themasqueraderwrites

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

Lakan x reader

(Epilogue) (Part 9) (Part 8) (Part 7) (Part 6)

(Part 5) (Part 4) (Part 3) (2/2 of Part 2)

(1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

Picture not mine

Our youngest for now sleeps peacefully in my arms, my husband doing his work silently at the table near us. A few minutes have passed since we finished a game of Go, ending in my win. The board is still messy on top of the table in the corner, and me sitting on one of the chairs.

Giggles could be heard around the estate, tiny footsteps being chased by heavier ones. A smile grazed my lips, any second now the door to my husband's office— where we both are now, would open and our little rascals would run in. I made eye contact with Lakan, the same giddy smile on mine matching his.

Not even a second after our eyes met, the door slammed open, and the little feet of our babies ran in, their nannies following after them. The nannies bow before fussing over the little ones, trying to get them to quiet down.

Our eldest, still a toddler, Yinli, the precious first princess of our clan and her younger brother Yulian, who just recently learned to walk on his own, in the fastest pace they could, ran to their baby sibling— not the one in my arms, the one in my belly.

The nannies helped to transfer baby Yue into her crib in this room, strategically placed so that her father could take care of her while he did his work. As soon as Yue left my arms, Yinli and Yulian immediately made themselves comfortable on my lap. Their little hands hugged my stomach. My husband stood from his chair and kneeled in front of us.

“Are you being troublemakers again hmm?” Lakan picked up our eldest from my lap, nuzzling his cheek on hers, which prompted a giggle from Yinli and a “baba! Up!” from Yulian. And all at once, all I could hear was the happiness of my family.

I moved to sit on the floor, in front of the rest of my family.

Now, Lakan was trying to balance both toddlers in his arms, the babies trying their best with their limited vocabulary to talk to their father, their little arms making big movements to get their point across, and poor Lakan, my dear husband was trying to understand their barely understandable words. Now it's my turn to let out a laugh, and at the same time, Yue let out a cry, signalling her awakeness to us.

One of the nannies went to the crying Yue and I signalled for her to let me hold my baby. Her crying immediately ceased the moment she got into my arms, a smile slowly forming on her face. My face nuzzled into hers and soon enough she was giggling. My adorable daughter.

Yinli and Yulian moved to look over their sibling, Yulian pointing with his little finger while saying as best as he could, “bao bao”. He says it slowly at first, before repeating it again and again while bouncing slightly, arms now open expectantly, wanting to hold his baby sister. Yinli, on the other hand, once again relished in her fathers attention without her brother to split it with.

As adorable as it would be to see Yulian with Yue in his arms, I fear I cannot put my trust in his baby arms to be able to support Yue properly. So instead, Yulian moved to sit beside me, his tiny pointer finger on Yue’s cheek before laying his hands on my stomach, looking up at me for approval.

Lakan moved to sit beside Yulian, Yinli now sat on one of his thighs, and moved his arms until it wrapped around us and laid on my shoulder. I moved to lay a small peck on his lips, Yinli and Yulian letting out small sounds of over exaggerated disgust. My husband and I laughed at their expressions. Our laughter came to a halt when the little one inside me kicked. Little Yulian jumped, looking surprised, which made my forgotten laughter come back.

Our happy little family.

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

lakan x reader

(Part 9) (Epilogue) (Part 8) (Part 7) (Part 6) (Part 5) (Part 4)

(Part 3) (2/2 of Part 2) (1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

Picture not mine

Trigger warning: brief mention of SA

The first time I was made to bleed by a man, I was young. Too young, and no one had come to save me. I had to pick myself up, walk home and wash the blood off my robes in secret. That was the first time that I realized that my body wasn’t mine.

I told no one, no one would lend me their ear if I did. But someone noticed, and that someone was the madam. Maybe that’s the reason why she didn’t force me into becoming a courtesan. If I hadn’t focused my attention on a man like Lakan, she would have never forced me.

We are her daughters, blood related or not. A big celebration is being held at the brothel, a courtesan being bought out is to be celebrated by her sisters.

It’s been a week since that night, the bruises have been covered up with the help of makeup and the colorful red robes I was given. No one could deny— I looked beautiful.

I thought that I would never be able to stand beside a man like Lakan, I can almost imagine my younger self standing before me, bloodied clothes and soulless eyes. This ceremony marks the death of that little girl, she will always be remembered. I lay my hand on my stomach, where our creation lies. Hopefully, this little one will live a better life than her.

With the silk cord now wound and his name now mine. We are husband and wife.

The beautiful dresses of the other courtesans flowed as they moved, a dance to congratulate me. My husband by my side, my hand in his. He leaned closer to me, the festivities were all beautiful, but his eyes were only on me. Mine naturally moved to his, a smile making its way to my lips as he brought my hand to his. A gentle kiss, the final one I would experience in this brothel, from the man whom I received my first one from.

I stepped away, my husband in tow. The sun has said goodbye and the stars are shining bright, the moon fully seen. The district is lit up, lights and lanterns of different colors and variations can be seen at every corner. Even from out here, the loud music can be heard, the talents hidden behind the title courtesan will be mourned by me for the rest of my days.

