#i mean. shes aged up here so many it makes sense for her to loose the 14 yr old malicious autistic spite against The World

[lazyveran]

rereading my own work realising i need to make azula WAY more mean and cruel and nasty. sigh. the things i must do for evil women

[hiraeth-sonder]

Long Once More - 再贪欢

Yan! OC x Reader

OC x Reader

You will always have him, no matter your vice, he will always be there

TW: Incest, manipulative and toxic behaviour, really badly written sex

//This isn't historically accurate at all and I have no idea what I wrote. If anyone has read the prequel on AO3 or Quotev, this is just a continuation. You don't have to read one or the other to get the whole plot but I can't tell you what to do sooo

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————春芯王—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

The role of Lord of Chunxin is not an easy one, perhaps made especially so by your being a woman. Times have been hectic in the recent year and with nosy officials poking in to question your marital status, you have taken it upon yourself to solve this issue. 

The time has once again come for a myriad of eligible young lords and ladies to express their intention of courting, whether for reasons political or not, it is ultimately inevitable for you to receive some offers. Your suitors, of course, would have to remain in your estate and care until you came to a decision on their status. It is by no means a paltry position, for many acquiring Chunxin would mean enjoying the wealth of a merchant and trade hub as well as the strategic location that aided with its peace. No matter the fact that you are a young woman of comely features and skill to run a whole commandery on your own, there was bound to be some fool of a noble willing to try his hand at courting you. 

To marry a man would mean that Chunxin would very likely be absorbed into whatever territory they ruled over, or perhaps worse still, they would deem themself more worthy to rule. It is very well said that their arrogance may cast the careful tranquillity you have crafted into the abyss, and as you have dedicated 8 years of your life into this commandery you call home, you would quite prefer for your hard work to not go to waste. 

This period of receiving has a long time to end, yet you were keen to complete this phase of your life as soon as possible. To pick a suitable husband never has been such an arduous task. 

Beneath the warm sunlight streaming through verdant leaves, a soft sigh escapes you as your older brother sits opposite with a tea set between the two of you. His eyes are closed, expression placid as he takes in a breath. The wind is gentle and brings about the fragrance of blooming flowers, the start of spring has arrived and it only seems fitting for the start of your toil to coincide with such a prosperous symbol.

Your attendant A’yan approaches you and hands over a bundle of letters, three in total and each more solemn than the last. She holds a hand to her chest as she bows, she affirms, “My lord, here are the offers we have received.”

Heavy in your hands, you flip through each scroll to take cursory glances, eyes scanning over surnames and territories. It mattered not their age, so long as it did not go above thirty five, you had no qualms. Though perhaps your focus was more on their date of arrivals, and knowing some of the families that have sent their responses, punctuality is to be expected and not suggested.

“How convenient that they should not arrive all at the same time, at the very least I may spend more time getting to know them,” Letting out an amused huff, your eyes look upon a certain family’s especially early arrival. 

Your older brother picks up another of the scrolls, phoenix eyes narrowing in vexation for a moment before they return to his usual placidity. His voice is low, serene and sonorous, “How convenient indeed.”

As though sensing the ensuing conversation to be shared between family, A’yan excuses herself and moves to watch over the two of you from a distance. At this, you send him a knowing look as you put down the scroll in your hand. 

“Will you promise to behave when they come around?”

Zhou Chen only cocks his head, long auburn hair bound loosely framing his alluring apertures along with the movement. He raises a brow and hums, “You make it sound as if I am cruel enough to burden others.” Amber eyes  bearing a kind of aggrievedness as those long lashes flutter, akin to emphasising his hurt, “Meimei, do you truly think so low of me?”

You laugh at such a display, mirth pulling at your lips as you smile, “You always find something to gripe about whenever someone shows interest, am I wrong?”

His hand, slender with well-defined joints, reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the contact gentle and familiar as the cold touch of jade and gold press against your skin. You lean into his touch ever so slightly, more a sign on your accruing stress than anything else. A soft sigh escapes you, and for a moment your eyes meet. 

“My dearest meimei is far too good for any person, it is only right that as your brother, I weed them out for you,” He murmurs, amity all but spilling from his words. 

You breathe out, voice discordant and scraping out your throat, “Promise me, please.”

Your dearest brother, your only bastion of assuage before the chaos that is soon to emerge, whenever he speaks to you as such, it feels as though everything in this world shall resolve itself favourably. 

“Anything for you.”

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————宋曦渊—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

Lord Song Ze, courtesy name Xiyuan, of Ningshan is a face you did not expect to see at your door first thing in the morning. Or rather you did not actually expect to see him at all. 

The Song family were the descendents of a particularly pious monk, following more along the path of immortals than those of mortality. You could perhaps recount the last time you have seen a member of this family from your childhood of living among celestial beings, though you are not sure you have ever seen Xiyuan before. 

The name is one that bears a kind of distance, one that has been cultivated through his almost ethereal appearance and deeds. When one thinks of benevolence, the image that is conjured is that of white robes and sweeping sleeves. Though the Song family has notoriously been above many of the conflicts that plague other commanderies and territories, so it is of course a surprise that they not only sent an offer, but also that the head of the family himself would so magnanimously offer himself. Their response was vague, promising only that a favourable member had taken it upon himself to make the journey to Chunxin and try his hand upon the sixth day of the month. 

So you must be excused for the clear and evident shock on your face when a carriage pulls up in front of your estate only for a tall and slender immortal with a smile on his face to emerge.

“Lord Song, it is a pleasure to have you in our humble lands,” You bow as your eyes subtly shift to look for another that may indicate his being as political, as a figure to ascertain negotiations for another. Yet when no other steps down from the carriage, you take in a soft breath. “I believe this is our first time meeting.”

For a moment, you think you see a complicated emotion flash across aureate eyes, though it is quick to disappear as he urges you from your formality, “Please, no need for such courtesy, we are to get to know one another soon.”

“Of course. Then, would you be keen for some tea?”

Xiyuan nods, an elegant move that barely disturbs the strands of hair that drape upon his broad shoulders. He is so much taller than you, he must tip his head just to perceive you fully and you must raise yours, the stark difference only makes you feel small. Though you gesture for him to go ahead, when the rest of your servants come to take his luggage, he is quick to thank them, a sunny smile pulling across thin lips. His voice is light and gentle, if you must compare it then it should be to the first rays of light in the morning. Perhaps what you do not expect is that when they struggle to carry it, he reaches out and with inordinate ease, lifts what may be a few catties and instead offers to bring it to his room himself. 

Throughout this entire process, you could only watch in awe as he does not show even a sign of struggle, maintaining the elegant gait as he accompanies you to your drawing room. It was almost horrifying to see, though you have little time to ponder the reason behind such ability when he has settled in his seat and is looking to you with an expectant gaze. 

With a slight quirk of your lips, you inquire the reasoning behind his being here, “I am truly honoured that you have made the journey to Chunxin, though may I ask, why exactly did you choose to court me?”

Xiyuan takes a moment to answer, his expression tranquil as he gathers his thoughts. Then, he speaks, clear and true.

“You are a woman of repute, it is undeniable even in Ningshan that your ability and your generosity is rare among commandery lords.” His eyes persist firmly on yours, unwavering and stalwart. He takes a breath, and his eyes crinkle in slight mirth as that smile of his, clement as a spring’s day, remains upon his lips, “There is little I do not admire about you, and when time came around, I believed it a chance to speak with you.”

Your chest tightens, and though you respond, it comes out weak and gawky, not at all the refined lord you attempted to convey, “Well, it is very kind of you to say so. Before I may continue asking, do you have any concerns you wish to be addressed?”

He merely shakes his head, and gestures for you to resume your pseudo-interrogation, a notion you readily accept. 

“I have a duty to Chunxin and so I worry that should we get married, my presence would be required most in Ningshan.”

Though Ningshan was only a journey taken by a few days, you wished not for an event where you would be forced to watch your people suffer from afar. You may be unsure of the manner in which the Song family treats spouses, however there is one thing that you are certain and that is, becoming the wife of a person as important as the Lord of Ningshan would mean dedicating your prowess and time to it, leaving Chunxin. 

You would not take it, you had made that clear in your soul the moment you had to send that announcement to the world. In your heart, you already knew the answer you would receive, you merely wished that you would be proven wrong. 

“I understand, and I must apologise but as my wife, you would be required to remain by my side,” Xiyuan’s response is as you expected, a slight mournful glint in his eyes.  

Yet still, he is swift to reassure you, “However, I can promise that Chunxin will remain entirely under your dominion, we have no intention of absorbing or conquering your lands.”

At that, you can only let out a soft sigh, “That is a relief, I will admit.”

Though your words said so, internally you have likewise expected such a concept. The Song family would not engage in conflict unnecessarily, even if it should benefit them. You do not have much else to ask him if you had to be honest, your main worry out of the way, so you merely hold your teacup to your lips, sipping in slow practised bouts as you attempt to think of conversation. 

“Do you have siblings?” Hesitantly, you broach the silence that befell the two of you. 

He responds, another smile upon his lips, “A younger brother, I believe he should be around your age.”

“That’s nice, I should like to meet him one day.”

Just as stiff as it started, it ends. Truly, it was difficult to find something to talk about when you knew little of each other, made especially inconvenient by the strict courtesy that bound the two of you. Taking another sip of your tea, the floral liquid tinging your tongue. As his arrival had been so early in the morning, you had yet to break your fast and so in an admittedly, utterly embarrassing moment, your stomach grumbles. The sound is like a knife through the air, horrifically obvious with no method to hide its journey. 

Though your thin face attempts to retain some of your dignity, your eye twitches just the slightest. Yet just from a minute glance, Xiyuan does not seem to scorn your break of propriety. Rather, that smile of his softens, melting into something much fonder, as though looking upon a beloved. 

“I must ask, do you enjoy pastries?”

“Yes, I…” You are not sure how best to put together your response. There are a myriad of reasons yet the one you decide to share, as well as the one bearing some truth, was one that seemed to imply unwell. Admitting to an odd shyness, you let a smile creep up in an attempt to lighten the mood, “They help me with my energy throughout the day.”

He appears pleased at this response, and though you wondered the reason for such for a moment, it is quickly dispersed when he retrieves a small box wrapped in fabric. You recognise the manner of wrapping, the colour and the very wood of the container. How could you not? Whether by pure coincidence or scheme, he has managed to purchase pastries from your favourite shop. 

“Well, if I am not overstepping, I have brought some for you.” He offers the gift to you, the vessel almost dwarfed in his hands. 

You have little choice but to accept, taking it into your hands and ignoring the slight brush of contact you share. “Thank you.”

You had fully intended to partake of them later, however by his gesture and anticipating look, you decide to abide so, if only to fulfil his request and your insolent stomach. Unwrapping the fabric with careful fingers, you open the box to reveal delicate spheres dusted with flour, glutinous rice flour encasing a sesame peanut filling. Once again, your favourite. As elegantly as you can, you pinch the ball between your fingers and take a bite, sweet yet tastefully salty, it more than satisfies your stomach when a soft hum escapes you. 

Now fully aware of the sound you made, your eyes shift to Xiyuan only to find him gazing upon you, almond eyes all but seeping his solicitous amusement. With his shoulders squared and his posture ramrod perfect, it almost made a quaint sight, that a person could truly be so kind.  

Just as you place the rest of the pastry down and open your mouth to speak, you are interrupted by the door sliding open, a familiar figure blocking the sunlight that enters as he stands tall. 

“Lord Song,” Your brother’s voice is placid, unlilting and impregnable of emotion. 

The man in question merely smiles, not a shred of vexation or annoyance present, “Lieutenant General Zhou, I had not expected that you would be here.”

“Lord Zhou is my sister, I naturally came to check on her,” He answers. The sentiment behind his placidity perhaps enhanced by the natural monotone of his accent. 

Though he says as such, he merely takes a glance at you before keeping his attention on Xiyuan. In his hands are a bundle of official documents rather than his beloved qin, so you can only assume that he fully intended to camp the rest of the day in your office either asleep or actually doing work. This quick stop of his must have been impulsive rather than any well-thought out scheme. 

Before he may take his leave, Xiyuan invites him in with a lilting hum, “Do come in, I would like to get to know you better as well, your reputation precedes you.”

Your brother only glances at you, and when you send him a minute nod, he obliges. With an elegant gait marred only by the weariness of work, he takes the seat opposite of your guest’s, regarding him with a cool gaze as he speaks slow and practised. 

“Yours as well, I hope that should my meimei decide to let you court her, you will not mind my presence.”

“I would not dare. Oftentimes, a brother is as good as a father,” ever the kindly soul, he reassures him. 

A small huff escapes you, this good brother of yours may very well be the only male relative you had left. He who was raised by your mother, and you who was whisked away by immortals, neither of you even knew what happened to your father let alone whether he would be as obliging as Zhou Chen. Still, you keep your expression pleasant as your brother seems to think of some matter to discuss. 

“I have heard that you are exceptionally talented in playing the xiao, though I am more interested in your supposed ability with the qin. It is quite prodigious to master both,” He hums, long lashes lowered as his gaze sweeps to the man’s side. 

“You flatter me, surely my ability could not match up to yours,” Xiyuan deflects the compliment, instead gesturing towards your brother with a kind smile. As naturally as breathing,  more praise seems to tumble out, “Is it not true that you can hear a wrong note even in a symphony of instruments?”

Just like that, you may very well be effectively barred from understanding the rest of the conversation. Terms far too technical for you to hope to understand and spoken with enthusiasm far more vigorous than you have ever seen from your serene brother, you could only hide behind your tea and pastries, hoping that this conversation will not drag too far into the future. 

Lying beneath your covers as your head rests upon your ceramic pillow, you find that you have been very rudely awakened from meagre sleep due to reasons unknown. Though you have attempted to wrestle your conscious back to restful slumber, your body appears to resist any and all attempts, merely maintaining that sore strain that seems to plague your form upon awakening. 

The sun has yet to peek its head from above the morning mist, the birds yet to sing and with little to do, you force yourself to rise. A breeze of cool wind caresses your skin, and it takes everything within you to not retreat back to warmth, instead dressing yourself as respectfully and warmly as possible. As you step out of your room, careful to not make much noise, you let your feet carry you to wherever it desires, eventually stopping outside the a courtyard of youthful pinks and picturesque reds, the plum blossom tree that stands tall acting as a canopy for an unexpected visitor. Though servants milled about to catch glimpses of him, he still appeared a lonely pillar. 

“The morning dew has yet to drip and yet you have already awakened.”

He turns to you, a kind of wistfulness in his eyes that returns to the depths of his sunlit eyes as you approach him. There is nothing to deter you, so you come to his side as the two of you remain beneath the tree’s grace. The silence that had once been stiff and stilted, has become more tranquil in such a setting, a context that requires no conversation of grace but rather cherished the fleeting moment of respite. 

“Had you remained awake throughout the night?” He inquires, gentle yet concerned. 

You only shake your head, your voice still hoarse from disuse, “I could not return to sleep, and you?”

A tightlipped smile appears across his face, though it did not detract from his visage, he nods. 

“May I ask what you are doing here?”

“This tree merely reminds me of old memories, when I was younger and more naive.”

There is that smile once more, bearing a kind of emotion distantly related to that gleam just a day ago. You have yet to clue in on what exactly his intentions truly are, to offer himself on a platter when he must surely have options much more willing to be Madam Song than you. Your attendants could find not hide nor hair of intent, nothing to leverage and nothing to use. Song Xiyuan is a man you could not understand at this very moment. 

Why did he look at you so? For what reason did he descend if only to make connections with your paltry Chunxin?

“I had this tree grown here in honour of my master, I am unable to visit him as often so knowing there is some part of him I can pay homage to is…” Your gaze averts towards the ground, and even you are not sure what, who, you are trying to avoid looking at. Still, you manage to whisper out,  “Comforting.”

“The immortal Xu Yuanzhen, yes?”

His reveal of information, a detail that only your most intimate knew of you takes you more than just off guard. Turning to him, it is unease that pumps through your veins and rushes to your head. For him to have acquired such an aspect about you, there was little explanation for retrieval. 

“You would be right,” You breathe out, your eyes wide and your chest tight.

Still, you manage to continue, “How do you know that?”

He glances away for only a moment, only a second before they redirect to you. His hands clasp together in a mock of nerve as he took in a breath. When he speaks, finally speaks and removes you from your disquiet, it is quiet. 

“I fear that I may have been keeping some matters secret from you, but I suppose it is only right I tell you.”

In an attempt to maintain your composure, you meet his gaze. He starts his story, speaking with a soothing cadence as he recalls a time long gone, “When I was younger, my uncle took me to a conference and it was there that I met this girl. She was younger than me and was holding the hand of a man with pale apertures and garbed in white robes.”

“She cared not for my status as the Song family heir, and though she was shy at first, it took little for us to start talking.” A kind of mirth tinges his words upon this reveal, fondness practically overfilled. 

“I had little contact with other children, and the time I spent with her was exhilarating. When we had to leave, she gave me the string bracelet she had around her wrist and made me promise to play with her again.”

From his wide sleeves and many layers, you see it. The thin little string of dull yellow peeking from behind robes of white, tightly entwined around his wrist and pulling memories from a time you thought lost to you. 

“I never saw her again, not when her master rarely descended nor my family’s preference for isolation. I was ready to spend the rest of my life unbound, if only because she had taken my heart with her all those years ago,” He admits with a kind of sardonic irony, one made only more wry by the soft smile on his lips. 

“When the news came of Chunxin’s incident, I had an inkling that it could have been you.”

He turns to face you fully, that wistful gleam now one you recognise as sentiment. It is now that you may behold him, the ethereal Lord Song deemed a man too kindly to be mortal, is only so, so very human. Peach blossom eyes that have beared weariness unknown to so many, the subtle wrinkles upon thin lips, the unevenness of his lashes. Human, so wonderfully human and so horrifyingly adoring of you. 

“Xiyuan…” Your voice seems to betray you, breathless and stupefied. 

For a moment, his hands move as though they sought to hold yours within them, yet even that is suppressed. He pleads softly, anymore and he would have been begging, “Please, just call me Song Ze.”

“I have waited for you for 17 years,” His confession is quiet, as every part of his longing has been yet still contained an ardour that finally breached the surface of the abyss called time. “I do not know how much longer I can wait now that I know you have always been so close.”

“I will ask your brother for permission, if not I will wait outside Lianyue Pavilion for your master’s.”

Under the falling leaves of the perennial plum blossom tree, Xiyuan’s eyes of sunlit gleam. You step closer towards him, allowing yourself to bask in his presence as the sheer attention he gives you, so freely offers to you, almost makes you scared. That though his very presence, a bubble of allaying sandalwood and incense, should bring about some kind of solace, your head only squeezes in ache. 

“You barely know anything about me, you would find me appalling if you knew what I have done.”

He shakes his head, and when he finally takes your hands in his, you find that they are extraordinarily warm, like sunlight shining upon your skin. He only smiles, “But it is still you, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life learning everything about you, if you will only let me.”

A part of you wonders why exactly your heart tightens at the sight of his paradisiacal vulnerability. 

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————陈伯裕—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

By the fourth day, it seems the entirety of Hedong has arrived at your estate. Stuffed into a singular carriage, the whole Chen family had been all but ecstatic, rushing out of the little vessel to swarm you and your brother. Perhaps if this was another noble family, you would have been more inclined to accept the affection, however, every single one of them just had to be freakishly robust.

Before you can be questioned by the lord and lady, you greet their three children with a small bow and light smile, “Boyu, Zhongyuan, Jiaxiang.”

It is just as you finish your pleasantries that Madam Chen scoops you into her embrace as she wraps her arms around you, leaving you so breathless that you can only manage a breathy and wheezing, “Lord Chen, Madam Chen.”

“Have you lost weight? Oh look at you, it must have been so hard handling everything on your own,” She notes, her voice tinged with concerned as she pulls away, soft hands placed on your face as she scans over you

Lord Chen, an older man with smile lines and crow's feet decorating his face, only enhances those features when he points out their gifts, “Not to worry, we brought some pastries just for that.”

“Oh, and we just couldn’t help bringing some extra things, just a little bit though.”

While you are all but smothered by the two, practically engulfed if you will, you notice your brother likewise receiving the same treatment by the three Chen children. Wrapped up in a hug by the eldest son and the youngest daughter, the middle son was the only one who abided by the rules of propriety and greeted him as usual.

“Yijin!” The sound of a boyishly charming voice rings through your ears, his words enhanced through the natural draw of his youth.

Another one sounds, a young girl’s playful tone ringing through the air as clear as bird song, “Zhou-ge!”

“Shifu.” The last is controlled, a young man’s calm lilt among the chaos.

Equally helpless to the vigour that is the Chen family, the two of you can only let yourselves be asked of everything under the sun and have your ears rambled off. Still, you take it all with a pleasant gleam in your eyes and liveliness befitting such people. When the revelry dies down just the slightest, you have one of your attendants, Xue’er, show the family to their rooms while A’yan settles their bountiful luggage. Lord and Madam Chen drag your brother off at the first notice, asking of this and that while their younger children bicker and tease.

Though, there seems to be one exception to your arrangements. As the carriage departs and the dust settles, you are left completely and utterly alone with the little tyrant of the south, boyish Chen Boyu. Illuminated by bright sunlight, you must look up to meet his gaze, soft brown peach blossoms eyes bearing joy and gaiety, the corners of his lips deep with a smile. 

When you look upon him, it is hard to determine the emotions you feel. Though there is one that you can accurately pin down in that labyrinth you may call a head. 

An emotion distantly related to playfulness tinges your voice as you hum, “I see you’ve decided to try again.”

“I won’t be giving up anytime soon,” He responds, equally spirited as his voice takes on a pitch just the slightest higher.

