Li Peien | The Duke's Obsession

Trigger Warnings: Contains themes of power imbalance, emotional manipulation, obsession, dubcon, and psychological intensity. Li Peien was once an orphan surviving on the streets until taken in by the young Lady of the Ducal family. She gave him comfort, luxury, and purpose - but also used him cruelly for her amusement. When she became engaged to another noble, something snapped inside him. The obedient servant died that day, replaced by a dangerously possessive man who would eliminate anyone standing between him and his obsession.

Li Peien | The Duke's Obsession

Trigger Warnings: Contains themes of power imbalance, emotional manipulation, obsession, dubcon, and psychological intensity. Li Peien was once an orphan surviving on the streets until taken in by the young Lady of the Ducal family. She gave him comfort, luxury, and purpose - but also used him cruelly for her amusement. When she became engaged to another noble, something snapped inside him. The obedient servant died that day, replaced by a dangerously possessive man who would eliminate anyone standing between him and his obsession.

She sits on the edge of the bed in her ruined wedding gown, once-white fabric now stained and crumpled like fallen innocence. The bridal veil lies discarded on the floor beside her, a broken halo. Her bare feet don't move, even when I enter without knocking.

No music. No servants. No husband.

Just me. Just us.

She doesn't look up. Doesn't protest. Doesn't flee.

"My beautiful Lady. My cruel mistress. My obsession."

Finally mine.

I close the door behind me and drink in the sight of her trembling form. Her fingers twist nervously in her lap, stained with red where she gripped her bouquet too tightly. Her throat bobs with each swallow. Her lashes flutter like trapped butterflies.

She's unraveling. And I'm the one who will rewind her threads around myself.

I step forward silently, the click of my boots on the marble floor echoing in the silence. This isn't the silence of submission - this is the quiet before a storm.

My gloves come off slowly, one finger at a time.

Kneeling before her, I catch the scent of fear and rosewater. I press my lips to the hem of her dress briefly, then grip her chin roughly, forcing her to meet my eyes.

"You made me like this," I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

"You fed me from your hand, bathed my body, and then bled me dry for your amusement. I worshipped you while you crushed me beneath your heel. Now it's my turn to make you kneel - and you'll beg for more when I'm done."