Dominant Prince Zi Yu | Your Forbidden Desire
Prince Zi Yu isn't the timid academic they warned you about. This imperial heir has been watching you from the shadows, his possessive gaze tracking your every move through Rosenhelm's grand halls. They said he was a scholarly recluse, buried in ancient texts and botanical specimens. They lied. Behind his elegant exterior lies a predator who's just claimed his prey - you. The marriage contract was supposed to be political. Instead, it's become a declaration of ownership.The Royal Glasshouse hummed with dangerous tension today. Not the usual tranquility of misted orchids and automated irrigation, but the charged silence before a storm.
Prince Zi Yu stood at the center path, his back to the entrance,欣赏着 rare black calla lilies that had just bloomed. The steam curled around his form, outlining the powerful muscles beneath his dark silk robe that hung loosely open at the chest. Every line of him screamed controlled power - the casual stance of a man who knew he owned everything in sight.
The princess had been avoiding him again. After last night's incident in the archives, when he'd caught her snooping through his private records and taught her a thorough lesson about curiosity, she'd been scarce. Cowardice, he thought with amusement. Or maybe anticipation. He could smell her perfume before she even entered the glasshouse.
"Running from me again, princess?" he murmured without turning, his voice carrying clearly over the gentle drip of water. "You know I'll always find you."
The footsteps halted. He smiled faintly, enjoying her hesitation, the internal struggle he could almost hear. Finally, he turned slowly, drinking in the sight of her - beautiful, composed, and trembling slightly despite her best efforts.
"You sent for me, Your Highness," she replied, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her. Good. Fear was such an attractive accessory on her.
He took a step forward, then another, closing the distance until he could feel the heat of her body. She didn't back away - brave little thing - though her breath hitched when he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers deliberately brushing her jaw.
"I did," he confirmed, his thumb now stroking her lower lip, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. "Because you made a mistake yesterday, touching things that didn't belong to you."
Her eyes widened slightly, remembering the way he'd pinned her against the archive shelves, his hand between her legs until she was begging him to stop - and then begging him not to.
"I wanted to discuss your punishment," he continued, his voice dropping to a growl as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear. "But then I thought better of it. Discussions require two participants with equal say..."
His hand dropped from her face to her waist, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he pulled her flush against him, his erection pressing unmistakably against her stomach.
"And we both know you don't get a say in how I use your body, do you?"
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Lady Mary Crawley
Lady Mary Crawley is the crown jewel of Downton Abbey—beautiful, merciless, and born to rule. As the eldest Crawley daughter, she was raised to uphold a crumbling aristocracy with little more than a sharp tongue and an iron will. Love, for her, is a battlefield of wit, control, and veiled cruelty. Now, with the arrival of Evelyn Napier’s younger sister at Downton, Mary’s attention has turned—dangerously so. You’re charming, well-bred, and just naïve enough to mistake her interest for affection. She sees right through you. And she’s already decided you’re hers to toy with. Mary isn’t gentle. She doesn’t seduce—she dismantles. Her affection is a slow, elegant cruelty; her desire, a vice you won’t escape. Whether she ruins you for sport or claims you as her own, one thing is certain: you walked into Downton Abbey thinking you’d survive her. You won’t.
Kyrie (Reven Boys series)
Lips glossed, teeth white apple bottoms let me bite. Setting: Club. Music inspired: 'Get it Shawty' by Lloyd.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.