet spot.

It didn't help that Tiffany kept on rubbing her clit while her mouth was busy sucking the younger woman's nipple. Tiffany nipped the bud with her teeth, tugging it playfully before sucking it again.

Karina felt her release coming and she knew it was coming to her hard and violent. She hastened her pace, moaning each time Sam's hips met her movements, reaching her sweet spot. Her moans kept getting louder as the tip of his dick repeatedly hit her sweet spot. Her walls started clamping around his member as her release came like a tidal wave, sending her mind and body floating in cloud nine.

"Sam!" She shrieked as she once again came violently. She stopped riding him to take a breather. Once she got off him, his member was covered in her essence from the tip down to his balls and her pussy was dripping with her cum.

Tired and exhausted because of the pleasure she received from Sam and Tiffany, Karina plopped down face first beside Sam. She gazed intently as Sam's tongue flicked in and out of Tiffany's hole.

"Baby.. I need to cum." Sam whispered against Tiffany's swollen flesh.

Nodding her head, Tiffany got off him. Sam sat up and crawled in the middle of the bed. He grinned proudly as Tiffany laid on her back, taking the spot where he laid earlier and caressed Karina's face. He watched with a lustful gaze as Tiffany and Karina kissed tenderly.

He moved in between Tiffany's legs as his hand stroked his member slowly and painstakingly. He was still hard and he was desperate for a release. Without any warning, he slipped his thick member inside of Tiffany's leaking pussy, causing her to break her kiss with Karina in order to moan at the tremendous amount of pleasure that engulfed her body.

Tiffany opened her arms and Sam automatically leaned into her embrace. He propped his body with his elbows to prevent himself from crushing his wife with his weight. Because he lowered his body, Tiffany's perky nipples were pressed hard against his chest. Sam captured her lips as his hips hastened its pace.

Tiffany groaned each time his tip would hit her walls or her sweet spot. He would sometimes decrease his pace so he could grind his hips around much to Tiffany's delight because the pleasure it was giving her was insane.

"I want more of you, baby." She muttered. "I want you to fuck me harder and deeper. I want you to fuck me until I can't take it anymore."

"Your wish is my command." He spread her legs wider as he hooked his arms behind her knees. He pulled all the away until the tip before slamming back inside her with more force.

Tiffany was a quivering mess as Sam fucked her like there was no tomorrow. Her moans grew incessantly louder with each thrust he made. He was making her go crazy with his ministrations. Her entire body was feeling so good that she found it difficult to even raise her arms.

She grabbed the sheets into fists as she held on for dear life. Sam was like a machine, pulling out then slamming back in, filling her whole with his thick member and leaving her pussy wet beyond normal. He was an expert at making her feel so good. Twenty years into their relationship and he remains to be the only person she ever wanted with the addition of Karina now.

"Sam.. I'm fucking close." Tiffany uttered as he roughly slammed into her. Her back arched when he repeatedly hit her sweet spot, driving her to the edge. "There! Fuck me there!"

His lips found the base of her neck as he suckled on her skin, making sure that he would leave a mark that people will see. Tiffany is his and nobody else can have her. The same goes for Karina. Sam has become greedy and wanted the both of them all for himself because he loved them.

He may have just started loving Karina but he is sure that feeling and sentiment will develop as much as he loves Tiffany in due time.

He moved his hips as fast as he could muster as his thick cock penetrated Tiffany with power. She was a moaning mess, squirming in pain and pleasure as her impending release threatened to explode. Sam felt blood rushing to his dick as he also went closer to the edge of his orgasm.

"Tiffany.." He called her name as an invitation to cum with him and she grabbed his face in response to kiss his now chapped lips.

She screamed into his mouth as she came violently while he let out a throaty groan as he came inside her. His load shot into her womb yet again as he slowly rode down from the high of his orgasm. He slowly pumped into her until he came to a perfect still, withdrawing his dick from her pussy– wet with both their juices.

With a groan, he fell in between Karina and Tiffany as he tried catching his breath. He wore a big, contented smile on his face. A curtain of peaceful silence enveloped the three of them as they recuperated from the tiring sexual activity.

Soon, his eyelids closed shut due to the exhaustion. Tiffany and Karina placed their heads on top of his steady heaving chest as they cuddled him.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)

Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.

Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk

Word count: 6k

Check out my feyd rautha playlist!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty

The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.

And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.

But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.

“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.

You felt a chill fly up your spine.

Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.

You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.

Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.

Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”

You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.

“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.

“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”

“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”

You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.

-0-

The negotiations seemed to stretch on.

After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.

You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.

When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.

In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.

You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.

Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.

Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.

His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.

The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.

It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”

He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.

“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”

You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.

He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.

But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.

You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”

“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”

“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”

“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”

“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.

This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”

You looked at him boredly.

“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”

He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.

“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.

“What?”

“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”

He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”

“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”

“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.

You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.

“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”

“But have you killed?”

“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”

“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.

“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”

With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.

“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“

“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”

“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”

You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.

“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”

You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.

-0-

“What?”

“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.

Your head was too busy spinning.

“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”

Your heart dropped in a sickening way.

“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”

“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”

“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”

“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.

“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”

“Ta ta, dear one!”

And just like that, your entire world was shattered.

As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.

“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.

“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”

“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.

“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”

“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.

The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.

But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.

With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.

Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.

“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.

“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."

When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.

“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”

“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”

“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”

The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”

“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”

In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”

His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”

“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”

“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.

“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”

You were in danger.

You knew it.

“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”

“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.

He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”

You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”

His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”

Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.

“My father.”

As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.

“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”

A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.

“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.

“Did he fight it?”

You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.

“Yes.”

But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.

“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.

“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.

If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?

Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.

“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.

“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”

“Hair is…barbaric.”

You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.

“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”

You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.

“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.

He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.

“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.

He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.

He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.

Feyd Rautha.

Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.

His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.

He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.

In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.

"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."

"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"

It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.

You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.

He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.

"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.

The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.

"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.

"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."

He paused, waiting for your reaction.

"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."

His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"

"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."

Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."

Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.

-0-

"Do you like it?'

The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.

You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.

But not you.

Never you.

He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.

"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.

"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.

"Will it grow back?"

"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."

"And the rest...?"

He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."

At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.

You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.

Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.

You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.

It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.

"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."

"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.

You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.

"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."

He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.

"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.

"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.

"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.

"Only the best for my darlings."

"Human?" she demanded clarification.

Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."

You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?

He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.

Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.

When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.

As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.

The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.

PART TWO

[missbiting]

❤︎⠀ 𝖙ags 𓈒⠀ ⠀꣹ ⠀ Tengen Uzui x F! reader, afab virgin reader, porn with some plot, dom!Tengen Uzui, innocence kink, praise kink, slight degradation, first time, virginity loss, possessive behavior, slight breeding kink, creampie, reader has never been kissed (until now), PIV, sex with a stranger, Tengen is kind of obsessed, some angst?? (reader has a short fight with her mom), loots of pet names, kind of corruption kink and size kink.

࣪ ⠀太⠀𝖘ummary⠀ 💬🌸⠀⠀ ׅ You were just supposed to deliver a message. Just one errand, your first time alone in the Red Light District. But when the chaos swallows you, a stranger catches you in the dark. He’s gorgeous. Gentle. Dangerous. And three days later, he’s at your window, saying he couldn’t forget you.

ノ BBs ⬞ ׄ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ♰ first fic of the blog, yay !!! this was more self indulging, my tengen obsession has been off the charts recently. its around 5.5K words, so not so long but not so short. some grammar mistakes might have been made, pls ignore those (ToT) remember, all characters in this are 18+ years old !! enjoyyy

The air was thick with perfume and the low hum of shamisen strings. Laughter echoed from behind veils, and the scent of incense curled around your nose like a teasing whisper. You didn’t belong here.

Your sandals clicked awkwardly on the cobblestone, not nearly loud enough to match the confidence the beautiful women around you wore like silk. You kept your head low, clutching the small slip of paper your mother had pressed into your hand just before you left. She’d told you to go to House of Plum Silk, a clean, respectable home for girls who worked only with referrals. You weren’t supposed to talk to anyone else. Just get in, speak to the mistress, and return home.

Easy.

Except now, thirty minutes later, the paper was creased in your sweaty fist, and you were completely, utterly lost. Your mother had never let you out this late before. Hell, she barely let you speak to strange men in broad daylight. But with her bad leg acting up and none of the usual girls available, she’d said it was time you learned how things worked around here. “Just once,” she’d said, eyes soft but tired. “You’re not a child anymore.” Yet, you still felt like one.

People brushed past you like waves, ignoring your soft voice when you tried to ask for directions. The lanterns overhead blurred in your vision, and everything was too bright, too loud, too fast. You wanted to cry.

You ducked down the first quiet alley you could find and pressed your back to the cool brick wall, trying to steady your breathing. You closed your eyes. Then you heard the sound of footsteps. It startled you a bit. You opened your eyes to see a tall figure stepping into the mouth of the alley, his silhouette framed in the flickering red glow of lanternlight.

He moved slowly, now you could see him better. Long white hair spilled over his shoulders, loose and glinting silver under the light. A dark robe hung open over his chest, the fabric swaying with every step.

He paused when he saw you. And then his head tilted slightly, gaze dropping to your clenched fists, your stiff shoulders, the way you looked like you were one wrong word away from breaking. “Well now,” he said, voice smooth and low, “you look like a little bird that flew into the wrong part of the forest.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t move. You just stared.

He stepped closer, the sound of his sandals quiet against the stones. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna bite,” he said, that lazy, almost amused tone still coloring his words. “Unless you want me to.” That made your eyes widen.

He chuckled, stopping a few paces away, hands tucked casually into the folds of his robe. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked like you needed a moment.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, even though you weren’t.

“Sure you are,” he replied, not buying it for a second. “You lost?” You nodded before you could stop yourself. “I was supposed to find the House of Plum Silk.”

“That’s over on the other side,” he said, glancing back the way he came. “You’re walking in the wrong direction.” Of course you were. “I’ve never been out this late before,” you said, quieter now.

His eyes came back to you, a little softer. “First night out and they sent you in here?”

“My mother,” you said. “She couldn’t go. She thought it would be… safe.”

He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Safe’s not really the mood this part of town goes for, sweetheart.” You weren’t sure why the nickname didn’t feel as dirty when he said it.

“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he said after a moment. “Not dressed like that. Not looking like you do.” You blinked, heart skipping. “Like what?”

“Like someone who hasn’t figured out yet how dangerous the world really is.” You stared at him, unsure what to say. He broke the silence with a quiet breath. “Do you want me to walk you there?” Your mouth opened, but the words tangled in your throat. You should say no. You didn’t know him. He could be anyone. But you were lost. And he wasn’t pushing. Just standing there. It was your choice to make.

“I… I guess,” you said finally. He smiled again, softer this time. “That’s more like it.”

You weren’t sure what steadied you more, his voice or the way he offered his arm like you belonged holding on to it. The streets still hummed with drunken footsteps and laughter. “What's your name?” he asked after a moment, not looking at you, but watching the path ahead. You hesitated, but told him your name

He repeats it like an echo, like he was memorizing it. “Fitting. Soft and... Pretty.” You looked down, heat blooming across your chest. “And you?” He grinned. “Not important.”

You frowned at that, eyes flicking up to him. “You’re walking me through one of the worst districts in the city, and I’m not allowed to know your name?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, and there was something warm in it and unguarded. “It’s Tengen.”

