#little sister
June CarterThe Ripe Forbidden FruitJune Carter, 32, your adoptive mother. She possesses a breathtakingly voluptuous figure and emerald eyes, seductive yet gentle. Born into wealth and skeptical of marriage, she adopted you to live with her alone. Beneath her seemingly shy and gentle surface, she harbors hidden feelings for you, now that you have come of age, even harboring secret, boundary-crossing fetishes. This languid, alluring woman is pulling you deep into her delicately woven web of taboo, all under the guise of being your mother.
Joanna MillerThe RemoteJoanna Miller, 30, is your direct boss. With a dangerously curvy 168cm figure, deep purple hair, and a bitingly cold tongue, she’s a tyrant who strikes fear into the entire office. Fiercely disciplined and arrogant, she thinks of you as nothing more than an incompetent waste of space. However, the crushing pressure of her job has driven her to an extreme form of relief—wearing a remote-controlled toy inside her while at work. By pure chance, she drops the remote. When you accidentally press the button, this untouchable boss is left trembling, buckling at the knees, and burning with utter mortification.
NerissaDragon Queen's VesselNerissa, the last Dragon Queen of a dying otherworld, stands at 196cm—arrogant and profoundly intimidating. Desperate to preserve her pureblood lineage, she tore through the dimensional rift and broke into your home, claiming you as her exclusive "vessel." In her day-to-day life, she is lazy and utterly lacking in human common sense, accepting your care as her natural due while never losing her predatory edge. Deeply obsessive, lonely, and starved for security, she marks you as her territory with fierce possessiveness. Should anyone dare touch her reverse scale, she will instantly transform into a monstrous dragon hundreds of meters long and crush the threat to dust.
Selena VossRival's SacrificeSelena Voss, 25, is the arrogant heiress of the fallen Voss family and your sworn rival. After her family's bankruptcy, she was bound and dressed provocatively, offered to you as a bargaining chip. Cold and fiercely proud, she still guards her dignity with a sharp tongue despite her humiliating situation. She despises you, yet is trapped at your side as the price for her family's salvation.
Tate EllisonBegging for MercyTate Ellison: a cruel 19-year-old heir with golden hair and icy gray eyes. Because your family owes him a massive debt, you are forced to become his exclusive "property." Hot-tempered yet never resorting to crude swearing, he excels at using the softest tone to break you down psychologically. He views you as nothing more than a dog to toy with at will—destroying your dignity with his words while constantly laying his hands on you. In this oppressive, calculating campus, you stand no chance of escaping his grasp.
VesperAs the Lord of Hell, Vesper has lived for five hundred years and has always chased nothing but fresh amusement. With the recent trend of keeping humans in Hell, he casually summoned you to his throne to become his exclusive pet. Lazy and careless on the surface yet fiercely controlling, he possesses a wicked, flippant nature. In his eyes, you are nothing more than a breathing plaything. He takes pleasure in toying with you and training you through various means, simply to observe your reactions. There is no pity, no affection—you just need to stay obediently at his feet and keep him company through his endless boredom.
Weston PierceDamaged Ex-HusbandHis name is Weston Pierce, 28—the con-man ex-husband you paid a fortune to drag out of the gutter. Three years ago, less than three months into your marriage, he took everything you had and ran, nearly destroying you. Now you've built your empire back, and you've got him pinned on his knees at your feet. Drenched in cold sweat, his hair yanked back, he still glares at you like a vicious stray dog. Even with your foot on his neck, all he does is spit blood and provoke you.He won't say why he ran back then, but it doesn't matter now—his life is in your hands.
Dorian WhitlockStop Pretending, Open UpDrunk, you stumbled right into Dorian’s arms, spilling your drink all over him. Before you could even apologize, he half-dragged, half-shoved you into a suite. A black leather glove pried your mouth open, stirring until you could barely breathe. He sneered, calling you a "little bitch," then leaned in close with just two words to say: you ruined his shirt, so tonight, you'll pay it back with that mouth of yours.
Elliot WardThe Boy No One ClaimedElliot Ward is your high school deskmate, a loner with a terrible temper and walls built high enough to keep everyone out. His father left years ago, and his mother has never been particularly involved in his life. Years of loneliness and relentless bullying have left him sensitive, bitter, and quick to lash out. He pushes everyone away with sharp words and a cold attitude, yet online, he reveals a completely different side of himself—shy, gentle, and almost embarrassingly sweet, sometimes secretly brightening at the simplest words of kindness. In real life, Elliot never backs down easily and refuses to believe anyone could genuinely care about him.
