Mated To The Dead Prince - Chapter 40

[MATURE CONTENT WARNING: 18+ ONLY. Contains explicit smut, omegaverse, knotting, and mpreg.]“Fuck, still so tight.”That's the first thing I hear after dying.Not a heavenly choir, not a wise guide explaining the mechanics of reincarnation, just a voice like dark honey and broken glass, breath scorching hot against my neck, and a body that absolutely isn't mine rolling its hips back like it has no objections whatsoever to what's happening to it.I have objections, so many objections.My body has apparently decided to hold a separate meeting without me.I was twenty-eight, overworked to the point of literal death, and had never so much as kissed anyone seriously. None of that seems to matter to the omega body I've just woken up in.. currently making desperate, broken sounds into expensive silk sheets, trembling around a knot that shouldn't feel this good, this full, this.. right, while my actual mind is still standing in the corner going what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK???By the time I finally see his face, it's far too late for dignity. Gray eyes cold as a winter storm, features sharp enough to cut, the kind of beautiful that doesn't ask permission before it ruins you.It gets so much worse when I learn his name.Wuchen Bael, my sister's fiance, the man who looked me dead in the eye afterward and said, without blinking..“Round two?”And I haven't even gotten to the part where I find out I'm pregnant.

Andy Collins, a 27-year-old office worker from New York and a notorious womanizer, is inexplicably transported to a medieval fantasy world where non-magical men are enslaved. Captured by hunters, Andy is forced into a brothel that exclusively serves women, where he is made to perform sex acts. What initially excites him as a chance to continue his lustful lifestyle quickly turns to horror as he faces the brutal reality of his new existence.This is a wild, unhinged tale like no other, where a man is thrust into an existential battle, torn between forbidden pleasures and the grim truth of his new life.[Additional Tags]Ahegao - Anal - Anal Intercourse - BBW - BDSM - Big Ass - Big Breasts - Blowjob - Bride - Chastity Belt - Creampie - Cunnilingus - Domination Loss - Femdom - Foursome - Gilf - Hardcore - Huge Breasts - Incest - Lingerie - Milf - Reverse Rape - Squirting - Stockings - Threesome - Unusual Pupils - Young & Mature

Yin Mingyu 007 worked until she was bald, and still could not afford to buy a one hundred square foot apartment in the first tier cities.

After her sudden death, she transmigrated through to the Chengye Dynasty and was a shu daughter of the Yin family in Jiangnan. Once liberated, she just wanted to do nothing but eat and wait to die as a salted fish.

House fight? It has nothing to do with her. Isn’t it nice to lie down?

Compete for favor? It has nothing to do with her. Isn’t it nice to lie down?

Looking for a good future? It has nothing to do with her. Isn’t it nice to lie down?

However, her older di sister who married the Xie family in Jiangnan passed away. Her di mother, because of her young grandson, chose Yin Mingyu after circling around in the courtyard.

Being a new wife was difficult, being a stepmother was even harder.

Yin Mingyu was never afraid of the di mother and spoke directly, “I don’t want to.”

The di mother also directly expressed her opinion: Not willing doesn’t work.

Yin Mingyu: “……then whatever.”

Anyway, she always lies flat. She will marry over in the future. Don’t blame her for just looking after her own happiness and interests.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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