Behind us, I heard another set of steps. I turn to see the madam, “I will give you time by yourselves.” Lakan said, leaving a kiss on my forehead before walking away, he didn’t move too far, just enough to give us privacy.

The old woman is smoking, turning her head away from me to blow the smoke out. Without my shoes I already stood taller than her, but now she truly has to crane her head to look at me. “Do you want to know something foolish, girl?”

I waited for her to continue.

Another puff of smoke left her, “When I was young, I thought that the greatest thing a woman like us could hope for was to be claimed.” She coughed slightly.

She looks to where Lakan is standing, watching us, then back to me. “But now I see that it’s to be chosen. Willingly. By a man who won’t flinch if your body changes, or when you speak your mind.”

This is her goodbye, I can feel it. She doesn't need to say it. For the first and last time, I hugged granny. She laughed but patted my back lightly in return. The moment I stepped away, she said, “you’re lucky.”

I said nothing, for fear that my voice would fail me. Walking away from her, to Lakan, still patiently waiting. My eyes water slightly, but it’s okay. My husband is here to hold me.

—

That night, I woke up in his arms. His head close to my belly, speaking to it.

This man will take care of us now.

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

Lakan x reader

(Part 8) (Part 1) (1/2 of Part 2) (2/2 of Part 2)

(Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 9) (Epilogue)

Picture not mine

I’m patient, but reckless.

My reflection stares right back at me, sitting in front of the mirror he gave to me, comb in hand and frozen mid stroke of brushing my hair. Every time the old woman's voice passes through the walls, I freeze up.

I did something reckless.

I managed to slip into the records room when granny went out on one of her walks. Walking through the ledgers of names of men and the activities they paid for. Quietly, reaching for the book that has the names of the men who paid for the risk to leave a legacy inside a courtesan. The names in this book enjoy the risk, the raw feeling of skin on skin. And above all, these men paid a whole bunch of silver to experience it.

And silver always leaves a trail.

I scanned the names, heart thumping in my ear, all that started with K…all that started with L….

I know that in the time that he knew about me, never did he request another woman, but what about before, I cannot search other brothels for his name, this is the most thorough I can be. To make sure that the child I will bear for him will have no other competitions.

His name isn’t in the book. I couldn’t help the sigh of relief that found its way out of me.

I put the comb down, putting away the mirror in a box along with all the trinkets he gave me. Every well loved courtesan has a box similar to mine, the difference being that the content of theirs come from different men, while mine is from only one. I don’t know if that means I’m more, or less.

I wait until the hallways go silent— as silent as a brothel can be, and slip out, again.

–

The second I stepped into Lakan’s estate, he’s already waiting, that’s what the maid told me.

“You didn’t come” I stated flatly, the maid behind me bowing before closing the door.

He was sitting comfortably, both legs on the bed, crossed. Quietly leaning over to the table to reach for his cup, the empty one beside his is mine. My name isn’t on it, but it might as well be. Lakan smiled slightly while pouring, “Because I knew you would.”

He tipped his cup slightly, to the spot next to him, urging me to sit.

I stayed standing.

He sighs after taking a sip, “I’ve spoken to your madam.”

My eyes narrowed, where is he going with this? Am I in trouble for all those times I slipped away to meet with him? No…that can’t be it, is he in trouble for the few nights I spent with him without the madams' approval? Is he no longer going to visit me? Did the old hag ban him?

I didn’t notice him, too caught up in my own thoughts, but suddenly he was in front of me, hands wrapped around mine. My eyes go to his hands then to his face, the only way to describe his expression is soft. Lakan’s eyes were wide and filled with emotions, “I’ve chosen you a long time ago.”

“The moment you beat me during our first game…the first time I saw you, the first time I saw a person…so wonderfully smart and beautiful.” His face came closer to mine, too close to not be intimate.

“The first time someone has satisfied me, someone who could stand in the same playing field and not only try to win— but to actually knock me off my high horse. I never thought it would be possible to meet someone like that— like you. I thought— no, even when we first met, you were more than just a courtesan to me. I knew that I would buy you out at some point.” His eyes never left mine, hands still wrapped around my own, keeping me warm.

“There’s nothing like the first time we met…that's what I thought until I found myself coming back to you, the moments that came after were enough to rival our first meeting. Something in your eyes was so inviting— and now when I look at you, I see someone trying to make her way through life, a survivor.” His hands are now on the sides of my face, forehead on mine, eyes closed.

“You don’t deserve to grow old in that district. You belong to me…that’s the way it has to be…let me give you something— something we both want, something I’m hoping only I will be allowed to give you…”

When he kissed me, it wasn’t hungry, nothing like before. This was sure, this was secure. My hands clutched onto his robes, his lips trailed down my neck, and when he bit down, I tilted my head back, his name falling from my lips. The sound absolutely belongs in a place like the brothel, but I no longer belong there. I belong here, with him. With Lakan.

I don’t remember how long it took for our clothes to meet the floor, I just know that this time, there was no control left in the both of us. Now, he’s on top of me, inside me, his voice loud intertwined with mine. No words were exchanged, feeling each other was enough.

