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aloeverified · 3 years

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Avatar: The Last Airbender Ethnicities:

I've noticed a few people have made modern headcanons based off of the ATLA characters' races & ethnicities, and a lot of them were very inaccurate based off of canon; so I'm going to explain which countries and cultures each of the four nations are based on.

The Air Nomads:

The Nomads' culture closely resembles mostly to that of Tibetan Monks and to Hindu priests to some degree. Their bald heads, clothing and meditation practices are very similar to those of real life Buddhist monks. The nomads practice vegetarianism like many real life Hindus and Buddhists. The method the monks used to find the Avatar, such as having toys for the child to choose from, is also the same method Tibetans used to find the Dalai Lama. Air temple architecture draws from real life Chinese Buddhist Pagodas. Aang’s mentor was named Monk Gyatso and Aang’s son, was named Tenzin, which form the real name of Tibet’s 14th and current Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso.

Many airbenders wear saffron robes based off of those of Shaolin monks. The outfit Aang wears in season three is similar to that of the Dalai Lama.

The erratic and free style of air bending is based on ancient Chinese martial art of Ba Gua.

As for their architecture, it strongly resembles Pagoda Forest of China and Taktsang Temple of Bhutan (a Southern Asian country).

Their history also has a lot of real-world relevance, as the Air Nomad Genocide by Fire Nation is based off of an actual historical event, the Annexation of Tibet by the People's Republic of China.

Therefore, the closest ethnic group to the Air Nomads would be the Tibetan people, with a lot of Chinese influence.

Earth Kingdom:

The Earth Kingdom is the most diverse region of the Avatar world. Their architecture is almost soley influenced by those of China, but they also shares similar cuisine with China, such as roast duck and jook. Much of the clothing is based on the clothing of pre-manchu China, with the exception of Ba Sing Se, which is based on the Qing Dynasty. In addition, Korean clothing, such as hanbok, can be seen being worn by some characters as well. Architecture in the Earth Kingdom is very Chinese influenced in general.

The Earth Kingdom army uniforms resemble ancient Chinese military uniforms, particularly those of the Song and Ming Dynasty. The capital, Ba Sing Se, draws many parallels with ancient Chinese capitals such as Beijing.

Also, Kuei, the 52nd Earth King, resembles the the last emperor of China, Puyi. In appearance, both of them even wears circular glasses; and in culture, both rulers were kept ignorant of the state of their nation and had no real power. Kuei had previously never left the Ba Sing Se palace, akin to how Puyi, up to a point, was always kept in the Forbidden City.

The government also draws a parallel with the authoritarian Ming Dynasty with its propaganda and police state. It takes after China and the communist revolution. For example, Lake Laogai is named after the reeducation camps constructed by Mao Zedong; and the Dai Li is named after the leader of the Chinese Secret Police.

The sand benders in the desert also bear a resemblance to the Tuareg people in Northern Africa.

The strong stances and strikes of earthbending is based on ancient Chinese martial art of Hung Gar, although Toph’s specific style is inspired by Southern Praying Mantis style.

However, despite the Earth Kingdom's mostly Chinese influence, the Kyoshi warriors resemble Kabuki actors and geisha of Japan, and Kyoshi Island seems to hold more similarities to Japan tham China, as well.

Therefore, the people of Ba Sing Se would be Chinese, and since the Kingdom was formed around Ba Sing Se as their Capital, so would the majority of the Earth Kingdom as well. There are two excepts, though, with those who live on Kyoshi Island, who would be mixed of Japanese and Chinese ancestry. Along with that, the sand benders would be Tuareg, as it's the only part of their culture we've seen.

The Fire Nation:

The mainstream Fire Nation culture closely resembles mostly Japan and China to some extent. Their architecture strongly resembles Chinese architecture, and their army wears ancient uniform of Chinese military.

As for their real-world similarities, as previous stated in the Air Nomad's history, their invasion on Air Temples, were quite similar to real life invasion of Tibet by People’s Liberation Army of China.

As for the Fire Nation’s similarities with Japan, they're mostly based off of Imperial Japan. This includes them being an extremely militaristic and industrialized country in only a few decades, and being the expansionist nation compared to others. Their propaganda justifying their imperialism is similar to that of Japan’s propaganda during World War II, as they used to justify their invasion on rest of the S.E. Asia.

The Fire Nation is influenced by other Chinese and Southeast Asian cultures as well. The Fire Nation’s topography is also similar to Japan, Hawaii, and Polynesian Islands. Ancient Egyptian and Chinese architecture inspired the Fire Nation Royal Palace and the royal garden is similar to classical Chinese ones. The Palace is visually similar to the Forbidden City but to a lesser extent. The Fire Temple is based on Chinese pagodas. However, Ember Island draws from Southeast Asian resorts, which can be seen in the numerous paintings and vases in the homes.

Chinese influences can be seen in Fire Nation attire. In particular, Zuko can be seen wearing a shenyi, a historical Chinese clothing.

Warlord era of the Fire Islands (an era before Fire Lord uniting the islands into single nation) were based on the Ainu culture of Japan and Russia.

The Sun Warriors were known for worshipping the sun since they drew their power from it, similar to Mayan and Aztec cultures, who also glorified the sun. Their clothing is very similar to traditional Southeast Asian warrior dress, most notably, their headdresses. Sun Warriors’ buildings are reminiscent of Mesopotamian and Southeast Asian architecture, such as the Phanom Rung and Angkor Wat.

Therefore, the Fire Nation's people could be seen as either Chinese or Japanese, as both of their culture is very prevalent. Due to the Earth Kingdom's people already being based off of China, I personally see the Fire Nation as Japanese. However, as previously stated, the Sun Warriors are mostly likely a mixture of Japanese and Southern Asian Indigenous descent.