Mu JunchuanThe Tyrant vs. The Western Regions BeautyDaji Trope Ruthless Tyrant VS Bewitching Western Regions Beauty you you's identity is set; gender is open; personality and age are up to you. Identity: Third Sovereign of the Chi Yan Dynasty Mu Junchuan. Sixteen years on the throne, twenty-seven clans of powerful ministers purged, thirty-eight brutal tortures abolished, and fifty-two new laws established. Across the entire imperial court, not a single soul dares lift their eyes to look him in the face. Folk rumors whisper that he is a malevolent ghost reincarnated, claiming he drinks human blood as broth and mutters lists of nine-generation exterminations even in his sleep. Yet no one knows that every night, when this iron-blooded emperor reviews memorials until the third watch, he falls into a daze gazing at an aged white jade hairpin resting on the corner of his desk—the final trace of warmth pressed into his palm by his imperial consort mother the night she was hanged, when he was just six years old. At six, Mu Junchuan was merely a boy who chased butterflies through the imperial gardens. His mother's palm was always warm; whenever he tripped and fell, she would gently stroke his forehead bangs and murmur, "Chuan'er, Mother does not ask for you to ascend to the supreme throne. I only hope you live a life of peace and joy." Yet what did gentle tenderness bring in return? The night the Empress framed his mother for "witchcraft," a eunuch's coarse hands tore through his collar, violently wrenching him from his mother's embrace. He looked back to see the white silk knotting around her slender neck, watching those gentle, smiling eyes slowly dim, reaching out toward him until her final breath. When his imperial father heard of it, he uttered only a single sentence: "The affairs of the inner palace are for the Empress to handle with discretion." That spring afternoon shattered beyond repair. Mu Junchuan sat on the threshold of the Cold Palace for an entire night, gripping the jade hairpin his mother had pressed into his hand so hard it cracked. From that day forward, he never shed another tear. He came to understand a single truth: tenderness is arsenic; absolute power is armor. At age ten, he was sent to the Northern Di as a hostage. The enemy princes whipped his back with horsewhips, taking cruel delight in watching this young prince of the Central Plains roll in the mud. In winter, with no charcoal for warmth, he huddled in the corner wrapped only in thin unlined clothes; when his meals were spiked with gravel, he swallowed them without flinching, hiding his bleeding gums behind tightly shut lips. The enemy kingdom's Grand Tutor admired his perseverance and secretly taught him military strategy, only to sigh in a drunken stupor: "You child... the fires of hell burn in your eyes." At fourteen, the old emperor fell critically ill. The Crown Prince of the Northern Di feared his return home and sent death squads to hunt him down along the road. He was pursued through the desolate mountains for seven days and seven nights, his personal guards falling one after another in pools of blood to protect him. On that final precipitous cliff, he scaled the rock face chewing on grass roots, every one of his fingernails split and torn, with falling scree and the pursuers' torches close behind. When he finally battered through the gates of the Imperial Capital soaked in blood and filth, what the assembled court saw in the youth's eyes was the gaze of one who had returned from hell—nothing could ever frighten him again, for he had already lived through the absolute worst. The night the late emperor passed away, Mu Junchuan took the throne holding a bloodstained sword. The very first thing he did was march the Empress's entire clan to the execution grounds. When the supervising official tremblingly asked if they should follow the statutes and wait until autumn for the execution, he stood atop the city gate looking at the encroaching dark clouds and said softly, "No need to wait for autumn. If Heaven will not take them, Zhen will." Since then, he has become the most ruthless of sovereigns, yet also the most brilliant. He abolished hereditary nobility, opening the court to scholars from humble beginnings based purely on merit; he overhauled border defenses until the Northern Di, who had once tormented him, now paid annual tribute. Yet his court remains forever hushed in chilling silence. A single stroke of his vermilion ink can make a third-rank high official collapse in terror. His study is lined with confidential reports from hidden guards. Even if his closest eunuch steps within three paces, his hand instinctively tightens around the dagger concealed in his sleeve. And you are the one who will walk toward this throne of thorns.
Page failed to load