After finishing once, I flipped our position, now I am on top of him, him still inside. Our breathing heavy, and I begin to move again. Loud voices, making love to each other for the first time. I lean down and our lips meet again, his hands on my waist gripping harshly, enough so that I would be able to feel it for the next few days.

–

Even as he pulls himself out of me, I can still feel it dripping from inside me. I touch my stomach, my eyes finding his. Lakan is now sitting, breathing heavily still. This man is mine now, I look back down to my body, and I am his.

[themasqueraderwrites]

Lakan lakan lakan lakan lakan lakan

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

Lakan x reader

(Part 7) (Epilogue) (Part 9) (Part 8) (Part 6) (Part 5) (Part 4) (Part 3) (2/2 of Part 2) (1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

Picture not mine

It’s comfortable here.

It’s late, late enough for all the other houses to have their lights off for the night. Yet, I am still here at his estate. When I am here , it is no longer as if I am a courtesan booked for the night, but as if I am a hidden mistress. The maids now bow when I am near, the guards no longer look at me up and down to see if I’m a stranger.

The garden is truly more beautiful than I could have imagined. Sat under a gazebo, Kan Lakan and I are accompanied by treats and drinks, no other soul in sight.

My knees are beginning to bother me, sitting on the wooden floor, my head on his lap watching the flowers move by themselves, performing a show— not rehearsed, and never to be repeated exactly the same way ever again.

Only silence, quiet tension and two people too close to be innocent but too far to be true lovers.

“I wonder,” I start, as I lift my head to turn and look at him, “how well do you truly know me.” But before he could respond, I began again. “Tell me something, Lakan.” I stand from my position, close to him, but not close enough. My hands find their way to his jaw, fingers rubbing his skin as his hands move to hold the hand soothing him, face leaning in closer to it.

I watch him, how he closes his eyes, simply feeling me, and now I feel his other hand slip around my waist, pulling me closer. “Do you think women like me want to be…owned?”

His eyes opened immediately, head moving to look at me.

“Owned?” He echoed, almost scoffing. Then after a moment, “no, not you, never.” The floorboards of the gazebo creak as he stands in front of me. He takes my hands, pressing a soft kiss on top, his eyes still on mine.

“Then what? What do you think I want?” I press on.

“To be chosen. That’s what women like you want— what you deserve.”

–

The moon is still visible from the windows left open. Lakan led me through the hallways, no one there to greet us, everyone was already tucked in bed, and soon, us as well. My free flowing hair, our silent footsteps and my hand in his, the only audience being the walls and the floors.

The doors to his room opened with no protest. The hallways now seem comparably dimmer, the light burning brighter here than anywhere currently in the estate.

And now, I am finally fully able to see him. His unruly hair, his eyes that seem to be a darker shade than it is normally, and the robes I am itching to remove from him. The door closed behind us, the air feeling heavier, and he stepped closer. The hold on my hand moved to behind my head, the other around my waist, pulling me in and our lips met, for the first time tonight.

My fingers greedily brushed the front of his robe, and he flinched— not from fear, or uncomfortableness— but from restraint. “Let me.” I demand against his lips.

His robes fall , and he follows soon after, on the bed as our lips separate from the other. I stand between his legs, robes threatening to fall from my shoulders, and hands finding their way to trace the line of his collarbone. He shivered.

When I leaned in to kiss him, it didn’t feel like any other kiss we had before. No, this one was laced with the intent to do more. We moved backward, tangled in each other. My lips move to his jaw, to his neck, until I reach a part only I am allowed to see, and I sink my teeth, sucking and leaving a mark on his skin.

Our lips meet again, and his hands move to undress me, taking its sweet time. And when my robes finally hit the floor right beside his, I guided his hands to my chest, where it is soft, most tender. He touched me like he was trying to memorize every single detail. I gasped.

“Here?’ he asked.

I nodded.

He kissed me there, slowly, sucking while low moans left my lips. A mix of his name and incoherent sounds. My hands moved to entangle itself into his hair, and pulled softly, making him let out his own sinful noises. After a while, he pulls away, looking at the bruised skin along with saliva he left. I pushed him down, his head hitting the soft mattress again.

I moved down his body, kissing along the path I was taking, until my hands rested on his thighs. “You don’t have too—,” he began, voice already failing him. I only smiled and moved downward again, already settled between his legs. This is what I was trained for.

The moment my fingers moved to remove the last remaining fabric, his breath hitched. I look up at him as I take him in my mouth, his lips open slightly, loud moans slipping out with no restraint. But everything else he did was deliberate, every brush of my hair, how his eyes never left mine. Every sigh, every curse he let out sounded so sinful, but enough to bring me to my heaven. The hands on my head, not guiding, just resting, holding, anchoring himself.

I can feel how hard he’s trying not to move, not to buck his hips into me. Trying oh so hard not to fall apart completely, even as tears slip from my eyes, I am still able to see how beautifully debauched he looks.

And when he fell apart, his voice reached its high at the same time as him, loud and unfiltered. I didn’t stop, not immediately. But when I did, he pulled me up, placing his lips back on mine, tasting himself on me, as if he couldn’t stand to not be on me for more than a second.

–

The next day, I was back at the brothel. The world had changed, but no one else seemed to notice. Except for her.