The Water Tribe:

As seen on maps in ATLA, the north and south Water Tribes are positioned on the coldest extremes, similar to the real life tribe of the Inuit, who are a nation of many communities in Arctic & Subarctic regions in Russia, the US, Canada, & Greenland.

As for cultural similarities, Katara and other women in the Southern Water Tribe are seen wearing hair loops, which are actually hairstyles worn by Inuit women. There are also igluvijait (snow houses) in Katara and Sokka’s Southern Water Tribe village, and iglu/igluit means any kind of house in many Canadian Inuktitut dialects. Water Tribe members are also seen wearing anorak clothing, which was originally worn by the indigenous peoples of the Arctic designed to keep them warm and protected from harsh weather.

Their fighting style is based off of Chinese Tai-Chi. The Australian Aboriginals' weapons, such as the boomerang, can be seen being used by Water Tribe warriors, most notably Sokka. Face Paint, as seen being wore by the Water Tribe members, is also more common among Native American tribes; whereas tattoos are more common in Inuit culture. Water Tribe ships resemble Polynesian catamarans.

Different cultures inspired Water Tribe architecture based on their geography. The Northern Water Tribe’s architecture pulls from the ancient Aztecs’ pyramids and Venice’s canal systems while the Southern Tribe’s igloos mirror those of the Inuit.

Native American, Chinese and Japanese myths even influenced Water Tribe spiritual practices. For example, the moon and ocean spirits, Tui and La, are reminiscent of the Chinese legend of Yin and Yang.

For real-world similarities, Avatar has used modern disputes; such as the conflict over oil and ‘progress’ in the the graphic novel Avatar: The Last Airbender—North and South has been taken straight from conflicts in Inuit territory in Alaska.

Therefore, it makes sense to have both of the tribes be mostly made up of Inuit people. I personally view the Southern Water Tribe as being Inuit, and the Northen Tribe as being a Yup'ik due to the mixed influences.

Reminder: This is all based off of my own personal research, along with what other people have noticed as well, and my opinions because of it. My purpose for making this was to avoid white-washing that happens in the fandom, and to hopefully help educate others. If any information is wrong, feel free to correct it!

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lolabangtan · 4 years

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han | myg

When yangban member Oh Jook Hee is found dead, Min Yoon Gi, an officer of the Royal Bureau of Investigation is sent to Hangseon to solve it. In order to do so, he needs the help of Oh's former mistress, an outcast prostitute living in a hanok in the outskirts of the city.

However, it might not be easy to get her to help, and Yoon Gi will need to find other means while he tries to fight an odd urge.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of murder, blood, murder.

# police officer!Yoongi, sex worker!reader, sub!yoongi, dom!reader, slowburn, blood Kink, murder Kink? idk these bitches are horny for murder thats for sure, masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex.

Han. In Korean, the collective feeling of sadness and oppression, ascribed to the nation’s extensive history of attacks and invasions from other countries.

A badge of suffering tempered by a sense of resiliency.

The entirety of the hanok is silent this morning. Yoon Gi enters the room and bows to his superior. He is still wearing his mourning clothes and will continue to do so for a while—Oh Joo Kee has died and respect must be shown to his memory.

“Min Yoon Gi-ssi, do sit down,” the man says.

Yoon Gi obliges at once, although without much rush. Once the men are facing each other and the tea has been served, the servant leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

“Oh Joo Kee is dead.”

Yoon Gi nods to show that he already knows.

It is a tragedy. The deceased was the only son of Oh Joo Sa, whose family had not passed the civil service exams for the past two generations and had no known descendants. The family will lose its status and privileges.

It is truly a tragedy.

“His Majesty believes that it is not a coincidence. Oh Joo Sa-ssi’s lands in Jinju were targeted by the peasant revolts almost a decade ago. If the Oh family loses its yangban status, the situation could destabilise again… I don’t think it’s a coincidence either. The Japanese might be behind it.”

“Do we know of any possible perpetrator?” Yoon Gi asks.

His superior nods. “A handful of them, but they all have alibis. I’m afraid this is a premeditated murder, and thus, a great deal bigger than what we think.”

He continues to explain the situation, but Yoon Gi cannot help to wonder whether he is saying the truth—no one liked Oh Joo Kee. He was selfish, lustful, violent, and reckless. A futile lord of his lands, a worthless master of his servants. Perhaps it is in the death of the ruthless where God lives.

There is a bunch of papers and pictures, two quick drawings, and documents about the Oh family’s economic decline. The fresh face of a woman catches his eye.

“That is Y/N-ssi, Oh Joo Kee’s former mistress,” his superior says. “She lives in Han Seong, but one of the family’s slaves claims to have seen her five days ago in the house, a business meeting. She is, however, one of the suspects with an alibi. Y/N shall surely be helpful to the investigation, if not a key part. She knows more than she pretends to. However… hers is the weakest story. You might want to take a deeper look into it.”

The journey to Han Seong barely takes him two days.

Once he crosses the wall, the city receives him as always: low, spacious, and clean. Yoon Gi then spots a group of tiger hunters and asks them to show him your address. He takes the electric trolley across town. When he arrives, it takes him a few seconds to gather the will to knock on your door.

Your house is certainly not what he expected. Harlots and prostitutes do not tend to live in luxury after they are abandoned by their protectors. You, on the contrary, live in a magnificent hanok.

Amidst all that debauchery, however, there is only solitude. There is no vivid hustle nor the common grind of such big houses. It looks like an abandoned place, once alive but no longer so. The gardens are ashier than green.

A cold, dry wind blows through his chest and Yoon Gi finally dares to walk towards the gate.

It takes quite a long time before someone opens the door. “Good day. I’m here to see Y/N-ssi,” he says. “I come from the Royal Bureau of Investigation.”