At this, you let out an amused snort. With mock aggrieve, you roll your eyes as you whack him, the back of your hand being met with the musculature of his arm. 

“You certainly have more noteworthy competition this year.”

Boyu, ever the dramatic, puts a hand to his chest as an offended expression takes form onto his face. Deep eyebrows raised in shock and eyes wide, there is still a smile on his lips despite this, a cheeky lilt to his words, “But compared to them, surely I’m much better?”

“If you want to compete with Lord Song and Qiugu’s general, go ahead,” You bite back, the corners of your lips tugging upwards.

“They don’t have what we have though,” With his musing, he turns away from you. Though it is one that is brief, a moment of drama for an otherwise playful moment. “A bond.”

On instinct, you only shake your head and let out a soft sigh, your eyes squeezed in amusement as you walk ahead of him, at least not before turning back to direct him to his room.

“Go rest up, we still have time before dinner.”

Your relationship with Boyu is not one you say you dislike, nor one you absolutely adore. While you are appreciative for the aid and protection that allying with Hedong has given you, given that you had very little armed forces, there has been a profuse shame welling within your very form since the day you met. 

You have never been unaware of his feelings for you, the adoration that seemed to spring from his very being the moment he laid his eyes upon yours. One look and he had suddenly turned from the confident young warlord to a stuttering blushing mess, it was illogical and irrational. Six years of collaboration and his attempts to court you, spend more time with you and get to know you, it granted a relationship akin to bosom friends yet that was only your perception. 

You bore no possibility for affection, no room in your heart for him and for all your cruelty, you could not break such news that you could not see him as such. A political marriage may very well be an option but you knew he desired affection, some kind of companionship you could not give. It is because of that very fact that you worry what may come of this moment. 

When you return to your office, you find your brother waiting for you, his pipe in hand as languid tendrils of smoke escape his rosy lips. His eyes are closed, but when he hears your steps upon the wooden floors, he directs his gaze to you. There is a weariness to his features, dark circles beneath his eyes and yet that did not detract from his beauty. Approaching his seating by your desk, you pour yourself a cup of herbal tea. 

“Why do you look so tired, hm?” You ask, sending him a side glance from the corner of your eye. 

He only hums, voice low and steady, “I was up late finishing official documents.”

As you place down your cup, you raise a brow as a concern tinges your voice. From outside and through the window, you see Jiaxiang and Xue’er chatting away, the rest of the family very clearly not resting and rather seemingly, having managed to drag Xiyuan into conversation. Though you are unable to hear exactly what is being said, you can hear snippets of praise being exchanged.

“Do you want to take a nap? We have about two shichen before dinner.”

“No,” He sighs, closing his eyes as he takes another inhale from his pipe. The sweet smell of tobacco fills the room, broad shoulders rolling back before his long lashes flutter open, a detached gleam in his eyes as he looks out to the busy courtyard. He only notes with steady lilt, “They won’t let me anyways.”

Your heart does not quite ache for your brother, but more so tightens. You have seen the kind of work he must do, to the point that he had apparently brought it with him when helping a friend at a matchmaking session. Rest did not come to him easily, not even when in your estate. Your brows raise in helplessness, shutting the window before rising to shut your office doors. 

“Sleep. If I say I won’t take guests, they won’t push it,” Humming, you take his hand in yours.

Zhou Chen only lets out a soft breath, though he is quick to lean his head against your shoulder, his chest rising and descending in rhythmic pattern before eventually, the only thing that fills your ears is your brother’s exhales. 

Dinner is at present, an event hosting the Chen family, you and your brother. Small tables arranged in perfectly linear fashion, evenly spaced and in fine wood. Atop each and every single one were seasonal dishes as prepared by the kitchens, planned ahead of time down to the very presentation. Though you have yet to partake in the meal, 

“This really is quite generous of you to give so many things, I cannot possibly return your favour.”

“It's nothing, we aren’t lacking anything!” The older woman is quick to dismiss your excessive humility, though it is as if a new thought springs to her mind as she brings up a sleeve and a knowing gleam glints in her tawny eyes,  “Although maybe we are lacking a daughter in law.”

Quicker still, she corrects her previous statement, “Even if you don’t marry our Boyu, it's still nice to see you.”

“Mooomm, don’t say that!” Jiaxiang whines with clear mock aggrievedness. 

Lord Chen only sighs with the kind of resigned fondness every father has for his daughter, “She has such good options, don’t pressure her.”

Your gaze shifts between all of them, briefly lingering to make contact with each member before it eventually lands upon a pair of brown eyes, even still filled with fondness that uneases you. You still do not know how you will tell him, whether you will tell him. You turn away, bringing your tea up to drink as your sleeve conceals your expression. He does not look away, but does so when the conversation turns to focus on your brother. 

“Yijin, how have you been?”

Zhou Chen hums, his voice less severe and softer, yet still that gentle smile upon his lips bore a distance unknown by others, “Good, I’ve been busy with work.”

“With the way you keep coming over here, we thought you abandoned us,” Lord Chen laughs, a hearty sound that comes from his lungs. 

Lowering his eyes, there appears to be a contrition in his next words, his Adam's apple bobbing as he speaks. 

“Forgive me, my sister has little confidants.”

His admittance has a few eyes turning to you, that burning feeling of pity brought upon your form as you vaguely hear Madam Chen’s sympathies fall from her lips. You do not quite understand why he has to mention your lack of advisers, though you suppose there was no other reasonable explanation for a lieutenant general to maintain such costly travels. Still, though you move to say something, you are interrupted by a condoling voice.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Boyu is all but swift to prevent your rueful formalities, bringing up a hand as a blithe smile appears across his lips, “If I could, I would have rushed over to help.” 

“How could we? Ai, we all heard about the incident and yet look at the town, everything’s back to normal,” Lord Chen notes, and though you had not wished to say it, that pride he has in his voice, it would make one believe you were his daughter. 

With a tender-hearted quirk of her lips and her gentle tone, Madam Chen is the last and yet the most salient of the three to speak, “You must have worked very hard.”

“So don’t worry about taking Yijin for a month or two, we still have the others.”

A kind of excessive sentiment seems to fill your chest, an emotion you are only most familiar with another. It was quite common for your brother to throw all caution to the wind and come to Chunxin for long periods of time, extending discussions that usually lasted a few days to weeks, dragging diplomatic visits from weeks to months. As if he had no obligations to fulfil back in Hedong, though you have always worried and though he has always reassured you, hearing such comfort from them was perhaps more than you needed.

Nodding, you thank them and thankfully, dinner passes without much issue. Albeit, perhaps that is a statement only applicable to the unique situation of the Chen Family. For instead of having to replace four low desks and multiple candleholders, only one has been smashed in the ensuing mayhem that is sure to happen with them. You can only thank the gods that your brother did not bring his qin, lest you find yourself comforting him on his deescalation methods. 

With the moonlight shining upon your courtyard and the cool spring wind blowing, the family has since retired to their quarters in preparation for slumber. Your attendants likewise have been dismissed, sent to rest early while you take a walk around the estate. Your footsteps are light, the only sound that came from your movement coming from long robes fluttering along. Each room that surrounded the courtyard dimmed, low candlelight illuminating from within before eventually being snuffed. There is only one room that remains at the very end, your office, doors shut and candles flame put out yet at the very front are a pair of conversing figures.

The two are of similar heights, the one just slightly taller bearing more visible musculature while the shorter of the two bore a more regal physique, no less stalwart than one or the other. They speak in low tones, and from your admittedly distant position, you are scarce to hear only bits and pieces of their conversation. Boyu speaks, posture much tenser than you have ever seen as your brother pulls his pipe away from his lips. 

Low in your ears and bearing a vulnerability so easily come to him, the young heir entreats his closest friend, “Will you grant me your blessing to court your sister?”

Clouds of smoke leave his flushed lips, his eyes closed as he takes a breath. His lord waits expectantly, to no avail, for your brother remains steadfast in his notions of your suitors, no matter their identity and no matter their abilities. 

“No.”

Zhou Chen turns to him, those eyes that once bore amity glazes over, freezing to a cool mirror as he speaks. His voice maintains his usual monotone lilt, and it is such that you can tell that this was a decision he has made long ago. 

“You excel in war and combat, yet when asked to settle civil matters you are unable to be discrete nor courteous.”

“Have you not noticed how every discussion in the household always turns to a screaming match or violence?” He raises a brow, ignoring the way Boyu attempts to stammer out a response. He continues, “Will you bring my sister into such a place?”

His next inquiry is further still loaded, the dulcet tones of his voice growing ever agitated at the edges of his words, “Though Chunxin has remained safe from invading territories despite the raging war of succession due to our intervention, what happens when you must aid my sister with laws and merchantry?”

“Will you come to me, your lieutenant generals?”

He takes another drag of his pipe, the weariness he has been burdened with now all the more visible under such a situation. His shoulders rise and fall, descending to forcibly calm himself lest he acts impromptu. His friend does not interrupt him, yet still his figure that had been hopeful now has slumped ever so slightly with each new dig your brother brings up. 

“There will come a day where she will face public contention, when the time comes, will you defend her?” Your brother asks, the question nonplussed yet seemingly targeted. For this is the inquiry that has his eyes, beautiful amber which reveal nothing of the internal tempest that must rage within him seep just the hint of it. 

Quick to answer, such a request is nothing short of obvious to the young man, “Of course I would!”

“Even above the threat of Hedong’s collapse?”

Yet, this last query is the one that stumps Boyu, and to no wonder. For someone who grew up in the rivers and towns of Hedong, to protect the place that loves him or to protect the woman he adores, it becomes the ultimatum only your brother would think to spring upon him. It is cruel, yes, but for men who rule, it is necessary. 

When he does not respond, Zhou Chen only places a hand on his shoulder and tips his head, long brindle hair falling to act as a curtain, concealing his delicate apertures from your gaze. Though you still manage to hear his last words to his lord. 

“You are a good general, but I will not let my sister marry a man who cannot devote his very being to her. Good night, Chen Fu.”

At this, he glides away from the man, paced and even steps that bring his form to you. His eyes soften and he pats your head with a gentle hand before he pulls away, disappearing into the estate with nothing but a glance. Your friend seems to notice your presence then, his eyes lightening up and his posture straightening just the slightest. Yet, he kept that defeat with him. You approach him, despite everything you find yourself unsure on how to comfort him. Stood so close, you can smell just the hint of his scent, fresh and clean, it hurts your head. 

You keep your voice soft, calling for him with a tone hushed as your brows raise in concern, “Boyu.”

“Do you think he hates me?” He asks, just as quietly if not more so. It is as if any more and he would have been tried for public disturbance. 

Shaking your head, a soft sigh only escapes you, “You know he doesn’t.”

“I just don’t…” For once, genuine and actual forlorn stains his very being. His usually squared shoulders almost hunched in dismay and his voice soft, so much softer than you were used to. Thick brows furrowed in worry, the hint of a glassy quality seems to form over his bronze eyes, the plump of his cheeks rosy from the wind and emotion. His voice loses that usual higher pitch, “Understand why he’s never approved of me.”

A strained expression comes across your visage, your hand resting on his forearm as you make a comparison, “See it this way, if he tried to court Jiaxiang for so long without success, you’d be a little iffy too, right?”

His face twists into dismay, then disgust before finally landing on exaggerated understanding. He nods yet it does little to actually lighten his mood. Boyu’s desire for your brother’s acknowledgement is understandable, yet it is his consistency and persistence that worries you. Though you have never actually expressed it, he picks up on your palatable concern.

“You’re right, it's just that he’s important to you, and he’s your older brother. So I want to be doing this right,” Confessing, a helpless smile tugs at his lips. 

A reticence falls upon the two of you, and in the distance you hear the soothing melody of a xiao, humming a gentle tune that merely appeared sonorous in such a moment. Though you have turned away from each other, and though you had intended to leave the conversation in fear of buried sentiments being brought up, he once again takes the opportunity to make you face your unspoken regrets. 

“Will you be honest with me?” That boyish voice has long lost its higher pitch, and you wonder when exactly you started missing it.

“In our six years of knowing each other, have you ever thought of me romantically?”

You should have seen this moment coming, you should have known that you would have to eventually tell him. To lie to him that you have and yet to turn around and deny his affections would be far crueller than to tell him the truth, and yet still the truth was but a stone in your throat, lodged within and scraping to vomit out. Meeting his gaze with a glance you are not sure is kindly or forthcoming, you let yourself speak. 

“You are dear to me, but to call it love is…” Your voice trails off into the night wind, doing everything in your power to keep your throat from closing up and to maintain the composure you tried so hard to display. Yet when you look at him, look at those wide brown eyes so filled with youthful ardour, you are just unable to. “I’m sorry, maybe I’m the problem here.”

“For all the years we’ve known one another, I’ve always felt this gnawing guilt,” You admit though a cracking voice, the weight of such a burden finally lifted yet it was not a relief that flooded, but rather more contrition that had no rational reason to exist within you. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay,” Boyu insists, he shakes his head as his eyes, wide and just the slightest teary, seem to bear the determination he has always had. “You don’t have to love me back.”

“You never had to love me back.” 

He pleads, desperate and all too willing, far too willing, “If you’ll just let me stay by your side, I’m okay with that too.”

“As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” 

Staring at him, the truth of your relationship has finally come to light, yet it is his devotion that remains steadfast. For how much of it is true, you do not know and you only fear that it is far more truthful than any facade you have played. 

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————蔡奉汐—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

The third and last suitor arrives late into the seventh day, there is no rumble of carriage wheels that announces his arrival, no thumping of luggage against wood, the only sign of life is the howling wind. 

You are resting in your room, eyes scanning over the last remains of the pile of documents once amassed in your office. The skillful plucking of a qin fills your ears, low notes strum to perfection from just a few footsteps away. Zhou Chen plays with a languidity, almost lazy despite the dulcet melody that he plucked. Your eyes, which yearn for rest yet remain awake in accordance to the brain, flutter between open and close. Words of ink seemingly meld together into a blurry mess, yet you continue. 

There is a knock at your door, a crisp interruptance that has your head snapping towards it. The tune stops just as abruptly, and A’yan shifts the door open just the slightest, enough for you to acknowledge her presence and for her voice to travel in. 

General Cai Fengxi, The Devourer of Qiugu has arrived. 

Garbed in dark robes and holding the reins of an even darker horse, this man that stood before you bore nothing else beyond a small pouch and the cloak around his shoulders. With not even the moonlight to illuminate his apertures, the sharp and almost gaunt features you could make out had almost sent a chill down your spine. The general’s eyes almost seemed to glow, a deep gold set in pale skin and peeking from behind pin-straight hair, still as dead waters as A’yan guides the horse towards the stables. 

“General Cai, it is an honour to have you here,” Your welcome is stilted and stiff as though to pair with your rigid bow. You notice how needly his fingers are, skin stretched taut over the bones. When you rise to meet his eyes, you find that he has yet to move, expression forbidding. Still, you gesture for his entrance, “Your room has already been prepared, please let me show you to your quarters.”

It is only then that he shows some signs of response, following your steps as his footfalls land inaudibly. You would dare say it appeared more so as gliding than walking. His very presence loomed from behind you, intimately feeling the heavy burden of his severe regard upon your form. In an attempt to spurn such a notion from your mind, you open your mouth to speak. 

“Was the journey from Qiugu difficult?”

“It was fine,” He responds, curt and low. A deep bass that seems to rumble from within his chest, though quiet you could distinctly feel it in your bones. 

You send him a polite smile, “That is good.”

There is no additional effort made to continue such a stiff conversation, not when even your own eyelids have been threatening to shut down against your wishes, let alone what the general must be feeling after making the lone journey. When you arrive to his room, you take it upon yourself to open the door for him, yet he merely looks upon you. You do not know how best to respond, yet it is by instinct that you continue. 

“Have a good rest, I shall come visit you in the morning,” You smile once more, bowing before taking your leave. 

Scarce to notice his entrance, your return to your room is swiftly granted and one that is very much preferred. A sigh escapes you, and your brother, kindly as he is, remains in his languid seat. As though one with a slug, you slump over and make your way to his side, resting your head on his lap facefirst as you close your eyes. 

“I assume the general has arrived,” He hums, voice soft as his fingers remove the pins and stick from your hair. 

Through mumbled words and fabric, you are surprised he still managed to discern your sentences. “Might as well have not arrived at all, he only said two words to me.”

“And here I thought men these days would have basic manners at the very least..”

You turn your head to face him, shifting your body so you could behold that face which women envy and men covet. Fine apertures still placid with that hint of fond aggrievedness, your brother’s attempt at cool tranquillity surely did not disguise the snide undertones. 

“What are you implying?” Your brow raises as your voice takes on a derisive tinge.

Zhou Chen responds, speaking as though his answer was the most natural concept to humanity, “That men are merely beings of simple lusts, and that my meimei deserves better than that.”

Letting out a yawn, you squeeze out a stray tear as your voice fights to remain audible. It is hard to, especially when one wishes for nothing more than to slumber after a long day and a guest as startling as the general. Still, you think you catch your brother’s sweet laugh when you manage a response. 

“If you keep this up, the only person you’ll ever approve of is yourself.”

When morning comes, you are informed that the general has yet to awaken, and that no matter what is done, he will not rise. This news does not surprise you, the ride from Qiugu to Chunxin is approximately 15 days worth of travel, and based on his appearance, he must have rode ceaselessly and through the nights. Waving off their concerns, you assure them of his well being and instead have them call to inform you when he does. 

Your brother and his student, Zhongyuan, have been promptly kidnapped by Jiaxiang since his awakening, which leaves you to entertain your three suitors. Dressed in lighter robes for the day, half your hair is bound in a bun and put together with a simple hairstick, suitable for a casual outing that you may hopefully partake in today. You plan to bring the general out to see the town, perhaps try to spark some conversation that will not start and end dreadfully. 

As you make your way to the guests’ quarters, you notice Xiyuan and Boyu talking, discussing some matter of thing that even you are not sure pertains to what. Bearing similar heights, you find that the two of them bear an uncanny likeness. Not in visage but rather in bearing, the kind of people who attract admiration effortlessly.  They walk into a room and immediately the only kind of attention they receive is kindly. 

With a princely gait and visage to match such a form, you have found yourself wondering how exactly Lord Song has yet to marry despite his supposed devotion to you. Likewise with Boyu, boyishly handsome and well-to-do, there was little to dislike. Their very presence in the courtyard brings people to them, passing servants taking their time to stare and talk, with poorly hidden smiles and flushed ears. You only wonder what virtues you may be able to extract from the general.  

Approaching the pair, you greet them with a slight bow of your head, “Boyu, Xiyuan, good morning.”

“Good morning to you as well,” Xiyuan greets in response, his voice forbearing with the lilts of his sentence. 

In contrast, Boyu only chirps, “Morning!”

You inform the two of them of your upcoming schedule for the third suitor, a tad more occupied as compared to theirs due to discussions of military provisions and arrangements. With a regretful tone, you squeeze out a strained smile as you could only apologise for the inconvenience. 

“No worries, we’ll see each other for dinner, right?” The younger man asks, with hopeful eyes as even his companion appears to join in the invite. 

“Yeah,” You smile, a huff of breath escaping you when his eyes light up. Keeping your tone fairly cordial despite your amusement, you reassure them, “If we venture out, I’ll come visit when I return.”

Shaking his head, Xiyuan merely responds, “Do not force yourself, you must take care of yourself.”

“Of course.”

It is then that you finally notice a figure looming from behind you, a shadow cast above your vision, and perhaps it is also by Boyu’s slight adjustment of his eyes that has you realising exactly who it is that was behind. Your feet swivel around to face the general, his form still severe as last night. Under the sunlight, you could make out the harsh contours and angles of his face, tall nose and sharp willow eyes. You met his eyes for just a moment, looking down upon you yet the very burden it placed was momentous, a sinner in the oceanic depths. 

Ever kindly, Xiyuan greets him with a bow and a pleasant expression, sunny eyes squeezed and hands put together, “General Cai, it is good to see you awake.”

“If you didn’t get up, I think we would’ve just taken her out ourselves,” Boyu jokes, his puerile tone making it only all the more light-hearted.

“Ah…” A breath escapes you, perhaps a sign of your hesitance. Yet, the general does not move, remaining perfectly still as he awaits your input. Involuntarily, you feel that maladroit laugh appear on your lips,  “General, could this one perhaps–”

“Fengxi.”

You had not heard wrong last night, what you thought was possibly too low, too harsh for human voice, reaches your ears once more. He speaks as though biting, words escaping from abyssal maws to behold for mortal perception. 

When you do not react, he speaks once more, “Call me Fengxi.”

“Of course, Fengxi, would you like to join me for a trip around town?” Quickly recovering from the blunder, you finally make your offer with an outstretched arm and open hand, an invitation. 

Yet rather than actually responding, he merely takes your hand, cold bony fingers wrapping around yours. The mere action sends a million warning bells to your head, yet you can only smile and carry on, bringing him towards the carriage that is soon to be prepared. 

Left behind in the remnants of confrontation, Xiyuan and Boyu can only look to each other, a kind of disoriented confusion filling them. While Xiyuan had never interacted with the general before, let alone been so up close, he had not realised that there was such a heavy truth to the rumours. Boyu likewise had never seen him as such, only having seen him in the battlefield, looming and quiet, cold dead eyes as the general commanded an army of the dead. At least, that is what they call it. 

“Can he actually speak? Or is he just going to be standing there when she talks to him?” He asks the young lord, his head tilted in slight confusion. 

Xiyuan looks at him, his voice almost nearing a reprimand if not for the strained smile on his lips, “Boyu.”