The old madam called for me a few minutes after my return. My visit to Lakan last night was not one he paid for, I simply gave him something that I also wanted. I slipped away from the courtesan house, right after he left from his visit. He didn’t question me, just simply let me come with him.

I sit across from the old madam.

“You’re moving differently,” she said, “like you left something behind…or maybe someone left something in you.”

I say nothing.

Her eyes narrowed as it moved from my face, to my stomach. Ah, she thinks I’ve done exactly what she warned me not to do. “I’m not pregnant.” I state flatly.

“That’s what they all say. How can you be sure?” She interrogates further. Before I could answer, she continued. “You weren’t here for the entire night. You sneak out, come back in the morning— marked up and expect me to believe you?” She snaps, standing up from her chair, hands on the table.

“So many bright girls lose themselves the moment a high ranking man shows interest in them, you will not be the same—”

“And I’m not!” I finally snap. “I’m not like them! I’m not like you.” The old woman's eyes go wide, before coming back to their original size. She sighs, eyes closing, before opening again to show that same fire that she normally has when dealing with difficult customers.

“Do you think you’re smart? Do you think you’re special?” She asks.

“Do you think that he sees how special you are?” She continues.

“I think I’m patient.” was my reply.

She looks at me, truly looks at me, seeing me beyond just being another product to sell and sell. “You could just be another body to him. I thought you said you didn’t have any interest in being claimed.”

If being claimed means being chosen by Lakan, I’d do it in a heartbeat. “I didn’t, but I think I can live with what it means.”

“To be claimed?”

“...to be chosen.” By him. No one else.

"Then you'd better make damn sure he knows the difference." Oh, I will.

After a few seconds of silence, I say, “For the record, I haven’t fucked him.” I stand, moving quickly to put distance between me and the old hag. But once I reach the entryway, I turn back to face her, a smirk tugging at my lips.

“Yet.”

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

Lakan x reader

(Part 6) (Epilogue) (Part 9) (Part 8) (Part 7)(Part 5) (Part 4) (Part 3) (2/2 of Part 2)

(1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

Picture not mine

"What would you do if I was yours?" I ask as I place my tea back on the table, a smile on my lips.

He leaned over, a hand reaching for my hair before going back to his side. "So many things," he murmured, looking down at the hand that reached for me before his head snapped back up to face me again.

He's still controlling himself. That's not good, his control is a threat to me, to the future I'm hoping to build beside him . Control leads to passiveness, to getting used to nothing happening, and he can't be like that, no, I won't allow it. "Do you want me?" I finally ask.

"I want you" Lakan answered without hesitation. "But I wonder..." his eyes narrowed slightly. "Is it me you want? Or the world that comes with being with me?"

Both.

He has no idea how much I wanted both. My eyes gleamed over him, his hair, his eyes, the monocle that I have only seen him once without, those lips... I remember the night I was summoned to his estate, the first time I had ever touched a man, touched him.

-

Our kiss continued, unhurried, until he pulled away from my lips and trailed lower—down the curve of my neck, moving that part of my robe aside. When he reached a spot I could easily hide under clothing, my head leaned back just as his teeth sank into my skin—and he sucked hard enough to leave a mark.

He did it again. And again. And again.

My head tipped back further, shameless noises slipping from my mouth, soft and sinful.

He didn't need to say anything to make me understand that I was— am his.

So this is what it feels like to be marked up, and as I look to the mirror in the room, placed in just the right position so that I could see our debauched appearances, I am finally able to see what those marks look like. No one in the courtesan house is allowed to be marked, not even the low ranking courtesans, it's bad for business, the old lady would say.

I reached to undo his robes, but before I could fully undress him. Before I could finally sneak my way into his bed. Before I could take the chance of trapping him by my side, forever, the chance was taken from my grasp.

He pulled away, he placed his hands on mine, rubbing his thumb over my skin before sighing. "Let's play Go"

The entire night went by, and our skin never touched again. The things I would do to find out why, why did he stop me? Was I not appealing enough? No, that can't be right, as an apprentice, I already had dozens of men lining up for the chance to buy me out.

Was he scared that I'm too pure? That I wouldn't know what to do with myself? That I wouldn't be able to please?

-

To wake up beside him in a house I'm not afraid of being thrown out of—without the work of earning the right to stay. To be happy, to finally hold a permanent place in the world, is that so much to ask for?

But I know better than to say that. Instead, I stand from my chair and walk until I am beside his chair, standing, with him having to look up at me. I reach, and unlike him, I don't back off from what I want, I'm not interested in facing the risk that comes with me controlling myself too much— to the point of him becoming bored of me.

I fix his collar— a hand grazing his neck, "what if I gave you something?" I ask, hands finding their place on his shoulders.

His head tilted, now suspicious. "Such as?"

I move down, lower and lower until I am on my knees, and it is my turn to look up at him, "something no one else can."

Not that I would allow anyone else to give him what I am more than capable of giving. Not that anyone could, no one is smarter than me in this brothel, no one but me is capable of keeping a man like Lakan interested for this long period of time, and no one will ever be allowed to touch this man again in this building, not while I am here.

His brows rose and his body stilled.

"I've been thinking," I say, my hands reaching up my body, making sure to drag to tease, until I reach the collar.