The servant nods, grimacing, and tells him to wait as she informs her mistress.

Yoon Gi is lead to a sitting-room. Another servant, a much younger girl, serves him some tea and says that you will be downstairs soon.

You walk into the room and he, at last, has the chance to see you in person—loose hair, wearing a silk robe, à la japonaise, which covers with indifference fortuitous part of your body. You might look dishevelled, but he does not know the level of decency that is to be expected from a woman who was willing to sleep with a man like Oh Joo Kee for money.

“Min Yoon Gi-ssi,” you purr, “I do not know if I am delighted to have you in my house. Do tell me, business or pleasure?”

“Business, most certainly,” he rushes to clarify, although he is not sure if there is really a difference between those two things for your clients. For you, there most certainly is.

You shrug your shoulders in dismissal, lamenting the dull nature of his visit. Not all men have such handsome, small features. Sitting in front of him, you take the teapot and pour the tea, waiting for him to continue.

“You surely know, madam, that Oh Joo Kee is dead.”

“Dreadful news.” Your face shows a most unconcerned grimace as you hand him his cup. “I hope his family can recover from so awful a thing…”

“He had no family left—his father decided to leave this world, and he was not married. Only his mother is left to mourn him, but not as yangban. They might lose their status.”

A girlish, sweet giggle escapes from your lips. It is almost cruel, the spite in your voice, rejoicing in a dead man’s miserable loneliness. Were Yoon Gi a man of society who cared about any of that, he would have most certainly frowned at you.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he purses his lips to stifle a smile just as pitiless.

“Do not think me merciless, Yoon Gi-ssi, it’s a grimace of happiness. No clan, no bounds, no responsibilities… That is nothing but freedom.”

Even if Yoon Gi knows what you are trying to do, he cannot help but fall into your trap. He observes the way the soft flesh of your cleavage, which teases him with the imaginary vision of your breasts, moulds around at the slow motion of your arm rising to rest on the table. He knows you are putting him to the test, and he is failing resoundingly.

Yoon Gi wets his lips before coming back to his senses. “That is an uncommon mindset, Y/N-ssi. And a bit unpatriotic—he, who does not love and respect his lineage, cannot love and respect his nation,” he recites, recalling his formation as an officer.

“Good thing I’m not a ‘he’.”

She has a point, he thinks with a laugh.

“I am a woman with no father and no husband to shame with my actions,” you mutter then. Your tea rests, cold and neglected, on the table. “To some, that means that I do not exist. To me, that means that I am utterly and endlessly free. Can you not see it, Min Yoon Gi-ssi? I am an outcast. I live in the outskirts of Han Seong. I refuse to become the second wife or the concubine of a pig who will get rid of me at the first sight of a wrinkle, and I am far too lazy to make them fall in love with me. I do not play along with their game.”

Yoon Gi remains silent, looking at you in the eye. Something in them is tantalising, something sparkling and glowing. Whether or not you are doing it on purpose, he does not know. It does not matter, either way.

“I am afraid I have no more free time to spare with you, Min Yoon Gi. If you have any other questions, then my pockets feel too empty.”

Sighing, he rummages in his vest and hands you a small bag, the clinking sound promising a good amount of money. You take your time to make sure it is a decent payment, even if it surely is not as much as you usually get paid for your services—you might as well charge him less than usual since you technically will not have to work, unfortunately.

“I guess this will do” —you arch your eyebrows mockingly— “for now.”

It feels humiliating, even if Yoon Gi has not paid you to have sexual intercourse. It feels humiliating because you are completely aware of your part of the business, and he does not have the upper hand. Because you do not seem to perceive this as your punishment as a poor woman from the outskirts of Han Seong shoved into indecency. No feelings attached to anything that is not power, money, or information.

you are, after all, not so different from his superiors.

“Oh Joo Kee was smothered to death in his bed four days ago, the day after you visited him to his hanok. I understand, however, that you stopped being his mistress eight years ago.”

“Does the Bureau think I killed him?” you ask in awe.

“The bureau suspects that it was you,” Yoon Gi rushes to reply, rummaging through the papers. “We have a bunch of other suspects, actually. They all have an alibi, including you. There is evidence that you left for Han Seong that same night. All I want to know is if he had any quarrels, if any of his servants or slaves despised him… enough so as to kill him.”

You frown. “I have the train ticket if you need any evidence that I came back before the murder.”

“I would like to see it.”

He stares at you as you send for your servant, wondering how can you afford a house this big and three servants if you are an outcast. You must have some wealthy patrons, then, or quite the business. You tell him something about how much you depend on the girl, how she always remembers where you put your things while you completely forget about it.

“Don’t leave, I need you to put it back later,” you tell her.

As the servant girl awaits, standing awkwardly in the room, Yoon Gi inspects the ticket. It seems legit, and the dates match. The punching is correct, too. There is nothing that could make him think you are not telling the truth.

“Thank you, that is all,” he says, handing it back to the girl.

Now that he looks more thoroughly, she looks rather familiar. There is something in the shape of her eyes, in the curve of her lips, in her pouting, defiant grimace that makes him think that he has seen her before.

“Jang Geum,” you call almost in a growl, “I will see him off. Put it back where it was and go to bed.”

He has noticed your overprotecting tone, too, so he rips his gaze away from the servant and follows you down the corridor.

Yoon Gi arrives at the inn he has booked after taking the trolley from your hanok. The bed is uncomfortable and stiff, it does not adapt to his back, crashing it against the mattress. The sleeplessness is, however, quite lightening: it makes him think the entire night.

Out of all the alibies, yours is the weakest. He has looked and checked the list of suspects, trying to find any name that might raise his suspicions, or whose story doesn’t quite fit, but yours is the only one that catches his eye. Besides, if it wasn’t so, why would his superior tell him that you were important in the investigation?

