After a long time (a really long time), I decided to make my Itabag for my oldest f/o! I've had Imu as my f/o since 2021, and I confess I was sad with myself for never having done anything for him, but I finally did!
Summary: You are a noble of Goa Kingdom, yearning of freedom from the system. Outlook III, your father send you to Mary Geoise to participate on the marriage mart. His order are simple, to find a secure match as the way to get access for your family to become Celestial Dragon. You've never wanted this, but you caught the attention of certain figure with red hair. What would you do about it?
Trope: Enemies to Lovers
Warning: All characters are legal , age gap , angst , dark romance , jealousy , mention of slavery , shitty celestial dragons behavior , shitty parents , NSFW , sex , suggestive contents , saint charlos , abuse of power , use of alcohol , cruelty , use of gun , use of illegal substance , sexual harassment , misogynist society , out of character , more tag will be added.
"You must make a debut in a marriage mart next season!"
"No, father. I do not want to participate."
"This is an order! You've reject every proposal from those gentlemen, now you are considered a spinster be glad the higher up still allow you to join."
The horizon seemed endless, the more you chased it the further it drifted away. The gentle breeze became your companion on that mighty blue ocean, carrying messages from every corner of the world. With seagulls soaring through the clouds as your friends, you enjoyed the sunset on deck. The orange rays of the sun painted the evening sky as the waves grew wilder, rising toward the tide. You could not turn your gaze away from such beauty, wondering whether you would ever experience a moment like that again in the future.
The quarrel between you and your father still echoed in your mind. You were not a daughter who blindly obeyed without question, yet you could not simply defy him either. You were not that bold and did not possess such courage. Like a bird trapped in its cage… no, you were more like a puppet controlled by your parents to fulfill their desires, or a pawn on the chessboard of aristocratic society. You were anything but their cherished daughter, and they thought you owed them gratitude for birthing you into nobility. But what meaning did that hold if your freedom was restrained?
Since you were 17, your father Outlook III who happened to be a Baron has always tried to arrange your marriage with other noble families, particularly first in liners or heirs to certain titles. He even once betrothed you to a young and handsome Duke, who wholeheartedly agreed and personally asked for your hand in marriage. Yet you refused every proposals because those were never made of true love, but rather business transactions with their own interests at stake.
Perhaps your mother was right, those romance novels you often read had changed your perception of relationships, love, and marriage. Most of them told stories of princesses rescued by a prince charming or a knight in shining armor destined for their happy endings, and they made you dreamed of being saved by your own prince or knight. But as you grew older, such fantasies remained no more than innocent youthful imaginings and you stopped daydreaming. Still, deep within the depths of your heart a silent belief in true love lingered in it.
Now you are 25 years old, and society considered you a spinster. Truly ironic, wasn’t it? 25 is not that old yet society’s opinion seemed to drag you down and condemn you as they said that your womb had already dried up and that you were no longer in a woman’s prime. As if the sole purpose of our life was only to satisfy lust and serve as a vessel or even machine to produce childern. The misogynistic environment, steeped in the heavy weight of patriarchal culture among the nobility, torments not only you but also countless other women.
That grand ship struck the unstable, unpredictable waves, carrying you toward the unknown, a place so strange it felt as though it existed only in fairy tales. Correction, not the kind of fairy tale that ended with “happily ever after,” but rather something closer to a nightmare. This ship was taking you to the Holy Land of Mary Geoise. All you knew was that the place lay thousands of feet above sea level, the nest of the Celestial Dragons, and a living hell for ordinary people who were not of their kind. Even high-ranking nobles and rulers of nations were not spared from their cruelty.
As you looked back at the horizon, for some reason, the thought of your late younger brother slipped into your mind when you considered your prospects in the marriage mart. Sabo, huh? Perhaps if he had still been alive, he would have been 22 years old now. But the news of his death remained fresh in your memory even though 12 years had passed. There was no grave to mourn at, no ashes to scatter, only the fleeting memories of your childhood together to hold on to.
You hated them! All those damned Celestial Dragons had killed your brother, just because he was passed on their way when he was try to sailed. Such a demon claimed to be a god, they were not even wanted to be called a human. And worse, your parents seemed indifferent to it and just going about their lives as if nothing had happened. Truly barbaric, cold-hearted, and cruel. You wished you could curse your parents for everything, for your brother’s death, for the pressure and expectations they placed upon you, for all the coercion and poor decisions they made on your behalf. Yet once again, you did not have the courage to rebel. You could only wear the mask of the obedient daughter, even though in your heart that mask choked you unbearably.