I pull it slightly until he is able to see the marks he left, the color now a deep purple, these marks that, for the last few days, are my reminders that I have managed to break a part of his control. Marks that for the past few days, I have felt, and though pleasurable to receive, are painful to keep. And these marks that the other women— if they were to catch a glimpse, would stare at, and have no questions on who left it there.

"What does a man like you lack? Not wealth, not power, not influence. Perhaps company, but there's something more important...heirs." My eyes stay on his. Even on my knees, even if I have to look up at him, I feel as though we are even.

His lips parted. A silent inhale.

Got you. "You could make it happen, Lakan," I said as I moved the part of my robes that were covering my legs. "Buy me out. No one will question you."

He stood abruptly and turned from me. I stayed where I was, eyes fixed on the small rise and fall of his back. He was breathing too heavily for someone who wasn't shaken.

"And you want what in return?" he asked, back still facing me.

You. Your name. A life away from here. A child that won't have to grow up the way I did.

But, instead, I stood up and smiled. "Just one thing."

He turned to face me.

And I turned to face the table. Tonight, there's no board on top, no pieces, no challenge, nothing to make me seem interesting. Nothing that would help me showcase my smarts. I turned back to face him, "never stop playing against me." If he were to never stop playing with me, he would never find it in himself to lose interest. Beauty and love may be fleeting—but cunning is not.

He came to me, slowly, and knelt before me.

This man, always kneeling before me. The night when he stopped me, he knelt. And now as he's hearing me out, he kneels once again. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he rested his head against my chest— his jaw just barely brushing the top of my belly.

And I knew then that a seed was planted. Not the one that would grow in my belly— not yet.

But the one in his mind.

The plan was working.

Now, I only had to wait for him to think that the outcome of the entire plan was his idea.

And then I'd be sure that he will never be able to leave me.

[themasqueraderwrites]

I LOVE LAKAN SO MUCH ON GODDDDDDD

[themasqueraderwrites]

Maybe I'm not fit to be a mother— I hate everything I create.

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

Lakan x reader

(Part 5) (Epilogue) (Part 9) (Part 8) (Part 7) (Part 6) (Part 4) (Part 3) (2/2 of Part 2) (1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

A/n: Short chapter today—sorry! I’ve been overthinking a lot about this fic. Once it’s finished, I definitely plan to publish another story that mirrors this one, but with more depth in both plot and character development.

I feel like I’ve been so focused on updating consistently that I haven’t done the characters and plot enough justice.

Picture not mine

“There’s a pregnant courtesan,” the old madam stated.

It was barely past dawn—the sun not yet fully risen over the horizon. I yawned, head down, eyes unfocused on the uneven ground.

What does that have to do with me? I thought, still half-asleep. She had dragged me out of bed not even two hours after I returned to the brothel.

“My performance is going to suffer because of this,” I mumbled through another yawn.

She shook her head at my halfhearted complaint. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” she snapped, stepping in front of me.

I finally looked up. I’m sure she must’ve been beautiful in her prime, but now she resembled twigs wrapped in skin. I guess love isn’t the only thing that fades.

“I can’t think properly without sleep,” I replied.

“Well, then stop using your brain and start using your ears.”

What an annoying old woman. I had to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes. I still needed this job. Lack of sleep made me far too honest.

“Like I was saying,” she continued, turning to walk again with me trailing behind, “there’s a pregnant courtesan.”

“What does that have to do with me?” I asked flatly. Is it someone from our house?

“I’m telling you,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “because I don’t want you to follow in her footsteps.”

Good thing I’m following yours right now, then.

“You’ve been playing with power,” she continued. “And from what I hear… power’s started playing back.”

That made me look up. I stayed silent, but my thoughts were already racing. Where is she going with this?

“You’re clever. That’s rare.” Her tone was unreadable. “Clever girls burn faster—but they shine the brightest.”

That’s the reason I use my brain, not my mouth, when dealing with clients. I’ve never been good at making both work at the same time—words always come out too sharp, or not sharp enough.

After a long pause, she spoke again. “If you’re looking to be owned… Kan Lakan’s a good candidate.”

My eyes narrowed.

“I’ve known a lot of men like him,” she went on. “They do choose. For a few nights. Maybe a month or two in your case.”

We stopped walking at the edge of the garden, where the sun now sat fully in the sky, casting sharp light over the stone path.

“But when they discard you… what will you be then? Just another clever girl without a position? Or a name etched in silk and poetry?”

I swallowed. My chest felt tight in a way I didn’t have words for.

“I think it’s time for you to become a proper courtesan,” she said at last, plain and steady.

Oh.

I’m definitely going to need more sleep after this.

[themasqueraderwrites]

Hiii!! Heres a lil something because I couldn't stay still:

I created lil playlist with songs I had on repeat while writing, so if you're the type to read while listening to music, this is perfect for you!

PLAYLIST

I uploaded Beloved, Bound, Bought on wattpad, so I'd appriciate it truly if you went to vote the story!

HERE

[themasqueraderwrites]

Tempted to post on wattpad

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

Lakan x reader

(Part 4) (Epilogue) (Part 9) (Part 8) (Part 7) (Part 6) (Part 5) (Part 3) (2/2 of Part 2) (1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

Picture not mine

A match without witnesses.