Your joy at the news of his death doesn’t help, either.

A glimpse of your chest sneaks into his mind, heating his cheeks and sending odd shivers to his lower stomach. Even if he knows it has been your plan all along to take over his thoughts so he could not perform his investigation successfully, Yoon Gi still tries to toss you off his mind. However, you always come back—as a seductive smirk, as two mounts of soft flesh, or as a pair of dark, intense eyes lingering on his memory.

His hand is reluctant when it goes down to reach for his hardening member.

Damn it, you are good. You’re fucking good, and unstoppable, too. Yoon Gi has definitely failed your test.

He has to suppress a groan when the tip of his thumb strokes his tip. It feels hot and is sensitive to the touch, even if it’s only him. Yoon Gi tries to picture how it would be like if it were your hand and not his, if those were your fingers around his throbbing dick, your eyes looking down at him with a mocking smile, your eyebrows arched.

Picturing your chest, picturing your thighs, soft and melting and warm over his chilly skin. He wants to take one of your nipples into his mouth as you take a hold on his hair, pulling as hard as you want. He wants to sneak between your legs and kiss your inner thighs, wondering whether you would hug his head with them.

The motion of his fist is frantic now, uncontrolled. His palm is, perhaps, a bit too dry, but the pre-cum gliding down his length it’s enough not to make it painful in a bad way.

“Fuck—”

He really can’t get rid of your imaginary presence next to him. You are cooing him, telling him when to speed up and when to slow down. Yoon Gi can hear you call his tip ‘a pretty shade of angry red’. Your hand soon covers his and takes over the motion, making him jerk his arm with slower but sharper movements.

Just like that, Yoon Gi-ssi, you purr in his mind. You’re doing so well… I can’t wait to have you inside of me. Just the thought of being welcomed between your thighs sends a wave of pleasure to his dick, making him whimper.

“Please,” he cries, “don’t— don’t tease.”

He’s reaching his high, hips rising from the mattress, heels kicking the bedding desperately. Your eyes remain in front of him, eyeing him with desire. You want to see him burst; he knows it. You want to see him break apart, crumble at the pleasure until he is a mass melting into your soft skin with no wish other than to stay with you forever.

A rush of spit stains his chin, he knows he looks dishevelled and pathetic, dick in hand and almost ejaculating at the thought of your ministrations.

Yoon Gi palms his balls as a finishing touch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— fuck, please, please,” he mumbles to himself, eyes tightly closed.

It’s messy and sticky and nasty, his cum spurting all over him as he arches his back in pure pleasure, covering his mouth to stifle any possible loud moan. There is cum on his belly, all over his clothed thighs, covering his fingers. You would be laughing at him if you could see him like this, and his cock throbs at the thought. Pathetic.

After cleaning himself a little, Yoon Gi gets up and goes outside to light up a cigarette. As the smoke escapes his lips and rises to the darkened sky, he crouches on the floor, thoughtful.

Now that he feels dirty, you don’t seem to be pestering his mind anymore. His brain has decided that it is too embarrassing and is finally on his side. With his head clear, Yoon Gi tries to recollect everything he’s found out about the case.

Yoon Gi then remembers your maid.

I wouldn’t even know where is my head without her. She always remembers this sort of things, you know. I would be lost without her.

It is normal to assume that you would take your servant with you whenever to travelled, including during your business visit to Oh’s house. Two people mean two tickets, and therefore there is one missing. Your ticket might have actually been your maid’s.

His letter to his superior is delivered the next day at seven in the morning, containing a detailed narrative of his suspicions. Once Yoon Gi is ready, he takes the trolley again to your house.

This time there is a cat napping close to the door. Your servant, Jang Geum, is trying to pet him, but the animal doesn’t seem willing to play along with her. She winces at his hiss and steps back when Yoon Gi is walking into the garden.

“I would like to see Y/N-ssi.”

The girl nods and goes back in, shyly gesturing him to follow her. After she asks him to wait in the entrance hall and walks out into the back garden, Yoon Gi can hear her voice informing you about his sudden presence. You mutter something and soon the maid is telling him to come in.

“Did I hit the jackpot, Yoon Gi-ssi, and you are coming finally for pleasure?” you ask him as soon as he walks in.

“I’m afraid not. Would you take me to somewhere private? I must ask you a few questions.”

“About the murder, I suppose,” you retort.

He nods quietly and follows you to the sitting-room where you talked yesterday.

Despite your efforts to seem chirpy and sharp, you clearly look different. You’re acting different, in fact, and Yoon Gi wants to know why—what happened last night that is getting you deeply concerned and incredibly hesitant.

“I know that your visit to Oh’s hanok was on business,” he mumbles, flashing through the papers he’s brought. “What exactly is that business about? I assume it is big enough to provide you with such a property.”

“Trade. I needed him to lend me a hand exporting silk to China.”

Yoon Gi nods again, slower this time. That matches what his informer wrote in the report. He then looks up from the document and locks his eyes with yours, feeling a sudden knot in his throat. The memory of last night, your imaginary hand taking over his to touch him, comes to his head with the strength of a thunder, and he tries to shut his eyes as if that would take away the sweet image.

“Trade?” Yoon Gi repeats to himself. “I wasn’t expecting that. I rather picture you as a political creature than a trader. With the Chinese.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out of your lips. “Politics are not ruled by facts and laws, you see,” you tell him. “They are all about men’s fragility. Of men whose mothers did not want them, or whose confessions were rejected out of hand, or who could never excel at what they liked best. Fragile men, I say. One single suspicion of being dethroned and you’ll have the wisest king maddening and setting his own country on fire. If I can't have you, nobody else will. Please, let me have you. Men of power are the only creatures in this world who, in their pathos, deserve no mercy.”