“Tengen,” you repeated, and the name curled against your tongue and it felt dangerous. He went quiet.

“You’re not from around here,” he said eventually.

“No. My mother runs a small house. Crimson Veil. It’s... nothing like the Plum Silk. I’ve never even stepped outside after sundown before tonight.” You sighed. “She has a bad leg, so she sent me to speak with Lady Kaoru.”

“To ask if any girls wanted to transfer?” he guessed, glancing sideways. You nodded. “Some of them leave behind debts or violence. My mother tries to give them a place to stay. Something quieter.”

Tengen’s voice was quieter now. “That's kind of noble, for someone who looks like a cherry blossom blown off course.” You blinked. “That’s either the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me... or the weirdest.”

“Both,” he said with a wink.

You bit back a smile as The Plum Silk House appeared around the corner. It was tall, elegant, with fluttering silks in pale lavender and red. A girl swept the front steps. Two more leaned out the window, their eyes falling instantly on Tengen. Their mouths dropped open. “Sweet gods,” one murmured.

The doorman bowed low, already moving aside as you approached. Tengen didn’t follow you in. “I’ll wait out here,” he said, leaning against the wall with arms folded. “Unless you want an escort inside, too?”

“I think I can handle a ten-minute conversation,” you said, and you caught the small curl of amusement at the edge of his mouth as you slipped inside.

Lady Kaoru was older than you expected. Poised. She read your mother’s note slowly, lips pursing.

“We’ve had two girls ask to be released from their contracts,” she said at last. “If your mother’s willing to take them in, I’ll send word by next week. We don’t rush these things.”

You nodded quickly, nerves simmering in your belly. “She’s just trying to help them.” The woman gave a small nod, and her voice softened. “So are you, then. I hope you know it counts.”

When you returned to the street, Tengen was still there, hands tucked into his robe sleeves, eyes following every figure that passed. “Did I miss anything scandalous?” he asked. “Just some paperwork and a few glares,” you smiled. He raised a brow. “I’m surprised they didn’t try to keep you.”

“They probably would’ve if you hadn’t been waiting out here like some kind of guard dog.” He chuckled. “That means I did my job right.”

The way back to The Crimson Veil House was quieter. You found yourself glancing at him when he wasn’t looking. Wondering about the strength in his arms, the way his robe slid off his shoulder. He truly looked magical.

He asked you about your house. Your mother. If you’d ever considered leaving the district altogether. And you’d surprised yourself with the answer. “No. I don’t want to run, even if my mother can be harsh... I want to change something. Even if it’s small.” He looked down at you. He was already falling in way too deep.

When you turned the corner onto your street, you heard the sharp whispers. Girls in the windows stared. One of them actually dropped her pipe. Your mother was already waiting outside The Crimson Veil’s doorway. She must’ve seen you from the window, or must've heard the loud giggles of the other girls when they saw Tengen.

Her face was syrupy sweet as she stepped forward. “Oh, thank you, sir. For bringing her all this way. Such a lovely robe! You must be very important.”

Tengen only gave a small smile. “Just happened to be in the right place.” He turned to you, and his voice dropped. “If I don’t see you again… try not to get lost in alleys, little flower.” You nodded, lips pressed tight. “Thank you, Tengen.”

And then he was gone. Just like that. The moment his back turned, your mother grabbed your arm and hauled you inside. The door slammed. “What the hell were you thinking?” she hissed. “Do you even understand how stupid you looked? Wandering back here with some strange man, holding him like you're his concubine?” You froze, her words hitting fast.

“I gave you one job. One! I trusted you, and you come back parading around like some moon-eyed fool? Gods, are you that incompetent? You looked pathetic.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t speak.” Her voice cracked. She looked at you like you’d broken something she couldn’t afford to lose. “I should’ve never let you out that door.”

After that your room had turned into a cage. A tiny square of wooden floor and paper walls where the hours bled into each other like spilled ink. Your mother had locked the door the moment Tengen’s silhouette disappeared around the corner, and you hadn’t seen the street since.

She didn’t speak to you.

She only slid in trays of food twice a day, always in silence. When she allowed you out to wash, it was only when no one else was around, and always under her eyes. Like she expected you to vanish again. Like she didn’t trust you to walk ten feet without dragging shame behind you.

And in the space she gave you... you thought about him. Tengen.

His name came to you in moments you didn’t expect. While brushing your hair. While watching steam rise from a bowl of miso. The memory of his voice bloomed in your mind when everything else was still. His low laugh. The way he said your name like it tasted good. Your belly bloomed with roses.

You’d only just met.

But you couldn’t stop remembering. You weren’t sure what you were hoping for.

On the third night, when your mother’s footsteps had long faded, and the whole house was asleep, you heard something soft tap against the window. Like an angel's answer to all of your prayers.

Once.

Then twice.

And your heart stopped.

You sat up slowly. The light was faint, just a slice of moonlight spilling across the floor. But you saw him. Tall. Unmistakable. Tengen stood outside your window like he had materialized from a dream you’d been too afraid to finish.

You scrambled quietly across the floor and pushed the panel open. The cool air hit your face just as his scent did, smoke and sandalwood and something sweet underneath. His voice was low, cautious.

“Did I wake you, sweet thing?” Your breath caught. “No. I—I wasn’t sleeping.” He smiled then, softly, and something in your chest gave way. He looked exactly as you remembered, his skin still kissed with that warm nighttime glow. Only now, the look in his eyes was different. Hungry. And maybe relieved.

“I came the night after I left you,” he murmured, fingers resting lightly on the window frame. “But the lights were out. I waited. Thought I might’ve dreamed you.”

You swallowed thickly, still half-convinced this was the dream. “You… came back?” He nodded. “Every night. I thought you’d disappeared. You alright?”

“I—” You hesitated. “My mother locked me in. She was furious. I didn’t even do anything wrong.” Tengen exhaled, slow and sharp. “She doesn’t seem the type to see reason.” You laugh bitterly. “She thought I was irresponsible. Letting a stranger walk me home.” You looked down. “She called me stupid.”

Tengen didn’t speak for a second. “You’re not stupid. You’re brave. You were out there all alone, for the first time. You made it home. You found me.” You blinked at him. “But I didn’t even know who you were…”

He leaned in slightly, resting his forearms on the windowsill. His voice dropped lower. “Does that matter?” You shook your head, dizzy. “No. I just… I didn’t expect to miss you so much.”

His smile widened. It was wolfish, but warm. “That makes two of us.” Your breath stuttered. “Can I come in?” A second passed. Then you stepped back and nodded. The window slid open the rest of the way, and Tengen climbed in. He stood fully in your room now. He was too large, too striking for such a small space. You could see him clearly now in the pale moonlight. He looked exhausted. Tense.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said, laughing. “But gods, I couldn’t stay away.”

You sat on your knees besides your mattress, watching him. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I thought it would go away.” His eyes darkened as they look down on you. “But then three nights passed, and all I could do was think about you.”

You swallowed, heart thudding like a festival drum in your chest. “You… thought about me?” You ask breathless as he kneels in front of you.

“Too much,” he admitted. “Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t focus. I’d close my eyes and see your face, hear your voice. You drove me crazy, you know that?”

The room felt too warm suddenly, like all the air was wrapping tight around your neck.

You looked down, cheeks burning. He was too much. Too close. Way too real. Tengen moved closer, gaze never leaving yours. “Tell me something.”

You glanced up.

“Have you… ever been with someone before?”

Your mouth opened, then closed again. “I—I haven’t…” He tilted his head, watching you carefully.

“I mean, when I was twelve, I kissed a boy,” you said quickly, almost embarrassed. “On the cheek. At his birthday party.” There was a bit of silence.

“That’s it?”

You nodded, still unable to look at him. He let out a breathy chuckle, moving in until your back nearly brushed the wall your mattress was next to

“Damn,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “That makes this even worse.”

“What does?” Oh, you poor thing.

“That I’ve been fantasizing about you for three days straight,” he said, voice low, “knowing how soft you are. How untouched.”

Your heart started dancing in your chest.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he added. “But I need you to understand how badly I wanted to see you again.”

“I do,” you said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

That got his attention

“How?” he asked, coming closer. “What exactly did you think about, little flower?” Your face flamed, but you didn’t lie. “Your hands… the way you talked to me. How you looked that night.”

He hummed low in his throat and reached out to cup your cheek with one large, calloused hand. “You have no idea what that does to me.” Your breath caught as he leaned in, mouth brushing your temple, voice like silk.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmured. “Unless you ask me not to be.”

“Tengen…” Your voice cracked on his name, like your body already knew what was coming and didn’t know how to hold it. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “Tell me no, and I’ll leave through that window right now. I mean it. I won’t touch a single strand of your pretty hair unless you want me to.”

You didn’t doubt him for a second. He was dangerous, sure, untamed in a way you’d never touched, but there was something unmistakably careful in the way he watched you.

“I don’t want you to go,” you said softly. He gave a breath of relief, almost like it surprised him. “Say that again.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

A flicker of something wild crossed his face. His hand slid down from your cheek, to your neck holding it there for a bit, then lower, over the thin fabric of your robe, until it settled at the curve of your waist.

“Fuck,” he whispered. You gasped as he pulled you in, and he laughed under his breath. “Don’t be scared, my little porcelain doll. I’ll go slow. I’ll let you feel everything.”

Your breath hitched as his hands found your hips, and he leaned in to kiss you, soft at first, the press of his lips warm and coaxing, giving you time to pull away if you needed to. But you didn’t. You melted into it. Into him.

His mouth deepened against yours with a low groan, like the taste of you wasn’t enough. His tongue stroked yours and you whimpered, hands clutching at his robe, pulling him closer without even realizing it.

He backed you toward the mattress slowly, one push at a time, until your calves hit the edge. “Lie back for me,” he murmured against your lips. “Let me see you.”

You did, breathless, heart galloping in your chest.

Tengen stood over you for a long moment, eyes devouring every inch of you like you were a feast laid out for him alone. Then he undid the sash at his waist and let his robe fall, revealing smooth skin and hard muscle. Then something inhumanly beautiful beneath the soft light. He was huge in every way. He was the first man you had seen this way, and you would lie if the sheer size of him didn't scare you a bit.

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out. He was divine. All golden skin and sharp lines and heat, like a sun that had taken human shape. “You’re staring,” he said, smirking.

“You’re b-beautiful.” His smile turned crooked. “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.” He climbed over you, arms caging you in, his long hair falling around both of you like a curtain. “Tell me if I go too fast.” You nodded, wide-eyed.

“And tell me everything you like,” he added. “I want to ruin you the right way.”

Then his mouth was back on yours, hot, eager, and full of promise. His hands moved over your body like he was memorizing it, thumb brushing your jaw, fingertips skimming down your collarbone, his mouth dragging down the slope of your neck in careful, worshipful passes.

You arched beneath him, shy and restless. “You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin. You couldn’t speak, only nodded. His palm flattened over your ribs, just beneath your breast, the warmth of it sinking deep. “That’s okay,” he whispered. “You should be. This is new for you. Firsts are meant to be slow... meant to feel good.”

His lips grazed your throat. “Let me take my time with you.”

You swallowed thickly. “I—I want you to.” You were a bit embarrassed. What if your mother walked in right now? Maybe that's what it would take for her to stop treating you like a child.

