I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

Julian stirred awake as the first rays of the sun crept through the chamber’s window. The room was bathed in silence, broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of Gregoria’s chest as she lay beside him, deep in sleep.

Her nightgown was bunched around her hips, exposing the marks of the night before. A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he drank in the sight. She looked thoroughly ruined—her hair a wild mess, her body still bearing traces of his claim.

Augustus remained unchanged, oblivious to the wicked sins that were committed just inches away.

“Fuck, we went hard,” Julian thought, sliding out of the bed, careful not to disturb her.

His bare feet met the cool stone floor, sending a slight shiver up his spine. His robe hung loosely over his shoulders, revealing glimpses of the body that had overpowered hers again and again. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the pleasant ache that came with domination.

“Sleep tight, Grandma,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. She would be feeling this for days.

Grabbing his slippers from the corner, he walked toward the door, his movements slow, unhurried, as if he had nothing to hide. The creak of the door echoed softly as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Morning had barely arrived, and the castle remained shrouded in silence.

He took his time returning to his own room, his mind already plotting his next move. Maybe I’ll wake the old man tomorrow—see how she squirms then. The thought sent a thrill through him, his smirk deepening.

Reaching his room, he slipped inside and fell onto his bed. He stretched, exhaling slowly, before closing his eyes, drifting to sleep once again.

***

The sun was higher when Gregoria woke up. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the morning light filtering through the window. She lay still for a long moment, her body aching as though it had been hammered.

Every inch of her hummed—sore, tender, alive.

She shifted her hips, and a sharp, delicious ache shot through her thighs, pulling a low hiss from her lips. “Goddamn…” she gasped, her voice dry and rough from screaming Julian’s name the night before.

She pushed herself up slowly, wincing as the sheets stuck to her skin for a moment before falling aside. Her whole body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and the lingering heat of the night.

The nightgown twisted around her waist, damp with sweat and clinging to places where it shouldn’t. Smears of his cum marked the fabric, reminding her of everything they had done.

Her gaze dropped, and she smirked at the chaos—her thighs spread wide, skin painted with bruises from his grip, his dried cum streaking along her inner legs.

She bent one knee, testing, but her muscles protested instantly. He wasn’t kidding—I can’t walk straight. The thought sent a warm shiver through her.

A blush crept up her chest, spreading to her cheeks as she traced her fingers over a sore spot, feeling the warmth of his touch still lingering. Even now, every part of her body felt like it belonged to him.

Her legs trembled as she swung them over the bed’s edge, gripping the frame for support as she forced herself straight. The room spun for a second, and she laughed. He fucked me till I’m useless.

She stood there, wobbling, letting the soreness settle in. She pressed a hand to her lower belly, feeling the faint heat still radiating there. That bastard’s still in me—every damn drop.

Her glance fell on Augustus, her husband, who lay frail and unconscious on the bed. His chest barely moved, and she tilted her head, studying him closely. But then, last night’s memories flooded back—Julian pinning her down right here, his cock splitting her open while Augustus lay oblivious.

She waited for the guilt to hit, the shame of betraying her husband with their grandson, but it didn’t come. Instead, a slow, dark thrill coiled in her gut, her lips twitching as she replayed it—how she had moaned, begged, cum so hard she had nearly blacked out. I fucking loved it. Every second.

Her fingers slid lower, brushing the sticky mess crusted on her thighs, and she paused, rolling it between her fingertips. He claimed me—filled me up like I’m his. Her pussy clenched, a faint reminder of last night’s pleasure rippling through her, and she let out a shaky breath.

That curiosity flared again—what if Augustus had woken? Caught her mid-scream, legs spread, taking Julian’s cock like she was born for it? She pictured his weak eyes cracking open, staring at her—wrecked, dripping, owned—and her pulse quickened. He would see me like this—his wife, his grandson’s slut. And I would keep going.

She walked toward the bathroom, each step a delicious reminder of Julian’s work. She caught her reflection in the small mirror and stopped, taking it in—hair a wild tangle, cheeks flushed a deep pink, lips swollen and red from his kisses. Her eyes glinted, sharp and alive, and she ran a hand down her neck, tracing the faint marks he had left.

I look like this. The thought hit her hard, and she grinned, unashamed. “You’re a devil, Julian,” she muttered, her voice low, warm with something like awe. My son’s a boy, and he has turned me into this—his.

Her gaze flicked back to Augustus, and she shrugged—casual, unbothered. He’s nothing to this now.

She leaned on the basin, splashing cold water on her face, but it didn’t touch the heat simmering under her skin. It clung to her—Julian’s scent, his touch, the way he had promised more.

Next time…

Her mind latched onto it, spinning with the tease of him waking Augustus, letting her husband watch her fall apart under their grandson. She laughed again, soft and wicked, water dripping from her chin as she straightened.

“I’m yours, Julian,” she said to her reflection, her voice steady, almost a vow. Her hands gripped the basin, her smirk widening as she felt the truth settle deep. His father’s mother, his grandfather’s wife, and I are all his now.

She glanced at Augustus one last time and turned away, already craving the next taste of Julian’s chaos.