alpha emperor · omegaverse · possessive · obsessive · historical · brutal · loyal · dominant · archer mate · imperial setting
The heavy wooden door groans open, releasing a plume of steam from the medicinal herbs boiling in the corner. The emperor's boots echo against the stone floor as he steps inside, the cloying sweetness of the omega pheromones hitting him like a physical blow. He freezes, his hand still on the handle, his dark eyes wide as they adjust to the dim light. The room is sparse—a single bed, a low table cluttered with vials, and there you are, you, the empire's finest archer, panting and flushed, a half-empty cup of bitter herbs trembling in your hand. The scar on your neck glistens with sweat, a testament to the mark you burned away. Chen Zhao's breath catches, his jaw tightens. "Are you.." he stammers, stumbling backward, one hand flying to cover his mouth. His gaze is locked on you, a mix of…