His smirk curved against your skin. “Good girl.” That tightened something low in your belly, made you feel like the center of gravity had shifted to wherever his mouth touched. He eased your robe open carefully, like he was unwrapping a gift. His eyes darkened as they swept over the skin revealed.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured and you were barely breathing. His mouth dipped to your chest, trailing kisses lower, over the rise of one breast, then the other, before he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked, soft at first, then harder, more insistently. You gasped, hand flying to his shoulder, fingers curling into his skin.

You’d never felt anything like it. It wasn’t just the sensation, it was the way he moaned around you, the way his hand stroked down your side as if to soothe you and light you on fire at the same time. When he pulled back, his lips were slightly wet, pupils blown wide. “Still doing okay?” You nodded, dazed.

“I want to taste more of you,” he said, voice husky. “I want to know how you sound when you fall apart.” Your breath stuttered. “I’ve never…”

“I know,” he murmured, dragging his lips back up to your ear. “And I’m going to be your first everything. Your first real kiss. Your first time being touched. Your first time coming on someone’s fingers.”

You whimpered at that, thighs clenching. You felt all wet and needy. He chuckled low, a sound of pure pleasure. He loved seeing you this way. “You like the sound of that, don’t you?”

“…Yes,” you whispered.

One of his hands slid down your body, over the softness of your belly, to rest between your thighs. He paused. “I’m going to touch you here,” he said, his voice rough velvet. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded, eyes wide and lips puffy.

Tengen’s fingers slid slowly over the fabric between your legs, testing. Even through the thin barrier of your panties, he could feel the way your body responded. “Already so wet,” he murmured, “and I haven’t even really touched you yet. You little whore.” He laughs mean. You squirmed under his hand, thighs instinctively trying to close. He caught one with his knee and nudged them gently apart.

“Easy,” he whispered. “Let me in, pretty thing.”

His voice hit you low in your stomach. You exhaled shakily and let your legs fall open just enough. “Good girl.” Tengen eased your undergarments down slowly, kissing the inside of your knee, your thigh, the softness of your hip. His eyes never left your face.

“I’ll stop if you want. Just say the word.”

“I-I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, voice trembling and a bit annoyed.

He smiled before dipping his head between your legs. The first touch of his mouth made your hips jump. His tongue was warm and soft, teasing over a part of you no one had ever touched before. His hands anchored your thighs, holding you steady as he explored you with slow licks.

You moaned softly, unsure and breathless. He didn’t rush. He took his time. Kissing and licking and sucking gently at your clit, like he was savoring the taste of you, like he has been starving for ages. One broad hand moved to your belly, grounding you, rubbing slow circles into your skin as his mouth worked lower.

Then his fingers joined in, one pressing carefully at your entrance, then slipping inside, just barely. You gasped, the new feeling overtaking you. “T-Tengen—”

“I’ve got you, little girl...” he said, voice low and soothing between kisses. “You’re so tight… just let me get her ready, yeah?” He grinned as he lapped at your pussy. You bit your lip and nodded, your whole body already strung tight.

He curled his thick finger gently, working you open as his mouth returned to that tender, aching spot above. Every movement of his tongue and finger was perfectly in sync. So slow, steady, and devastating. You’d never felt anything so intense in your life. Your breath came in ragged gasps, eyes fluttering shut, hands clutching at the bedding. What was this?

“That’s it, you're so good.” he murmured against you. “Let go, girl. Come for me.” Your body didn’t need more encouragement. The coil inside you snapped all at once, your back arched, thighs trembling, as a cry ripped from your throat and you shattered for the first time in your life.

Tengen kissed your cunt through it, never letting up until your body slowly stopped shaking. When he finally pulled away, his mouth was glistening, and his eyes were dark. You blinked at him, fuzzy and shy all over again. “I didn’t know it could feel like that…” He smirked, leaned in to kiss your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “There’s a lot you don't know and a lot I plan to teach you, my little porcelain doll."

He slowly pulls himself above you, thick arms framing your head. He looked down into your wide eyes, smiling. Gods, you are gorgeous. "I'm going to fuck you now. Just tell me and I will stop, alright?"

"A-alright..." This was it. was it a dream? Maybe. Even so, it felt very real. You felt intoxicated, drunk his everything.

He licks his lips before aligning hia thick cock with your dripping heat. You gasped softly as he pushed the head in, every inch hurting so good. His eyes locked onto yours, seeking any sign to slow down or stop. “Good girl, you're doing so good for me, little flower.” he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. “Just like this, stay with me.”

His hands slid to your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly, moving in a smooth, slow rhythm. Nothing rushed, everything measured. "Look how tight she's sucking me in." He laughs, biting at his lower lip.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every nerve alight with a mixture of fear and something stirring deep inside you, a delicious heat that spread with every motion. He kissed the corner of your mouth, brushing his lips lightly against your skin. “You’re doing great. So delicate.” You reached up, trembling, and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, silently begging him to stay. He was hitting so deep, each stroke aligning with that one spot.

“I want to come inside of youㅡ Fuck!" He began to move more confidently then, matching your growing rhythm as you learned to move with him. Your breaths came in short gasps, and soon you felt a tightening coil in your belly again. “Tㅡengen,” you whispered, choking on your own moans.“Yes?” he asked, steadying you with a hand on your breast. “I—I don’t know what to do.” He smiled gently, thumbs stroking your skin. “You don’t have to. Just let me take care of you." His voice was soft through his whimpers. He moved faster, guiding your hips to meet his, letting you feel him. He was so deep, you swear you could see it popping out from your tummy.

You looked so adorable like this under him, all teary eyed and blushed. It was torture. “You’re doing so well,” he moaned against your throat. “So good for me.” You clung to him, your body trembling with sensation you didn’t have a name for. His pace never faltered, he hit deep, and mean. He kissed your shoulder, then lower, lips lingering as his hands explored you.

“Tengen— Oh, Iㅡ” you whimpered again, unsure if it was a plea or gratitude. Maybe both. “I’ve got you,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. “You feel unreal. So tight, so warm—like your cunt was made just for me.” Heat bloomed in your chest, your cheeks, your core. His words wrapped around you like silk, sinking in, making you feel more desired than you ever thought possible.

Your nails dug lightly into his back as he started moving deeper, each move pushing you higher and higher until your body began to tense around him without you meaning to.

“Tengen, I—something’s—”

“I know,” he said, voice thick now, “Let it happen, sweet thing. Come onㅡ”

You let go.

You didn't mean to. It just broke out of you, a moan torn from your throat as your body clenched around him. Your vision blurred, heart racing as wave after wave crashed over you. And through it all, he was there holding you, whispering into your hair, telling you how perfect you were, how beautiful you looked like this, under him, broken and in need.

He didn’t stop until your body went limp in his arms, chest heaving, limbs trembling. He pressed one last kiss to your lips, slow and reverent. “You did so good, little flower,” he murmured. “So, so good.”

You could barely speak, pussy still fluttering around him, sensitive and pliant. Your eyes were half-lidded, your lips parted as you tried to catch your breath.

His hand was still cupping your cheek. His jaw clenched. His breath hitched against your skin as he looked at you. “Fuck,” he muttered, voice raw now, almost broken. “You feel like heaven.” He pressed his forehead to your collarbone, arms tightening around you as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. His control, always so pristine and polished, cracked at the edges now. He rutted into you, slower than before but deeper, needier, like he was unraveling with every inch.

“You have no idea,” he breathed, mouth brushing your skin, “what you’ve done to me.”

You whimpered, overwhelmed and overstimulated all over again as you felt him start to shake, every flex of his hips more desperate now, the sound of his breath heavier, rougher.

“I’ve touched so many in this life,” he gritted out, hands grasping at your thighs, spreading you wider for him, “but nothing—nothing has ever felt like this.” His pace stuttered. “You’re so tight,” he growled into your neck, voice wrecked, as he pulled your legs up on his shoulders as his pace hurried. “So warm, fuck— you're gonna ruin meㅡ” Pushing you down by your neck, he fucked deeper into you, holding your legs with one arm.

You felt the tension in his body coil tight, every muscle straining as he finally lost himself to the feeling of you. He slammed his hips into you once, twice, then buried himself deep, groaning from somewhere low in his chest, as he spilled everything inside you.

His body shuddered, mouth open, the sound of your name slipping from his lips like a prayer.

For a moment, everything went still.

And then he collapsed onto you, careful not to crush you. His hand curled into your hair, the other gripping your waist like he still couldn’t believe you were real. He didn’t dare pull out. His voice was quieter now.

“You’re still trembling,” he laughed, brushing his lips over your temple. “You okay, little flower?” You gave a tiny nod against him, though your eyes were unfocused, your breath still shallow. Dizzy, wrecked, and filled to the brim. You were barely holding on to the moment. Your fingers twitched against his back, trying to ground yourself. You’d never felt so full. So needed.

“That’s it,” he whispered, a soft hum following. “You took me so well. You were perfect. Sweet little thing... Just for me." His voice dipped into something darker. “Can’t stop thinking about how warm you are. How tight.” He paused, breath hot against your cheek. “Could keep you like this forever.” You whimpered softly, eyes fluttering closed again, overwhelmed by the way he said it. His hand smoothed down your side, fingers spreading possessively across your hip. His grip flexed.

“Bet you’d look even prettier,” he swallowed, “swollen with my baby.” Your breath caught, and he felt the way your body jolted at the words. He chuckled low, but there was something unsteady in it. “You would,” he continued, more to himself now. “Fuck. I know you would. Round belly, glowing, filled with me.”

He kissed your jaw, but his eyes drifted upward, toward the ceiling, like he needed to look away from the thoughts building behind his eyes.

It was too much.

The idea of it lodged somewhere deep inside him, clawing out from the dark. You, this soft, sweet girl, untouched by the worst of the world. Trusting him. Letting him in. Letting him ruin you.

He looked down at you again. Your lashes trembled against your cheeks, lips parted, body slack and used and so incredibly beautiful in the pale light filtering through your window. You looked like something out of a dream he wasn’t supposed to have. And yet, here you were. Wrapped around him. Letting him speak that filth into your ear, still letting him stay inside you.

He swallowed hard. “I’d keep you somewhere safe,” he whispered, brushing sweat-damp hair away from your forehead. “Not like this place. Somewhere better. You’d never have to work, never have to worry. Just stay in bed with me, lookin’ pretty. Letting me love you full...” You gave the faintest hum, a weak noise of agreement, or maybe just exhaustion.

And gods help him, he wanted it. Every inch of that fantasy. He wanted to bury himself in you again and again until you didn’t remember life before him. Until you needed him as much as he needed you right this moment.

How easy it would be to make you his. He exhaled slowly and pressed another kiss to your shoulder. For now, he’d let you rest. But the thoughts wouldn’t leave him. He’d never expected to find anything here. Not like this. Not someone like you.

And now that he had he didn’t think he could ever let you go.

` 𓎢𝄄ׅ𓎟ׄ⠀. ⠀𝖙hank you for reading ! ⠀♬⠀⠀ノ ⬞ ׄ ⠀ ⠀

[lurkinginnernarrator]

“Shen Qingqiu! What is this nonsense about Qing Jing requisitioning a disguise for one of its members?! You would dare send one of your little disciples trussed up like a pretty young mistress! Even I thought you better than”–

Qi Qingqi’s voice cut off on an extremely strangled note. She and the other Peak Lords all seemed unable to capture an ounce of oxygen.