He doesn’t reply to your comment—if he does, it might linger on his mind forever and make everything in his life crumble down. Instead, he resolves to aim directly at the reason he came to your house.

“And you took your servant with you, of course.” That’s it. Yoon Gi notices the way your brow twitches, your shoulders spiking out as you get on guard like a fucking tiger. “May I see her train ticket?”

“I threw it away.”

You know that you’ve replied too fast. Frustrated because of the stupid slip, you purse your lips and breathe through your nose.

“You… threw it away?” Yoon Gi repeats, almost astonished at your blatant lie. Do you think he’s stupid?

“Exactly.”

It’s not clear whether you’re answering the question from his lips or the one from his mind.

“But you didn’t throw away your ticket. Why wouldn’t you? Surely you couldn’t have known that you would need it to claim an alibi.”

“What a gruesome coincidence,” you say with a blank face.

Yoon Gi decides that it’s time to come back to Gongju, so he rises from his seat to bid farewell. There’s a lot he needs to think about. “You will be hearing from me, Y/N-ssi. Good morning, and sorry to disturb your rest.”

It’s not odd that you don’t bother to see him off this time.

He arrives at his office a few days and a sleepless night later—you’re still pestering his dreams whenever he dares, stupidly, to close his eyes.

“I read your letter.” Yoon Gi sits down in front of him in silence; there’s something in the air he doesn’t like a bit. “I’m thinking of ordering her arrest. If we do, we should do it as soon as possible.

“It’s just a suspicion.”

“Home custody should work for now,” continues the superior, ignoring what he hears.

“I have no evidence,” insists Yoon Gi. He presses his lips together, trying to think, trying to come up with something, anything. Even if you might have done it, he doesn’t want anyone innocent to die. “I will do it. I kill keep custody of her in Han Seong until the detention.”

A shared laughter echoes through the room. His colleagues are looking at each other, laughing with their shoulders.

“Don’t be too rough with the whore,” one says, still laughing.

“She must be used to it.”

Suddenly, Yoon Gi finds himself entangled in your words. Politics are not ruled by facts; they are all about men’s fragility. A sense of hatred washes ragefully over his body, like a furious wave crashing against a rock to which he is tied. His fists tremble. The men are still laughing at the comment while some wonder out loud about the prices of your services.

“This might be our chance to get rid of that parasitic whore for good. Don’t mess up, Yoon Gi-ssi.”

They are not afraid, he senses. They know you have most probably killed a man and think they still are in the position to joke about it with superiority. Pathetic. It’s fucking pathetic. His body twists as he stands on the ground.

Yoon Gi feels powerless, and the desire to explode into flames is consuming him, it’s devouring his consciousness.

His superior calls for his attention again, and Yoon Gi’s guts writhe again. “You should leave as soon as possible, then. Y/N might try to escape and succeed.”

The best thing to do right now is to switch off his thoughts.

You don’t seem at all surprised when he comes back to your house a few days later. Welcoming and easy in manners, there must be something wrong. You must be up to something, he thinks as he walks into the house.

“I know why you’re here.”

That’s all you say about the investigation during that evening.

The rest of your conversation is an intense sharing of sultry looks and flirty comments. Yoon Gi doesn’t know whether you’re trying to seduce your way off the custody or really do want to fuck him dry on the sitting-room table.

“Tell me when you are sleepy and I’ll show you to your room,” you say after a while.

“I can’t,” Yoon Gi rushes to say. “I have to stay with you; here, in your chamber, in the garden—wherever you go. I can’t leave you alone.”

“You can’t?” That damned robe again, it’s barely covering your nipples. The mounts of your breasts tease him with the presumption of what they would look like. His eyes travel instantly to your lips, and then your hands. The tips of your fingers seem soft, they’d be soft with him. Or perhaps not. “Or rather you don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave me alone either, Min Yoon Gi-ssi.”

“Don’t try to beguile me,” he grunts, voice dry.

“I will not escape, and I am not trying to beguile you. I’m innocent” —you chuckle— “in the legal sense of the word.”

You then get closer to him, and his kneecap almost jumps when he feels your skin on his. He’s behaving like a virgin boy, he knows it. It’s pathetic, ridiculous. But you manage, somehow, to always sneak into his mind, to pull his strings and drive him insane, to become part of his heart and body and brain and even his fingertips.

And you fucking know.

“Yoon Gi-ssi,” you whisper.

He notices now that your lips are closer than ever, hovering over his like a teasing shadow. They itch, dying to kiss you. Yoon Gi can’t help it, his hands cupping your face to finally put his mouth on yours.

The kiss his wet, aggressive, skin rubbing against skin as their hands seem too hungry to stay at one place at a time. You groan into his lips—they taste like brine, like spilt tears. As you raise your thighs to straddle his lap, he helps you and tries to find a good stance against the table for balance.

“You’re so hard, and I’ve barely even kissed you, doll,” you mutter, lips travelling to his jaw now and peppering kisses and small bites.

You’ve done more than that, but he’s not gonna tell you about that: the imaginary picture of your soft thighs, warm against his imaginary chilly skin, flashes in his mind as his imaginary eyes look up, up, to your imaginary wet cunt.

Yoon Gi wets his lips in the real world. “Please sit on my face.”

As he lays his head on the floor, you straddle his neck this time, rushing to pull up the silk skirt you’re wearing. He’s looking up at you, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his pink lips, completely ready to please you, until he feels the warmth between your legs hovering over him—now that’s everything he can think about.

The first stroke of his tongue is weak, probing into you almost teasingly. You get a hold of his hair to let him know you won’t put up with any of that, and his clothed dick twitches at the thought.

