Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

She stormed toward him, but Sylvaris raised both hands in surrender, though his expression betrayed nothing but reckless satisfaction. I love it when they all get flustered over me. At night they scream and bite, and by day they pretend they're so innocent and refined... hehe... I might actually fall for these women. His smile almost betrayed his thoughts.

"I'm not ashamed," he said, grinning like a man who'd already made peace with damnation. "She came to me willingly. And yes, it was good. So good I'm still hard just thinking about it." His cock twitched again, pulsing with approval—as if it were nodding in agreement, proudly declaring to the world that last night had been nothing short of divine. Maybe even too good, because somewhere between Aureve's moans and the madness of her body, Sylvaris had truly lost his mind.

Every single woman reacted in her own way to the declaration—but beneath their differences, one thought echoed in all their minds like a shared curse: Why the stepmother?

Lilith took a sharp step back, as if she'd just inhaled poison. Her glare could have scorched bone. What was he thinking when he put that filthy thing inside her? Does he know no shame? To break the family just for his own satisfaction... what kind of monster did I end up following? And yet, despite the revulsion, despite the outrage twisting inside her chest, she couldn't deny it... the thought of him being that kind of monster, that shameless, taboo-breaking deviant, made a slow heat stir deep within her.

Miren was pressing her thighs together now, her lower lip trembling as she stared at him like she couldn't decide whether to faint or offer herself next. She stood frozen, biting her lip, eyes locked on his cock like a starving wolf denied its prey. Why wasn't it me? I joined first... yet I haven't even had the chance to taste him... Her thoughts churned with frustration and desire. This is unfair... If he won't make the first move, then I will. Her gaze shimmered, soft and crazed, as if her pupils were giving birth to hearts.

Faylira gagged on her own spit, one hand pounding her chest while her tails fluttered behind her like flags in full-blown chaos. Shit... I knew he fucked her yesterday, but to think he'd actually confess it himself? Is that really my Sylvaris? Maybe he finally grew up—hahaha! She laughed inwardly, both amused and lightly taken aback. Still, she couldn't deny the truth: Aureve was hot. It made perfect sense that Sylvaris wouldn't be able to resist her, especially with how vulnerable the woman had been last night. Of course she gave him the green flag to explore her panties. Faylira had already accepted the newcomer into the harem, but it didn't mean she wasn't a little pissed that she wasn't the one who got to ride her man last. It'd been a while... and this fox was feeling hungry.

Liraeth exhaled deeply, massaging her temples with slow, exhausted grace. "You're going to make your entire harem implode before lunchtime," she muttered under her breath. What was he thinking? She sighed again, sharper this time.

Ah... my Sylvaris is losing it. No, really... I have to take charge and bring some peace to this mess before we all start fighting over who gets to mount his dick first. Her mind was already spiraling into planning mode. I need a strategy. A structure. And most importantly, I need to make damn sure he never goes after close friends or family again... or it'll be him suffering at the end, not us. But even with all her frustrations, she couldn't truly complain. Deep down, Liraeth knew the truth; if Sylvaris was happy, that was all that really mattered to her. But none of that changed the fact that, in this moment, she wanted to kill him.

And Aureve.... well... how should I put it? She burned with mortification and fury, her hips swaying with every step as she closed the gap between them. Her palm lashed out and slapped him across the head, not hard enough to do real damage, but just enough to sting and leave a glowing reminder of her outrage.

"You promised to keep that between us!" Her voice cracked slightly, and though she tried to mask it, her eyes betrayed a flicker of hurt, of real, raw betrayal. Yet deep inside, a part of her wondered if maybe this was for the best. She hadn't known how to face the other women in his party, not after what she had done. She had stolen their man, taken him to bed without so much as introducing herself, let alone earning her place beside them.

Worse still, there were things she needed to say to Sylvaris—truths that clawed at her from the inside, but none of it could be said in front of the others. And most importantly... his core. The guilt pulsed like a second heartbeat in her chest. She was the one who had stolen it. And now, standing here, looking into his golden eyes, she knew; if she didn't confess soon, that bitterness would rot her from the inside out, and she'd carry it like a curse for the rest of her life.

Sylvaris tilted his head, looking up at her with that maddening grin stretching across his lips. "It was just too good not to share."

She sputtered with rage.

And then Liraeth stepped forward, her voice lowered to a hiss, sharp and slicing through the air like a blade. "But she's your damn stepmother. What were you thinking?!"

She glanced around, robes shifting like shadows, her movements quick and precise, her gaze darting to every pillar and corner as if expecting the worst. Her fingers twitched, magic humming in the space around her, ready to erase the very sound of this confession if she had to.

Because if Arathor, the man of the house ever discovered that his golden son had taken his beloved wife for a ride on the demon-slayer express?

They wouldn't just be ruined. They'd be slaughtered. And not in the good, pleasurable way Sylvaris usually preferred.

"Do you want us all dead?" Liraeth hissed, her voice low but fierce, eyes wide and blazing with the fire of panic barely contained. "He'll kill you, Sylvaris. And when he's done with you, he'll kill the rest of us too, just for standing near your stupid, sex-drunk ass!"

She was pacing now, hands gesturing wildly, her usually serene composure shattered beneath the weight of impending royal doom. Sylvaris, however, still lay flat on the ground, one arm draped across his forehead like a man basking in the sun after committing a crime of passion, and getting away with it.

He shrugged, completely unbothered for someone whose erection had just caused a kingdom-wide scandal. "It's not that bad."

Faylira leaned over him, her eyes sparkling with manic delight, her tails swishing in disbelief. "Not that bad? You stuck your cock in your father's wife, you lunatic. The only way this could be worse is if you confessed it to the entire palace, oh wait. You just did."

Miren was clutching her chest, her breaths shallow, thighs pressing tightly together as she stood frozen, like a priestess caught mid-prayer at a brothel. Her lips trembled. "Why is this so wrong... but so hot...?" she whispered aloud, unaware she was speaking to herself.

Lilith let out a long, venomous sigh and rolled her eyes so hard it looked like they might vanish into her skull. "You have a gift, Sylvaris. A cursed, vile, magnificent gift. Everything you touch turns into erotic doom. You're like a walking prophecy of perversion."

Sylvaris's grin widened. "Hey, I didn't hear any complaints last night," he said, and his gaze slid toward Aureve, who was now trembling, caught somewhere between arousal and cold-blooded murder.

"You promised you wouldn't tell anyone!" she snapped, her voice shrill, cheeks burning with a mix of fury and the blush of remembered pleasure.

He turned to her, smirking, completely unapologetic. "I don't remember making such a promise."

Her hand shot up, ready to strike again, but this time he caught her wrist midair. The moment froze between them. Her lips parted, her breath caught in her throat, and the anger in her eyes flickered with something deeper, something far less innocent. She remembered. The way he'd pinned her. The way he made her scream and beg and break. Her body still carried echoes of it, and her traitorous thighs squeezed together as the memory licked heat across her skin.

Their breath mingled.

And then Liraeth stormed in like a divine exorcism and yanked Sylvaris up by the collar, dragging him halfway to his feet in one swift, elegant motion. Her hands clenched into the fabric like she was trying to choke the blood back into his brain.

"Fix this," she snapped, each word sharp as a dagger. "Now. Before your father walks in and sees your cock still pointing at his wife like it's challenging him to a duel."

Sylvaris blinked, then shrugged again, as if this whole mess was someone else's fault entirely.

"I'd win."

"That's not the point!"