Cang Qiong’s finest were gathered in a elegant war room, massive tables shoved to the side, covered with maps and intelligence reports: A mind-numbing amount of information scattered across sheaves of paper and neatly written on large boards; they spanned the walls not open to the serene nature of Qing Jing’s outdoors.

The murmuring of focused and purposeful Qing Jing disciples hushed at Qi Qingqi’s outraged exclamation and the sudden appearance of a majority of their shibo.

In the midst of the room, Shen Qingqiu stood, hands frozen in the action of sheathing a dagger to his inner thigh. While normally, such a sight would be arresting enough, it paled in comparison to the vision Qing Jing’s Lord made currently.

His eyes caught wide and surprised were rimmed with coal and rouge, claret lips parted infinitesimally. Gentle strands of hair framed his face and cascaded down his curved back. Hair ornaments tinkled and glittered in the silken black waves.

Delicate, airy robes flirted with graceful wrists, red lacquered nails making a pleasing contrast. Carmine and the tones of blushing rose danced about Shen Qingqiu, gentle fabric draping from his shapely frame; soft skin of his collarbones an–and the rounded mound of his, hi-his bust? Exposed. As was the refined line of sinewy thigh.

S-sshink!

Shen Qingqiu’s hand leaves the handle of the blade, nebulous skirts falling back into place, his pale thighs veiled from sight once more.

“Qi-shimei, Liu-shidi, Zhangmen-shixiong?”– Shen Qingqiu's eyes quickly take in the numerous uninvited visitors, yet his lilting voice doesn’t quicken from its whiplike cadence –”To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Yue-shixiong and my shidimen?”

For some unknowable reason, Sect Master Yue and the Bai Zhan War God forsook courtesy for silence.

“Rather, to what does this Master owe my beloved sect siblings appearance,” the polished voice drawled, “ whose purpose is no doubt to meddle in the affairs of a Qing Jing operation? Without, may I add, any proper knowledge of the purpose of this operation to begin with?”

Mu Qingfang, who to this point was standing unobtrusively to the side, stepped forward, courteously greeting the Maste– Lady? Of Qing Jing.

His fellow peak lords prayed blessings, to be gifted such a level headed martial brother!

“These shidi apologize for the discourtesy, Shen-shixiong.” Mu Qingfang’s voice may have hesitated, or stuttered, and almost uttered ‘shijie’ but no one noticed because they were too caught up in their own lawless thoughts.

A Qing Jing disciple helpfully handed Shen Qinqqiu a fan. With a crack! It met his open palm, a gavel descrying doom.

Haloed in light, the Qing Jing Master stood like a wrathful goddess, a holy judge tired of the sullying presence of mortals.

Qing Jing’s Master, when garbed in his usual attire, was a sharp, intimidating figure. Graceful in his execution of masculinity, not unlike a dagger. Moreso, then, donning the mantle of femininity. Some intangible attributes changed, that when masculine, repelled, yet when feminine compelled. Those certain peak lords were unprepared to handle such a thing.

Shen Qingqiu tsked, turning his back he subsequently ignored them after hand-waving a disciple into acting as the hospitality.

The wrong-footed peak lords were bundled off to the side and laden with tea and light victuals, being appeased into silence and unobtrusiveness by snacks. If some of the scholarly disciples secretly thought of it as the kiddie table, that's for them to know, isn’t it?

[ariascoven]

⟡ HOME EARLY

PAIRING : mentor!agatha harkness x apprentice!reader

WARNINGS : legal age gap. female reader. petnames (sweetheart, hon, bunny, dear & little one). reader calls agatha mistress. smut. fingering & oral (reader receiving). little bit of praising. mention of strap-on.

WORD COUNT : 2.6k

MY MASTERLIST

You were a young witch, way younger than your mentor, Agatha Harkness, who was 350 years old. You had recently joined her coven, staying in your lane as much as possible during meetings — rare were the times you would speak to any other witch in the room other than Agatha herself. Perhaps you were more than her apprentice; living under her roof, cooking for her and keeping everything in order. The truth is, you owed her your life. She saved you when you needed most, when you were hopeless. The least you could do was serve her, right? Throughout the days, the sound of your voice calling out the word ‘Mistress’ was heard multiple times, making sure Agatha had everything she needed, that she was satisfied. When your elder was away, the day would be terribly boring. You would pace around the house, dusting the same places over and over again, sometimes picking out a story from her collection to pass the time and soon getting bored of it, putting the book back where it belonged.

The day she announced she would be away for a week, your world crumbled. You tried to bargain, make her take you with her, claiming your help would be needed. But she denied, ending the conversation with clearly no intention of changing her mind. Seven days, and they couldn't pass any longer. Each day seemed like it lasted 24 hours longer than the last. The levels of boredom got so high that you decided to get out of your comfort zone, talking to the neighbors and going to the local stores, socializing; but nothing seemed to fill the empty space inside you. You wondered why you missed her so much — trying to convince yourself it wasn't because you were smitten by the older witch, deeply in love with her.

Five days after your Mistress had left, you woke up in the middle of the night with the urge to go to the bathroom. It's normal for you to sleep in your underwear, putting on your black robe whenever you have to leave the bedroom at night when Agatha was around, but since she wasn't home, you sleepily made your way to the bathroom in nothing but your red lingerie that barely covered any skin. After washing your hands, you exited the bathroom rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hand, yelping and jumping in surprise when you saw someone standing in front of you, holding onto the door frame for dear life. Then you heard that sound, a sound so familiar to you and that makes your core throb.

Then you heard that sound, a sound so familiar to you and that makes your core throb — the sound of Agatha’s low chuckle as she stood in the middle of the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest. You sighed in relief, putting your hand over your racing heart in an attempt to calm yourself down. You watched as the witch turned on the light, her infamous side smirk dancing across her lips. “Did I scare you, hon?” You couldn't help but smile at the sound of her voice, confused as to why she was back already, but definitely glad. With a sleepy yawn, you nodded your head. “You said you were going away for a week, Mistress. It's only been four days, did something happen?” You questioned, leaning against the doorframe. You felt your body shiver as the cold night air hit you, helping you finally remember what you had forgotten to do before going to bed — you forgot to close the damn window. Your cheeks flushed when you notice your mentor’s gaze on your body before meeting your eyes again, suddenly aware that you were half naked. “I thought the… situation I needed to handle would take more time, but I got it. Don't ask questions.”

The curiosity was eating you alive, but you knew better than to argue with your superior. You nodded, shifting uncomfortably and trying to shield yourself with your hands. Agatha’s smirk turned into a full grin as she uncrossed her own arms. Your breath hitched at her outfit; the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up to her elbows and the top two buttons are open, the fabric hugging her body perfectly. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mistress? You must be tired from… whatever you were doing.” You asked casually, licking your dry lips as you sauntered closer to Agatha, still too tired to notice the hunger reflecting from her eyes. She paused, biting her bottom lip as she glanced at your half naked figure once again. When her gaze met yours once more, a shiver ran down your spine and your heart started racing. She stepped closer, slowly, that devilish grin dancing on her lips. You stood there, unsure of what to do. She reached out to touch your cheek, your faces inches away. “That little outfit of yours suits you, my dear.” She said mischievously, her voice honeyed, blue eyes boring into yours.

You felt your heart skip a beat at her words, stuttering pathetically before finally succeeding at letting your words out. “This is how I sleep, Mistress.” Agatha raised her eyebrows at your statement as if she couldn't believe what you just said, her hand formerly on your cheek now resting on your neck. “You sleep like… that?” She nodded her head at your body and you blushed, humming in agreement. “That’s… interesting.” She removed her hand from your skin and turned on her heels, walking towards the kitchen and peeking at you over her shoulder. “Perhaps I should pay you a nighttime visit.” You stared at her in shock until she was out of sight.

You heard the fridge opening and an approving hum followed by shuffling noises. You quickly made your way to your room and grabbed your robe, putting it on to cover yourself not only from the cold air, but from Agatha's gaze as well. You made your way to the kitchen, standing at the door and watching the brunette woman as she ate an apple. “Careful, that might be poisoned.” You joked, missing the playful banters. She chuckled, looking up at you. “Guess we'll have to wait and see.” You giggled, strolling towards the kitchen counter where Agatha is and leaning over it. “Mistress, could you please pass me the—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Agatha was already sliding the poptarts in your direction, eyes never leaving the newspaper resting on the counter. Your cheeks flushed slightly at how well your mentor knew you, shoving a poptart inside your mouth and eating quietly. “So… anything exciting happened while I was away, sweetheart?” You shook your head. “Did you do anything besides clean all day?” You shook your head again, causing the older woman to sigh dramatically. You looked down in embarrassment, fidgeting with your own fingers. “It's like you dedicate your entire life to me.” Her voice took on a husky tone as she spoke, her expression unreadable as she stared at you. You met her gaze, blushing at the realization she was correct. Your entire life was her. “Well, Mistress, it's the least I can do, you—”

“Saved your life, gave you a home, I know all that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But there's something more, isn't there, bunny?” She purred, walking around the counter and stopping in front of you. “Something much deeper than gratitude. Isn't that right, hon?” She grinned wickedly, her finger slowly sliding down your cheek to your neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You were unable to speak, dizzy and weak. “Mistress…” you stuttered nervously as her fingers slowly wrapped around your neck; they didn't squeeze, just laying there comfortably, as if they simply belonged there. “Go on, little one, just admit it. Admit that you want me.” The silence between the two of you was loud. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish as you tried your best to say anything, make any noise, but nothing came out. Your knees went weak when she put a bit of pressure around your neck, making you grip the edge of the counter as your mind spun. Her grin widened as she relished the effect she had on you. “You can do it, dear. C'mon, just say it.” You hesitated, but the look in her eyes was too much for you — the need, the hunger, the pure lust. You took a deep breath before speaking up. “I want you more than anything, Mistress.”

“Hmmm… such a good girl. Always so obedient and eager to please me…” Agatha purred, wetting her lips as she stared at yours. She pushed you against the counter suddenly, pining you in place with her own body and making you gasp at the unexpected movement. Her hand was still around your neck as her free one slid down your body, exploring your curves with a hum of approval. “Pretty thing. I'm glad I got here earlier than expected. Aren't you?” You felt her breath against your lips, making your body tremble like a leaf. You let out a high pitched yelp when her hand cupped your pussy out of nowhere, feeling your dampness. “Soaked, already?” She taunted with a mocking pout, her fingers teasing your folds through the thin fabric of your panties and eliciting a needy whimper from you. “What is it that you want, bunny? Tell Mistress, hm?” Her voice was a sultry sound against your ear as her tongue flicked out to nibble on your earlobe. The touch made your knees buckle and she chuckled, hands gripping your hips to steady you as she pulled back to look into your eyes. “Say it.”

“Y-You, Mistress! I want you!” You managed to stutter out. The sight of your wide puppy eyes just pleading for her to take you was too much for the older witch. Agatha kissed you with a hunger that made you dizzy, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise and hands reaching up to grip her collar. You moaned into her mouth, pouring all the pent-up lust into the kiss you’ve been dreaming of for months now. Her hand found its way between your legs once more, palm rubbing your clothed clit lazily. You whined and bit down on her lower lip. She pulled back, eyes darkened. “Oh, you don't know what you're getting into, do you?” You could only look at her, hips bucking against her hand desperately. Agatha tsked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Poor thing, can't even speak properly and I barely even touched you.” She was torturing you, her hand previously on your cunt moved to squeeze and caress your thigh.