“You’re good at this…”

Yoon Gi is now softly kissing your lips, caressing your clit with the tip of his nose. The feeling is there, but at the same time it’s not. You buck your hips into his mouth, perhaps too abruptly, you notice, as he grabs your thighs at your onslaught. But he doesn’t seem to dislike it: his eyes are teary and watery, looking up at you almost with adoration.

Feeling greedy, you undo the upper part of your garment and loosen the front so you can free your breasts and play with your nipples.

“You’re getting wetter,” he mutters, amazed. Your legs are trembling over him. “Are you close?”

“Yes.”

His tongue is now attacking your clit on full mast. Yoon Gi keeps licking and kissing, grunting, stroking it until you pull his hair in a warning. Barely a few seconds later, you’re coming all over his face with a blasphemy on your mouth and your eyes shut tightly.

He helps you ride out your climax before it becomes too much.

Something hard bumps into your core when you sit on Yoon Gi’s lap. You see him wince—he must be desperate to cum himself, but there’s hesitation in his eyes.

“May I?” you ask, eyeing his erection.

He nods eagerly, swallowing up a pleading ‘please’. Being drifted away by his attraction to you is enough humiliation for one day.

With the same ease with which you loosen your collar, you remove the ties of his trousers and lower them just to his knees, just enough to be able to watch his dick bounce against his belly. The tip is angry red, almost palpitating, wet with precum. Not big but shaped elegantly.

“I’m sure you’ve already pictured me taking your dirty cock with my hands,” you growl to his ear before biting into his lobe. As Yoon Gi puts all of his attention in your mockery, he doesn’t expect the sudden contact of your soft hand with his dick. “Tell me, have you?” He nods with a whimper. “Did you touch yourself? I’m sure you did.”

“I— I did, and I came, all over myself, like a— like a slut.”

Your teeth reach his lower neck and you kiss the reddening bite mark. “You surely are a slut.”

You start pumping your hand capriciously; sometimes the motion is quick, sometimes it’s too slow and Yoon Gi bucks his hips into your grip unconsciously. Your eyes watching him with such an intensity that he can’t avert his gaze from them. They’re tangling up in his mushy brain, threading into his thoughts, occupying his whole head with sultry whispers.

The fine line between dignity and pride doesn’t exist for him anymore.

As you withdraw your lips from his cleavage, Yoon Gi goes for your chest, ravishing your nipples like an animal. He’s got the same skilled tongue he used with your cunt, after all, so the pleasure is welcomed.

You’re afraid he might forget to respire, his heavy breathing making him grunt and whine, shoving him into a frenzy of pleasure while your hand moves faster.

“Fuck, f-fuck I’m close,” Yoon Gi cries. Every sound is muffled by his heart’s beating.

You know you have to make him cum, but Yoon Gi seems to enjoy this torture just as much as you do. His eyelids tremble with every ministration of your hand, his dick keeps oozing more precum. You can barely tell your skin apart from his. Your thumb goes instinctively to stroke his tip.

“Please!” he cries again. He’s twitching madly.

Cuddling him into your chest with your other arm, you use his back to thrust and rub his dick faster, harder. Yoon Gi is babbling nonsense at this point: praise, pleads, how good it feels.

“Are you going to cum, hm?” you coo.

He nods softly against your chest. “Yes! Yes, please— let me cum, please.”

You palm his balls a little. They feel hard and heavy on your hand, full, and sensitive, too, as Yoon Gi hisses the instant you touch them. The wet slapping sounds increase just as much as the pitch of his whimpers. His thighs tense under yours. I’m coming, I’m coming. Please don’t stop— so fucking good!

“Ah, ah! Right there!” he moans. “Yes!”

The white cum spurts against his belly, thankfully not reaching the fabric of his clothes. Yoon Gi hugs you tightly as the orgasm waves through him, mouth agape, eyes crossed and lost in the air. With the help of the bucking of his hips, you ride out his climax with your slowing hand.

Yoon Gi hasn’t come down from his high yet, so the tingling sensation of your lips against his windpipe appears on a distant realm of his head, him letting you know that he’s not knocked out just with a spasm of his neck. You keep peppering kisses all over his neck, tangling your fingers around his feeble arms.

“You did so good,” you mutter against his ear.

He notices too late that you have tied his hands to one of the legs of the heavy ebony table. With a push of your foot, you throw him to the floor, his back turning over the furniture and falling on it. Yoon Gi can’t get up, it’s too heavy.

“Don’t do this,” he grunts, letting his head fall.

With a deep, tired snort, you chuckle. “I’m sorry, I was having a good time with you. Perhaps when you are not trying to get me hanged, hm?”

You don’t wait for a reply. While he’s still recovering from his climax, you rush upstairs to take your things and fetch your maid. The girl is waiting for you in a small, recondite room of the house with a travel bag and a grimace of fright.

However, once you two arrive at the corridor again, Yoon Gi has already freed himself from your trap and is standing in front of you.

“We need to leave,” you say.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Oh Joo Kee,” Yoon Gi replies, his face blank. “I have reinforcements on the way that will take you to face the death penalty for your crime.”

You can’t help the frown of pain and desperation painted on your countenance. “You have no evidence.”

“Your behaviour is enough evidence,” he retorts, “and your alibi doesn’t make sense anymore. Don’t try to make this any harder. Come with me without putting up any resistance and nothing will happen to the girl.”

But he still senses something unfair in the air. There is something truly unsettling that doesn’t quite fit or make sense, and he stares at you, trying to find out. Why would you take so much trouble for the servant? You’d have time to escape if it wasn’t because you went upstairs to get her. It all becomes too intriguing for him when you toss your bag to the floor and heads to the entrance.

You turn your head to him.

“Do you really want to know the truth, Yoon Gi-ssi? Even though it might haunt you?” He nods, his eyes not leaving yours. “I did not do it—I didn’t kill Oh Joo Kee.”