“I’m just asking. Besides, I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t have done that.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. 

“The general is likely not as well-versed in noble etiquette, you can’t blame him.”

Rather, ever full of vigour, he crosses his arms and asserts, “No, I can and I will. He should know better.”

Xiyuan can only sigh at that response, a helpless gleam in his eyes. He shakes his head, the people of Hedong are certainly intriguing. 

It is while this conversation is happening that you are left with the ever envious task of collecting some errands and messages to be sent to some townsfolk by your servants. A few are easy enough, visiting merchants to pass along lists or merely to send word of their well-being, that being said there was one establishment you would have to visit and you could only hope that the general would not mind. 

At the very least, you hoped he would at least voice out his rejection. The carriage ride towards town might as well have been for the dead, for he stared into your form as though you had committed a great crime upon the heavens and he were the jade emperor. You could not describe the situation as anything less than maladroit, any lesser person would wish to crawl into a cave and die when faced with such an individual. 

Still, you remained strong and kept a serene expression, maintaining such that even when you broached the idea of your plans, he merely responded with a hum and a gesture. The general does not speak even when you bring him to sellers and farmers offering their wares, remains silent when you visit families and receive baskets, speaks not a word even as he now has realised that the building ahead of you is one of debauchery. 

The women of Yunliang House, upon seeing your face rush from within to greet you, their painted lips quirked into smiles as their eyes squeezed in mirth. One of the women grabs you by the hands as she squeals with excitement.

“My lord, it's been so long since you’ve come!”

Another woman leans in closer to your visage, eyes scanning over with objective precision. The scowl on her face is not one that bears good news, “Ahh, look at you, your skin has gotten so dull. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Ai, ladies, our lord doesn’t have the time we do,” A voice comes from behind the crowd, a basket in her arms and a natural sway to her steps. Boxes of rouge and pins, bolts of fabric and assortments of fruits and pastries lay in the basket’s wooden cradle. She turns to the general and hefts it over to him, not before making the same old excuse, “Come, some idiot gave us too many gifts again.”

“I’ll make sure to pass it to them back in the estate,” You laugh, made especially all the more obvious when the ladies fuss over him to ensure nothing falls from the basket. 

That same woman only huffs and crosses her arms, rolling her eyes as she remarks, “One of these days you’re going to have to accept these from us.”

“That day shall come when it comes, thank you.”

With that last bow, you are waved goodbye by the ladies and set to return to the carriage. Surrounded by a sea of people all milling about the marketplace, the sounds of haggling and advertising fills your ears, grilled meat and rich spices wafting through the air as even children weave between your forms. When a young child, no older than six years old, takes a small tumble and falls into you, you are quick to help her up. She looks up to you with wide and shaky eyes, yet tears do not fall, instead she thanks you rather loudly than scurries off, her laughter continuing to reach you. 

Fengxi decides to speak, and though you believed the very surroundings too much, too loud for his voice, again you are proved wrong. “You treat your people well, it is undeniable that they hold affection for you.”

“Many thanks but I am merely doing for them what I should,” You shake your head, a huff of amusement escaping you. 

“You would be surprised.”

As though lost in thought, the general finally moves his gaze away from your form, that heavy weight placed upon  your shoulders lifted. His lashes accompany the slow blink he takes, cocking his head ever subtly as sleek pin-straight hair follows along the movement. He does not slow in his pace, the overflowing basket of gifts likely weighing nothing to him, and yet there appears an odd melancholy to him. You do not know what there is to ponder, what exactly has captured that enigmatic mind that a pensiveness should take over. It is when the crowd amasses to that of mountains and seas that he decides to open his mouth once more. 

He hums, eyes still looking off into the far distance, “Chunxin is kindly, with clement weather and conditions.” Then, Fengxi redirects that heavy focus back upon you, a dark thin brow raised in jest. “It is no wonder my lord has received such warm suitors.”

“And have you not as well?” You remark, cocking your head as you send him a glance. 

For the first time, actual amusement is visible on his face, lips pulling back to reveal pearly teeth as he barks in laughter, “Not many women are keen on becoming the wife of a Qiugu general.”

You notice how sharp his teeth are, perhaps no different than a normal person’s upon first glance, but the narrower tips had sent an odd feeling down your spine. The Devourer, a title earned from war-torn savagery, soldiers tearing through enemy ranks without care of life nor death, and their general who not so much as leads but lunges into battle as eager as his soldiers, ravenous beasts who tear into the throats of men with claw and teeth. 

You do not understand him. He is 34 years of age, and has previously held no interest in any sex. There have been rumours that those who have tried, those who have attempted such underhanded tactics would find themselves spurned at best, and in pieces at worst. He says such words, and yet he will ride ceaselessly from Qiugu just to arrive at the soonest possible moment. Why even bother with the effort if he will only act as such?

“Yet you sent an offer to me?”

He does not respond, and the crowd seems to have noticed this gap in conversation, for it grows so congested that you must pull the two of you into an empty alley to prevent either of you from being swept up. In such a constrained space, you keep your voice soft and ask him once more, meeting those severe eyes as a tinge of trepidation grips onto your tendons. Unlike Boyu or Xiyuan who provide warmth upon close contact, there is no heat that radiates off of him, only frigid cool. 

“Fengxi, did you send an offer because of some reason unpolitical? Or is this an excuse to soon discuss offers of grain and iron?” Your murmur is gentle, yet he hears it all. A gleam of mirth glints within those eyes. 

The general meets your gaze, lowering himself so that he may be eye level with you. “At the start, I did wish to court you out of reasons purely detached, yet...” His words trail off yet it is not out of hesitance but ponderance. 

“When I saw you, there was something within you that sparked an interest,” His breath is warm, fanning across your neck. It takes everything within you to not flinch away, look away from those eyes which bear abyssal depths. Rumbling from within his chest with gravelly quality, he hums, “The way you treat your servants, the rest of your suitors, and your townspeople.”

“There is something about you that I cannot put my finger on, yet there is something oddly reminiscent of your very being.”

“It is as though we have known each other for a time yet I doubt it is so.” 

You manage a response, your voice even and unlilting despite your unease, breathing, “Perhaps in a past life.”

You do not like the way he looks at you, the way he sizes you up like something to be eaten, peering over every pore on your face, every wrinkle and every curve. His words only confuse you, there is no feeling of familiarity when you think of him, no interest, no knowledge. You do not understand that abyss in human skin, and you hate it. It hurts your head, the sheer inability to understand, you hate it. You hate this feeling of being unable to get under his skin, you hate not knowing what makes him tick.

“Perhaps so.”

“I wonder what it is,” He hums, voice low and rumbling from within that chest of his. Though his face displayed no sign of amusement, that flash of teeth, Fengxi seemed almost all too pleased by your tense shoulders and quickened breath, “Shall we find out together?”

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————春芯王—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

As A’yan and Xue’er comb through your hair, removing pins and hair sticks that relieve the tension on your head, an almost audible sigh of relief escapes you. Another long day of entertaining and appeasing, you had certainly thought yourself capable of an act as simple as talking yet you always find yourself beyond exhausted when night falls. It is as though your bones have liquified and your head squeezed tight with a circlet, so these little moments between you and your attendants have been nothing but a consolation for your troubles. 

Xue’er, her smaller hands slick with fragrant oil, parts portions of your hair to reveal scalp, rubbing it into the skin with the heel of her palm. The force she places into each action is perfect, not quite practised but rather habitual. While she is doing so, she puts up a query, her mellow voice soft in your ears. 

“My lord, Yongjie has been recovering well. Do you want to visit her tomorrow?”

Meeting her gaze through the bronze mirror, you hum, “I think I may be able to, how is her condition?”

“She can hold conversation, A’yan-jie talks to her when she can,” She notes, glancing towards A’yan who has busied herself with putting away your current pins and preparing tomorrow’s. 

Upon this referral, your dearest attendant averts her gaze, speaking low and gentle, “She asks about you, whether you’re taking care of yourself and whether you’ve started a great scandal yet.”

You can only laugh at this. Yongjie would certainly have your head if she knew the kinds of impiety that you have committed. Yet though she has always placed your reputation and image above all else, her query for your wellbeing likewise tugs at your heartstrings. 

“Well, she will know when I come to see her. General Cai will understand.”

Xue’er’s expression immediately sours when she hears you mention him, the shift instantaneous. The manner in which she rubs the oil into your head changes as well, a tad more forceful than before. 

She sneers, “I don’t like him, he’s weird and he always just stares at me when I have to do things.”

“Xue-er,” A’yan warns. 

“My lord, please tell me you'll marry Lord Song,” Her voice is filled with hope, her wide eyes of ivory all but begging you. Almost reminiscent of a puppy, she cites her rather reputable evidence, “At least he always helps us when we need it.”

“A’yan-jie, who do you think our lord should marry?”

 Turning her attention towards the stalwart woman, she waits with earnest for her opinion. A’yan approaches your seated form, brushing your oiled hair to one side. Through the fabric of your thin robes, you feel the callouses that litter her hands. 

She merely answers, her voice is clear,  “Whoever she deems best, no matter who it is, we should support her.”

“You’re right, but still…”

A tired sigh escapes you as a smile that reeks of exasperation tugs at your lips, “Ai, let’s not talk about marriage now. It’s all I’ve had to think about for the past two weeks.”

The two women only snort, but do not press the topic any further, continuing with their respective task until eventually, as all things must do, they finish and rather eagerly take their leave. In fact, Xue’er does not even wait to leave the premises before she is rambling into A’yan’s ear about how much she finds General Cai offputting and how marrying Lord Song or First Master Chen would be far better for you. Perhaps the ongoing betting pool you have caught wind of has likewise found conversation for Xue’er. 

You can only let out an overfond huff as your finger plays with the gold band around your finger. It is a wonder that none of them have mentioned the obvious signs of courtship upon your very being, jade bangles, gold hairpins, delicate necklaces and the gold ring wrapped around your finger. They seem to believe the other responsible for such gifts, friendly and courteous with one another yet too prideful to ask. 

To be a young woman in today’s society is to have a metaphorical clock above one’s head, ticking away at every shichen she exists without a husband. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24. As each year passes, the demands grow louder and louder. Though you rule among men, you are still seen as a woman, above all you are a woman. 

Yet when the one person you desire most remains forever unavailable to you, so close yet just out of reach, there is little choice on what action to take, little choice to discourage the masses that call for your betrothal. 

Though you despised deception, it is necessary. 

It has always been a necessary cruelty. 

Perhaps it is more cruel of you to admit it so easily, but you have not come to your station by being soft-hearted, not bearing the title Lord of Chunxin by disclosing personal affections.  

They are decent men, just not ones you can see sharing your treacherous life with.

So you decided that if you were to remain unwed, you would make it so that no other man that breathes upon this earth would deem you desirable. Invite them into your home and lead them on a little game, let them fall into your hands and into the deception called ‘love’. Then, you would simply rebuff each and every single one of them. The more visible the better, Lord Song, the Chen family heir, the general of Qiugu, a selection that may eventually find their dreams shattered. They shall call you fickle and cruel, a woman undeserving and undesirable. 

No matter the notion that these men spoke their flowery words, spilling their heart out as you return those heartfelt gazes with a gleam only distantly related to fondness, let them take your hands in theirs as they swear and swear it can be only you, there was nothing but the yawning abyss within that chest of yours. It mattered not of how much they could attempt to satisfy that avidity, it would not be so unless it was with him.  

Yet that did not mean you would not regret hurting them

A yearning that shall go unfulfilled,desires born of spring-time affection that shall be spurned in favour of another far more profound. 

Song Xiyuan shall find that his desire to learn all you have to offer, all that you are and all that you have been, snubbed. Ningshan takes but 7 days to travel on lone horseback, and to become Madam Song would therefore mean a partial absorption of Chunxin into Ningshan’s authority. This directly contradicts your terms, and though you enjoyed his presence, his company, you would not allow yourself to separate from your dearest home. 

Chen Boyu will see another year of failure, another year of shame to be hung with the previous years. Though he wishes for nothing more than your company, nothing more than to stay by your side, you could not give him what he truly wants. You know him as much as he knows himself, you are after all, most bosom friends. Perhaps you shall offer a sworn oath of siblinghood, and he will accept it, because he is nothing if not adoring. 

Cai Fengxi shall return to Qiugu with not marriage but an offer of alliance. He and his army shall swear to serve you and Chunxin, yet remain stationed in Qiugu. A general and his lord, he may discover the truth behind his fascination without tying himself to a title that holds no weight. His loyalty, steadfast and undying, will be useful. To the devourer who has no rival, you can only hope his interest remains so. 

And your brother? Your brother will get what he has always wanted. 

It is as he desires, always as his desires. Because they are as much his, as they are yours. It is only a question of whose is so iniquitous that it should deem you eternally lay in the land of tenderness. 

₊˚⊹⁠♡—————周羿瑾—————♡⊹⁠˚₊

There is something about your brother that you wonder whether is as visible to an outside eye as it is to you. 

To outsiders, your brother bears a kind of beauty that men desire and women envy, a kind of appeal that men covet and women long for. After all, with a face such as his, alluring phoenix eyes of warm amber with lashes long enough to kiss the apples of his cheeks, his tall nose and thin rosy lips upon jade white countenance, it is hard to not admire him. When he speaks, it is low and steady, a tune with no discerning cadence. Of course, one could not deny the appeal of his form, garbed in long robes that trail along his path, a tasteful yet scandalous peek of his chest that only enticed the observer for more.

Slender fingers capable of playing the most euphonious melodies and a mind that can memorise a tune with just a single listen, he has always had that talent for musicality. Three rounds of drinks in and he may still pick out a wrong note in a piece. Yet beyond his physical allure, there is perhaps one description you have heard of him that has remained most prominent in your mind. ‘Being with Zhou Yijin is like drinking the finest of wines, you get carried away and before you know it, you’ve become utterly drunk.’

It is a rather apt sentence. Though your brother very often does not enjoy unnecessary ramble, there was a charm to him, an undeniable magnetism to his intellect and mannerisms. Your servants find his visage enticing, so perpetually irresistible that they shall grasp any situation to look at him. Your attendants adore his doting nature, that your vanity be filled with gifts and your desk occupied with pastries at all times.  It would explain why Xiyuan has become so enraptured in conversation with him, why Boyu would continue to be with him despite his harsh words, why even Fengxi may engage in drink with him. 

Your brother is the perfect image of a noble character. And the perfect brother. 

Beyond his surface niceties and nobility, your brother is the person who knows you best. He is the one who understands your heart and stomach, that every blood vessel and bone in your body is known completely and utterly to him. To others, he maintains societal chivalry, but to you he is gentle. With warm hands that seem to be able to hold the world and an adoration in his every action, there is no other man like him. 

Since the day you reunited, since the incident, since the day you almost lost him, you have never desired for another to accompany you. Entertaining men you have no interest in courting, no desire to know beyond exchanges of grain and iron for military might, when the day ends and you must retire, it is his embrace you return to. 

Within the candle-lit room is your brother and your three suitors, indubitably intoxicated beyond relief, or perhaps more accurately, your three suitors are so drunk that when you open the door, you are greeted with a rather loud greeting and utter chaos. A table has been shoved aside and the floor is littered with empty jars of wine, the sweet yet wheat-like aroma wafting from the room, under the warm lighting, perhaps one might mistake your hall as a cheap brothel than a room in a lord’s estate. You are only surprised that there is nothing more broken than the cheap qin you keep, entirely smashed in as courtesy of a certain someone’s impulse issues. 

In the very corner, Fengxi had apparently gotten so inebriated that he is now face first onto the low table, his cup still in hand as his chest rises and descends in slow rhythmic pace. Boyu has since grasped onto your brother’s sleeve, fat tears rolling down his pink cheeks as he begs for something. Xiyuan, the one who called for you with that joyous ring of your name, is flushed from his neck to his ears. Excitedly waving you over, even the wide sleeves of his robes seem to adopt that exuberant aura, his smile wide and unabashed. 

In the middle of it all is your brother, his cup still full as his once frigid eyes soften when you approach them. As though a bodhisattva among mortals, he maintains his flawless complexion and upright form, even if he is attempting to console Boyu, who is rather preoccupied with sobbing into his leg. Sitting by Zhou Chen’s side, you cup the young master’s face into your hand as you smile upon the way his watery eyes light up at your presence. He immediately switches to clinging to you, strong arms wrapping around your waist while he looks up to you. 

“Boyu, go rest,” You coo, your thumb rubbing his cheek in assuage. 

He merely hums, nodding his head as he falls limp into your lap. Your brother clicks his tongue at such a display, and with a quick look to the crowd of help outside, a few rush in to carry Boyu back to his room, at least not without some kind of struggle. With the rather obvious issue out of the way, Zhou Chen rises and offers a hand for you to take, one you accept but it is soon that you realise that another has come to grasp the ends of your long robes, tugging on the ends of it the same manner a child does to his mother. 

Xiyuan, his sunlit eyes you are so accustomed to seeing squeezed in mirth, has widened to liken him to a puppy pleading to be let onto the bed. His voice loses the drunken enthusiasm yet retains that same vulnerability, imploring, “Stay a while longer, please?”

“I shall see you tomorrow, alright? It is late now and I would rather you be well rested.” Your hand comes to rest atop his head, an innocent brief pet that he chases after when you pull away.

The lord manages to grasp that hand of yours despite the drunken coordination he has adopted, holding it as he once again pleads, “Promise?”

“Promise,” You smile, a huff of amusement escaping you when he beams as your response. When he has loosened his guard, you are quick to retract your hand, a notion your brother clearly approves of when he pulls you closer towards him, practically encased in his presence. 

“Please have them escorted to their rooms,” You turn to your attendants and servants, a few of which wince when they realise that they must soon heft the unconscious general to his room. Still, you muster a smile and bow to them, “Thank you.”

At this, they get to work with swift action, one of the perhaps luckier ones rushing over to the still giggly Lord Song to help to his chambers. You are not sure of what else occurs, for your brother is even swifter to bring the two of you back to your bed chambers, a notion that thankfully has remained innocuous to your people. 

His hand rests on your waist, and though the journey back passes by in but a blink of an eye, every moment away from his touch, away from having his sole focus on you is torturous. Only ever in the privacy of your room, tucked away in your office, in spaces that you may never be perceived as Lord Zhou of Chunxin, only then will you be merely you, your older brother’s dearest meimei. 

Kept at the farthest end of the estate and in its own little paradise, your bed chambers are lit up by candles emitting their gentle light. Despite your simple attire, you have yet many tasks to settle at your vanity, sitting atop the sandalwood stool as you free your hair from its binds, thick and flowing past your shoulders. Just as your hand places your hairpin down, a larger one comes atop it, far cooler in body temperature. 

You say nothing to this. Instead, keeping your voice low, a huff escapes you as you raise a brow in suspicion, “How convenient that you’ve gotten them all so drunk.”

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice is stolid, he tips his head to face you, a hint of amusement along the corners of his eyes. 

Zhou Chen maintains his guileless demeanour, letting you fuss over him instead as you urge for him. He places himself between your legs, kneeling obediently as you remove his own hairpin and jade hair-beads that provide his blithe comeliness. Your hand reaches to brush his hair back, remaining atop his head as he looks to you with those warm eyes. 

“How did you even manage to get them to drink that much?” You mutter, your eyes lingering on his soft lips. 

He hums with not a hint of his usual snide, “They’re eager to impress.”

“Even Fengxi?” 

The sudden change of reference, the new intimacy as he perceives it, is not as all welcomed. He furrows his brows as a wronged expression appears on his handsome face. It would be almost cute, such a noble man showing an emotion oft relegated to neglected concubines or petulant children, you cannot help the scrunch of delight that manifests. 

“Calling him by his name now, hm?” He huffs with narrowed eyes. 

No matter how much mirth you feel from his misplaced discontent, a soft breath escapes you. Watching him ascend from his position, you likewise rise, your footfalls rushing towards him despite his clear stay. When faced with him, you could only sigh, “I know you don’t like me spending so much time with them but I have to.”

Zhou Chen’s expression mellows, returning to that visage of tender concern as he pulls you into a loose clutch, staunch arms enveloping your form. The familiar smell of sweet and spiced tobacco clings to his skin, a creamier note of sandalwood urges you to press your nose against the crook of his neck and doze off.  It springs that welling sentiment of assurance, reliance on him.

“I thought we said you’d spend your days with them, not your nights as well yet…” 

Twisted with disquieted aggrieve, his voice is soft among the night wind, “...We’ve been having less and less time for each other now.”

“It's only for a few more days,” You sigh, brows furrowed as he rests his hands on your hips, his rings digging ever so slightly into the fat of your flesh. An aggrieved lilt tinges your words,  “Can’t you hold on until then?”

He merely raises a brow, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against one another. “Don’t you know how hard it is for your brother? Watching you run around with simpletons, watching you give them that smile of yours so easily, watching you touch them without care for propriety.”

His lowered lashes flutter as he lowers his head, murmuring against your lips, “It makes me want to smash their heads open.”

“Childish,” You scoff, yet with not a single shred of actual vexation could be found in even a blood vessel of your form.

“Do you like them that much?”

“Of course not,” You mutter against his lips, voice soft. It is not hard to tell him your wants, not hard to spill every amorous thought you have of him, not when it is for him, never when it is for him. “The only person I need is you.”

Your brother’s lips are warm when they capture yours, so unlike the rest of his body. He cups the side of your face as though your skin were delicate porcelain, as though any more and you would shatter before his very eyes. And though you have griped over his subtleties, you have missed him more than anything that this world could possibly offer atop a golden platter. 

It comes as no shock when you press against his lips harder, and your brother, your perfect brother who always knows how best to hold you, pushing past your lips with his tongue, starved of a hedonism so often indulged. You let him take and take, seizing everything you have until there is nothing but bleary fog in your head.