The air grew colder as the sun had fully set, erasing its orange glow from the sky and replacing it with the darkness of night. The waves became larger than before, shown by the ship rocking with greater frequency. That expensive fur coat was not enough to keep you warm, even though you also wore several layers of clothing beneath it.
Perhaps it was time for you to return to your cabin, yet the stars scattered across the sky caught your attention. The crescent moon stood as the leader of the constellation’s formation, one of the ancient methods of navigation that was even more accurate than a compass or a Log Pose. You recognized several of them, that one was Orion, Sabo’s favorite constellation. He had never stopped talking about navigation, and you had always been fascinated by the subject. But your mother had always given you sharp looks and passive aggressive comment , saying that navigation was not suited for a girl.
“Darling, why are you still on the deck? The air is getting colder, come inside! We do not want you to catch a cold.”
That soft yet forced voice you would always recognize anywhere, it was the Didit’s voice, the woman who had given birth to you into this world. But did she deserve to be called a mother when she had never raised you, never nurtured you, and only sought to use you as a tool for your family’s nobility? Even your nanny had known you better than both of your parents combined, until the day you reached the proper age for marriage and your parents coldly dismissed her.
You knew too well that all her attention was fake. Your mother did not care for you as a motherly affection toward her daughter, she only cared that you would not fall ill before your debut and would ruin your marriage prospects. Once again, you wore the mask of the obedient daughter and nodded.
“Yes, Mother.”
With heavy steps you walked away from the deck to return to your cabin that has been prepared by your family’s servants.
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“The last marriage mart season was not so impressive. There was not a single girl suitable for my son, none worthy of bearing the title of Saint Figarland, and none fit to give birth to the heir of this family.”
Saint Figarland Garling calmly voiced his disappointment about the marriage mart of the past season. Year after year, not a single debutante managed to capture his son’s heart or meet the standards of becoming a Figarland’s wife. Even the so-called a diamond of the season, praised as the most perfect future bride and lady of the house was not good enough. Perhaps he was greedy and expected too much from the commoners of the lower world, yet this family deserved nothing less than the best.
The family dinner was attended by only two people without warmth or affection, only the cold glitter of luxury at the dining table. Of the many dishes served, more than three quarters of them would remain untouched. It did not matter that most of the slaves in this land starved to death. Let alone the slaves, millions of ordinary people suffered the same fate every day while the World Nobles wasted food without a second thought.
Meanwhile the red-haired man who sat at the other end only responded with a nod and a murmur. Shamrock, the sole heir of the Figarland family sipped his wine and seemed unbothered by his father’s words. His eyes focused on his father as they discussed the matter. He was already used to such things and did not mind the silence in this grand mansion.
Their relationship was never colored by warm embraces or lighthearted jokes like ordinary families. Since childhood, Shamrock grew up under his father’s sharp gaze not as a beloved son, but as an heir being forged. Every conversation at the dining table more often resembled a brief meeting about plans, targets, and strategies for the future rather than a light exchange about the day.
The affection Shamrock received was limited to nods of approval when his academic abilities improved with each exam, when his physical strength grew with every training session, when he completed his tasks flawlessly without a single mistake, and when he slowly climbed the ranks of authority within the Holy Knights’ organization. Even the word ‘proud’ was never uttered from Garling’s lips and Shamrock seemed uninterested in earning his father’s affection or recognition.
Though devoid of tenderness there was an undeniable bond stronger than a mere blood. They stood side by side like two figures who needed one another to safeguard a legacy, to build the future, and to ensure the family name remained untarnished. In the silence they both knew that their relationship was not merely that of father and son, but of two partners destined to work together. How long such a bond would continue to replace the warmth that should have been there neither of them could tell.
“Perhaps a lady of the house is not really necessary in our family. As for an heir, I can simply pay a servant or a courtesan to bear my child.” Shamrock stated this casually, as if he were discussing the dinner menu.
He was never interested in being bound by marriage, for whenever he needed sexual release, he only had to call for a servant (a slave) or visit a brothel where someone would fulfill his desires. He did not need a wife for that. Yet, if his father told him to find a bride suitable for him, then he would do so for the sake of preserving the family’s legacy.
Garling muttered while cutting his steak with the silverware, “I will give those girls one more chance next season. Perhaps there will be a promising debutante. But if they do not meet expectations, then I will reconsider your suggestion.”
After listening attentively to his father’s words the son once again nodded in a professional demeanor, like a businessman who had just received counsel from another businessman.
“Yes, Father.”