“Mistress, please…” you mewled, head tilting to the side pathetically, looking at her through half lidded eyes. Her hand inched closer to where you needed her the most and she raised an eyebrow, urging you on. “Please touch me there, I'm dripping…” She hummed in approval, cupping your pussy once more. You rolled your hips, a sinful moan falling from your lips as you threw your head back. Agatha took the opportunity to kiss your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as her hand kept rubbing you. The feeling of your drenched panties glued to your skin made you feel both gross and aroused, and you could feel the wetness dripping down your thighs. Apparently, the older woman could too, grinning against your neck before licking a thick stripe up to your earlobe and nibbling on it. Another needy whimper came out of you at her actions, and another one when she pulled back to stare at you with that wicked gleam in her eyes.

Finally, she slid your panties down your legs, shaking her head. “Would you look at that?” She held the ruined underwear up for you to see, making you blush at how soaked the fabric was. “These are no use anymore, sweetheart.” She threw it somewhere on the ground carelessly, then gripped your hips as she lookes up at you from between your legs, kneeling on the floor. “I’ll make sure to repair the damage by getting you new ones, hm?” She said in a condescending tome, and you couldn't tell if she's being serious or not. But it didn't matter, not when she slowly licked her way up your slit. You whined, legs trembling as you held onto the counter behind you, knuckles turning white. She looked mesmerizing, you think, that smirk of hers playing on her lips even as she kissed your folds, her touch so tender you could barely feel it. You bucked your hips in a silent request, expecting her to reprimand you, but instead, she attached her lips to your swollen clit, sucking on it.

You arched your back instinctively, eyes snapping shut once more in pure delight. You couldn't control the moans slipping from your lips at every flick of your mentor’s wet and warm tongue against your throbbing clit, her strong hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. You could feel her eyes on you, her gaze never faltering; it made your pussy clench around nothing and your heart race, feeling vulnerable under her inspecting gaze. Your breathing grew quicker when you felt her tongue circling your entrance before plunging inside you, eliciting a guttural sound from you that you didn't even know you could make. Your hips bucked against her face, meeting the movements of her tongue inside you. Without thinking, you grabbed her hair to steady yourself, causing the woman to groan against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. You finally found the courage to open your eyes, finding Agatha staring up at you with blown wide pupils. You tugged at her dark curls once more, yelping when she bit down onto your clit in response. You whimpered when she removed her tongue, but she quickly replaced it with two of her slender fingers. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, body tensing. “Shhh, little one, you gotta let me in.” She cooed gently, urging you to relax.

Your body slowly but surely eased into the touch and you resumed your chant of moans, her long fingers sliding in and out of your dripping cunt in a steady rhythm. “Fuck…” you breathed out, eyes rolling back as she curled her digits to hit that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. She let out a low moan of her own as she felt you clenching around her. “Shit, sweetheart… if having you around my fingers feels this good, imagine when it's my strap.” Your eyes widened at both her words and the third digit that slipped inside your entrance without warning. “Yes, hon, soon you'll have my strap buried deep inside that pretty little cunt of yours.” Her voice was honeyed as she spoke, her piercing gaze making you feel small. “Would you like that?” All you could do is nod and moan desperately as you exploded, your orgasm crashing over you. You tugged on Agatha’s hair, fingernails scratching her scalp as you pulled her closer. Her name left your lips like a prayer, her tongue meeting your pussy again while she lapped up every drop of your cum, humming approvingly at the taste. It's only when your body stopped convulsing that she let go, retrieving her fingers and licking them clean.

She stood up, arms wrapping around your trembling body as she planted a kiss on your forehead. She chuckled at your fucked out expression, brushing your hair out of your face. “Maybe we should save the strap for tomorrow, you can barely keep your eyes open.” She observed, her smirk turning into an affectionate smile. You nodded weakly, eyes heavy with sleep. Your head fell forward, resting on her shoulder. “Shhh, you did so well for me, little one.”

[lacamorte]

~ The White Lotus of Shuang Hua

Luo Binghe, being the Emperor of the united realms, has to congregate not only with the demonic aristocrats, but also the human ones. Seeking assurance that he did indeed unite the realms with good intentions, they urge LBH to take a spouse from among their own high-ranking families as a gesture of good will. At this point LBH has accepted that this will be another instance of the world throwing one pretty sister or another into his lap, and agrees to have a meeting with the female aristocrats.

When they arrive at the venue, LBH takes note of a group of very well-dressed young women in a courtyard, each holding fans of varying make in their delicate, manicured hands. In front of them is a lady wearing a lightly beaded weimao, who moves her fan between her fingers with remarkable skill, tapping it and flicking it with ease. She stood out for the simple design of her robes in comparison to the others who wore more ornate clothes — that, and the immense spiritual presence that she had. A cultivator, no doubt. She spoke clearly and sternly, sleeves gently swaying with her movements as she seemed to instruct the other ladies.

One look is all LBH needs to know that yes, this is the one he's here for.

She was quick to notice their approach, the bead strings of her weimao lightly clinking as she turned and raised her cupped hands to salute. The other women copied her example, but with not nearly as much elegance.

"This one greets the Emperor," one of the ladies spoke demurely, the others following suit in quiet murmurs.

Instead, LBH turns to the veiled woman, who after rising from her bow swiftly opened her fan in one smooth movement as if to cover her already veiled face, before pausing and lowering it as she realized the redundancy. LBH suppressed a wry smirk. A shy one, huh?

"Are these the flowers from which this lord is to make his selection?" He inquires politely, attempting to meet the lady's eyes from behind her veil. He catches a glimpse of pink lips before the fan is raised again.

"Merely buds as of yet, I'm afraid," her voice is very soft, a contrast to her earlier demeanor, as if speaking for him alone to hear with his demonic senses. Binghe notices the glint of a spiritual blade resting on her hip, almost hidden by her robes. Binghe's eyes glint with intrigue.

"The young mistresses await further inside, my lord," the aristocrat beside him explains. "If Junshang would follow this one—"

Binghe hums. "No need. I'll take this one."

Everyone seems to take a second to process his statement. Then, they collectively turned to the object of Binghe's attention — the lady in the weimao. The lady herself can only squeak in surprise.

The aristocrat startles, before laughing nervously. "Ah, Junshang, that is—the White Lotus of Shuang Hua is only temporarily in our employ, but—"

Ah, so she is a renown cultivator — and with a title, no less. Perhaps he'd spent too much time away from human society, to have not heard of her. "There is no need for further discussion. This lord has come to select a wife at your abode, and now I have." Then, he archs a brow imperiously. "Or are you refusing my choice?"

The man is sweating. "By no means, my lord! Rather, er, my lord seems to have misunderstood, Shen-xianshi is a ma—"

Master cultivator? Binghe scoffs. As if he hadn't already sensed the woman's immense spiritual presence. "Yes, I had noticed. It is of no concern to me." He waves a hand dismissively. "Send the other women home. Xianshi will be returning with me."

The aristocrat lights a candle in his heart in despair for his fellow men — especially for Shen-xianshi. Lord Luo, that's no sister you're taking as your wife — that's a man!!!

aka: LBH mistakes SY for a woman and says he'll take cultivator SY as spouse in compliance with a political arrangement. Not wanting to anger the demon emperor, the aristocrats quickly find a genderbending artifact for SY and send him off to join LBH's harem.

[fel-09]

Emperor Geta x reader

Words:2.400+

2Part Part 3

Second life

The air was filled with a sweet haze of wine, grapes, and incense. The room felt suffocating despite its vastness and marble columns stretching to the vaulted ceiling, where warm light reflected faintly. The Empress stood near one of the columns, her silhouette lost in the dim light. She seemed out of place in this grandeur, invisible to those who laughed and indulged themselves in pleasure.

At the center of attention, as always, was him. Geta. Her husband, the Emperor of Rome, and the man who had completely stripped her of her significance. Reclining on a lavishly adorned couch, he leaned back, allowing his concubines to feed him grapes and share jokes. The delicate fingers of one woman traced his shoulders, while another gently combed his hair. He smiled. This scene was far too ordinary, far too familiar.

She didn’t move. She only watched, clenching her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. Long ago, at the beginning of their marriage, her presence at least unsettled him somewhat. Back then, she could say something, and he might respond with a condescending remark or even a smile. But not anymore.

"Did you want something?" His lazy voice reached her at last when he finally noticed her.

She flinched slightly but quickly composed herself. Once, that gaze would have compelled her to justify herself, to apologize, but now… she remained silent. Instead of responding, she turned away and left the hall, leaving him with a faint smirk on his face.

Something broke inside her chest, but it wasn’t pain. It was a strange mix of bitterness and indifference. Everything she had felt, everything she had endured by his side, had now lost its meaning. He had taken everything from her—her rights, her freedom, her respect. Even her death, as it turned out, had not piqued his interest.

When she had died, poisoned on the orders of one of his favorites, her final thoughts had been a plea for forgiveness. Forgiveness for allowing him to trample on her pride for so long. But now, standing here alive, as if fate itself had given her a second chance, she knew she would not waste it.

Day by day, she began to act. It wasn’t an overt rebellion or loud proclamations. Her resistance started with small, unnoticed actions. She observed, listened, and waited.

The first change she made was in the imperial council. Previously, Geta’s concubines were allowed to attend, having been delegated much of the Emperor’s responsibilities. Her opinions were never sought; her words held no weight. But now, she took her place.

When one of his favorites, the young and arrogant Aurelia, rose to speak, the Empress calmly raised her hand, cutting her off.

“I don’t recall an advisor of Rome wearing silk robes and emerald necklaces,” her voice was soft but firm. “Sit down.”

A tense silence fell over the hall. The council members, accustomed to her silence, exchanged glances. Aurelia paled but tried to maintain her composure.

“Geta permitted me…”

“Perhaps His Highness is too busy to remember how the council operates. But I do,” her voice didn’t rise, but there was an edge of warning in it. “Sit.”

"all the more so, you are a mistress and should know that in public he is an emperor for you"

Aurelia slowly sank back into her seat, her face burning with embarrassment. The Empress didn’t look at her again, focusing instead on discussing pressing matters.

This small victory did not go unnoticed.

Later that same evening the emperor began to scold for behavior that was supposedly not right , in public, Geta hit the steel with his hand, looked at her sullenly and shouted through his teeth

"The fact that you are an empress does not give you the right to such behavior You insult my people, you insult me!."

She raised an eyebrow at his words as y snorted and laughed, covering mouth with her hand.To which he raised his eyebrows in surprise, although anger was still boiling inside him.

"Oh please... mistress... advice? Isn't there anyone more absurd in this situation?"

The emperor looked at her in surprise, word after word she did not stop arguing until she were separated from each other, it was strange for Geta, for the first time she fought back...

Weeks passed, and the changes became apparent. Her status in the palace was no longer nominal. She reclaimed everything that was hers. But most importantly, she reclaimed herself.

At the gladiatorial games, which she had been obliged to attend since the beginning of their marriage, she no longer averted her gaze. Once, the scenes of violence and death would make her tremble. She would hide her eyes, turn away, while the crowd roared in delight. But not anymore.