“You’re so needy, have I been neglecting you?” The raspy quality of his voice only seems all the more sensual so close to your ear, warm breath brushing against the tender shell that it may straighten your tendons. 

At this moment, you could only playfully hum, a coy lilt to your voice, “Then, gege will take good care of me, right?”

He smiles, he obliges. 

Through moonlit rays and candlelight warmth, you are the sole beholder to the beauty that lies beneath heavy robes. Hidden from prying eyes, an active life campaigning alongside a warlord has allowed him a nearly perfect toned figure. Well-defined collar bones and long lean limbs, broad shoulders and a slim waist, it is difficult to not admire him. 

Yet perhaps most surprisingly, your brother’s length is equally beautiful as he is, as though carved from the highest quality of mutton fat jade, the slight flush to the head only made it as alluring as the rest of him. Each protruding vein is almost perfectly placed, that so every time you see it, you cannot help but think that it would be without peer if not for the excessive thickness and length. 

How you yearn to revere him as he always does you, always you. 

“Gege–” You moan, drunk off need and pure adoration. Glancing down at the way you are stretched for him, letting him in, so intimately intertwined that it seemed almost seamless, the turbid wet mess that now stained your bodies only elicited another tight squeeze. 

Hips flush against yours and your legs splayed widely around them, it rips another shameless, ragged sound from your throat. He has already pushed himself into the depths of your body, filled so much of you that you could only heave and beg in choked sobs, beg for more, beg for him. Because you have only ever yearned for him, that his insistence to shallowly rock into you is nothing but torturous. Your swollen bud aching for some attention yet left completely and utterly alone, it hurts despite his very proximity. 

Your brother sighs, his usually steady voice thick with desire, “Such a lustful body, how can anyone else satisfy you, hm?”

He pulls out entirely, leaving only the very tip. In instinctual desperation, you can feel yourself squeezing once more, confusedly trying to pull him in. With a coquettish whine, you spread your legs ever wider, his large hand gripping onto the soft plush of your thigh, devoid of the jade and gold that usually decorate his slender fingers. 

“Only you…” Softly sighing, you reach for him with what little energy you can muster, eyes watery and begging. He does not oblige you. “Gege… it can only be gege…”

Only then does he react, bending further to press a light kiss to your lips. Yet perhaps what contrasts such a tender action is the harsh buck of his hips, the pace he sets desperate and frenzied, the precision he has always had over your form does not falter, repeatedly hitting that spot as his hand squeezes hard into your skin. 

“So good, hah–” He praises, his other hand slipping to grasp onto yours, holding onto you tight as his form presses against yours. 

“You’re always so good for me, meimei.”

Under overwhelming pleasure borne of hours of being played and toyed with, your thoughts have been reduced to bear nothing but him and the feeling of him, your brother’s harsh thrusts only pushes broken, needy moans and tears to fall from your eyes. Yet, he is still your perfect brother, kissing your tears away as he tells you how well you are doing, how you are clamping on him so tightly, how much he adores you, how you’ll always be together no matter what happens. No matter, you rely purely on instincts to twist your form to cater to his desires, a mindless smile pulling on your lips.

And then it hits you, far too sudden and hard you barely realise you have reached that peak of pleasure again. How many he must have plucked from you that even now you could care less about the obscene noises that leave your lips. Your toes instinctively curl, yet it is only briefly before your legs hang uselessly in the air. 

He does not stall, rubbing against you in that merciless pace before he is smearing hot and messy kisses against your jaw. He pushes his hips flush against yours in one final, gentle thrust as you arch into him, the remnants of your pleasure still searing through your body now only intensified by the thick streams that spill out between the gaps of your legs. Zhou Chen remains within you, pulling back to look at you with a soft sentiment within those amber depths. 

Cuddled next to each other, your brother places another kiss to your lips, brushing away the tousled hair from your face with his slender fingers, again chaste yet so filled with the very reverence the two of you work so hard to keep hidden. Wrapped into his embrace and pressed close to his chest, you can hear how his heart beats, thumping in slow rhythmic pace. It beats only for you, He lives only for you. 

“Promise me you’ll never leave me,” He mutters beneath his breath, amber eyes peering into yours.

Just as quiet as he had once done so himself, you respond with what little voice you have left, “Promise.”

Zhou Chen holds you closer, as though wrapped in the embrace of a mother you never got to have, you feel the ghost of his lips atop your head, pressing a kiss filled with exaltation true and raw. 

You wonder whether an outside eye can truly see the depths of your brother’s affection for you, whether they can see how unfailingly and adoringly he loves you with every fibre of his being. You wonder whether they have realised those eyes that never leave your form, hands that have wrought tragedies and a mind that has long foreseen every possibility. Composing this world with fingers of jade-white excellence, this shall be one that bears only the two of you, one that shall forever ensure your happiness, one that shall never end. 

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

this might be controversial but i feel like so many straight men arent even attracted to their sexual partners? they just use them to get off.

they feel entitled to a megan fox or porn star type (no matter what they themselves look like) but since they cant get that they settle for the next best thing because its better than nothing. thats why many men cheat as well, theyre just waiting for something better to come along.

this is such a widespread phenomenon theres even several sayings on it. in german: „loch ist loch“ which translates to „hole is hole“ meaning no matter where your dick lands at least you got off and „lieber widerlich als wieder nicht“ which (loosely) translates to „i‘d rather have sex with an ugly/gross one than no sex at all“.

sex for so many men is completely centered on putting their dick somewhere and ejaculating. many straight men dont love pussy, they dont necessarily desire their partners, they just see them as a means to an end, or otherwise they would put in actual effort to satisfy her as well. this is underlined by this cliché of women being so difficult to reach orgasm, when in reality, women often dont know how themselves because they internalise they cant come and dont get in touch with their own sexuality, and men dont bother trying.

ive heard from many female friends that they want sex more than their male partners because they always leave them unsatisfied. for most men sex is over when they come. and if they actually cared about and desired their partners they would ask how to satisfy her as well. dont get me wrong, orgasm isnt the end and center of sex, but there is a clear clear gap here.

and i think in longterm heterosexual relationships, women get so frustrated they just dont want sex at all anymore. this might also lead to the „my wife always has a headache when i want sex“ dumbassery because at some point women more or less consciously tell themselves im sick of being used by him to get off. i‘d rather have no sex than unsatisfying sex. then men use this to justify why they cheat and neglect their wives, well we dont have sex anymore so she isnt of as much value to me anymore. when its their own fault the wife checked out of their sex life.

this also explains why sex buyers are mostly male. they either feel entitled to fuck an attractive woman they wouldnt get without paying or they just want to get off and need a vessel.

i know i will get some idiot in the notes saying my jakey isnt like that. okay good for you. but what about his former sexual partners? and what about all the other women who have given up on sexual satisfaction by men out of frustration or maybe even think they are the problem? this is not a fringe phenomenon this is reality for many women who have sex with men.

and how would it be different? the whole sex industry is catering to men. and we have established that porn is seeping through the cracks into the mainstream. which only makes sense if most men start watching porn from a young age and carry what they learn there into the bedroom with unsuspecting women.

this shit makes me so angry! women deserve so much better!

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 31st

Day 31: Free For All -  Hunter/Prey // Breeding

Mando x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Hunter/Prey dynamics, fighting, ritualistic breeding, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cock warming, clit play

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Your eyes close as hands start to strip off your layers. Removing them carefully and setting each piece off to the side reverently. One at a time in a ceremonial fashion as the weight comes off of you and a sense of vulnerability starts to settle over you. 

“The tracking beacon will keep you safe.” The low hum of her modulator is meant to be comforting, but you hear the edge under it. The satisfaction in her  “I will not use it unless you press the button.” 

The bracelet she had attached to your wrist is the only thing you will wear. Beyond the shoes that are meant to protect your feet from the harsh terrain, you will have a mask in place of your helmet. Leaving you completely bare. Exposed. 

Trembling slightly, you don’t miss the way that her fingers brush against your collar bone, barely touching the skin. “You will have an hour’s head start.” She reminds you, as if you hadn’t memorized the conditions that the Armorer had laid out when you were selected. 

One hour. One hour to evade them. One hour to try and dodge the hunters that would be coming for you. The implant in your arm disabled and your cycle now consistent, you were being sent out to be captured. To be bred. 

****

The planet is barren, uninhabited after it had been virtually destroyed in the war's past. No one to observe the hunt, to watch as heavy armored Mandalorians hunt down a single bounty for pleasure, and sport. The ceremony behind this one that you are certain wouldn’t be understood beyond the Creed. 

Warriors are needed. So many of your numbers have been depleted that the ways of old have been reestablished. You’ve been chosen for this. To be sent out and captured by the most capable hunter, filled with his seed to be bred so that you can carry his ad. 

Slipping out of the cargo bay of the transport ship that had brought you here, you quickly make your way through the barren landscape, aware that the hunters will be kept on the ship until it is time. After the hour, they would be let loose, free to track you and use any means necessary to find you. 

There is a forest in the distance. You know that they will automatically think that you have fled for the cover of the trees so you swing south of it. You had been allowed to study a scan of the terrain. There is a cave system that you hope to evade them for as long as possible. A hunt is only as thrilling as the challenge it provides. 

It takes you most of your precious hour to reach the caves, the rocky terrain perfect for disappearing into. Making your way into the dark entrance carefully, not equipped with a light from your helmet. You are slow to creep in, cautiously making your way into the labyrinth that might be beyond the sunlight that penetrates only a few hundred feet into the entrance. 

Jumping, you hear a loud alarm sound. The hour is up. Your heart starts to pound and you freeze where you are. Just behind a rocky outcrop that completely conceals you from what you can feel. The entrance of the cave is just barely visible from where you are and you don’t want to move too far in. 

Adrenaline pricks in your system, making your senses tingle. Alert and searching for any sigh of someone coming. You had agreed that whoever caught you would plant their seed in your womb, leaving it up to chance who’s warrior you would carry. Even if you secretly had a favorite one, he might not be the one to sink into you. 

Hours tick by. Maybe seconds. You can’t be sure. All you can manage is to barely keep your breathing from becoming too audible. Muffling your mouth with your hand at one point so you can’t give yourself away when you swear you hear a rock tumble outside. Straining to hear anything else, but the silence is too loud. 

Maybe you are too close to the entrance. Maybe you should move deeper, conceal yourself farther within the cave. Turning your back to the entrance, you start to feel your way deeper into the inky darkness.

You don’t notice the movement. The footsteps silent as your own, your breathing covering the small amount of noise he does make. Even covered in armor and weapons, Mandalorians move like shadows, silent and swift. 

Your gasp when he grabs you echoes around the cave. Turning and grabbing his arm, the light flashes on in your face, the thin protection of the mask not as strong as the helmet and your eyes squint under the bright light. 

“You’re mine.” The deep modulated voice isn’t one that you are immediately familiar with, not placing it right away but the slight struggle brings his arm up and you recognize the burnt orange of his armor. It’s Kryet. 

You wish you had your armor on, at least your boots. Something. His leather hands feel foreign and his armor cold against your skin as the two of you grapple. You’re at a disadvantage, just like you were meant to be when the concept had been born. His hand reaches for your wrist, for the bracelet. Your eyes widen slightly when you realize they’ve been told about it. That must be how they claim you. Pressing the button binds you to them. 

Losing ground, you know you will have to submit soon, to yield to the fact that this is the hunter that caught the prey. The sound of a Rising Phoenix reverberates through the stone chamber and you see something hurtling towards you. 

A giant figure crashes into Kryet, knocking him away from you and the two bodies hurtle deeper into the cave another few yards before crashing into the wall. Grunting and cursing is all you can hear. The deep bass of Paz rumbling out of the flashing lights and the shimmering light of a vibroblade. 

“She is mine!” Paz growls, the clashing of steel rings out as he attacks the other Mandalorian to claim you.

You use their skirmish, their focus on one another to escape. Not bothering to be silent as you turn and race towards the entrance of the cave. The thin layer of protective rubber on your feet slaps against the stone floor of the cave and you rush out into the bright light of the planet’s surface. 

Straight into another Mandalorian. More hunters than you had imagined decided to go towards the caves rather than the forest. Your eyes are still unaccusomed to the light so you can’t see who has a hold of you, the brightness blinding you more than the light in the cave. 

“Easy.” His voice is low, but you hear him perfectly. Trapping you against his hard chest and making you hiss from the pure warmth that his armor seems to have. Slowly your eyes adjust and you see silver. 

Din Djarin. He’s the Mandalorian that has you in his grip. You push away but the quick reflexes of the man who hunts bounties as his profession rather than just a tradition, keeps you right where you are. 

There’s one moment, one split second where his visor is focused on you, silence between you. As if he’s waiting for something. And a split second where you could fight, but you just stare. You know your eyes are visible through the mask, although it’s still hard from anyone to see anything significant like eye color. Although it feels like he is looking right through your mask and is looking at your face. 

Click. The tiny sound makes you look down. The light beeping on your bracelet and you realize that he had pressed the button while you were staring into his visor. You were his prize.

****

You had expected him to just take you right here. It was his right as the victor. His privilege to breed you just as soon as he wanted. So it surprised you when instead of pushing you down to the ground and climbing on top of you, he wraps his arm around your body and you feel yourself lift up into the air. 

He has a Rising Phoenix. You remember that now, shooting up into the air and feeling the wind rushing across your skin while you leave the ground behind. He had been given it after the covert had to leave Nevarro. 

The terrain sweeps by under you, several Mandalorians rising into the sky on their own Rising Phoenix as they head back to the transport. Which is not where you are going. You are headed away from it, away from the hunters who hadn’t found you. 

You don’t know where you are going, the trees giving way to fields of grass. Feeling the rockets strapped to his back slow down, feeling him guide you to the ground and setting you down with nothing more than a small jolt. 

It might be the fact that you had literally run into him, giving him his prize but you wonder what Din looks like as he hunts. Not that there is anywhere to run, but you have the urge to turn and flee. To continue the game. 

He must see something in your body language. Some tensing in your muscles because his head turns, looking out over the field and then back at you, shoulders tense and his hands flinching slightly. “Make it over the hill and you are in control.” He says simply, making your stomach churn in anticipation with one sentence. 

You take off without warning, a bark of laughter catching you off guard behind you. You don’t think he actually expected you to do it, but seconds later, you hear the heavy thud of his boots as he gives chase. 

One thing about not having heavy armor weighing you down is that you are faster without it. Your feet seemingly float as you race through the tall grass, the hill in question so close that you feel like you are going to make it. 

Until you feel him, right behind you a mere second before his body is pushing yours down to the ground. The weight of him pressing you down into the ground and you are already feeling the slick starting to gather between your thighs. The rush of the chase and the surprising thrill of being captured has settled into your belly and turned you on. 

“Still caught.” The grunted comment shoots straight through your body and makes your cunt clench down around nothing. He shuffles, moving back and you push your knees up under you. Giving him a good view of your cunt and your ass if he wants to take you in this position. 

“Maybe I wanted to be caught.” You toss your head and know that you could squirm away, the hold he had on you gone as he shuffled back to his knees. His chuckle catches you off guard, almost unheard beneath the clinks of his ammo belt as he unclips it to let it fall from his chest. The jet pack is already laying in the grass beside you. 

This is it. You are going to take him and be bred by Din Djarin under the sky of your old home world. Now uninhabited but maybe one day. One day your people will roam again. For now you will let him plant his seed in your womb and pray on the Creed that it takes swiftly. 

His hand caresses your ass, slapping it lightly and making you bite your lip. “How do you want it, Mesh’la?” He asks as his hand strokes your ass again and you realize that he’s not wearing a glove. You are feeling his bare hand. 

“Just like this.” You demand, rocking your hips back and biting your lip under the mask. You want to feel him, have him fill you and spill deep. There isn’t an implant to keep you safe and you know that you are fertile. You know that this warrior will give you a child. “Breed me, Djarin.” 

There is a slightly choked noise from him, an rustling of fabric and then you feel the blunt head of his cock sliding through your folds. A low growl coming out from his modulator as he pushes inside you. 

The stretch is delicious, making you keen as your back arches. The walls of your cunt give way to the invasion of his thick length as he fills you. Sliding smoothly forward until he’s buried, hitting the back wall of your body and groaning as his hands grip your hips harshly. 

Your eyes roll back, shuddering slightly while your fingers curl into the grass. Hips pushing forward from the force that he is grinding into you, the loud groan rolling through you. “Dank ferrik.” He hisses softly, holding still deep inside you. 

You can feel every twitch, every pulse of his cock as the vein along the ridge throbs against your walls. Closing your eyes and panting already as you feel the slow grind of his hips, almost unconscious as he moves inside you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna breed you.” The growl shimmers through your nerves, igniting every single one of them and your cunt bottoms out around him and makes him groan again. “Fill you with my ad. Breed warriors on you.” 

Choking out a sob, you push back against his hips. “Then fucking move.” You demand, needing him to move, needing the friction. “Need to cum if you want to breed me.” 

As soon as you say that, he pulls back. The next thrust steals the very air from your lungs. Your cry silent and your toes curling in the shoes you are still wearing. Feeling like he is in your guts before he starts to set a pace that keeps your entire body tense.

The slapping of skin is loud, jarring with every frantic thrust. He holds onto you like you are going to disappear if his fingers don’t dig into your skin. Grunting and panting behind you. “Fuck- I- I’m gonna - fill you up.” He hisses. “N-never wanted to fill a cunt more.”  

It makes you whine, thrashing under him as you try to push back. To contribute something to this coupling but all you can do is take. Little mewls pouring out of your mouth every time he rocks into you. 

Every little sound you make spurs him on. His thrusts are ramping up. Changing from hard and deep, long strokes of his cock that nearly makes him pull out - to short, frantic motions. 

“B-breed me, Din.” You beg breathlessly. “F-fill me u-up.” 

Your words throw him over the edge, making him groan, his pace stuttering before he slams his hips against your ass. Grinding into you while you feel the warmth pulse inside you. His seed coating your walls and painting your womb. 

His body slumps over yours, pinning you down to the ground and you feel the smooth beskar of his helmet press against your shoulder. Your walls flutter and you feel him reach around your body to start rubbing your clit. 

That you didn’t expect, knowing that he was meant to breed you, not give you pleasure but it seems that you will have both. His cock softens but he stays buried inside you while his finger slides along your clit to make you clench down around him. Working you closer to cumming. 

“We will make warriors.” He groans, making you shudder and gasp as your pleasure washes over you. You had hoped that he would be the hunter that caught you, and now you were filled with him. This is the Way. 

[candywife333]

F*** The Pyramid

PART 1

Genre : Historical

PAIRING : yandere-ish Duke Jungkook x spinster social pariah chubby y/n

Inspired loosely by the Pyramid Games (kdrama which you guys should totally check out) and a novel called ,"The Captain's Wallflower"

Warning: This fic has minimal to no proofreading and the usual blend of outlandish comedy , crude jokes with expletives, smut, and angst (because I can't do without it). This is purely fiction and not a representation of the real Jungkook's true character or that of any other member of BTS.

Currently a trilogy ( thinking of making it a series with all other characters of BTS)

Summary: Duke Jung kook remained the quintessential peer of the realm, born with a platinum spoon in his mouth from the day he arrived into the world. He grew up playing a massive role in determining the structure of the social hierarchy----who gets to be the diamond of the water, the most eligible bachelor (other than himself of course), and.....who gets to be at the bottom of the pyramid ;the very dregs of society, the spinsters and ruined women who would never have a chance at a better life.

His bevy of associates all wealthy and powerful comprised of ; Marquess Taehyung, Baron Jimin, Viscount Yoongi, Viscount Hoseok, and Duke Namjoon (close advisor of the king)--formed the Pantheon (a group of wealthy and powerful men that ruled England). He lived the ideal life, the envy of all others..... or so he had thought. Till he met, Spinster Y/N--- the illegitimate daughter of Baron Stanton. They say, if she looks like a spinster, smells like a spinster (of lavender and epsom salt) , and tastes like a spinster ( though who would ever choose to taste one?) ----then she must be one. But something about Y/N was peculiar. She definitely seemed to be a spinster in name and mannerism. But was she truly one? And what was she hiding?

Cameos: Hwasa (my queen), Chungha, and many others

Part 2

I yawned again. And again. And again. Munched on a croissant. And then proceeded to...yawn again. So boring. I would never deign to come down to London for a Season ever again. That was the only modicum of comfort I was looking forward to. Never showing up here again. The scene would never change, so what was the point? Aunt Alyssa, my mother's older sister, had insisted that I accompany Solji to her debutante season----where she would be introduced to all the other pompous, rich, uninteresting, vapid members of the ton. So she could find an uninteresting, rich husband to marry who would inevitably cheat on her with a mistress and she could pretend to be happy and have his ugly nonsensical big headed babies pushed out of her vagina and die....eventually. I know, my view of the ton and life amongst them is anything other than comforting. Yet after watching so many seasons go by, sitting on my bench (I called it my PERCH) like a cockatoo at the rotten old age of 26, my views were firmly engraved into stone. Nobody could convince me otherwise.

The entire point of the ton's existence was enforcing social hierarchy. There was no other point. True friendships are meager and rare, sanctity of marriage has no meaning ( with affairs flourishing abundantly in dark corners of Vauxhall ) , and love is nonexistent. Love, a concept I had pondered for ages as I watched naive gullible debutantes waltz around with their chosen well-to-do suitors. Suitors that proclaimed sonnets of love initially, yet inevitably lost interest in their gullible little guppy fish wives and relegated those same foolish wives to country estates never to be seen again, so they could priggishly jaunt across London with mistresses on their arms---to operas and **gasp*** decorated bedrooms. Showering attention on mistresses and maids and any other women of relatively low standing --- to suck at their grotesque, syphilitic cucumbers.