No attendants. No curious eyes. No stray courtesans stumbling out of rooms after their clients. No watchful gaze from the old madam.

This time, he uses his authority to request my presence at his estate. Just me. My eyes remain on the view outside the carriage. We’re getting close—I can tell by how beautiful the scenery is becoming.

If I play my cards right, this will be my home. I must play my cards right.

The scent in the air is different than in the pleasure district, where I grew up. Here, there’s no stench of the ill, no syphilitic walkers, no feeling of unease as I look around. The landscape is breathtaking, as if taken from a painting. This is the kind of place my mother once wished to slave away in—not that wretched district where, night after night, my father would come back smelling of another woman. Courtesan or not, it could’ve been anyone he picked up off the street. I have no idea.

All I know is my mother wasted away—and he didn’t even come to the funeral.

That’s right. Love is fleeting. I am no one’s beloved. Especially not that man’s beloved.

Suddenly, the scenery,though it didn’t change, turns sour. A lump forms in my throat. I lower my gaze to my lap. But if I stay interesting to him for long enough, I might just slither my way into a comfortable life.

I pull a mirror from my robes—a gift from him. Made of glass. Beautiful and breakable. It’s held in a delicate frame, perhaps to ensure it doesn’t graze my skin. Its price is likely higher than any bid I’ll receive from anyone who isn’t Kan Lakan. I look into it carefully, not daring to drop it.

My hair is down, my robes light and unlayered—the way someone dresses only when they’re prepared to walk a fine line between danger and desire. I’d never wear such a thing in the pleasure district. There, I’d let the client undress my heavy robes, let them struggle, and watch as the pins fell from my hair, loosening each careful twist as the night wore on.

The carriage stops in front of an intricately historic building—beautiful enough to be a museum, yet with the quiet comfort of a home. I expected nothing less. He’s waiting inside.

The scent of incense is strong—familiar, almost comforting, as if chosen specifically to make me lower my guard. But I won’t. Not until this estate is as much mine as it is his.

Not until waking up in silk sheets washed by maids—rather than by me—is no longer foreign.

Not until I eat food too rare for the pleasure district.

Not until ice in the heat of summer is normal.

A maid leads me to him. His hair is loosely tied, eyes glittering in the lamplight, following every move I’ve made since I stepped into the room.

The same tension that’s followed us since our first match coils between us now.

“You’re here,” he says softly.

“You called, did you not?”

He motions toward the Go board, already set. And just like that—it begins again.

The game starts quiet, methodical. But underneath, it’s coiled and sharp, every move a question neither of us dares to ask aloud.

He’s not holding back tonight—truly not. It shows. These aren’t the moves of someone merely responding to his opponent’s offense. He plays like he’s already imagined five ways to beat me before I even lift a hand.

And for the first time, against him, in this game—I’m losing.

I glance up once, and he’s already looking at me.

Not with amusement.

Not with triumph.

But with something deeper.

Hunger.

When the final stone falls, I lean back in my seat, my heart pounding.

“Well,” I begin, “I suppose I lose.”

As I shift to get more comfortable, he leans forward. His eyes trace me—slowly. From my hair, to my eyes, down to my hands. They rest, calm and obedient, in my lap. He will find no defiance in me.

When he realizes this, he rises. His seat topples behind him with a loud thud. I see shadows stir just beyond the doors—the guards flinch—but they don’t enter.

I narrow my eyes toward the doorway. What if their master were in danger? I could maim this man and they still wouldn’t step in. That must be their order.

He steps in front of me and lifts his hand to my face, moving me however he pleases. I let him—though my gaze lingers on the door just a second longer before returning to him.

Our eyes meet. Mine drop to his lips, then rise again. Somehow, he gets closer. Now, our noses touch. I can feel his breath—warm, steady. The incense clings to him.

His hands are still on my face, but they set fire in my belly and a shiver down my spine.

His gaze flicks to my lips. Then back to my eyes.

I close the distance.

And finally—finally—our lips meet. My eyes closed and let the feeling take over me.

It’s not gentle.

I feel him kneel before me, our mouths still connected, and pulls me down to the floor with him. His hands move from my face to my neck, then down my sides, and settles on my waist.

My hands slip into his hair. My nails graze his scalp, before tugging softly.

And he let out a sound that can only be described as absolutely sinful, but to hear it again would bring me to heaven.

The kiss isn’t rough. It isn’t rushed.

But it is devastating.

I fear for myself. If this is just a taste, what will I become when he wants more?

He kissed me like he’d been denied any form of pleasure his entire life— and feared that whatever kept him away before, would come back to pull us apart now.

When he finally pulls back, our foreheads touch. His voice is hoarse.

“Now,” he says, “we’re even.”

Even?

I gave him not even a taste, and he gave me tenfold in return.

My eyes open and linger on his lips. My hands fall from his hair to his robes—not to undress him. Not yet.

But to hold him.

I pull him back against me.

And our lips meet again.

[themasqueraderwrites]

Is this even an x reader anymore😭 she(reader) has too much personality

[themasqueraderwrites]

Reading my own fanfiction is basically just a rollercoaster of emotional whiplash.