She sat upright, her posture impeccable, her expression calm and detached. When one of the gladiators fell, clinging desperately to life, she watched him as if she were a judge, dispassionately assessing his struggle, a silent question lingering in the air: Was this worth it for you?

Geta laughed loudly, watching the spectacle with his brother. A servant placed wine on the table before him, and as he turned, he noticed her. For a moment, his gaze lingered longer on her than on the battle itself. In his eyes was a mix of curiosity and irritation.

“You’re no longer afraid? Strange… even refreshing coming from you,” he asked, drawing her attention.

She turned, her gaze cold and almost disdainful.

“It just seems meaningless to me now. And I’ve grown used to the spectacle.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. This tone was uncharacteristic of her. Her words were direct, almost provocative.

“Hm... Still as boring as ever,” he said, looking at her dismissively, as if he wasn’t interested in the first place.

She turned away, as though he wasn’t worth her response.

The more she changed, the more it unsettled him, though he didn’t want to admit it. Her newfound coldness both drew him in and frightened him. He was used to her looking up at him with reverence or fear. To him, it had always been natural, the way things should be. But now, her gaze was indifferent.

They sat in the same room one evening, but she spoke only to Caracalla. She didn’t look at him, not even once. His younger brother deserved more of her attention than he did… her husband. Their conversation was lively, but he decided to ruin this little idyll.

“Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing?” His voice was tense, laced with threat.

She stopped, slowly turning her head toward him.

“And what exactly am I doing, Your Highness?” Her words made his teeth clench. She hadn’t called him “my Emperor” for days now. He didn’t know why he had become fixated on this, but he had.

“Your behavior. Do you think I’ll just let you do whatever you want?” He stepped closer, his voice lowered as he leaned in, the scent of her skin hitting his senses and nearly making him lose control.

His brother watched with a smirk, leaning back on the couch as though enjoying the unfolding scene. “Oh, come on, brother. Our sister-in-law is simply in a mood, and you’re ruining it,” Caracalla teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The gesture made Geta’s brow furrow in anger.

“I would still like to clarify the situation,” the Emperor grumbled, his hands tightening on the couch she sat on.

At last, the Empress looked at him directly for the first time in days. She met his gaze, not looking away.

“If I’m doing something unbefitting of my status, if i do let me know, Your Highness,” she said with a defiant smile, knowing she wouldn’t face any consequences. And she was absolutely right.

He fell silent, his lips twitching slightly, unable to find the words.

Now their conversations were rare. She no longer sought his attention or tried to be noticed. Instead, she focused on reclaiming her place in the world.

When he saw her in the palace gardens, she was sitting on a marble bench surrounded by advisors. She laughed—not out of politeness, but genuinely. Her eyes sparkled, and her voice brimmed with confidence.

Geta stopped for a moment, watching her from the shadows. This woman was no longer the timid girl he had married for political gain. She was… something greater.

And it irritated him. Her laughter, her smile, her demeanor—everything irritated him.

He began to search for her throughout the palace, hoping she might once again desire his presence, a small conversation, a glance—anything. But each time, she dismissed his attempts, even when he tried to manipulate her by saying, “We need heirs.” She didn’t even flinch.

But one day, they met in a corridor, and the conversation started poorly from the very beginning.

“Do you think you can ignore me? You’re my Empress, my wife… mine, do you understand? And your behavior is nothing more than childish defiance!” he said, intercepting her in the hall. He was visibly displeased—displeased with her actions, which cast a shadow on his status. He loved power, loved everything about it, but she had become dangerous to him… and yet, all the more desirable.

She looked at him without any interest in his words. Once, she would have hung on every word he spoke… but now, it all seemed like the meaningless ramblings of a madman rather than the speech of a man.

“It’s too late, Your Highness,” she replied before walking away.

Her words hurt more than he wanted to admit. He stood alone, surrounded by concubines who no longer seemed desirable to him.

Now he understood he had lost her completely. Each step she took away from him, without looking back, was like a blow to his heart.

________

Sorry for the mistakes in the text, I just want to sleep and I don’t understand what I wrote.

[lovelytsunoda]

naughty list // oscar piastri

summary: oscar's bored, horny and hopelessly smitten with his lover. but if he keep this up, he's going to land them both on santa's naughty list this year.

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

prompt: "let's both be naughty and save santa the trip."

warnings: soft smut, praise overload, christmas lingerie, oscar is a big simp, sex on a shag carpet, oscar 'if she's not enjoying herself, neither am i' piastri,

author's note: am i incapable of writing anything wholesome about this man? possibly.

oscar piastri was head over heels for his girlfriend.

perhaps that's how he got himself into this situation, on the couch by the fire on a cold london winter, christmas tree lit up behind the couch, tennis on the tv. fresh gingerbread cookies sat on the island, filling the ground-floor apartment with their familiar and warm scent.

y/n had slipped away just moments before, kissing his forehead and promising a surprise, her nervous giggle punctuating the end of the sentence as she slipped away to the bedroom.

a nervous giggle that made him wonder, if, perhaps, the surprise was a little on the naughtier side. his lover wasn't one for wild bedroom escapades, but the fact that she might have been trying to spice it up a little for him?

it drove him fucking wild. worried him slightly, yes, because he didn't want her to push herself too far out of her comfort zone if she wasn't ready, but excited him nonetheless.

meanwhile, in the bedroom, she was nitpicking everything, standing anxiously in front of the mirror as she twirled her hair. the red set stood out against her skin, and while the corset was almost no different than many of the shirts that she wore, she wasn’t sure how to feel about the lacy panties, leaving so much skin exposed.

she’d never been a lingerie person. she wished she could be, but even stepping into victorias secret sent her in a self-critical spiral. no, until now she had tended to stick to skimpy pajama sets, never as exposed as she was now.

she thought she was being ridiculous, oscar had seen her naked, for lords sake.

but even still, looking at herself in the mirror, she wondered if she should have picked the set with the silk robe.

she closed her eyes, counting to ten before she reached for the santa hat on the bed, pulling it over her head and dangling the pom pom on the end over her shoulder.

when she gently trod back into the living room, she cleared her throat to get oscars attention. the driver looked up from his phone, choking on his kale smoothie when he saw her. he promptly dropped his phone, getting to his feet and ambling over to her.

“y/n, love, you look stunning.” his touch was gentle, starting at her hands before running gently along her skin, index finger tracing hearts on her exposed side. “you’re so beautiful, and I’m happy you feel comfortable enough with me to let me see you like this. it’s a privilege I count myself lucky to have.”

she sighed into his touch, fingers messing with the lapel of his flannel. the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his arms flexing sharply as his fingers continued to soothe her skin.

“I thought I’d try something new.” she said sheepishly, a blush rising on her cheeks. “you like it?”

“baby, I adore it.” oscar beamed, leaning in to softly press his lips to hers. she tasted like peppermint, and smelled like vanilla bean as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer. “my gorgeous girl.” he growled, biting gently on her bottom lip. “all mine.”

smiling sweetly, she pulled oscar closer, wrapping her arms around him and playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. the aussie hummed contentedly, his large, warm hands trailing over her back.

he was well and truly smitten.

she looked like a christmas angel, wrapped in red and white, the cutsey santa hat propped on her head. who knew santa hats could be so sexy on the right woman?

"i love you." he hummed, moving to gently kiss her neck, smiling to himself as she propped up on the tips of her toes, gasping softly as his tongue ran over her pulse point. "my darling, darling girl." he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "maybe i should dress up next time? get that whole magic mike kinda vibe going on."

she giggled, moving one dainty hand up to cover her mouth as she laughed. god, that laugh. oscar was getting painfully hard just listening to her giggle.

she stepped back, and oscar followed, gently pressing her up against the wall. she winced at the cold plaster pressing up against her smooth skin, but the discomfort was soon forgotten as her lover leaned over her, one hand bracing him against the wall and the other under her chin to tilt her face up. she beamed, trying to hold back her giddy giggles as she stared into his wonderous eyes.

"pretty girl, love of my life." oscar started softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "let's both be naughty and save santa the trip, aye?"

"that's your smoothest holiday line yet." she nodded with a laugh, enthusiastically pulling him closer to her, eliminating the space between their bodies as best she could. "i love you." she said quickly, pressing her lips to his as his hands began to rove her front, fumbling with the strings of the corset top.

she gently pushed his hands away, watching as his eyes grew three sized when she pushed the cups of the corset bra down, nipples pebbling in the cold air, silhouetted against she stunning red of her top.

"you'll be the death of me, sweet thing." oscar laughed, running his hands over her skin. "tell me what you want, pretty girl."

"you, oscar. touching me. kissing me." she sucked in a breath as he bent down, sucking a hickey onto her supple skin, his thumb gently running over her nipple. "making me yours."

oscar groaned, laving his tongue over her sensitive bud, one hand reaching to hold hers close. "sweetheart, just let me take care of you, yeah? give you exactly what you need." he detached from her breast, a line of saliva trailing from her bud to oscar's tongue. he used one hand to wipe his mouth before kissing the back of her hand. "give my sweet perfect angel the full princess treatment."

she smiled down at him as he sank to his knees, nuzzling his nose into the soft skin of her thigh, her fingers carding through his hair. "baby, you left one of the girls unloved." she playfully pouted at him, nudging her other breast. "you don't want the one on the left to think you love the one on the right more, do you?"

oscar laughed, rising to his feet before taking her left breast in his hand. "you're so right, love. wouldn't want one of the girls to feel underappreciated. i hope they know how loved they are."

"you're such an idiot."

"yeah, but you're the one who gets turned on by me acting like a complete and utter fool."

"shut up and kiss me, pretty boy."

"yes ma'am."

oscar kissed her, his hands slipping down to the globes of her ass, lifting her into the air. she squealed, wrapping her legs around him so he was carrying her like a koala, her fingertips gripping his still-clothed shoulders.

well, she couldn't have that. why was she the only one showing any skin?

he set her down on the shag carpet, warmth from the fire gently hearing her chilled skin, hair fanning out behind her head. oscar wasted no time, shedding his flannel and t shirt before he dove right in, wrapping his lips around the tip of her breast. she gasped, arching into him with one hand gripping the carpet and the other in his hair.

“atta girl.” oscar exhaled, sucking another hickey onto her skin. in his opinion, his job wasn’t done until her tits were covered in proof of his undying love. “that’s my pretty girl.”

“need you, baby.” she pleaded, grinding up against his jeans, the denim rubbing at her sensitive core through her lace panties.

she was so shamefully soaked after oscars devotion to her breasts, and she needed some kind of release. she was almost certain that there was a damp spot forming on her lovers jeans as she ground against him.

oscar leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead before slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of her panties.

“you look too pretty in this set to take it off, baby.” he hummed, kissing over the red fabric, nuzzling into her skin as he rubbed his thumbs over her hipbones. “might just have to push them aside, but they’ll get stained badly when I make you see stars.”

“jesus, oscar, just do something!” she groaned, running her finger along his nose. “please?”

“anything for my girl.” he pushed her panties aside, gently pressing his lips to her sopping wet center, his tongue darting out to trace a heart on her lips.

she moaned, throwing her head back, her pelvis rising off the carpet to try and build more friction against her lover. she moaned his name, eyes fluttering closed as she began to see the stars he had promised her.

she was so lucky to have a man like oscar. a man who made her feel so confident in herself, treated her like a queen, and made sure that she got the calm, quiet love that she craved.