Abhorrent. Men never made sense to me, and I was convinced that love was a construct they came up with, to fool women to do their bidding. I mean, at this point, having seen what I have seen, I wonder if they even believe in the hoax called love themselves. My concern after sitting here on my perch for the last 7 seasons since I had come out, is that not once had I been asked to dance. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, I guess it made sense? Chubby , wearing spectacles, and unappealing dresses with colors and designs of years gone by, definitely would not make me the toast of the season by any chance.

Yet, even when I had been a bit more fashionable, and when father had been alive and still holding the position of Baron--I would've expected few offers of marriage by fortune hunters merely seeking my dowry. But alas... that was not be. One girl, that debuted the same year as I did, daughter of Duke Asbury, Lady Seulgi had tripped on her feet while dancing the waltz, into the arms of Baron Jimin , bowling both of them over to the cold marble floors of the ballroom rather unceremoniously. She had bemoaned to the rest of the debuting girls (including little old me) that day, languishing on a chaise as she gesticulated nervously, " I am a miserable dancer. How will I ever survive this wretched Season"?

I had quietly tried to suppress my giggles at her ridiculous tirade. What could she even mean? She was proclaimed the diamond of the first water instantaneously after being presented at court that Season 7 years ago, earning the attentions of all the members of the Pantheon and many other wealthy peers of the realm. Her life was easy. All she had to do was do nothing. Yes, I said it. Merely, NOTHING. Her fate was decided from her birth. Not like the rest of us, who were not conventionally attractive and now.......financially destitute. She had earned the good grace of everyone from birth due to her wealth and strong connections. Even if she had farted, everyone would have applauded her flatulence.

These were the women I didn't understand. The ones who had everything, yet bemoaned their lot in life----frivolous ninnies in my opinion. All the women of the higher echelons of society remained there --marrying similarly wealthy lords and preserving their lineage and wealth. You may ask---is there no social mobility? And I would say, of course bloody not---you simpering little sot. What did this look like? A fairy tale? Cinderella? Princes of good moral standing don't exist. Rich men have options. And they always avail them. Why would a rich man marry a poor woman? Lust. That would be the only real answer.

I know I sounded jaded, and I definitely was. You can only be a trampled on flowerbed for so long, till you start festering and molding with bitterness. I do not profess to be better than anyone else. At times over the years I had wished to feel beautiful, marry a good match, and have a family. But that destiny clearly was not in store for me. The complicated reasoning being that I simply was not conventionally attractive and did not inspire lust in men, and that my father's rather paltry dowry did not inspire even mere greed in men . I am socially inept and quiet by nature. These were all valid reasons.

But, the simple reason I chose to believe---is that one man merely found no utility in me. Who you may ask? Duke Jungkook I would say, without even flinching or stuttering. Others thought "society at large" did not care for them, hence they were mowed over to the corner to become rotten spinsters and outcasts. You know who society was? Duke Jungkook and the members of his Pantheon. But he was still the mastermind. Slickly manipulative, handsome, and wealthy.

He was born sitting on a golden throne, and over the years proved that he was an intellectual. Silently accruing further wealth for his estate through trade and industry---something the Ton usually looked down upon. But since it was Duke Jungkook, it was permissible. Everything was in his case. He was the exception to every rule. If his character description stopped at this, we would have all been fine. But one thing Duke Jungkook seemed to crave is control. He was hyper competitive because he lusted after control---and it's close comrade, power. Power over even the pitiful members of society, he had no business trying to control. He played God for years, and always got away with it.

How do I know he's the one running the show you ask? Well, I had time to observe. And I would say, that is my only true talent. I notice things others don't because I am invisible. A mousy little mite relegated to my pitiful perch. And I noticed everything, from his wagers which either demoted or elevated people's social standings---to the way he manipulated people with misinformation and rumors. He decided who was popular. And he decided who wasn't. And if anyone was to blame for my social standing, I would say it was him. What he had done 7 years ago had reduced me to my position now. It wasn't even anything all that dramatic. He cut me down without even a fight.

I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday, even now.....

"I am so sorry, Lord Jungkook, I wasn't watching my step, please forgive me", I had stuttered in an overly fuchsia dress akin to a little sausage as I sweat incessantly in the stuffy ballroom. Hadn't meant to spill a chalice of lemonade on his coat.

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and something that I identified as calculation later on in my life , as he brushed it off with a wave of his hand, "Tis' of no import, Lady Y/N. Don't worry". I nodded and curtsied towards him, "Thank you for overlooking my clumsiness, Lord Jungkook. I am sorry to disturb your evening".

I had thought he had truly forgiven me. It wouldn't ruin his reputation, our encounter. It was the mistake of a newly debuted girl, more akin to a child than a woman.

I had believed in the kindness of men and humanity till then. Till he chuckled and slyly condescended in a rather loud and cloyingly sweet tone of voice, "Of course, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. At least you are not as clumsy as your mother in concealing her relations or as clumsy as your father in the way of estate management". He sauntered away lazily as he left me to deal with the fall, whistling a merry tone juxtaposing the social demise he had just inflicted upon an innocently naive girl.

Casually cruel in the name of being honest. Everyone in the ballroom had heard, their eyes and ears peeled towards any interaction involving him as they do generally, as moths do towards a flame. Only Lord Jungkook would know my dad's poor financial status even as a Baron, or about my mother's affairs which had wrung him dry emotionally. Father had resorted to ruining our meager wealth by letting the estate go to spoil. He soon after died of heartbreak at my mother's affairs a year after this horrendous moment.

He had borrowed a massive amount of money from Duke Jungkook, money he would never be able to repay. When he died, the Baron's estate and debt was inherited by cousin, leaving me and my two older sisters with nothing. Thankfully, my sisters were already married off to decent, financially stable men---though they were mere vicars. Not men with titles, but reliable nevertheless. And I was left an orphan. Looked down upon and pitied by my beautifully polished sisters, and members of society as I was unmarried and ineligible according to my looks and lack of dowry--and Duke Jungkook's honorable estimation of my worth (or lack thereof).

Duke Jungkook had ruined my life long before dad had died, and the mere sight of him would remind me of my downfall to this day.

I hated the man to his day, teeth gritting unconsciously. If I ever came across the man in need, I wouldn't hesitate to ruin him. As he had ruined me. He had opened up to the mockery and disdain of the ton. I didn't get invitations to most balls and events by then. The only few I did get invited to were due to my Aunt Alyssa, or shall I say Viscountess Alyssa. I was unmarriageable nevertheless. And I had only stuck around to earn some money by being companion and chaperone for Solji.

The plan was to leave this horrendous place of twinkling lights and crushed dreams for a family--for a baby (a dream I had cherished in my heart of hearts for quite some time). I just wanted to be left alone now. Away from Duke Jungkook's paralyzing serpentine glances that decried me of my humanity and value, and the snickers from other wealthy men at my nunnish appearance. I would go live in a 3 bedroom cottage on the countryside, the only thing that had been entailed to my name in father's will which had not been of any value to debt collectors.

It was a beautiful cottage, tucked away near the edge of a meadow in a quaint little town called Chestershire. We had family vacations in my childhood there. It just required some repair and warm touches, to become a lovely house. I had earned money as companion to Aunt Alyssa so that I could retire there without worrying about money for at least the next 2 years. I would probably start selling garments I had knitted and sewed over the years as well, once those funds ran out.

Just thinking about the cottage and the quiet life awaiting me, filled with baby chicks and piglets and a warm hearth devoid of judging glares filled me with happiness....something I had not been acquainted with for a long time, as a soft smile brightened up my face .

Couldn't wait to leave the bloody pyramid. Every dog has its day. And mine would arrive tomorrow.

Only , if I had known that destiny always knows how to kick a girl in the arse, just when she believes the worst is over.

--------------------------------------

I arrived around the evening of the next day after a garrulous carriage ride had tossed me up like a well done egg salad 30 times. The travel was terrible and yet the journey was definitely worth it. Meadows filled with various flowers and fruits stretched up and over sprawling green hills in the weak light of the setting sun , all cresting into a peak at the top of the hill---my home, my cottage. It was just as I remembered it, a homely cottage wrapped around by rose bushes and creeping stalks of bouginvillea and tulips.

The main village center was just a 3 minute walk away, but felt much further away from everyone else, with the way it was situated upon a tiny hill surrounded by an expanse of trees giving plenty of shade to the cottage. I paid the coach man and walked up the hill, sweating and dusty from the ride. As I came up to the door, I could smell the fragrance of a hearty stew wafting out of the window.

Who was in there already?I knocked on the door and was met with a swinging door that gave view to an overgrown golden retriever jostling me to the grassy ground with enthusiastic licks. A buxom lady with sparkling green eyes, and thick brown hair in two plaits exclaimed happily, "Oh, darling Y/N, tis' been a long while since I saw you. Must've been when we were kids, still digging worms from the pond and making little houses for them".

I remembered who it was. Sunny, my old maid's daughter-- who I had played with in my childhood. I patted the dog on its head as I got up, brushing grass from my skirts, enveloping her in a rambunctious hug with a wide grin, "So good to see you sweetheart!!!! Where is your mother? Is she in good health?"

"Oh, she's fine Y/N, just back at home because of her rheumy joints. She finds it hard to keep up with maintaining the cottage, so I am doing the job as of now." I smiled warmly, my insides singing with joy at the jubilant welcome back home. I truly felt at home for once.

Chestershire still remained the quiet town I remembered it to be, idyllic and pasotral. It was a wonderful change of pace--fresh air and sprawling greenery so much the eye could not contain. She grabbed me by the shoulders and hustled me into the clean , well maintained cottage. It was a beautiful interior with leviathan bay windows and plenty of comfortable seating space. I inhaled the hearty potato stew into my mouth, discussing my plans with Sunny on how to make the cottage even more homely and regarding repairs to be done.

Apparently a tiny sum of money was provided by father's will to go for maintenance annually to the cottage. That is why the place hadn't fallen into complete disrepair. It just needed a few homely touches, some floral printed curtains and doilies and warm rugs and blankets. Along with some vases that could contain flowers which shrouded the cottage window-sills.

I had my work cut out for me for the next week. But this work was more welcome than anything else I had had to deal with uptil now.

--------------------BACK IN LONDON

Lord Jungkook was pondering something of the utmost importance at the moment as his valet stared at him, eyes agog with concern. The cravat he was to wear today to Lady Esterly's ball held much salience. It had to be something somber to indicate respect towards the end of her grieving period, yet not so outrageously dark in color that it would be utterly unfashionable. She had lost her gouty ill tempered 70 year old husband few months ago to sickness. And though she was clearly happy to lose him, it would be unbecoming to demonstrate those sentiments in public.

As Jungkook entered the ballroom , something in his subconscious pricked at him. What was this uneasy feeling? He hadn't felt this way since 7 years ago when he had found out that Lady Y/N's mother was having an affair with his father, who had been Duke of Somerset at the time.

His father had been a wealthy and powerful man who had always seemed to always adore Jungkook's mother, the Duchess Somerset. Yet, he had done the exact opposite and when she had least expected it, well into their marriage of 30 years, taken up a torrid relationship with Y/N's mother. Jungkook's mother had died of grief merely a year after his father had made his affections not so secret to society. And his father soon followed her in death due to his weak constitution, succumbing to infection in the winter. Y/N's mother had been left to grieve the passing of his father and her husband that same year. She stayed with one of Y/N's married elder sisters.

He had never noticed Y/N's existence till then, till he found out whose daughter she was as she had scurried around the edges of the ballroom like a nervous rodent since her debut in Society. She wasn't much of a beauty to look at with plain features, full cheeks and a plush frame that seemed more matronly and frumpy than anything else. Her only redeeming feature were her sparkling eyes and lush hair that served to hinder the expressions on her face.

Her attire had deteriorated as her father's estate fell to ruin, thanks to Jungkook availing Jimin's crafty ways of tricking money out of the hands of Y/N's gambling father who had gotten rather desperate for money. Jimin ran a gaming hell that had made many a gentleman penniless---something he took great pride in. According to Jimin, if they lost money to the gaming hell, it was a testament to their bad luck and his good luck.

Jungkook had decided to strip her of any remaining honor, not as though her mother had left his mother with any honor either-- even in her death. It would be comeuppance for what her mother had done. She would pay for her mother's sins. And so he thoroughly ruined her reputation, ensuring she would never have a good life therafter--a life lacking family and a chance at a socially and financially advantageous match.

That's when it hit Jungkook. Where was Y/N? She wasn't in her usual spot overlooking people dancing at her bench. That had been her occupation for the past 7 years, watching people have the life that she would never have--he had made it so.

Jungkook felt extremely uneasy now that he could not spot Y/N. Where the hell was she? She always came to the bigger events that Lady Alyssa and her daughter attended. He had denied her invitation to most smaller ,more intimate events with his social acumen, but not the big ones. She had to see what she was missing out on---life. That had been his revenge plan.

But now she was nowhere to be found. He blindly searched for her, till he came across Lady Alyssa and inquired in a drawling tone , schooling his features into a calm that he didn't mirror the panic he was actually feeling, "Hello, Lady Alyssa. Fine evening it is today, is it not"? Lady Alyssa graciously smiled at him, "Yes, of course it is Lord Jungkook. How are you faring today? Oh, this is my daughter Solji in case you have not met her". Solji gracefully curtsied in her periwinkle floaty dress that showed off her waifish frame in the best light.

He continued in an unaffected tone, "And where is your companion, Lady Solji? Y/N is it"? Solji nodded as she replied, "She has decided to retire to the countryside for a while. Her father left her a countryside residence and so she has chosen to depart early before the season ends so that she can celebrate Christmas over there". Lady Alyssa sighed, stating in a resigned tone, "Anyhow she has no prospects of marriage with how she looks and conducts herself, better she is away from polluting the rest of the ton with her incessant cynicism and gloom".

Jungkook nodded at these statements seeming calm as a cucumber on the outide, whereas he was internally rattled at the happenings imparted to him. She had left? After so many years, she had decided to just leave? Evidently she had gotten tired of not being enough for London. But how could she leave without telling him?Without even an announcement of her departure?

A little voice in Jungkook's head gave him the blatant answer--not like she had any friends to inform of her departure. And not like he was her husband/brother/legal guardian, who she would have to inform of her comings and goings. After his blasting statement 7 years ago, the few friends she did have, left her --frightened of being associated with her ill repute by merely even conversing with her, or being seen in her presence.

She was a free bird, and Jungkook was hating the fact.

She had left him to play his own game. The pyramid only remained so, when there were people at the bottom. Sure, there were others he could and had manipulated to stay at the bottom, but he wanted her to remain there. Not for her to exit the game altogether.

Y/N was not allowed to be happy or have a Christmas, after what his mother had been through---he would definitely ensure this.

[catchyhuh]

pretend that picture of patrick star saying i love you is here

people in general are so specific with when they think it's “okay” to say i love you. i mean i’ll tell a nice leaf on the ground i love it if i’m in a good enough mood but you’re not here for ME so let’s DISCUSS

lupin:

demonstrably loose with it. and it’s anybody’s guess if he’s being an asshole or he really means it!

lupin should have trust issues, by all accounts, but i guess considering the person he loves the most is. almost damn near guaranteed to betray that trust, he doesn’t worry too much about wearing his heart on his sleeve. nobody can really hurt him, at least nobody that would intend to

it’s not so much that lupin is actually full of love so much as it’s the fact that he’s just so full with EVERYTHING. he’s dramatic like that

he does mean it when he says it sometimes, and if you use context clues you can probably pick up on his sincerity for the person he’s speaking to, but when he really, REALLY means it is when he’s not talking at all

he talks so much without really saying anything, but when he stays quiet he says a whole lot.  sometimes he thinks it so loudly he almost feels like the other person can hear it even if they have no idea at all

jigen:

not to be overdramatic but since the age of 12, every time jigen has said i love you he’s been crying. and he doesn’t cry a whole lot nowadays!

we KNOW this bitch has trust issues out the wazoo but more than that it’s that he doesn’t trust the intensity of his feelings. he feels like he can only say it if he’s referring to some huge, overpowering love that just kind of bursts out of him into a declaration that leaves even him surprised after the fact

he’s never said it to lupin. not when lupin could hear him, and even then, it was only twice in the whole time they’ve known each other. he’s not even purposefully being cagey, he just… doesn’t feel like it’s right

if you asked him “do you love lupin and goemon?” he’d make a bit of a face and shrug and say “well, i care if that’s what you mean.” which… is kind of the same thing when you think about it

fujiko:

fujiko is not particularly guarded about saying i love you, since it’s… just words, you know? but she’s never said it to somebody she straight up doesn’t like. she won’t even go along for the bit of trying to fool some rich boyfriend of the week, she just pretends to giggle and dodges it

fujiko does have love to give within her, but she seems to think it’s a finite amount

so, again, context clues play into it-- is she getting something she wants when she says it to someone, or is she hugging them in delight at the fact that they’re just alive and in front of her? 

unknowingly shows love in actions more than anything else. beyond instances of her physically attempting to protect others, it shows when she thinks of others' comfort in advance, or when she faintly touches someone’s back to signify that she’s in the room. even just a smile at some inanimate object associated with someone just feels full of love that she refuses to fully acknowledge but there’s A LOT… you just have to EARN it! and you can! 

just! not by doing anything a lot of people have tried so far! 

goemon:

being as strictly traditional as he is, he’s not… guarded about it, really, but he doesn’t “believe” in saying it excessively, if that makes sense. 

like fujiko, he seems to have this subconscious thing where he’s full of love, SO much love for so many things, really, but he can only give it out selectively. not for his sake, though, but because he feels like if too many people have his love then it must make them feel lesser, sharing it with so many others

yes they’re all very strange about this no none of them will ever address it within their lifetimes if they can help it

whenever it does come out, it almost seems involuntary, like a hiccup or something. like it wasn’t a conscious choice to do so, EVEN THOUGH HE DOES MEAN IT

you could not force goemon to say it without meaning it. you couldn’t torture it out of him. he’s not gonna lie about something like LOVE, because despite how often he seems to fall into it, he still never seems to say it

one time he got sick, VERY sick, and uncharacteristically emotional as a result of the constant fever and aching and nausea and everything else, and it came out while the other three were in the living room, jigen standing by his couch putting a washcloth on his head. jigen just nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile, and they all continued on like nothing had happened afterwards. not because they didn’t believe him, they all did-- but because they knew he’d be ashamed for years in his normal state if he knew he’d done that

zenigata:

the thing is. see the thing is. well. there’s just so much of it and he doesn’t really do good with getting it out

in his head he’ll say i love you over something as simple as him being obviously exhausted and a stranger offering him a bottle of water. if he’s delirious enough he might even mumble it but it's so hard to decipher that they’re like it’s ok bud. it’s ok.

it’s partially the small part of him that somehow remembers after all this time how to generally interact with other people, and partially maybe embarrassment. not really a trust issue thing, just. it feels embarrassing to say it no matter the context, no matter how much he means it, no matter HOW he means it

the funny thing though is that he used to NEVER say it. like ever. but he’s. a lot more sensitive than he was then. it’s like the opposite of being hardened with time how’d that even happen?? point being he’s got more love in him now despite everything

maybe the only one out of them that could say it completely sober, completely sane, to the other person’s face and really fully mean it. to him, that’s the best way to get that across easily anyway. sometimes you don’t have time to show things through elaborate rescues and meticulously made meals, so the quickest way to show love is to just be honest and say it

sure says it a lot if he’s drunk though! almost like he was thinking it before anyways and now he’s just lost his filter!! wild!

[multifandombxxch]

“His Gaze”

Mafia!Doyoung x chubby!blackfemale!Reader

Warnings: age gap, violence, cursing,smut, reader is stubborn ,mentions of illegal activities , unprotected s3x (wrap it befor you tap it kids)

NB: this is made up and is strictly for entertainment purposes i dont condone any of the violence or illegal activities mentioned.

This is an AU (Alternate Universe) fic. Doyoung in this fic is just a fictional character I don’t believe he is like this at all.

Synopsis

Y/N was average. average life; average grades Average looks. Average everything.

Doyoung didn’t think so, though. From the very first time he set his eyes on her, he thought she was "f*ckin' pretty."

He wanted her, f*cking hell He craved her... He wanted to claim her, and what Doyoung wants he gets.

Y/n’s life is about to get crazy, doing things she never thought she would, all because of ‘his gaze’

 Word count: 1.6k

 PART ONE

 “Just once?”

“No Mills too much noise and lights…too many people”

Here we were in our campus coffee shop arguing about the same thing for the third time today.

Millie wanted me to go clubbing with her tonight.

“But y/n you never leave the dorm” Millie pushed

I sighed. She wasn’t gonna stop until I agreed

“If I go tonight do you promise not to make me go again?” I questioned

“YES! I promise to never ever ask again” she smiled in triumph

“Ok fine, I’ll go”

 **************AT THE CLUB**************

When we arrived at the so called ‘club’ (it was more like an elitist room filled with snobs) I wasn’t excited in the least. Now I’m not going to lie aside from the club being in the rich part of the city it didn’t give me sense of security. This place made me feel like anything could go wrong at any time.

“What in the actual fuck is this place Mills?”

Her black ass looked me dead in the eye and said “Oh, I’ve never been here before, but I saw a flyer on the school notice board, and it looked fun”

I halted my steps immediately “Millie I’m going to slap the black off you!”

She kissed her teeth “Oh come on y/n live a little”

She pulled me as we walked further into the ‘club’

Not soon after we found a small table in the corner of the room

The base of the speakers ran through my body blaring a song I didn’t recognize.