Note: I'm so sorry for a long delay to update my fic, work has been hectic and it took my time. Let me know you opinion about this fic! All notes and responds will be appriciated🖤
A/N: Hi I've never written smut before so I have no clue in the world if this is any good💔 Definitely not my kind of thing, but I really wanted to give it a try
Warnings: PwP, Cunnilingus, PiV, Overstimulation, Imu calls himself a god idk if that's supposed to be a warning or not, Probably OOC, Somewhat soft Imu at the end.
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Nightfall engulfed Mary Geoise, and as countless times before, you have been swept off your feet and laid gently on the bed's mattress. So tonight, the Devil had decided to show you mercy, it seems. In his own way.
"Mu's butterfly is often distracted by trifles." Imu leaned over, a gloved hand brushed against yours. He had yet to join you in bed. "Are you going to take this stupid disguise off already?" You said, accentuating your idea by tugging his glove off. "Thou art lacking patience, dear." Despite his words, he did not waste time in unveiling himself. Long white hair cascading over his face, locks separated by a set of horns, and a face you could not help but fall in love with each time.
Your impatience grew. Unable to wait any further, you reached for the man, pulling him closer. "You stole me from my trifles and now expect me to be patient?" Moving a strand of his hair to the side, you leaned in, capturing his lips into a kiss he melted into instantly.
The heat intensified, urging him to push you back into the pillow and cage you beneath his body. The first to break apart was Imu, as he rested his forehead on yours for a moment before trailing pecks down your jaw and throat, towards the collarbone. A rather hungry bite of his made you gasp and twitch. You could feel him smile at your sound, tending to the forming bruise with a soft kiss akin to an apology. "Thou art awfully expressive tonight." His bare hand slid lower, until you released a shiver. Imu quit his movements once the tips reached behind your undergarments. "I must deprive thee more frequently..." His pause caused a whine to escape you, which only elicited a sly smile in return.
"You—" He withdrew his hand. "Thou shalt take what I offer. Being greedy, will not make thy wish, the truth." Your brows knit as you force yourself to swallow any insults towards the man. "Do not look at Mu like that..." Imu coped your face with the gloved hand, plastering on a sympathetic expression. "Open." You were quick to follow his command, parting your lips for his thumb to slide past them. "Is it not better when thou obeyest thy God?" He then made quick work of the rest of your clothes. Leaving you in only your underwear, your body visible for his eyes alone.
Imu's hand brushed over the length of your legs as he moved to the bed's front side. And knelt. He grabbed you by the ankles, pulling until your, very much soaked, panties were dangerously close to his face. He placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh, then pressed his tongue flatly against your clothed cunt, causing you to reach and grab onto his horns. "Please..." you mewled, trying to nudge him closer. He obliged. With a finger, he hooked your panties to the side, going directly for your clit.
He maintained a punishing pace. Adding into the mix his fingers, now coated with your slick and nearly scratching you due to his sharp nails. Your moans and whines bounced off the walls, accompanied by the filthy sounds rising from between your legs; not even concerned about anyone hearing you, as the room was far beyond anyone's earshot. You were close. So close. Yet Imu was aware of that fact, and just as you were about to finish, he had deprived you of his warmth.
"You're cruel." You cried, shakily holding yourself up on your elbows. "Am I? How shameful of Mu..." With a smile, he rose to his feet. Mindful to bring your feet up to his now bare shoulders and placing a kiss on your ankle. "Thine annoyance shall persist." He said in a hushed tone, kneading your body into a mating press. "I will do what I desire." His words were a whisper against your neck, accentuated by the harsh thrust that intertwined your bodies and tore a raw scream from you.
The movements were rough, each thrust leaving your body weaker than the previous one. He was all over you. A hand steadying you by the waist, the other moulding your breast, and his mouth leaving deliciously painful marks on your neck. It was all too much. "Imu..." You whined, hands attempting to no avail to grab onto something—anything—yet he made you feel so weak. With a strained moan you had come undone, but to your dismay (or delight) he was not finished with you.
Imu continued with the same vigour, not missing a beat. And you? A mumbling mess underneath him. Having way too many orgasms ripped out of you, but everything just felt so good.
His gaze moved to you alongside a quiet laugh to your misery. He was as proud as ever seeing you so drunk on him, so good for him. "Thy beauty is comparable to a Goddess..." He sighed out praise, a sign of him nearing his peak. "One worthy of Mu." He captured your lips into a messy kiss as he finished deep inside you.
The two of you laid there for a while. You were breathless, eyes fighting to not give up; Imu was next to you, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. "A bath is in order. I will get it ready." He whispered and you nodded weakly.
It was no surprise that when he came back, your sleeping body was the only thing he found. Still, he cleaned you up. Afterwards, he gently moved you to lie properly on the mattress and joined you in your slumber.
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