20% of the time: “Hold on. I wrote this? This is fire. This is emotionally devastating in the best way. This scene is dripping with tension. I’m a literary perfectionist. Someone give me a book deal.”

80% of the time: “Straight to jail. Immediate prison. Why is everyone’s breath hitching?. I used the word ‘gaze’ three times in one paragraph like I was possessed. Did I think 'his eyes darkened' was profound? Why is everyone clenching their jaws? Why is someone whispering 'their name like a prayer' again?? No one talks like this. What is this dialogue. Why are there so many weird metaphors and em-dashes…”

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, Bound, Bought

Lakan x reader

(Part 3) (Part 4) ( Part 5) ( Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (2/2 of Part 2) (1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

(Epilogue)

Picture not mine

The familiar crease between his eyes is present. The game has only just begun, and the shift in the air is already noticeable.

He was focused now—truly. No more innuendos dropped between moves. The relaxed posture was gone, too. My eyes moved constantly, darting between the board, the pieces, and his face, hoping to catch him slipping.

But he didn’t.

Good. He’s not incompetent in the face of a challenge. If he had quivered and tucked his tail between his legs after making that bold proposal, I would’ve felt twice the fool—more than I already did when I first lost.

I can accept being a fool that falls too fast.

But I can’t be a fool who falls for a buffoon who’s all talk.

He played differently this time. He played like I was a real threat.

Because I am.

And if he didn’t realize that during our first game, then this man is truly an idiot.

He’s not an idiot.

Hopefully.

Probably.

…He can’t be. Right?

When the final move dropped, silence filled the room for a second too long.

Then:

A soft exhale.

From him.

I had won.

Again.

Both of my hands dropped to the table, fingers intertwining and fidgeting. I knew what I wanted.

He sat back, exhaling like he’d been holding something in for hours.

“Well played,” he murmured. I couldn’t tell if he was satisfied with the outcome or not.

I unashamedly studied him for more than a moment—who knew how long I’d get to keep this view to myself?

“You lost. That means I can ask for anything, yes?” I asked lightly, still fidgeting, eyes now fixed on my fingers.

He nodded once before leaning fully on the table, arm propped to support his head.

“Name it.”

I mirrored his position and sighed.

Would I really use this rare opportunity to ask something so... minuscule?

Well, yeah.

I traced the board with my free hand, eyes not quite meeting his. The clock in the corner suddenly seemed louder, like it was timing my hesitation. I sighed again—for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Who were you with before you came here tonight?”

Kan Lakan blinked.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

...Again.

Is he okay?

“Who?” he echoed, tilting his head like he didn’t understand.

Is he serious?

A beat of silence stretched before I found the words again.

“Your scent. You reek—not in a bad way—but it’s like you were smothered by women left, right, and center.”

His expression shifted as realization dawned.

“I went to the perfumer’s district. Bought a blend I thought would appeal to you. Jasmine, amber, and lotus—subtle, but warm. You wore something like it once.”

...Is he serious?

The tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying vanished all at once when I saw that he was, in fact, very, very serious.

I snorted, trying to hold it in, but the moment my eyes landed on him again, I broke. I doubled over, clutching my stomach as laughter spilled out in waves.

Courtesan houses were known for being loud—but not like this. Not from laughter. This was a first.

I knew I was being too loud, but I didn’t care. I felt utterly ridiculous for doubting this man. I never knew someone could be so smart and still be such an idiot.

Wiping the tears from my eyes as the last of my laughter escaped, I looked up—only to find him rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand.

Was that... a pout?

I broke again, doubling over with a hand covering the bottom half of my face. His hand.

Oh, his hands. Another reason to find this man beautiful.

My laughter had stopped now, and my eyes widened at the close proximity.

I looked away.

I can pretend. I can pretend. I can pretend.

He moved so that he was in my line of sight.

I can’t pretend.

Not when his eyes are that captivating. No other man could compare.

I pity my future self—along with the men who will inevitably pay to bed me. No one can compare to Kan Lakan.

This man’s beauty and mind will go to waste if he doesn’t have children of his own. Maybe, just maybe, I could help him in that department.

…What.

Stop.

Snap out of it.

His affections are fleeting. He’ll find a new girl to fixate on when I’m no longer interesting. When he’s finished picking my brain, he’ll leave me—I tell myself.

Then I’ll just have to make sure he can’t leave me—

Stop it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brows furrowed.

I nodded. Far too enthusiastically.

“You seem too satisfied,” he added.

I grinned.

“I’m making the most of it. I’m not too sure I’ll be satisfied by my clients in the future.”

He sighed, a frown overtaking his lips.

“And if I were to be your only client?” he asked, tilting his head.

…Is he insulting me?

“Do you believe no one will pay for a night with me, Kan Lakan?” I asked sharply.

“I—I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean it like that, I swear—”

His frown vanished. Lakan’s words tumbled over each other like loose stones, each one more helpless than the last. His hands flailed uselessly in the air, like they could untangle his tongue.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, voice bare, with a defeated face.

I bit my lip, shoulders trembling with the effort not to laugh. I leaned in, until my knee touched his beneath the table.

“No,” Maybe

“That’s what I won,” I continued.