“Y/N I want you to let loose tonight, okay?” Mill said as she put two martinis on the table.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise “Girl, when did you go get drinks?”

“I got them while you were over here relishing in your discomfort” she laughed

“Here, drink this so we can go dance” she pushed the drink up to my lips.

I drank it.

Worst decision ever.

The bitterness of alcohol always caught me off guard.

“Damn this shit bitter” I said in disgust.

“Let’s go dance” Millie said as she pulled my hand to the dance floor

Starboy by the Weeknd started to play through the speakers

“Well shiiitt did they know I was coming? This is my shit” Millie screamed as she started to dance

 I laughed and watched as her dark skin shone under the blue lights of the club. Her braided ponytail danced along with her.

I was always proud to say all my friends were fine as fuck but Millie? The bitch could stop breaths if she wanted and the best part? She knew she could.

“Y/n you’re just rocking side to side. That isn’t dancing.” She accused

“They’re not playing the songs I usually dance to” I defended myself

And as if God was laughing at me

The speakers let out the familiar sound of Meghan thee Stallion’s ‘Body’

“Come on bitchh! This your shit right?” Millie hyped me up

And just a few seconds later there I was shaking my ass on the dancefloor as Millie hyped me up

 “Damn, I’ll admit that was fun” I giggled to myself adjusting my dress.

Millie nodded in agreement.

We headed back to our surprisingly unoccupied table.

That when I noticed mills started looking behind me

I smirked “What? See somebody you like?”

“Yes, I do but his friend seems to have taken interest in you” she said without taking her eyes from behind me.

I frowned and tilted my head in confusion ‘What do you mean?”

“Y/N, he’s looking at you” Millie screamed over the loud music

“Who?”

“Hot guy in the VVIP section” she prompted

I turned around and we locked eyes almost immediately.

He tilted his head and smirked

“Ooh bitch you better get that dick before I do cuz he’s asking for it”

Millie snickered

I turned back around suddenly overwhelmed “you know I don’t hook-up Mills”

Swirling my overpriced drink around with my straw “besides, I’m sure some other girl would be willing to let him hit”

“I’m not interested in other girls though, Pretty. I want you.” said an unfamiliar voice behind me

I turned to see ‘hot guy from the VVIP section’ staring right at me.

“I’m Doyoung” he smiled

A fucking gummy smile for fuck’s sake

“Mind telling me your name pretty?”

“Y-y/n”

He stepped closer leaning forward to meet me at eye level

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty Y/N”

I wont lie for a moment I was starstruck. He was gorgeous. His black hair was styled perfectly

And the two top buttons of black dress shirt he wore exposed his firm chest. However, I couldn’t help but notice the air around him. Rich, powerful and…. dark.

“Done eye fucking me princess?” he chuckled

I gasped in surprise “I was not eye fucking you I was simply making an observation.”

“Mhmm…of course” He stood straight once again and unsurprisingly he was taller than me.

I rolled my eyes at that.

“You have a lot of hostility towards me pretty, did I do something wrong?” he asked sincerely

Yes, you’re fine as fuck and I don’t know how to interact with you.

“No” I kept it short.

“Do you and your friend want to come sit with me and my friends?” Doyoung asked

“n-“

“Yes! Yes, we would love to” Mills interrupted me and for the third time tonight dragged me by my hand.

 When we started to walk with ‘guy I wanted to fuck but I can’t because I don’t hook up’ aka Doyoung almost comically the crowds parted like the fucking red sea or some shit.

Infront of his table was a red rope that a security guard unhooked so we could get in.

“Sit” he commanded

Commanded?

“We aren’t dogs you don’t have to speak to us like that” I spoke up

He raised his eyebrows in surprise “Is that’s so? My apologies princess it wasn’t my intention.”

I sat anyway.

I made sure to grip the life out of Millie’s hand under the table for comfort.

He started to introduce his friends

“This is Jaehyun.” Doyoung said as he gestured to the man sitting across from us. He had a dimple which heavily contrasted to his dark demeanour

“And this is Taeyong” He pointed to the man sitting next to Jaehyun. His looks were sharp and contrary to the two other men at the table his vibe wasn’t as dark.

Also, judging by the way Millie kicked my foot under the table he was also the man she was interested in.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n and this is my best friend Millie” I said as Millie waved

I noticed two things as I said this.

Doyoung was staring at me as if he could see my soul and Taeyong smiled fondly at Mills.

“Hi” Jaehyun replied.

“Hello, nice to meet you too” Taeyong said

And for about 5 minutes we sat in silence. Nothing but awkward eye contact between Doyoung and I and the occasional ‘awkward cough’ Millie let out.

Until Jaehyun stood up “Boss, I must go now. The others are expecting me in Milan by tomorrow”

His words were directed to Doyoung

Doyoung nodded “Tell me how it goes, you know what to do if anyone falls out of line”

“Yes boss” Jaehyun said and then left.

It was me, Millie, Doyoung and Taeyong left at the table.

Doyoung was still staring at me.

I’m scared but I’m turned on. Does that even make sense?

“Do you want to dance Millie?” Taeyong suddenly asked

She looked at me with hope in her eyes.

It was girl code to never leave each other for too long in unknown spaces but in a weird way I trusted Taeyong with her and I trusted Doyoung with me.

I nodded “You can go mills”

She smiled and kissed my cheek “I’ll be back soon”

Then they disappeared to the dancefloor

And as expected Doyoung was still staring at me.

“Is there something on my face Doyoung?”

“You don’t know who I am.” He stated not even bothering to answer my question

“Am I supposed to know?” I asked in a rude tone  

He threw his head back and laughed

“So fucking pretty but we’re going to have to work on that attitude princess” he said amusingly

I scoffed in disbelief “who do you think yo-“

I was interrupted by a security guard running up to the table in urgency “Boss we have a problem Choi Seolmin and his entourage are threatening to shoot up the club.”

“Fuck” Doyoung cursed

As if someone lit fire under my ass, I shot up out of my seat “Shoot up? As in gunshots?” I asked

Doyoung looked at me then at the guard “Evacuate the club”

With urgency Doyoung grabbed my hand and pulled me to a room next to our table.

Entering the room it looked to be an office.

I pulled my hand out of his

“Yo, what the actual fuck is going on” My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself

“No need to worry y/n its just a minor situation” He attempted to reassure

“A MINOR SITUATION THAT REQUIRED YOU TO EVACUATE THE CLUB?!” I shouted

“I’m going to die” I continued

Then realization hit me “Jesus Christ! Millie’s out there” I made a move to open the door

“Open that fucking door and you won’t like the repercussion Y/n, be a good girl and listen” he spoke calmly

“Taeyong already took Millie to safety princess, you don’t need to worry about your friend” he reassured

“If you let anything happen to my friend, I’ll kill you” I threatened

He looked amused “Alright princes but good luck with that”

Then out of nowhere the sound of gunshots started to ring through the air

“Oh my God” I started to cry.

This is the worst night of my life

 **********************************END********************************************

Part two coming soon

 Please comment your fav part or least fav….interact pls!!

[roslynwrites]

Hi there!

I found you from your beautiful, stunning, nothing short of perfect fic, Incendiary! Apologies if you don’t want new fans/ commenters (feel free to ignore this message if it’s a lot!)

But because reviews were turned off I just had to let you know how amazing the fic was - somehow! This is not an attempt to ask you about your next chapter status or anything like that but to really applaud you for the work you’ve given us for FREE. I think zutara fans in general have felt alienated by the community (esp when creators of the show have openly mocked us) so finding like minded people & quality fics are seriously one of the things that make me so happy.

My brain rot with Zutara died a few years again & then I started watching the live action … saw the infamous scarf scene and well spiraled right back in. Last time I was obsessed with the pairing, was before your fic. So when I stumbled over it this round I ate it up within 2 days … despite having to be up early haha. It was such a master piece even as I write this comment I’m in awe. I wanted to leave detailed reviews on each chapter but honestly the way you built the story, woven canon elements into it & structured the dialogue was breath taking. You brought back so many details and even though it’s canon divergent - everything made sense. It’s not one of those ‘it’s outrageous but for the sake of the fic whatever’, it actually worked WELL.

The characters would do those things had it been a more mature show, aged up, different circumstances. I love that. I also appreciated the lack of focus on kataang and having Katara be more than just a trophy - she felt so true to her essence. I’m not sure what I was even looking for scrolling absentmindedly thought Ao3 but finding your masterpiece was really not something I’d dream of. I did think loosely of a forced proximity, marriage trope for them and you executed in such a satisfying way. I can say that I am so so happy for coming across this. I think I’ve learned alot from the way you write as well. You did such a good job with some of the sequencing and ahhh just a true delight and joy to read.

All this to say I’m so very thankful for your contribution to zutara nation!! You gave the fandom such a priceless gift I know incendiary will be a fic I come back to often to reread and marvel. I hope everything is well with you🫶🏼

This ask made me tear up a little with happy tears; thank you so much for coming here to send this to me, you wonderful person <3

It's interesting you mention the alienation of the zutara fandom in relation to other parts of the fandom, it's actually something I ponder a lot. Fandom dynamics are so interesting in general to me, and every fandom is a little different. I am not a Zutara veteran by any means, I sauntered in quite late to the party and I don't really interact much with other parts of the fandom nor in any discourse, but even to reclusive old me I think it's fairly obvious that the creators deciding it was a great idea to essentially declare open season on personally insulting a large portion of the fandom based on fictional shipping tastes had a pretty large impact on how the atla fandom interacts lol.

Which is, of course, a shame, but cultivating fun, relaxing spaces is still thankfully possible, and I do think that the loud troublemakers (regardless of ship) are a small percentage of fandom; the chill people are usually just quieter and have to be actively found. I am sooo glad my fic could deliver some joy and feeling of like-mindedness for you :)

[ssahotstuff]

Aaron Hotchner x Reader Playlist collection 💕

Pretty Young Thing by Michael Jackson here

These are all inspired by songs that remind me of Hotch hehehe enjoy babies 😘💕

All stories stand-alone and are not part of a series.

In this piece, the reader is a BAU member.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: obvious age gap, smut, cursing, alcohol consumption, jealous Hotch, brief case mentions, general crime, all fiction of course, penetration, oral, fem receiving, betting but not for real lmaooo

She was the youngest, and it made the most sense for her to go undercover, but that didn't mean I had to like it. She had volunteered quickly, being the same physical type as previous targets, and we'd all be there watching out for her of course, but it didn't put me any less at ease. I scanned the crowd for the fifth time, examining the sea of dancing bodies. Hers stood out amongst the crowd, mostly because like any other time, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. I was thankful for her being our primary focus in general, because it gave me more of an excuse to stare.

Her dress fit her like a glove, baby pink and barely meeting the middle of her thigh. Her hair was curled in loose waves, and her makeup was striking, dramatic, her eyes and lips mesmerizing under the twinkling lights of the dimly lit club. She was dancing with a group of girls that had invited her out on the floor, smiling brightly and appearing to have a wonderful time. She worked well undercover, her gun secured on her upper thigh, hidden out of sight unless things went awry.

There was still no sign of our unsub, who had been targeting women he thought were after older men with money. He'd pose as a middle to upper class rich man and seduce women with his material objects and then left them to bleed out in their hotel room after. The club had been a hot zone for young women and older men, but we hadn't yet been able to lure out unsub away from the rest of the crowd.

"Y/n, break off from the group," I instructed, and after excusing herself to the bar, she turned sharply to the left, someone near the VIP section catching her eye.

"9 o'clock. He matches the physical description," she stated, and she was right, he was scoping her out, so she shot him a dazzling smile and a shirt wave, earning his attention. Even from my spot on the balcony I could spy his fake Rolex, his spray tan and fake designer glasses. She confidently made her way to him, receiving what looked like a cheesy pick up line by the way she tilted her head back and faked a cute laugh. To anyone else, she was convincing. But I knew if she wanted a man, she didn't have to try. She was charismatic in her own way, drawing you in with her sense of humor and uniquely beautiful looks. She was unlike any woman I'd ever met, and other men had been staring her down all night long.

"She's got admirers all over the room, Hotch. Could be any of them," Morgan buzzed in through my earpiece, confirming my fears. Sure enough, three other men had their sights set on her if things didn't go well for her current target. Luckily enough her hair had covered her earpiece, so she could stay in constant contact with us.

"If he offers for you to go back to The Filmore Hotel, we move in," I told her and the team, making sure we were still strategically placed to avoid as many civilian casualties as possible. He wasn't confident enough to be armed in public. I could hear her using her cute little one liners one him, working him up, giving him just enough mystery to keep him asking her questions. I could practically see her eyes twinkling from my spot on the balcony, but I was swiftly making my way towards the stairs and into a side corridor so I still had her in my direct line of sight. I had three people between her and I, but no one in my direct line of sight so I could watch freely from my spot against the wall.

She asked him to dance and he declined, which we'd predicted. He'd never have the courage amongst a crowd; he'd need to get her alone so he didn't have any competition.

"Make sure he knows you could have any man you wanted," I said, listening to her play into the character she'd created. She'd proven more than impressive, joining the team a few years prior but earning her spot with her dedication and quick wit. She was a critical thinker and a problem solver, and quite useful in the field as well. I was lucky to have her on my side. This was her first time undercover but I was confident that we'd be able to use her for more in the future.

It was a waiting game to see if he would invite her to a secondary location. In the meantime, we were keeping our eye on another target a few yards away, eyeing the pair curiously. I'd noticed him when he moved from the bar to a few yards away from where I was standing to get a closer look. His eyes were glued to her legs, and I wanted to stop him from ogling her, but we had a job to do, and unfortunately this was a part of it.

“The real target is behind you. Excuse yourself the first chance you get,” I instructed, watching as she found a way to get away from him without drawing too much attention, immediately spotting the real target behind her. She let him follow her to the bar, which gave me the advantage of being able to move in closer. I was trying not to let too much distance get between us, simply because these women were disappearing without anyone seeing them, so this guy was good, but we were better.

“The Filmore? Isn’t that where all those missing girls were found?” That was our signal to move in, and just at the right time, because his hand was already securing around her wrist to pull her away. She announced herself as FBI before taking him to the ground on her own, earning a wolf whistle from Morgan. She was in stilettos, so the fact that she was able to keep her footing to take him down solo was impressive all on its own.

“And that’s how it’s done, gentlemen. Next time we send Reid, but send him in these shoes,” she joked, and I felt a grin tugging at my lips.

“Let’s get you somewhere to change and we’ll all have dinner. We’re grounded for the night, so we may as well enjoy it,” Morgan suggested, and we all agreed; the hotel we were staying at had a restaurant in the lobby. As soon as forensics could get a match on DNA, the local PD would have their unsub, and we could all get back home.

Y/n rode in my car back to the hotel, shivering in the night air from how little protection her dress offered. I gave her my blazer and she wrapped it around herself before buckling in.

“Thank you. I’m freezing,” I turned the heat on, pulling out of the club and taking off in the direction of the hotel.

“You did great tonight. The last time we sent a new agent in undercover, she panicked,” I told her, and she shrugged her shoulders.

“I was fine until he grabbed me, I didn’t know how to tell you he’d touched me without giving myself away. I know you said not to move in unless I was sure I had him,” she often let what she’d had to do stay in the back of her mind, dwelling on it, recalculating how things could’ve gone. She was a perfectionist in every sense of the word; she was too hard on herself.

“You did have him. You got him to the ground in 5 inch heels, do you think any of us have ever done that?”

“Hopefully none of you have ever had to wear heels on the clock,” she giggled, my cheeks filling with heat at the sound. The unfamiliar feeling I’d been plagued with watching her with those other men had been jealousy, and although it had taken me a moment to figure it out, it was ever present now.

“No, looking good in heels is something we’ll reserve especially for you,” it was her turn to blush, her face turning towards the window to conceal it. I didn’t realize how flirty it sounded until we pulled into the hotel and she was still flushed, my jacket still wrapped around her shoulders. She tried to hand it back to me after we made it inside, but I told her to hold onto it until she’d gotten a chance to change clothes.

“Such a gentleman,” she praised as we ascended to our floor, and I felt myself getting more nervous than usual around her. I’d tried hard to keep my professionalism around her, but seeing a room of men all staring her down had caused me to feel things I wasn’t proud of; I was thankful to be on my way to my room so I could decipher my emotions before dinner.

“I’ll meet up with you in 30,” I called to her as I slid the keycard through the slot, putting a barrier between me and the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. Her room was adjacent to mine, so I heard her humming lightly to herself as she got ready, and the entire time I was getting dressed, I couldn’t drag myself away from the thought of what she may be doing.

I kept my attire simple with slacks and a navy blue long sleeved shirt, checking my appearance in the mirror in indecision every time I went to leave. I’d never thought twice about it before, but after deciding I was too formal all the time and I wanted to keep things casual, I went to meet up with Y/n.

✨✨✨

It had taken a lot for you to change out of the dress and into more normal attire, but you chose another dress anyway, wanting to still feel as confident as before. Hotch was being especially flirty, and you were hoping it was for a good reason. You’d caught him staring at you one too many times over the last year for him to be innocent, and tonight was confirmation that he saw you as more than an agent. You’d been dropping hints forever now, but the only person who picked up on it was Reid, and he had been your number one supporter since then. He was campaigning for the two of you to find happiness together, but Hotch was oblivious. You assumed your age, which was no big deal to you, held him back more than anything. It wasn’t exactly encouraged at work, but with the right amount of strings pulled, it wasn’t a career ending decision either.

You left your makeup on and pulled on a little black dress in its place, opting to keep the heels on, but swapping them for a shorter pair. With Hotch’s jacket in tow, you crept into the hall, surprised to find him already waiting for you.

“Your feet don’t hurt?”

You shook your head, letting him follow you down the hall and to the elevator. You felt the warm gaze of his stare on your body, which is what you had been anticipating. You wanted him to make the first move, so you didn’t feel silly if you were interpreting things the wrong way.

“It felt more strange to put on tennis shoes. And now I feel silly because you chose tonight to go casual,” you joked, enjoying the back and forth with him. It made you feel normal, and you didn’t get that often.

“I had a feeling you might want the spotlight. You deserve it anyway, so let Dave pay,” he shot back, a smirk dancing on his lips. He wasn’t one to be playful, so you made the most of it, tucking the memory away for a rainy day when he was barking orders at everyone. Everyone else was waiting in the lobby, JJ immediately complimenting your outfit choice and dragging you away to the bar while Spencer followed shortly after.

“Did you know the history of the Little Black Dress dates back to the 1920’s? It was first introduced by Coco Chanel—”

JJ immediately put a hand up to stop him while she glanced over you again, her eyebrows shooting up curiously.

“Wait— is this for Hotch?” You shushed her, despite the fact he was across the restaurant with Morgan and Rossi. Spencer immediately looked away to deflect the question, which left you having to explain yourself.

“Small crush,” you said flatly, Spencer laughed and cleared his throat right after to conceal it.

“If by small, you mean you haven’t stopped talking about him in months,” he started, and you gladly took the shot that JJ offered you, trying to drown Spencer out anyway you could.

“Okay, so I downplay it a little,” you defended, and JJ bumped you with her hips before she leaned in close.

“I can totally see it,” she said behind her hands, nodding in Hotch’s direction. Once he realized he had your attention, he abruptly turned away, pretending to be lost in conversation with Rossi.

“Don’t just tell me that,” you groaned, and Spencer was at your side, confirming what JJ had said.

“We all see it! He’s not as subtle as you, but you’re oblivious,” Spencer said harshly, to which you pretended to clutch your chest in pain.

“Ouch, Spence! Oblivious?” JJ scolded him for his abrasive words but it was true. If Hotch was flirting with you before today, you hadn’t realized it.

“He does it in his own way,” JJ explained, using a previous case for an example. Hotch had sent you into a house with a woman who unfortunately didn’t make it to the hospital in time, but you’d jumped in the ambulance with her after receiving the go ahead from Hotch, and you were able to be with her in the final moments she had left. He’d followed the ambulance and brought you back to the hotel, knowing you were in no emotional shape to drive yourself. He’d brought you back to his room and let you cry; he didn’t ask any questions, or try to give unwanted comfort. He simply held you and allowed you to feel human; afterwards, he’d carried you to your room once you’d fallen asleep. He never mentioned it, and you hadn’t either, but in his own ways, he made his affections known. You’d just been too distracted with your own feelings to see it.

“In Hotch’s eyes, he’s giving you emotional security and comfort when you need it. That’s how you know he cares,” JJ explained, and every plane ride he’d comforted you through came to mind, the bumpy ones especially. On more than one flight home, with everyone else asleep, he’d put his arm on the shared armrest for you to clutch, because he knew how much flying scared you when things got rough. One stormy night flying home from Nevada, you found yourself wrapped in his blazer tucked beneath his arm.

“Come here,” his voice cut through your panic as he lifted the armrest and invited you to take shelter under his arm. It wouldn’t do anything if you were in a real emergency, but now, with turbulence shaking you all over the place, his arm seemed like home. You leaned into him, his scent more comforting than you realized it would be.

“We’ve faced some scary people and I’m afraid of this stupid storm,” you felt silly, but his grip around you tightened, and his free hand took yours. His head was close enough to yours that you could feel the heat of his mouth each time he spoke. You often sat with him on the ride back, but you had never gotten this close.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. Try to get some rest and I’ll wake you before we land,” he’d covered your upper half with his blazer and let you borrow his chest to use as a pillow. You loved being so close to him, and eventually, you drifted off to sleep, thanks to Hotch gently brushing your hair with his hand until you succumbed to slumber.