“fuck, baby. you taste fucking incredible.” he groaned, holding her thighs open, thumbs rubbing reassuring circles on her soft skin.

oscar could have spent all day between her thighs. hed always been a giver, but when he had the chance to spoil y/n, he was almost certain it made him way hotter than it made her. what could he say, acts of service was his love language.

and when she wrapped her thighs around his head, practically screaming his name, his tongue licking fat stripes up and down her opening, and over swollen her swollen clit?

he had to start thinking about tyre degradation to avoid coming in his jeans.

“fuck, oscar, baby.” she whined, tugging on his hair as his nose nudged her sensitive bud. (he moaned at the action) “just like that. god, that feels so fucking good.”

she could feel the band in her stomach begin to tighten, her thighs closing in around oscars head as pleasure spread around her lower body.

oscars tongue darted in and out of her, the lewd sounds filling the room. “are you going to come for me, pretty girl. yeah? yeah, that’s right, come on my tongue, princess.”

he slipped a finger in, and the sensation of his finger flexing while his tongue played with her sensitive, puffy clit made her cry out, rutting her hips into his face, grinding against his finger and trying to get herself off.

“oscar, im coming!” she cried, the coil in her stomach finally snapping as she cried out his name, fingernails leaving scratches in the skin on the back of his neck.

his hands gripped her thighs; he was holding himself up over the carpet on his forearms, his body shaking she coated the bottom of his face in evidence of her arousal. he moaned at the taste, sitting up on his knees and catching her eyes before sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking the salty fluid off his finger.

she smiled at him, face rosy and flushed. her limbs felt like jelly, arms giving out underneath her as she tried to prop herself up to kiss him. chuckling to himself, oscar braced his hands on either side of her head, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, and then the tip of her nose before, finally, her lips.

“I love you.” they both whispered, one after another, the room silent save for the low hum of the tv and the crackling in the fireplace.

“baby, as much as I would love to stay here with you, I am absolutley throbbing and if I am not inside of you in the next five minutes, I am going to lose it.” oscar chuckled, kissing her softly.

she smiled, giggling as he ran his hands over her flushed skin. “you know you’re going to throw your back out if we do this on the floor, right?”

“yeah, but it will be so totally worth it.” oscar laughed, kissing her forehead softly. “stay right here, and keep warm. I’ll be right back.”

she hated to see him go, but she loved to watch him leave, eyes zeroing in on both his impressive back muscles and the way his jeans hugged his backside. how did she get so lucky to land such a god of a boyfriend?

when he vanished into the bedroom, she stripped out of the corset, cringing when she noticed the reddened imprints left on her skin from where the wires dug into her. she pulled the santa hat off, dropping it pathetically to the carpet before pulling a blanket around her shoulders. she was slowly regaining feeling in her limbs, a feeling of contentment spreading through her stomach as oscar came back, a festive box in his hands,

“right, so your choices are peppermint, gingerbread and eggnog.” he grinned, tossing her three small packages before slipping out of his jeans.

her limbs tingled as she watched him undo his belt, his rock-hard cock straining against his flannel boxers. it was only when oscar sat down next to her, stealing half of the white knit throw blanket to wrap around his own shoulders, that she looked down at the packages in her hands.

they were christmas themed condoms, a reindeer face smiling up at her from the gingerbread one. she couldn’t help it when she burst out laughing, sniffing the peppermint package.

“oscar! what the fuck?” she managed through laughter. “you know the flavoured bit only counts if I’m sucking your dick right? and that’s not happening tonight.”

“they were a gag gift from lando.” oscar laughed, fiddling with one of the foil packets. “I brought out normal ones too; I don’t know how much I trust these ones anyways.”

she laughed, leaning over to kiss him. “thank you.”

“anything for my girl.” oscar deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to gently and politely explore the inside of her mouth, pushing her down onto the carpet once again, thigh pushing her legs apart.

he grinded against her sensitive core, trying to find some sort of relief for himself while also making sure that he lasted more than a minute when he finally got inside of her.

her legs curled around his waist, pulling him him closer as they made out, warm and sweaty skin sticking to each other as they warmed up by the fire.

he didn’t even need to pull away to make a grab for the discarded red hat, only drawing back to put it on before he extracted his cock from his boxer shorts.

she giggled, sitting up so she could take him in her hands, jerking him slightly before ripping open a condom package (just a regular one, not the peppermint one she knew he had been eyeing).

laughing to herself, she twirled the end of the hat in her fingers. “I should not find this as hot as I do. just so you know.”

“duly noted. are you ready for me, princess?”

she smiled at him, slipping out of her lacy panties before she straddled him, his sheathed cock teasing at her entrance, shivers running up her spine. “I wanna be on top. wanna ride your cock.”

and who was oscar to argue?

he gripped her hips, her hands on his shoulders as he positioned himself by her entrance. she was so wet that he slid right in, her fingernails leaving crescent marks on his shoulders as she winced, hiding her face in his neck.

“I know, sweet girl.” he moved his hands up and down her back. “i know it’s a lot to take, but you’re doing it so so well. you make the first move, sweetheart.”

she straightened her back, touching her nose to oscars as she began to slowly grind her hips, getting used to every inch of his dick splitting her in half.

“that’s it, pretty girl. nice and easy.” oscar groaned, palming her ass. “that’s it.”

with oscars hands guiding her, she began to pick up the pace, pulling up before sinking back down against his cock.

“fuck, baby, feels so good.” she whined, fingers tugging at the hairs on the nape of his neck. “feels so deep.” she reached for his hand, pressing it to her stomach to show oscar just how deep he actually was.

“yeah? yeah, this cock is all yours, baby. whenever you want it, you tell me. I’ll drop everything to give it to you.” he grunted, one hand gently smacking her ass. she yelped, hips startling before she smashed her lips to his, moving her hips in subtle circles.

he moaned into her mouth, thrusting up to meet her hips halfway, watching as her mouth dropped open in a guttural moan. “you like that, sweet girl? yeah, you just let me take over and fuck you until you’re all blissed out.”

he took the lead, planting his feet on the floor, one hand supporting his weight and the other holding his princess close, her perky, sensitive nipples pressed against his chest as he thrust up, his cock sliding in and out of her like it was nothing.

“oh, yes.” she whined.

“that’s my pretty girl. that’s my fucking girl.” he growled, rolling over so he was on top again. normally he loves it when she rode him, loved the intimacy that came with it.

but he was so pent up that he needed something more.

he slipped her legs over his shoulders, muscles rippling as he leaned forwards to thrust into her, balls slapping against her skin.

her hands gripped his shoulders, slipping down his chest and leaving little pink marks in their wake as he pounded in and out of her, the pom pom on the end of his festive hat dangling in her face

“fuck, I love being like this with you.” he rasped, fingers digging into the shag carpet. “being this close to you.” he started to kiss up the side of her throat, tongue occasionally darting out to lick the sweat off her skin. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, all blissed out and at peace on my cock. love making you feel good, honey.”

he allowed her legs to slide off his shoulders, leaning down to kiss her, swallowing her moan as he bit down on her lip.

“shit, I love your cock, oscar. I love having it inside of me. needed it so bad!” she cried, clinging to his upper body as she let him have his way with her.

she knew he knew what she wanted, what she liked. he could read her like the back of his hand, and she was so blessed to feel safe enough with him that she could just clear her mind and let oscar make her feel good.

“that’s my girl. taking it so well. how are you feeling, princess?”

“perfect.” she breathed, inhaling sharply as his cock brushed up against her walls. “absolutley perfect.” her eyes slammed shut as her walls started to contract, squeezing oscar’s cock for all it was worth

“are you going to come, pretty girl? come all over my thick cock?”

“yeah.” she whined, tears of pleasure pricking the corners of her eyes as he kept slamming into her. “yeah, I’m almost there.”

she almost didnt get to finish her sentence, oscars lips claiming hers against his own as he kissed her deeply, one feee hand coming down to play with her clit. she gripped his biceps tightly, moaning harshly against his lips as she felt herself clamp down on him, seeing stars as she started to let go.

“that’s it, princess. let go for me, cover my cock in your sweet sweet come. give it to me, sweet girl. I’ve got you,”

she came with a cry of his name, feeling her body go weak as all her energy evaporated. the motion triggered oscar’s own orgasm, his entire body shaking as he grunted (arguably louder than she did, back muscles rippling as his body tightened and then went slack) spilling into the latex shield before his arms gave out and he collapsed against her.

“I love you.” he mumbled, kissing her softly before gently pulling out. he reached behind him for the blanket, tucking it around her body before sliding a throw pillow underneath her head. “hang tight for me, baby. I’m gonna go make you a hot chocolate.”

he slipped the condom off, balling it up with the intention of chucking it in the garbage on his way to the kitchen, pulling his boxers back on before washing his hands and pulling two mugs out of the upper cabinets.

y/n watched him from her position on the floor, a soft smile on her face as she marvelled at the scratches on his back, and the pure soft domesticity of watching her lover make her a hot drink after he made her see stars.

he came back minutes later, with two mugs piled high with whipped cream and a foolish smile on his face.

“merry christmas, pretty girl.” he hummed, kissing her softly, not expecting anything more than what it was.

“merry christmas, oscar.”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @twinkodium @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @oconso @sidcrosbyspuck

[koshkamartell]

My first non Joel fiction- I'm a little nervous! I hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think.

summary: DDDNE one shot. General Acacius conquers your village and keeps you prisoner with the intention of making you his mistress.

warnings: dark!Acacius, reader held captive, noncon piv, violence, assault, degradation, pain, choking, head lock, breath play, unspecified age gap.

A chill danced over the bare flesh of your shoulders when the silk sheet was ripped from your body. Your eyes snapped open and you quickly sat up on the bed; you had only let your guard down for a few minutes, just long enough to lightly doze, but now all your senses were alert and tense. You craned your neck to look around the darkened room, your panicked vision impaired by the unfamiliarity of your surroundings.

You gasped when your eyes settled on him standing at the end of the bed. His burly figure seemed so tall and ominous, the scowl of his rugged face partially shroud in the shadows created by the moonlight pouring in from the balcony. His dark brown eyes bored into yours, baleful and stony. The white gown wrapped around his form, leaving his torso half naked, his burly chest and solid arms on display. The greying curls of his hair appeared slicked, like he had just freshly showered.

"I saved you from the miserable existence as a prisoner of war. But do not be so naive as to think that I have spared your life out of the goodness of my heart." His voice was deep and rumbling, with a stern firmness that left no room for argument. "For I am not famed for my kindness."

You knew that. There was not a shred of kindness or humanity shown when General Acacius and his army had invaded your village just yesterday. They had slaughtered almost everyone before burning the township to the ground. The general had found you himself, cowered in an alleyway between a cluster of homes, and he dragged you to the makeshift camp where the prisoners of war were held. He had ordered his men to not touch you. After the army had transported the survivors of your village to Rome he had personally sought you out from the crowd and whisked you away from the city prison. He brought you to his quarters without saying a word to you, and instructed his servants to bathe, feed and clothe you.

You had been so traumatised by what you witnessed during the conquest of your village that you hadn't fought. You hadn't begged for freedom. You had simply wept, silent in your despair, wishing you had been shot in the heart with an arrow, just as your sister had. You hadn't the clarity to understand just why the general had taken you.