But the man stops you, grabbing your arm instinctively. There really is something that doesn’t make sense in this story.

“I would rather have my death as quick as possible,” you retort.

“Why, then?” Yoon Gi’s voice echoes through the corridor, a cry against the serenity of your countenance. “Why are you willing to pay for a crime you did not commit?”

But your facade falters for a second—and that is all he needs to understand that there is something else. There is a reason.

The sound of feet stomping down the stairs of the house finally sneaks into your heads. Jang Geum, your servant, falls to the floor in tears of desperation and grabs your legs, begging you with her shivering voice:

“Please! Do not go, please! I beg you, please! I beg you!”

“Jang Geum, stop,” you snarl at her.

The girl presses her wet cheeks against your, her grip tighter. “Please, Mother, don’t go!” she cries.

Yoon Gi does not exactly know what it is, but something snaps in his chest. The girl’s begging, your painful grimace, the reluctance in your voice. Mother. That girl is your daughter, and, from her apparent age, she must be Oh Joo Kee’s, too.

“Take me, Yoon Gi-ssi!” she is now talking to him. “Mother did nothing, I did! I killed him! I killed that bastard!”

You rush to roughly cover her mouth with your hands and a rageful wince, tears threatening to weep down your cheeks at any moment. You call her stupid, foolish, naïve, loud. Whatever it takes to keep her silent and non-existent for the officers outside the house. Jang Geum bites into your fingers and you pull your arm away, startled by the sudden pain.

“I killed him, Min Yoon Gi-ssi!” the girl repeats, now looking a little calmed. “I… I stayed in Han Seong for one more day and disguised as a servant to kill him. It was the right thing to do after I found out… who he was.”

“Your father.”

With a pitiful cry, you crouch down on the floor, covering your face. After he took your youth, your fresh beauty, your virtue, Jang Geum was the only thing he could not take away from you. You begin to shake your head, but no one has time to unravel your message as the knocks on the door are stronger.

You assume that the officers are getting impatient, so you push your daughter into one of the wardrobes and walk to the entrance. Yoon Gi stands in your way.

“Don’t try to be a hero, please,” you whisper, tired.

“The same goes for you.”

“I am not being a hero.” Your voice is soft but adamant, and he cringes in despair. “I am being a mother. Now please, step aside.”

“I can’t,” Yoon Gi says.

Before you can do anything, he rushes to the door, cracking it open without leaving room for you to be seen, and tells the officers that he is still looking for you. He then closes it and goes to the wardrobe to see the girl.

“How did you know?” he asks. “About your father. Who told you it was Oh Joo Kee? Was it Y/N?”

“It was a letter someone left in my room,” Jang Geum replies.

“Let me see it.”

The three of you go upstairs, and you have a knot in your throat. What letter? Whoever put it there, how did they come in? Who would be interested in making your daughter think that is father was actually Oh Joo Kee?

Jang Geum hands the paper to him with shivering hands.

Oddly enough, it is written in hangul, but the strokes are too hesitant for the author to be comfortable with anything other than hanja. It must be a man, then, and one with an upper education. He must have written in hangul to make sure that Jang Geum could read it.

Oh Joo Kee is your father. He ruined your mother and deserves justice. Kill him when your mother takes you to his house and I will take care of the rest. Do not tell to Y/N-ssi about this. I will take care of everything once you are done with your part.

A tempting message, indeed. Yoon Gi turns to you, but you look rather uneasy, not at all reassured now that you have found out how she knows about her father.

“What is it?” he asks, voice filled with worry.

“You stay here, Jang Geum. Don’t go downstairs under any circumstances.”

The girl nods as you close the door.

“It’s not true,” you say once you reach the corridor. “Whoever wrote this, they’re either wrong or lying. Oh Joo Kee is not her father. I took… care during the years I was her mistress.”

Yoon Gi takes a look through the window of the hanok, visibly anxious, before saying. “Leave. Grab the essential and take the train to a safe place without being recognised. I will stay here. I will tell the officers you knocked me out to escape.”

“You’re playing the hero now.”

“What about it?” he snarls back. “Do as I tell you, please. You and the kid—you will be fine.”

“I…” You press your lips together, hesitant. “There is a carriage coming to take us to somewhere safe, don’t worry. We’ll be fine, really… Will you be all right?”

Yoon Gi nods even if he knows you’ve noticed his uncertainty.

You decide that the courtyard is the safest escape. From there you can get to the train station and travel to the border with China, where you still have a house where you keep all the fabrics you trade with. Jang Geum will be completely safe in that house, and you trust the man who is going to take her there.

There’s something crushing your heart between its dark claws. Something eager and expectant, unsatisfied, craving more. Longing for something meaningful.

“Darling,” you tell Jang Geum, “you know what you have to do.”

You kiss your daughter on her forehead, hand her the bag, and turn around to come back to the corridor. The door to your sitting-room is open, so you come in—Yoon Gi looks at you in awe.

“She is safe, don’t worry,” you whisper. “I couldn’t leave you here.”

Yoon Gi frowns. “You don’t understand—”

The door suddenly cracks open, revealing the figure of Yoon Gi’s superior. He smirks when he sees you, probably too pleased with how things have evolved. He looks much older now, his face wrinkled into turpitude and corruption. A soft gag crawls up your throat.

“I would have never pictured you playing the hero, Y/N-ssi,” he says, circling the room towards you. “If you turn yourself in, nothing will happen to Jang Geum. She will be safe wherever she is now.”

“It’s not fair,” Yoon Gi suddenly groans. “Y/N-ssi did not commit Oh Joo Kee’s murder, and the real perpetrator was instigated. Neither of them is guilty.”

Han.