His face was the first thing you saw when you woke up, his hand gently shaking you before anyone else on the jet had stirred. It was time to buckle up, so he strapped you in and opened his arms back up for you to lean into until you’d landed. You received an odd look from Rossi, which quickly turned into a smile when he realized how content you both were. You stayed just like that until you’d landed, and then things resumed as normal between the two of you. You were never sure how to take him, or if his kindness was just a perk to making him the most well rounded man you knew.

“So what do I do?”

JJ and Spencer took turns shrugging, before Spencer suggested the most wild idea of all.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?”

You cackled wildly, and this time it was JJ who shushed you before laughing too, leaving Spencer bewildered.

“I can’t just bring it up because then if we’re all delusional and he doesn’t like me, I’ll look like an idiot,” you countered.

“A jobless idiot,” JJ chimed in, to which you nodded in agreement. You couldn’t just talk to him, and that’s what made it so difficult. You had to make Hotch come to you, and that was why it was such a difficult task.

“I’m banned from Vegas, but I’ll make you a bet,” Spencer made the two of you lean in as you slowly made your way to the table to join everyone else.

“Deal,” you didn’t even need to hear what he had to say, you’d gamble against the Genius any day of the week.

“I’ll bet you $10 and all of your peanuts on the plane that he makes a move before we fly out in the morning.”

“$10 says he does it when the plane lands tomorrow,” JJ said right after, making you roll your eyes and the both of them.

“$20 to each of you that he doesn’t say anything at all, but I keep my peanuts,” you said finally, shaking with each of them before you ironically enough slid into the seat next to Hotch. He’d stood up to offer it to you, so you sat down, examine how close he was to you once he’d sat down. Your arms were touching, and your legs were too beneath the table. JJ and Spencer were across from one another next to you, Morgan on the end. Rossi sat in front of Aaron, pouring everyone a glass of champagne from the bottle at the table.

“Let’s have a toast to the incompetence of our enemies,” Rossi exclaimed, and you all clinked your glasses, Aaron’s touching yours for just a second before he winked at you, and drained his glass. You followed suit, JJ and Spencer watching idly from their seats beside you.

“Saw that,” JJ whispered, kicking at Spencer’s leg beneath the table. He mouthed, pay up at you before the two of them high fived across the table. Hotch was oblivious, in conversation with Morgan and Rossi.

“Nothing was said and I’m not paying up until I hear words,” you whispered, the two of them sighing dramatically before joining in on the other end of the conversation. By the time you’d ordered food, Hotch’s hand had crept onto his thigh, his fingertips dangerously close to yours. You were talking to JJ about what you were planning to do with your Annual Leave, a whole two weeks away from the BAU.

“I’m actually moving. I ended up buying that house,” you told Spencer, who’d went with you to look at it a few months prior. The rest of the team overheard this and began planning your housewarming party, which you didn’t mind. The less you had to do, the better. When they found out where you’d moved to, JJ was all smiles, but you weren’t sure why until Hotch’s fingers brushed yours lightly under the cover of the table.

“It’s a good neighborhood. You’ll like it,” he said casually, and you went mentally wild at the idea of being Hotch’s neighbor. You had fallen in love with the perfectly spaced houses, giving enough privacy that you could do what you wanted but also there were plenty of places for your future children to trick or treat, and that was a big plus for you.

When dinner arrived, things got quiet. Everyone had been starving, and Rossi wanted the night to continue on long after dinner. Spencer was the first to excuse himself after the meal, telling JJ to keep her eyes on you before he left. Morgan went next, so you took his cue and headed up for the night, hoping your hunk of a unit chief would follow shortly after.

Sure enough, the click of your heels was joined by the quick steps of a man desperate to catch up to you. He joined you at the elevator, his hand on the small of your back as he led you across the threshold, still there once you’d hit the button for the fifth floor.

“You bought that empty house on Hemlock?”

You nodded, surprised he knew exactly which house you’d bought. That meant he was close enough to drive by it regularly.

“I live on the next street up,” he confirmed, clearing his throat before he offered you his hand. The elevator dinged and he led you out, stopping you at his door instead of yours.

“Nightcap?” You couldn’t say no, instead, you followed him into his hotel room, watching with wide eyes as he locked the door behind the two of you. He invited you to sit on the bed, and you did, mostly because you were ready to take your shoes off.

“Here, let me get them,” you watched in silence as he unclamped your heels and let them fall to the floor, his fingers massaging the red, swollen skin around your ankles. It was intimate, sexy even. He was so secure in himself, so confident.

“Thank you,” you managed to squeak, calming down some when the drink he’d made ended up being coffee. He invited you to sit at the head of the bed with him, against the pillows. You climbed up, sitting your coffee on your bedside table. He reached for your hand, lacing your fingers with his. You weren’t nervous, you felt completely at ease around him.

“Watching you with all of those people tonight made me realize something,” he tugged your face gently by your chin to look at him, his amber eyes like pools of honey looking back at you.

“Tell me,” he smirked at your curiosity, closing the distance between the two of you to plant a soft kiss to your lips. Once he was sure you’d kiss him back, his hand was on the back of your head, deepening the kiss, moaning into your mouth. He tasted as good as he looked, like mint and whiskey, your tongue tracing his feverishly as you found your way into his lap. His arms welcomed you, wrapping around your waist.

“I was so jealous. At the end of the day, I want to know that I have you,” he gave you no time to answer, just started kissing you again, his hands grazing your sides until they rested on your thighs, just below your dress.

“You do have me,” you breathed, his palms creeping beneath your dress to search for your panties. You let him slip them off, lifting up so he could slide them past your feet. Seconds later, his hands were tugging your legs apart, your dress pushed up past your hips and your bottom half exposed. You felt the rough pads of his fingers connect with your clit, soaked and ready for him. You let out a shaky breath as he rubbed small circles on your most sensitive spot, his breath hot in your ear.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Did you want to end your night in my bed?” You nodded, gasping as he slid a finger into you, pumping agonizingly slow, giving you just enough to ache for more. You struggled to pull the dress over your head, letting him take over for you, leaving you in just your bra on his lap. He removed it, ducking down to pull your nipple into his mouth. He repeated his actions on the other nipple, slipping another finger into you. You leaned forward, gripping his shoulders to stay upright as you found your release, his fingers never stopping, working softly on your tender flesh to work you through your orgasm. You found his mouth, covering him in kisses as you caught your breath.

“Can I lay you down?” He was pulling his own shirt off, his sexy scarred chest leaving you speechless as your hands roamed his body. You let him lay you flat as he stood up and removed his pants, leaving him in his boxers. He looked like a deity as he crawled between your legs; he left a trail of hot, wet kisses up your calves, straight to your thighs before settling himself between your thighs. His fingers teased your slit, playing with your arousal before he leaned forward and licked a slow stripe up your center.

“Jesus, Aaron,” you felt his tongue latch onto your clit, his lips sucking furiously as your hips wiggled and bucked under the weight of his grip. He held you down so he could continue to fuck you with his mouth, his tongue circling and swirling against your clit like he wanted to win an award for pleasuring you.

“Pretty young thing, I want you all for myself,” he groaned into you, slipping a finger back inside of you. You felt your eyes squeeze shut as you came, gripping the sheets harshly as Hotch let you ride your orgasm out on his face. His tongue never stopped, so you rooted your hands in his hair and guided his mouth where you needed it. He added another finger, pumping them a bit faster than before, but the fluid movements of his tongue slowed dramatically, causing you to hold his head in place right above your clit. He knew exactly what you needed, delivering the perfect amount of pressure, moving his tongue in just the right way. He made sure that no man after him would be able to please you the way that he could.

“Feels so good,” you whimpered, completely at his mercy. You looked down at him, his eyes trained on your center, and he’d never been so sexy to you. His focus was erotic in itself, and you couldn’t wait to see what he was like once you had him inside of you. You’d imagined him so rough, rugged. He was the complete opposite; he made you feel special, touched.

You came again on his tongue, begging him to lay down so you could ride him. He didn’t argue, instead he pulled his boxers down and patted his thighs, helping to make sure you kept your balance. He used his hand to line himself up with you while you used his shoulders for balance, your forehead against his as you sank down onto him. His dick was thick, stretching you out as you rocked your hips and tried to adjust to his length. He moaned as you rotated your hips, grinding against him.

“Perfect, sweetheart,” his hands guided your hips, holding you in place above him. He began to thrust into you from below you, repeatedly filling you in ways you’d never expected to share with him. The steady rhythm he’d found had you scratching at his shoulders, slamming down on him to meet his thrusts. His hands tangled in your hair as he picked up the pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you. His moans were like music to your ears as you watched him slip in and out of you.

He reached between your body to rub your clit, a smile on his face as you bounced on his dick.

“I’m afraid I’ve got it bad for you,” he admitted, pulling you in for another kiss as he slowed down, his pattern shifting as he rolled his hips.

“Good, now I don’t feel so bad about trying to get your attention,” he seemed surprised at your statement, but he kept going. You were clenching around him, getting closer with each slow thrust inside of you.

“Why didn’t you just come to me? You’ve always had my attention, sweetheart,” his hands wrapped securely around your waist as he flipped you over, laying you on your stomach so he could position himself on his knees and slip into you from behind. You arched your back for him, a satisfying grunt slipping past his lips before he entered you again, his fingers gripping your ass as he fucked you hard, your hair gathered up in his hand. You came almost immediately and you could tell by the way his teeth gritted together that he was on the verge of his own release.

He continued to pound into you, but his thrusts were growing sloppy, getting slower the harder his cock began to pulse inside of you. With a shout, he finished deep inside of you, gripping onto you for support as he rode out his high. He slid out of you and flipped you over, scanning your face before he kissed you hard, his hands cupping your face.

“I meant what I said. You always have my attention.”

You stayed with him that night, only going back to your room to gather your belongings the next morning. JJ and Spencer were knocking at your door the minute you’d closed it.

“Pay up! You didn’t even come back here last night,” JJ accused, and you gladly slid open your wallet and handed the two of them a $20 bill. You had never been so happy to be wrong in your life.

[herslvt]

Miami || Taeyong x Afab!Reader

Warnings ‼️ 18+ Mentions of Alcohol, Age gap! (Taeyong is 30 reader is 22), Divorced!Taeyong, Unprotected sex (dont be like this), Public Sex (They're on the beach), Missionary, Oral (reader receiving), cum eating, use of pretty girl & baby, Reader is black like always 🫵🏾 I in fact use the N word at least twice in here so like I said reader is black! Honestly it's actually very intimate, I was gone make this like a one night stand type thing but I can't write that I need my shit to have meaning 🌚 this also is very long....

Song: Poundtown by Sexxy Red (I find that song so funny bcs what are you even talking abt 😭) the song is loosely referenced only once

“I’m out here in Miami, lookin for the hoochie daddy’s”

"Girl it's spring break lighten up" your best friend Aaliyah say pushing you lightly. "You're 22 with no kids and you're single but you stressing like a single mother of 5" she says making you roll your eyes. Preferably you would be in your hotel room taking a nap, but Aaliyah was persistent on taking you out to the beach. There was a party of some sort going on and where there were party's in Miami there was alcohol and dudes ready to blow a couple bands on pretty females. And that's exactly what Aaliyah was looking for. For the two of you to be best friends you were in fact polar opposites.

"Too many bitches where the niggas at" she says making you laugh. This wasn't really your scene and you definitely didn't plan on going home with any dudes tonight. "Well you can go looking for them, I wanna sit and enjoy the water" you say. She looks at you eyes kind of sad. "Y/n, I promise if you want to go back to the room we can. I don't want you to be here and you're not happy" she says. You smile at her. "Aaliyah I'm fine, I don't wanna kill your fun I'm fine chilling out here while you do your thing" you say making her nod. "Okay but if at any point you wanna leave text me and I'll come find you" she says.

Normally the two of you would never split up like this, but you both wanted to do different things and you both were okay with that. You've spent the last 2 days doing things together this was you guys time apart.

You walk further towards the shore sitting down. You watch as the small waves crash into the shore which was much more peaceful unlike the loud drunken partying going on further up on the beach. Your white toes buried in the sand, gold anklet barely visible. The smell of salt water and alcohol clouding your sense of smell. The cool air making you wish you'd worn more than just a Bikini and Sundress. Your braids pulled back into a low ponytail as to keep them out of your face.

"Is this seat taken" you hear from behind you startling you. You look back to see a man, someone you definitely did not know. "It's not" you say turning your head back towards the ocean. "Guess your not the party type" he says. His voice was very attractive. "Nope, I'm here with my friend, you?" You say looking at him again.

"Same" he says looking at the water. "Just got divorced and the first thing my friends do is drag me to Miami." He states making your jaw drop. "You're divorced! You don't look a day over 20" you nearly yell making him laugh. "Thanks" he says still smiling. His dimples showing, who would be dumb enough to divorce this man. "If you don't mind me asking, why'd you get divorced?" You ask.

"She cheated on me" he says making you frown. He said it so casually as if he was used to it. "How long were y'all married?" You ask now just blatantly being nosy. "You sure do ask a lot or questions" he says shaking his head. You frown at him making him laugh. "Dont worry, it's very cute" he says. You feel your skin heating up, thank god it was getting dark out here. Everytime he smiled at you you felt yourself get weaker in the knees. You said you weren't planning on going home with anyone tonight but he might be an exception.

You mustve zoned out because a few seconds later he was waving his hand in front of your face. "I'm sorry" you say making him laugh. "You're a very pretty girl" he says, this time it was your turn to laugh. "Hey why're you laughing I'm serious" he says frowning. "Because, you're making me nervous" you rest your head on your knees which are now pulled up to your chest. "I can't possibly make you that nervous" he says making you smile. "I don't think a guy has ever made me this nervous," you admit making him curious.

"Well then I guess I'm doing something right" he says. The two of you sit and talk a little while more. You talked about a variety of things even talking about simple stuff like your favorite colors and food. He made you laugh harder than any guys had before. Soon you get a phone call from Aaliyah. You excuse yourself and take the call. "Ooo girl who you sitting with" she asks making you look behind you. There she was standing at the top of the beach with a drink in hand. "This guy I just met,” you tell to your best friend. “You must like him, I seen you smiling awfully hard” she says making you laugh. “I don’t know, kinda,” you admit. "Well are you going back with him?" She asks. "Probably not," you say making her scoff.

"And why not!?" She slurs clearly drunk. "Because you're drunk and who's gonna take you back up to the room?" You state. You watch her shuffle around a bit. "I'll go back up to the room right now and let you have your fun, stop worrying about me" she says. You sigh, she was even more stubborn when drunk and you knew she wasn't going to let you walk her back up to your room. "Fine Liyah, but I’m staying on the phone with you until you get inside the room" you say. "Fine" you could tell she was rolling her eyes.

Just like you said you stayed on the phone with her until she made it in the room and whole time you were on the phone Taeyong sat on the beach patiently waiting for you to finish. When you finally hung up you sat down next to Taeyong again. "I'm sorry that took so long" you say. "Oh no it's fine I understand" he says. This man was a literal angel and you met him what an hour and half ago?

The beach was beginning to clear out now. The only people left was hotel staff cleaning up what was left of the party. "You know, you don't have to stay on the beach with me" you say. "I know, but I want to" he smiles. "Why are you so perfect?" You say barely above a whisper. You weren't expecting him to hear you but he did. He looks at you, lips slightly parted. "When I came to Miami I had no intent of falling in love, but you've definitely changed that" he says making your eyes widen at his confession. He looks back at the water ignoring the fact you were litterally staring into his soul.

He just so casually said he was falling in love with you. You started to get caught up in your thoughts. Did he mean it? Taeyong was a charmer, he had you under his spell with just a few words and a smile. This can't be love. You were to young to be in love or that's what you thought atleast. Though this man was years older than you, you knew that there we're clearly feelings for him on your end. You were 22 and he just turned 30. It sounded so wrong, but felt so right making you want it more.

You look around, it was now completely dark; the only light was coming from the buildings around the beach. The hotel staff now gone. The silence between you and Taeyong had been going on for at least 2 minutes now. When you called his name to get his attention he jumped a bit. Right as he looked at you, you pressed your lips into his. The way his lips felt against your was intoxicating.

His hands gently find placement on your waist as he deepens the kiss. His tongue slides into your mouth as you let him take control. Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him in closer. He pulled away looking into your eyes. His eyes dark with lust. "I'm not fucking you on the sand" he says, the tone of his voice completely different from earlier sending chills down your spine and heat right to your core. He holds out his hand helping you up off the sand. He spots an empty Cabana and pulls you inside.

"Are you okay with us continuing?" He asks as you straddle his lap. You nod but he wasn't satisfied. "I need you to use your words baby" he whispered against your lips. "Yes, I want to continue" you say. His hands go to take off your sundress. He starts kissing down your neck stopping at your bikini top. He looks into your eyes as he slowly pulls at the strings holding your top together.

"Please stop teasing me" you whine grinding your hips into his. You could feel him getting hard under you. "I want to take my time, but I guess I could save that for another day." He says making your head spin at the thought of y'all doing all of this again on another day. He pulls off your top playing with your breasts before going to your bottoms.

He flips you over so now your back is against the beach chair. He takes off your bottoms running his fingers through your lips. "T's so pretty" he mumbles rubbing your clit. The way he looked at you made you shy. You tried to close your legs but his hands stopped you. "Sorry pretty girl, can't let you do that" he says. He continues to rub your clit as he dives into your pussy. He clearly knew what he was doing. The way his tongue skillfully sucked on your clit as his fingers slid in and out of you left your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

One of your hands goes to grip his hair unintentionally pushing him further into you. Your other hand goes to cover your mouth to keep from being too loud. "Baby you're soaking" he says making you moan louder than intended. "You must want people to hear how pretty you sound for me baby?" He asks, speeding up his fingers. He looks up at you eyes full of love. The way your brown skin was glowing under the moon light and the way you tried your best to stay quiet and be a good girl for him drove him crazy. "Mm coming" you whimper he uses his free hand to hold down your hips as he works you through your orgasm.

You moan his name as you cum all over his fingers drawing him in even more. He didn't think he could have such strong feelings for a girl so soon. He'd been married for 3 years, he didn't even think he was this in love with his wife. The energy you radiated just brought a sense of calmness to him. You were nothing like his ex wife, you were young and full of life. You showed interest in him, you were a sweetheart. The way you looked at him whenever he spoke made his heart flutter.

He pulls his fingers out licking them clean. "Are you ready pretty?" He asks. "Yes please fuck me" you whine making him chuckle. The way you begged for him turned him on. He pulled off his shirt and dropped his shorts in a heartbeat. He slides inside of you kissing your lips. He was a lot bigger than you had expected, the stretch was something you definitely weren't used to. His lips kiss all over your neck and collarbone as you get adjusted to him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands holding onto your hips. "M' ready" you whimper.

His pace starts off slow but soon speads up. Your legs wrap around his waist and your nails scratch along his back. The way he fucked you was like nothing you'd ever had before. The way his hips rolled into yours consistently rubbing your walls the way you liked had your eyes rolling and your mouth open. You could do nothing but whine and whimper everytime his hips collided with yours. "So tight" he groans burrying his head in your neck. He was trying his best to not come so soon especially not inside you but the way you gripped his dick had his head in the clouds. Before everything else though, he wanted to make you cum first. He started to rub your clit making your brain go blank.

Being quiet was long forgotten as you were screaming his name as you came leaving a white ring around his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm before pulling out nutting on your tummy. "Fuck" was all he said before collapsing next to you. Your brain was foggy. So much just happened and you haven't even processed it all. "That was the best sex I've had in my life" you giggle looking at Taeyong. His eyes were closed though he clearly wasn't asleep.

"Tae" you mumble poking his side. "Hmh" he responds. "Are you okay" you asks concern lacing your voice. You were scared that he was regretting everythihg. Regretting saying he was falling in love, regretting fucking you. You didn't know what was going on in his head. "Moment of honesty" he says. You nod letting him know you were listening. He looks in your eyes, "ive genuinely never felt this way about anyone before" he says making you smile.

"Me neither, but I trust you. I met you what 4 hours ago" you say looking at the time on your phone. "I met you 4 hours ago and you've given me more in those 4 hours than a man has done in a relationship." You say making him frown. "You deserve the world" he says. "And so do you, if I was your wife I would've never did you like that" you say. He presses a kiss to your now swollen lips, "I meant what I said earlier. I want to see you again and take my time with you. Not just that, I want to get to know you seriously" he says. "I'd like that" you say kissing him one last time.

Once the two of you get up, you use your sundrese to clean the cum off of your stomach. Taeyong gives you his shirt to wear. You don't put your swimsuit back on opting to just carry it. Taeyong slides his shorts and boxers back on before picking you up bridal style and carrying you back to his room which conveniently was on the same floor as yours. He spent the rest of the night taking care of you, treating you like the princess you are.

»»————> 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐸𝑛𝑑<————««

[kaylor]

Idk if Taylor has always always been this literal in terms of the concept and the name of the album (maybe with speak now) idk i guess each album gets a bit of that but to me her entire explanation of this one being “this album is about those thoughts you have at midnight so my album is gonna be named midnights and in every single song i will used the word midnight, even tho sonically the album doesn’t make any fucking sense and it doesn’t look or even hear as an bum, because this album is set at midnight. It will come out at midnight because that’s the concept of the alb-“ and the fact that she claimed it’s a concept album, I’m crying laughing.

yeah i mean she's always been pretty literal with album titles tbh, like reputation was very on the nose but was just cool enough to work. lover/daylight again very basic on the nose, even though you have to respect the implications of referring to both yourself and your partner as Lovers on an album full of wedding imagery. it's still a bad album title but the implications.... 😈

folklore, 1989 and red, in that order, i think are her best album titles. folklore is exceptional because she is literally turning her life experiences into stories, warping them and disconnecting them from herself, but making them part of her own mythology anyway. no one will ever know the truth behind any of these stories, and no one ever should. they're folklore now, they're up to interpretation, and every swiftie will have a different version of taylor swift folklore in their minds. genius.