And then— before he could reply— I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Not seductive. Nor aggressive.

But intentional.

He swallowed. Hard.

I stood. “You said anything, Lakan. That was mine.”

As I stood up, getting ready to go, he reached out— fingers brushing mine once, like a man who didn’t want to let go.

“Next game,” he murmured, “I’m winning.”

I smiled down at the floor, back already facing him.

“Then I’ll be expecting you” I mused.

–

And Lakan will return, plans for the next game already forming in his mind—alongside the quiet question of whether he gave her something she truly wanted.

[themasqueraderwrites]

Beloved, bound, bought

Lakan x reader

(2/2 of part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 3) (1/2 of Part 2) (Part 1)

(Epilogue)

Picture not mine

I can’t remember much after that.

Maybe I lost the game to a mind no better than average… but at least I didn’t lose him.

Kan Lakan—this man had me entranced even before we exchanged words. And for the first time, because of him, business wasn’t just business. I long to be the only one he seeks out here. I’ll do anything. Shogi? I can learn. Go? Easy. Chess? That’s second nature.

And if he were to ask me for the kind of service expected of a courtesan… I’m not sure I could hold my boundaries. I’d let him take me—completely—until there was nothing left. Let him ruin me, strip away every piece of who I am. And still, I’d worry he wouldn’t want the crumbs that remained.

Tonight, he paid for a private exchange between us. Unlike before, when we played out in the open, our thoughts were a secret to all that hovered around us—except for each other. The full moon marked the first night it was just the two of us, the usual hovering nobles and courtesans dismissed.

Just the two of us. Inside the room that I had so worriedly thought he would take another courtesan in. The screen windows shut, though the whispers of the wind could still be heard, unrelenting and strong.

He watched before, as I lost to that simpleminded nobleman. I looked up at him after the loss had sunk in. I looked at him as if I needed him to decide what I am now.

Pathetic.

That’s probably what I looked like to him. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to even imagine him saying that to me. And I was sure that if he did say such a thing to my face, it would be during the act of something inappropriate, not because I lost to a person who wasn’t him.

I snapped out of my thoughts. The man in front of me had his sleeves rolled just enough to look casual, but not careless.

“Again, you’ve boxed me in. Is this your doing… or did I let it happen?” He broke the silence, eyes still on the piece of wood.

I faintly smiled—not at him, but at the board. I hesitantly responded, “I suppose you let it happen. Though I won’t apologize for winning.”

He lifted a stone to the light, one eye squinting as he laughed quietly. “Hah. A courtesan-in-training who plays Go better than me. What a terrifying thing you are. They should warn the officials.” He took another stone with his other hand, tapping it on the table with his free hand.

My eyes finally made their way to his face.

“…I thought you'd grown bored of me.”

His reaction was delayed—the rhythm of the stone in his hands faltered, missed a beat, then stopped entirely. A moment later, his head snapped toward me, as if my words had only just registered.

“Bored?”

I replied with a hum as I took my next move.

“You smelled different… sweet.”

He hadn’t made his move. I waited a second, then another, and another. I looked up at him and sighed; he was already looking at me.

“You don’t have to expl—”

He cut me off.

“Bored? Of you?” His eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

I sighed as I urged him to take his next move, yet he didn’t. I sighed again.

“I thought maybe you’d had your fill—of games, of talk, of me.” I started, followed by a bitter laugh. “You came back with a pouch full of silver, more silver needed to buy my time for the night. Spoke to the matron. Didn’t even glance my way. I thought you were buying time with someone else.”

Bitter—that’s what I was, and I shouldn’t be. Business is business, after all. It shouldn’t have mattered. This is dangerous. Not because he will kill me, but because of the fact that he could leave and I’d be as good as a dead man walking.

I can still hang on. I can still change this situation. I can deny myself this, lie to myself and him, that I truly only cared for the experience of being on an even playing field with someone—for the first time. Ever. I can lie again, that I only cared for the silver that he could offer.

Yes. I could do this. I have been wearing a mask ever since I came to this place; I can lie again. I can lie and pretend that I don’t care for those eyes, those hands, that voice, and that wonderful mind.

The silence was loud. Then, finally, his hand made a move on the board and he let out a sigh—one deeper than mine. As if this was the biggest problem he had encountered in a while.

“And yet, here you are. Sitting across from me.”

As our first game ended, he sat up straighter and made a proposal.

“Let’s wager something,” he said, as he fixed the board, eyes focused but looking up at me every now and then.

I raised my eyebrows, pausing my movement of helping him before replying.

“Wager?”

He hummed.

“If I win,” he said, taking the stone in my hand and placing it back into the jar, “you’ll give me anything I ask for.”

My breath caught, just a little.

“And if I win? …Again.”

He leaned forward slightly—just enough that his voice dropped to a private register.

“Then, I’ll give you anything you ask for. No hesitation.”

Suddenly, my resolve crumbled. I didn’t want to change this situation. Let him have me. Let him ruin me, and if he won’t, I’ll do it myself.

If it means having him.

This is the most dangerous promise I could ever be offered.

And I wanted it.

“Deal.”

[themasqueraderwrites]

Tempted to write a fanfic for every la clan member.....