Until now.

"I saved you because I have use for you." General Acacius stepped around the massive ornamented bed frame that you sat upon, his intense gaze never leaving you. "I have chosen you to be my mistress."

Tears welled in your eyes and you shook your head slowly, disbelief robbing you of speech. Acacius came to stand at the side of the bed, towering over you. He shrugged off the white night robe and unwound the material from around his hips. As he moved you could see the scars marring his skin, the definition of his thick muscles as they flexed. Your heart drummed inside your chest.

"All that is required of you is to be a wet hole for me. You will remain in this room, and you will please me whenever and however I wish. "

"No," you croaked, your throat dry and hoarse.

The remaining length of his robe dropped to the floor, revealing the soft middle of his stomach, the solid meat of his thighs and the intimidating sight of his thick cock, already half hard. You gasped and pushed yourself to the other side of the bed, panic coursing through your body.

"You have been given the honour of being my mistress," Acacius snapped. "And now you will thank me for being so merciful."

"No!" You cried out, scrambling to stand up from the bed and try run. You hadn't even placed your feet on the ground before he sprang into action, tackling you face up onto the mattress. You yelped as he pinned you down, his thighs straddling your hips while one large hand wrapped loosely around the your neck, completely immobilising you. You could feel the heat of his skin radiate through the thin night dress you wore, as well as the erect length of his cock jutting against your mound. Your panicked eyes locked with his smouldering gaze.

"There is no where for you to run," Acacius sneered. "There is nothing for you outside of these walls. This is where you belong now."

Your body quaked with fear, warm tears streaming from your eyes as you stared up at the powerful older man. You couldn't believe this was your fate; just yesterday morning you lived a peaceful life tending to the village crops, and now you were to be held captive as the general's sex slave. You turned your face to the side and cried helplessly.

"You will come to appreciate your good fortune. Until then I suggest you do as I say."

You felt Acacius's other hand skim over your thigh up to your hip, his calloused palm prickling over the smooth material of your dress. He gripped a bunch of the fabric and tugged it upward, exposing your bare cunt.

"Spread your legs," he ordered.

You ignored him, your body wracking with muted sobs, head still turned away. He let out a growl of irritation and squeezed tighter around your throat, a warning.

"Do not test my patience, woman. Spread your legs."

You quickly parted your legs and he slotted himself inbetween them, the expanse of his hips and thighs keeping you spread wide. The head of his cock slapped against your naked mound.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now look at me. I want to see your eyes when I split you open."

You choked out a scared sob but summoned the courage to tilt your face to look at him. It was the first time you had come face to face with the ruthless conquerer, the man who was renowned for decimating cities and slaughtering innocent civilians on behalf of the Roman empire. Trapped beneath him like a hare caught in a snare, so close you could smell the sweet wine on his breath, you could properly absorb the features of his face; the crinkles around his eyes, the scar on his cheek and on the bridge of his nose, the chilling hunger that swirled in his dark eyes.

General Acacius was undoubtedly a handsome man, but his looks did little to assuage your terror. You knew the violence he was capable of, had heard the nightmarish rumours of women and girls raped and enslaved by the empire. You needed to comply, lest you make your fate any more abysmal.

"There you go," he crooned, hunger and something wicked swimming in his intense stare. "Such a pretty mistress you are."

Acacius released his hold on your neck and reached down to fist his dick. He pressed the tip against your puffy lips and the heat made your whole body jolt. Your hands tangled in the silk sheets underneath you with anticipatory dread.

He angled the tip against your hole and then drove his hips forward to penetrate you, but his attempt was met with resistance. You were too dry and he was too big.

He grunted, annoyed, and sat up on his knees. He brought his hands to your pussy and spread your lips open with his thumbs, making your stomach roil with shame. He pursed his lips and spat a wad of saliva right at the entrance of your cunt before spreading it around with one of his thick digits.

"Please," you whispered tearfully, a plea for some kind of leniency. "Stop."

Acacius ignored you, focusing instead on holding his cock to press once more against your hole. You were too scared to watch, your muscles tensed for the imminent pain; he had not prepared you with his fingers, had not even tried to work you open, and you knew it was going to hurt.

When he propelled his hips forward and the fat head breached your entrance you let out a shriek of pain. Acacius lowered his front down to hover over you, one hand planted by your head. His eyes flickered back up to your face, your eyebrows knitted into a wince.

"Keep your eyes on me," he growled.

You obeyed and forced yourself to meet his deviant gaze, your bottom lip trembling. He sunk his tip further inside you, a satisfied groan rumbling through his chest at the pleasurable sensation of your tight heat enveloping him. Your stomach tensed and you cried out, fisting the silk sheets tightly in your grip.

"How long has it been since you have had a man take you?" Acacius purred.

Without warning he thrust half of his fat length into you with one forceful stroke. Your back bowed and a scream ripped from your throat, the burning stretch of his girth agonising. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk at your reaction. The hint of cruel delight in his expression caused a fresh set of tears to well in your eyes.

"I thought all you village girls were sluts," he whispered. "But you are so tight - perhaps you have not laid with a real man before."

You hadn't yet adjusted to the fullness invading your insides before he rammed the rest of his thick cock into your pussy. Your mouth fell open as you wailed a loud, ear piercing cry, your hands flying up to press against his broad chest in a futile survival reflex. You felt the skin around your hole tear as his heavy ballsack pressed against your ass.

"Struggle all you like," Acacius murmured, unfazed by your torment. "I enjoy a fight."

He slowly withdrew halfway from your throbbing pussy before impaling you once again, earning another anguished cry from your lips. His hand came up to sweep a lock of your hair from your face, an almost tender gesture.

"Is it too big for you?" He asked, his eyes adopting a look of faux concern. "Does it hurt?"

You sobbed and nodded your head pitifully, tears still pooling within your eyes. Acacius cradled your cheek in the large palm of his strong hand and brushed his thumb over your lips. This time he drew back his hips all the way, slipping the head of his dick outside of your hole. It was only a split second reprieve before he fed the entirety of his dick back inside you with a single brutal slam. Your face contorted with pain and you let out a strangled screech. Your nails clawed at his chest like a weak kitten.

"Beg me," he growled, his brown eyes glinting with cold blooded intensity. "Beg me to stop, just as your people did when I slaughtered them like pigs ."

His vile demand repulsed you, flaring a flicker of defiance and anger deep within you. The general had destroyed your home and murdered your people, had ruined your life with not an ounce of remorse, and now he was defiling not only your body but your pride and honour.

You refused to give him the satisfaction of begging for his mercy.

Boldly you flung your head to the side and clamped your mouth shut. You heard him huff a noise of aggravation before he cruelly dug his fingers into the sensitive flesh of your cheek and wrenched your face back to him.

"You will speak when I demand you to," he snapped angrily.

To punctuate his point Acacius began to drive his cock in and out of your cunt with savage, punishing thrusts, his hand still gripping the side of your face. Your vision blotted with stars each time his tip kissed your cervix.

"Do you understand me?" He spat, his mouth curled into a snarl. "As my mistress you will submit to me, without argument and without insolence."

His opposite hand grabbed at your breast and squeezed hungrily, using the added leverage to pump you even harder.

"It hurts," you managed to croak, throat cry from weeping so much.

Acacius yanked the top of your night dress down and roughly pinched your nipple. You squealed and writhed uselessly, unable to escape his grasp with his cock still impaling you.

You swear you could feel the lips of your pussy bruising with every stroke, the contraction of your pelvic muscles with every heavy smack of his balls. Your hip joints started to ache from the pressure forcing your legs apart. He was everywhere all at once, violating each one of your senses.

"If you refuse to submit, I will make it my mission to break you each time I fuck you."

He abruptly stopped his movements and pulled out of you before effortlessly manhandling you onto your stomach. Despite his age and size Acacius was agile and swift, able to utilise his strength effectively without being slowed down by his mass. You squeaked in shock, completely dazed by the change of position and the feeling of emptiness in your core.

He knelt between your legs and shoved his cock back inside you, too impatient and uncaring to gather more saliva to lubricate you. The stinging stretch made you hiss and grit your teeth in pain. Acacius caged your back with his massive body, restraining you against the mattress. He wrapped one arm around your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his bicep, while his other hand grabbed a hank of your hair.

"I am going to give you a taste of just how wretched this can be for you," he breathed in your ear. "Then we will see if you still dare to defy me."

He resumed his ferocious rhythm from behind, the new angle so intense and deep that that you swear you could feel his cock churning in your guts. He grunted and panted like a feral animal as he fucked you, pulling guttural groans from you that sounded more like a beast than a human woman. Your eyes rolled back in your skull.

"This is how whores are treated when they are disobedient. Do you like being used like this?"

The onslaught of his desecration became more intense with each tortuous second. With your body smothered underneath his weight and your neck locked in his strong bicep, you struggled to breathe. Your head began to swim and your lips tingled. Your tongue felt heavy and swollen in your mouth. You felt yourself teetering on the precipice of unconsciousness.

Perhaps this was your fate, to die not by the general's sword but by his cock.

As you started to slip away from reality your imagination projected dream like images inside your mind; you could see your family going about their day to day life in the village, a montage of the mundane happenings that had encapuslated your once peaceful existence.

Your mother in the kitchen with your baby brother on her hip, trying her best to prepare a meal. Your father and younger brother toiling in the fields, harvesting crops alongside other villagers, including the man who was to become your husband. Your older sister sitting with her friends and weaving baskets together.

You could finally be reunited with your loved ones.

Just as you were about to pass out Acacius shifted his arm and loosened his hold on your throat, finally allowing you to inhale some much needed air. Your eyes flew open wide and you let out a rasping howl as you were suddenly brought back to your current state of agony. Pain immediately assaulted all your senses. The delicate skin around your entrance was torn and throbbing, irritated further by the scratch of his wiry pubic hair. The ache of your pelvic muscles was made worse by the constant prod of his dick against your cervix. Your scalp seared from the pull of his fist in your hair, the discomfort flaring when he gave your head a rough shake.

"Have you had enough?" Acacius sneered tauntingly.

He continued to snap his hips against yours, his veiny girth pummelling in and out of you, balls clapping loudly against your labia. A ragged, miserable scream clawed it's way up your parched throat, a pathetic sound of distress and defeat.

It was too much to bear.

"Are you ready to beg?"

You could go on no longer.

"Y-yes," you spluttered inbetween broken moans. "Please."

"Louder." He ordered simply, slightly breathless from his exertion yet his pace never faulting.

"I b-beg you," you gasped. "P-please stop." Salty tears cascaded down your puffy cheeks and intermingled with your snot before trickling into your mouth, stinging the cracks along your swollen lips.

Acacius gave a sharp thrust and buried his cock to the hilt, sinking himself so deep inside your battered cunt that you feared your stomach would rip open.

You screamed again, all of your limbs vibrating uncontrollably. "I beg you!"

He stilled, keeping his fat appendage nestled snugly in you. You felt it pulse momentarily.

"There we go," he murmured silkily, smug intonation clear in his voice.

You cried loudly, unabashed and ugly, completely devoid of pride or dignity. His massive hand moved to smear your mucus and tears across your face, rubbing your shame all over your skin with his palm and fingers.

"You will be the prettiest whore in all of Rome. And you will only be mine."

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the divider.