In Korean, the collective feeling of sadness and oppression, ascribed to the nation’s extensive history of attacks and invasions from other countries. Your heart shrinks in your chest, acid, bleeding. A badge of suffering tempered by a sense of resiliency. You want to put your hands around his neck and strangle him to death, you want to watch his eyes eventually darkening, light vanishing from them.

“This is an unfair world.”

A growl echoes through the room, but it is not yours. It is Yoon Gi’s, staring at him with something defiant glistening in his gaze. It feels empowering, seductive, dark. Indulgent in the worst way.

“She knows too much, Min Yoon Gi-ssi,” his superior continues. “Do you remember the assassination of our beloved Queen Min? She is the one who found out that Oh Joo Sa’s brother helped the Japanese. Our nation is in danger and she could be used as a source for information. It’s the right thing to do.”

“You wrote to Jang Geum,” you mutter.

Sadness and oppression. Attacks, invasions, a badge of suffering, a sense of resiliency. He, who does not love and respect his lineage, cannot love and respect his nation.

“You tried to frame your own daughter for murder. Your own blood.”

“I expected Yoon Gi-ssi to be less meticulous with the investigation,” he retorts, chuckling at his subordinate’s grimace of astonishment. “You would take the blame for her and be hanged. The empire would be safe. Here where you see her, Y/N-ssi was one of our best spies. We could not let her go and risk her greed driving her into the pants of the Japanese or the Russians, given how quickly she got into mine.”

“Shut your mouth,” Yoon Gi growls again, “you ungrateful pig.”

“Call me whatever you wish to, Min Yoon Gi-ssi, but remember—this is the moment to choose where your loyalty lies. Either in the arms of a slut or with your nation. Choose wisely. My men are already outside bordering the house.”

You let out the breath choking you and walk towards the window. You then break it with your shoulder, rising your arms to protect yourself. A dozen pieces of glass scatter around the floor.

“There’s no escape,” he insists, unaltered by the shattering noise.

Hearing nothing but your heartbeat in your ears, you pick up one of the sharp, big pieces of broken glass and watch it carefully. Your tongue peeks out to lick your lips, a thousand ideas running through your head.

Yoon Gi seems to read your unhinged thoughts, for he goes to his superior and, to his surprise, grabs his arms to put them behind his back and immobilize him.

“Let go of me, Min Yoon Gi! You owe me obedience in the king’s eyes! Let me go!”

But it’s to no avail—Yoon Gi is in some sort of rageful state that won’t let him put his arms away. As his superior writhes and squirms to get rid of him, you tighten your grip on the glass and slit his throat once, twice, three, four, five times, all with the same strength and wrath, clenching your jaw.

The warm blood oozes furiously from the wound, staining your hands and soon Yoon Gi’s too when his superior turns to him out of shock. Your clothes are a bloody mess, everywhere you touch ends up dyed red. The man eventually becomes still in his arms, now far from your world, and Yoon Gi lets him fall to the floor.

You’re both breathing heavily as you toss the glass to the dead body. Eyes locked, panting, rising chests, fabric soaked in blood. Victorious for a second.

Before Yoon Gi can say anything, you’re throwing yourself onto his lips, kissing and biting and devouring them with a sort of hunger you’ve never felt before. He groans against your mouth and hugs your waist to deepen the blood-flavoured kiss. Their chests feel light as a feather, their limbs tingling into an odd frenzy of sweet ecstasy.

“Sit on the floor,” you order.

He doesn’t hesitate a bit. You straddle his hips without breaking the kiss, too absorbed in his lips. He’s giggling, shoulders moving up and down.

“I can’t believe you’re actually hard.” His slaughter becomes a whimper when you rub your ass against his erection with a smirk. “You’re fucking insane, Min Yoon Gi.”

“You drive me insane,” he breathes against your ear.

You bite into his lobe. “I can drive you to some other things. Care to see, doll?” Yoon Gi nods instantly. “Take off your clothes,” you say, doing the same. You toss away the fabric somewhere and grab his chin, muttering, “I’m gonna put your dick inside my cunt—let us see where that takes you, all right?”

Yoon Gi breathes hard against your shoulder, expectant, and you grab his length to align it with your entrance.

“H-heaven.”

You hum, feeling the delicious stretch as he bottoms out. “What?”

“This is heaven,” Yoon Gi says again, now moaning. “Lord, I could die inside of you, Y/N. Kill me now, nothing is ever going to feel better, I’m never going to be more willing—f-fuck, you’re tight.”

You kiss again when your thighs begin to take on a quick pace. It’s building, your climax. You imagine his is not any different.

“You sound rather articulate for a man who’s got his cock shoved up a cunt,” you laugh, gasping.

The knot in your belly is close to unravelling, so rub your clit a few times, trying to find the perfect pace for your legs. Yoon Gi helps them and places his hands on your hips to help you raise and fall onto his dick. Your voice, which sounds far and not at all yours, tells him that you’re close. His tells you the same just as breathlessly.

Sinking your teeth in the soft flesh of his neck, you muffle a moan, climaxing around his length. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him is too much, Yoon Gi’s eyes have lost all sense of trail, they’re staring at the ceiling, or the dust specks floating in the air, or perhaps he is now seeing God once cum beings to spurt from his angry tip. Your hips are humping him relentlessly to milk him until his jizz is oozing from your entrance.

Yoon Gi looks so handsome, staring at you with glassy eyes that contrast so beautifully with the red blood smudged across his face, breathing heavily as his chest rises and falls.

You kiss him again, slowly this time, and take your time enjoying the puffiness of his lips. He reciprocates gladly, hugging your back before taking your face between his hands to deepen the embrace.

Both of you take your time also to grab, stroke, cherish, feel each other’s skin. Your sensitive nipples brush against his chest and you groan, teeth caressing his jaw. He hugs you tighter to press you against himself. The kiss is now a gesture of something.

Neither of you have ever felt so at peace with the world.

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