1989 is super cool because it's so mysterious, it gives nothing away beyond hey this music is inspired by 80s pop but it's also about myself but it's also not about myself anymore. it's like. this album is about rebirth, not as a person, but as an artist. the metanarrative about moving to new york to become herself + immediately solidifying her position as a pop behemoth, chefs fucking kiss.

red is great because, well, does it even need saying. the joni mitchell inspiration. the lipstick. the synesthetic emotional state of a fresh breakup. the literal colors in autumn. it shouldn't work, it should be super overdone, but it fucking works!!

on the flip side there's evermore, which to me is such a nothingtitle. it's very much a "we have all these b sides we have to call it something" vibe. no hate to evermore, there's some amazing tracks, but it's not an album it's a collection of songs. speak now is... fine i guess? very funny to title your album with a command to speak now when the album is full of songs you wrote because you did not speak then. again no hate to speak now because it's got many of my favorite songs on it, but it is only loosely cohesive as a unit because it's just a coming of age album. i would have to sit down and have a proper think about what i would have titled it.

and while we're here we may as well talk about fearless and self titled too. fearless is a good album title, it's very 2008, it's exactly what an 18 year old should be feeling, it perfectly captures the album. nothing groundbreaking, just decent and appropriate. i personally find it extremely boring for artists to name an album after themselves. i think it's uninspired, i think it's lazy, i think it should be illegal for artists to do this. i don't care how much you reinvented yourself or whatever, it's BORING. do better.

and then there's fucking Midnights. maybe the laziest concept ever conceived. it's literally just "i wrote a bunch of songs about my feelings" okay what's new? "i'm almost topless in the photoshoot" incredible no notes. but is the album interesting? hardly.

[willel]

We don’t know the plot of the play or if it’s relevant to S5 but saying that connecting some current events to the past (and more specifically to the adults’) would be a complete retconning is a bit unfair. I remember watching S1 for the first time and wondering what happened between Joyce and Hopper, between Lonnie and Hopper, why has Joyce such a bad reputation in Hawkins but also such strong intuition, what happened to her aunt, why did Hopper feel cursed, and since it looked like Will was targeted, were all these things connected? I’m sure they didn’t have all the details mapped out back then but maybe a general idea (ala Freddy Krueger possibly). Maybe it’s bc I was less focused on the kids than others that I noticed these things.

I didn't say it was all retconning. I said specifically Joyce knowing Bob in high school would be a retcon when it's explicitly stated she did not know him.

With the play being canon and all, going back on that would indeed be a retcon. Not the worst one ever but it does mess with me a little when even smaller details like that get rerewitten later.

Like, Bob had a whole thing about Joyce being the it girl and he was a nobody in high school and was bullied, but now he's a well adjusted dude in the future dating Joyce Byers and he's content. Ya'know? I guess it still works even if they knew each other but....

I also said I'm confused a bit about the timelines. We don't know their exact ages but I thought Henry was a bit younger than Joyce and Hopper so connecting them directly is gonna be odd. I feel like the best route would be indirectly which I described in my other post. Writing in a personal grudge against them is a bit much. But a curse on the whole town because of something loosely related to them? Makes sense.

I think Hopper definitely knew Bob, he even calls him by his bully nickname "Bob the Brain" in season 2. I don't think Hopper himself was a bully but who knows.

Then you got Lonnie. Still don't think there's a direct connection to Henry at this point but I wouldn't be surprised if Lonnie bullied people in school such as Bob or Henry.

Anyway. It doesn't mean I'm not interested in Joyce and Hopper's past. I'm extremely curious since even Winona and David talk about it all the time. I just hope they keep everything in line since this is supposed to be a canon play. There is much to learn here but I will write some of it off if it starts contradicting the show itself like many of the comics.

While I am expecting to find out Henry's reasoning for all this, I don't expect we'll be learning why Will was targeted. They seem to be saving that for season 5. But I think we can get some clues.

I think we'll discover Henry's "trigger", what made him realize he had powers. We'll find out his moment that made him so sad and angry.

If I were to try and relate this to my own theories, such as Will having powers, it'd be pretty important to figure out what kind of person as potential and how to bring that out of someone in ways besides experimentation.

Finding out about Joyce's past in particular is a curious subject. They've hinted at family issues in the past. When Joyce was so persistent that she sensed Will around before but couldn't anymore, Lonnie immediately brings up, "Maybe it's like your aunt", implying her aunt "sensed" stuff or was generally a weirdo or had mental issues, which Joyce immediately denies.

That could be "connecting things to the past" leading to the reason why Will was targeted if Joyce passed along some potential powers to him or something.

I dunno. We shall have to see~

[badgerverse]

Been awhile since I uploaded new kids; here’s Shining Armor and Cadence’s various children!

More information on them copy/pasted from DA under the cut

Shining and Cadence's many children! I don't tend to like giving my next gens a bunch of siblings cause it's hard to keep track of everyone but honestly these two are totally the type to have a ton of kids. Here's some quick bios on them! Name: Flurry Heart (nicknames: Flurry) Age: Adult Pronouns: She/her Parents: Shining Armor and Mi Amore Cadenza Siblings: Frost Shimmer, Golden Hour, Cupid Cutie Mark: Protection Bio: The oldest of the four Crystal Empire kids and the only known pony to be born an alicorn, Flurry is kind and extremely protective of those close to her. Like her younger cousin North Star, Flurry also suffers from powerful bursts of magic though hers' are less frequent and intense. She makes trips to visit him Canterlot whenever she can to study their control issues (right now they think it may be a side effect of having an alicorn parent). Flurry earned her cutie mark when she and an injured Frost Shimmer got trapped in a blizzard outside the city and Flurry's protective magic was the only thing that kept them alive until help arrived. Frost also got their cutie mark in this incident and the two siblings are very close still. Flurry still feels extremely guilty for the loss of Frost's wing, though Frost has mostly comes to term with it. She doesn't always have much time to spend with Golden Hour and Cupid, in between her studies as heir of the kingdom and researching her magic control issues. Name: Frost Shimmer (nicknames: Frost, Frosty) Age: Adult Pronouns: They/them Siblings: Flurry Heart, Golden Hour, Cupid Cutie Mark: Determination, willpower Bio: The second oldest of the bunch, Frost Shimmer is quiet and thoughtful. They look up to Flurry with a mixture of admiration and a sense of rivalry, and tries to make themselves available as an older sibling to Golden Hour and Cupid when they can. They insisted on being a part of Flurry's personal protection squad and often travels with her to Canterlot; they're friends with Bowtie and will often grab lunch with him when Flurry is visiting North Star. They lost their wing when they were a child, when they and Flurry were playing outside the city and a burst of accidental magic from Flurry hurt their wing badly. Before they could get back for medical help, a terrible blizzard hit the area and they were stuck for hours. It was only thanks to Flurry's magic and Frost's willpower that kept them alive and they earned their cutie marks that night. Doctors would have been hard pressed to save the wing even if they'd made it to a hospital immediately but after the long hours in the cold there was no hope for it. Frost doesn't blame Flurry, but they hate being perceived as weak or needing to be coddled and so they joined the Crystal Empire Royal Guard. They're a personal protégé of Flash Sentry, who was one of the only trainers to take them seriously. Name: Golden Hour (nicknames: Gold, Goldy. She hates being called by a nickname though and usually insists on her full name) Age: Teenager Pronouns: She/her Siblings: Flurry Heart, Frost Shimmer, Cupid Cutie Mark: Photography Bio: The third born, Golden Hour is dramatic and loud and attention grabbing. She's can be a bit of a borderline bully because of how forceful her personality is, but she usually doesn't mean any harm. She and Cupid are studying abroad at Twilight's magic school, and Golden Hour has been trying for ages to be the queen bee. She knows how popular and admired Rain Shower and Sparkler are and often tries to forcibly insert herself into their friend group; Sparkler mostly just thinks she's funny but Rain Shower has very little patience for her. She will often challenge other students to random challenges and duels to prove her superiority and she usually ends up loosing, but she does it in such a dramatic and silly fashion that most of the students just think she's funny. Most of her in your face personality is a bit of a façade, as she's very insecure about wanting attention and being respected. She does feel self conscious being the third born and having such a small talent as photography compared to her older siblings regal presentations and powerful cutie marks. She and Cupid are very close though and she often will dramatically cry into his shoulder. Yes she is also inspired by Nanami from Utena: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-AHUFHHNXw&ab_channel=ohohojousama Name: Cupid Age: Teenager Pronouns: He/him Sibilngs: Flurry Heart, Frost Shimmer, Golden Hour Cutie Mark: Emotional support, a good listener. He's probably gonna be a therapist when he's grown up Bio: The youngest of Cadence and Shining Armor's children, Cupid tends to get lost in the shuffle. It doesn't bother him too much, as he doesn't crave everyone's attention in the way Golden Hour does and his entire family dotes on him constantly. He is gentle and sweet and always willing to provide a listening ear to whoever needs it. He worships Flurry Heart, and often deliberately styles his mane in a similar fashion to hers'; he's actually very fastidious with his appearance and spends a lot of time on personal grooming. While Cupid is very good at listening to others and offering advice, he's actually pretty bad about being open with his own feelings and tends to bottle them up rather then be perceived as a burden. He's the most open with Golden Hour. Relationship with their parents: Flurry and Frost are closest to their parents, being the first born and generally needing the most attention (Flurry's magic surges and Frost's missing wing; that took quite a few years of physical therapy), but as their two oldest have become more independent Cadence and Shining Armor are able to spend more time with their youngest children. Or they would, if they weren't attending Twilight's school. They miss Golden Hour and Cupid terribly while they're studying abroad though and have a debate between themselves at least once a week whether they should just bring them home. As it is, they usually think of some random excuse to go visit every few weeks anyway. Relationships with each other: They generally paired off in terms of age. Flurry and Frost are very close, as are Golden Hour and Cupid. Golden Hour was DELIGHTED when her little brother arrived and started bossing him around as soon as he could toddle. Relationship with their cousins: They all generally get along, though Flurry and North Star are very close on account of having similar issues with their magic; Frost is similarly very protective of their nervous cousin. Morning Light, who is a teacher at her mother's school, thinks Golden Hour is hilarious and will often deliberately get her to go off on one of her loud proclamations in the middle of class. She's always willing to lend a listening ear to Cupid as well, though she usually has to trick him into talking about his feelings. Morning and Frost have something of a rivalry though, as Morning thinks Frost has a stick up their butt and Frost thinks Morning isn't serious enough. Fun facts: - Despite being the second oldest, Frost is the shortest! They are not a fan of this. They do also have the biggest wingspan though, to make up for it. - Golden Hour and Cupid are VERY tall, easily taller then most of the ponies in Twilight's school - Cupid is a year or two younger then Golden Hour! I tend to avoid giving my characters specific ages cause I don't want to bother with specific timelines but he's about 14 to her 16. God that was a lot of writing OTL This is why ONLY Cadence and Shining Armor get four kids

[gerardwayissexah]

GerardWayisSexah's WIP Wednesday:

Back when I started writing my longfic, that story was all I could think about. I couldn't imagine being one of those fanfic writers with 10 WIPs going at once. Now, I'm not quite at 10 yet, but...I could easily get there. I'm not even counting all the half-baked ideas floating in my brain. If any of these strike your interest, feel free to message or send me an ask about them. :)

Here's a summary:

To Unbury a Heart (Ten-ten x Hiashi Hyuga) - 16k words [Completely written/ready to edit and post]

Freefall (NSFW Neji x Ten-ten) - 13k words [~60% written]

Pity the Woman (OC-centric, branch Hyuga watches Neji v. Naruto in Chunin Exams) - 2.5k words [~50% written]

Of Dreams Deferred (Neji lives and becomes clan head AU) - 71k words [~80% written]

(More in-depth rambling below the cut)

Completely written/ready to edit and post:

To Unbury a Heart (Ten-ten x Hiashi Hyuga)

Words: 16k

Yes, you read correctly. I wrote a Ten-ten x Hiashi Hyuga fanfiction and it's not crack. This one's inspired by the platonic Ten-ten and Hiashi found family dynamics I included in two of my NejiTen Month pieces. In this particular non-Boruto compliant AU, Ten-ten and Neji conceive a son before he dies in the war. Hiashi and Ten-ten raise the kid together, and Hiashi slowly but surely falls in love with her. However, because of his guilt over his past wrongs, he doesn't feel like he deserves her (even if she's ready to accept him).

Currently writing on and off:

Freefall (NSFW Neji x Ten-ten)

Words: 13k so far

I read a fic a while back in which Neji wants to sterilize himself so he doesn't perpetuate the Hyuga line. When I paused to consider his character, I realized it made sense that he wouldn't want to have children considering how much he resents his fate. Of course, my degenerate mind immediately thought of NSFW implications. As one does. In this fic, Neji swears at a young age (really, when he first learns about sex) that he won't ever sleep with a woman. Like Jon Snow from Game of Thrones, he doesn't want to risk making a child who'll suffer in the same ways he has.

Once he's assigned a team with Ten-ten, Neji starts falling for her though he denies his feelings, and Ten-ten has a boyfriend. Things begin to escalate between them once Ten-ten's boyfriend dumps her, and the Water Prison Incident makes it impossible for Neji to deny how he feels. And he also finds that keeping his promise to himself gets harder...and harder. (I'll refrain from making the obvious joke here).

Pity the Woman (OC-centric)

Words: 2.5k so far

I thought it would be interesting to explore how a rank-and-file branch loyal Hyuga views Neji v. Naruto in the Chunin Exams. I've hit a little bit of a roadblock with this story, since I need to watch the fight to get the dialogue and sequence of events right. Not sure how many of you have read "Bird in a Gilded Cage," but if you have, this fic will delve a bit deeper into Risa Hyuga's character and backstory. Knowledge of that particular story is absolutely not necessary to understand what's going on, though. I've had this fic in my head since last year (!) so getting it all out feels intensely gratifying.

Of Dreams Deferred (Neji becomes clan head - Neji x Ten-ten, Neji x Hyuga OC, Ten-ten x Rock Lee)

Words: 71k so far

This fic is very loosely inspired by "Precious Things," a Neji x Ten-ten fic on Fanfiction.net that was sadly discontinued 10 years ago. By loosely inspired, I mean that - I borrow a few elements (Neji getting embroiled in Hyuga politics, Neji and Ten-ten have an illegitimate child) from that fic, but otherwise go in my own direction. Twelve years before the story's start, Neji and Ten-ten break up so he can pursue his ambition of leading the Hyuga to reform the clan's ways. Marrying a non-Hyuga would compromise his legitimacy, when a former branch Hyuga leading the clan is already considered questionable. However, Ten-ten was pregnant at the time they broke up, unknown to both of them.

Their son grows up believing he's Rock Lee's son, while Neji marries a Hyuga woman for political reasons. Then when the kid is 12, he activates the Byakugan in a moment of panic, which raises some obvious questions (like, who's his actual father?). This brings Neji and Ten-ten back together, and they both start to have second thoughts about the paths they've taken in life. There's also a friendship/sibling relationship between Neji's legitimate daughter and his son with Ten-ten. A lot more goes on in the story, so I can't handily explain it all here.

[real-jaune-isms]

One Piece 1059 was insane with info and questions.

And I have things to say about it.

Firstly, the reveal that Shakky was the Empress of Amazon Lily a while back is a surprise I should have seen coming. I love the implications of it, many of which I will get into.

The Seraphim Pacafistas seemingly being Lunarian child versions of Hancock and Mihawk is a very interesting concept, and opens the door to the very likely theory that there are AT LEAST 5 more modeled after the child versions of the other original Warlords, plus maybe newer ones like Law, Teach, and Weevil. (This would also mean a child Buggy Pacafista, which I hope gets wrecked with minimal effort because even with Lunarian powers he’s a joke.) Also, with the long running theory that Crocodile’s secret Ivankov has been keeping is that he is a trans man, seeing his child self could wind up proving things once and for all.

But what I really wonder with these Seraphim Pacafistas is if it was limited to just the Warlords. Perhaps they can recreate other pirate legends, and we might see a young Gol D. Roger Pacafista too… one who subsequently looks a lot like Ace, and Luffy might struggle to fight.

It’s hard to say if Teach would really get any use out of Hancock’s power, since it’s only ever worked if you’re attracted to her, but perhaps that’s a misdirection like the nature of Luffy’s fruit had been. It could be she actually has a Mythic Zoan type for Medusa or the like, and it could be applied to more than just those with romantic hearts but she’s only scratched the surface. Her sisters got snake-based Zoan fruits, it would make a certain amount of sense if her “Gorgon’s Curse” was more true than she realized.

Capturing Koby is a bold strategy for Blackbeard, perhaps he’ll try to turn him over to the Cross Guild to collect the bounty on him. That would put the lad in a position to meet Alvida again, and I look forward to the potential such a meeting holds.

However, the meatiest theories (and they are not my own, I am just sharing them here) have to do with Shakky. Characters having only one name is pretty common in this series (half the Straw Hats don’t have last names, for example), but it’s become my theory that Shakky is not simply just Shakky. Behold, former Kuja Empress:

Boa Shakuyaku

I know we give Oda a lot of shit for his “women have the same face” syndrome, but she and Hancock really do have a lot of similar features so I firmly do believe she could be Hancock’s mother.

Plus, the ages work well to support it with Shakky being 64 and Hancock being 31. Whether or not this means she’s also the mother of Marigold and Sandersonia is a bit more difficult to be confident about. But latent gigantism in people’s genetics happens pretty often in this world, so it’s not terribly farfetched.

With the revelation that Shakky was Kuja Empress comes the question of how she met Rayleigh, and I have a few theories on this too. Either they crossed paths while he was with Roger and she was leading the Kuja, or maybe... just maybe... after she had her daughter(s) from some other man and the Boa sisters were abducted, the two met on the hunt to find the girls and they hit it off while bringing the girls home once they had been liberated by Fisher Tiger? It’s hard to say if Rayleigh is Hancock’s father, and I’m not putting too much stock in that idea by comparison.

However. I have an even more out there theory that I think really ties some loose ends of the universe together and draws on real mythology in a way we know Oda loves to do. Shakky wasn’t just a pirate for the Kuja. She was part of a far more dangerous group:

The Rocks Pirates.

According to Greek mythology, during the time of the Trojan War the Amazons were lead by a queen named Penthesileia, who fought with a silver battle axe. While we have gotten next to no information about the Rocks Pirates outside of the most all-star alumni, how little they got along, and what a great battle taking them down at God Valley was, we do hear a few other names dropped for who was in this crew’s ranks. Shiki “the Golden Lion”, Captain John (whose treasure Buggy keeps wanting to find), Wang Zhi (Who apparently lost ownership of Fulla-Lead Island to Blackbeard thanks to the events of the Rocky Port Incident), and... “Silver Axe”. Now I may just be stretching so far you’d think I ate the Gum Gum Fruit, but that sounds like the epitaph of an Amazon Empress turned pirate. Even if it wasn’t Shakky herself, Oda seems like the type to use this as a way to reference obscure Greek mythology and say there was a Kuja Amazon in the Rocks Pirates, especially with the current Empress Boa Hancock having a Medusa related power.

So until further notice, I will believe that the Rocks Pirates included “Silver Axe” Boa Shakuyaku. And it would be a heck of a meet cute if she met Rayleigh while they were on opposites sides of the God Valley incident and hit it off really well in the aftermath. Speaking of whom, his name being Silvers Rayleigh would make it even better of a connection if she was “Silver Axe” Shakuyaku. Yet another reason for them to get along!

[give-soup-please]

hi soup! do you have any ocs? if so, do you wanna tell us about them? :-D

buddy, you don't know the can of worms you've opened/pos

Here's a brief overview:

(unnamed) - Big shot lawyer who specializes in contract negotiations during business mergers. Sharp, angular man. Very tall, very thin, wears expensive suits. In his mid 50s- early 60s. Chain smoker, but really wishes he could settle down with a nice cigar once in a while. Very bitter and sarcastic. He has, after all, spent almost twenty years dealing with capitalism and all its ills up close. Highly prized in the world I've created, because a large portion of the magic world involves similar contracts and deals. Suspicious of magic users and does his best to stay away from them. Unfortunately, he didn't expect to start nursing a crush on Theophilus, nor did he intend to start viewing Io as his kid as well.

Theophilus (Call him Phil, or he gets mad) - Bootleg potion maker. You need a potion that will let you stay awake for a week, or will make you feel like you've gotten a full night's rest, but can't afford the real thing? Talk to him. His potions are good - he knows all the right, cheaper substitutes and 'generics'. Hard worker, spends almost all his free time down in the lab filling orders for people, when he isn't teaching magic. Had his potion making licence revoked because he wouldn't stop trying to cut deals with people and get people their medications for cheap. His stuff is safe, he tests batches on himself, but it is technically illegal so you don't want to be caught with his goods. Early to mid thirties. Wears cheap and loose fitting clothes, hoodies are his favorite. His clothes are permanently stained with ingredients and splattered liquid from his cauldrons. Casual attitude, fairly easy going unless it's about the safety of his potions or the safety of his adopted kid. Has a very obvious crush on (unnamed), and flirts with him constantly.

Io (Not her real name. She's looking for her birth certificate) - Around twelve years old. Very quiet, studious, and suspicious of other people. Phil's adopted kid. She's got a lot of magic ability, but her control is limited due to her young age and upbringing. Before she was adopted by Phil, she was apprenticed to a demon lord. Still in recovery from this in many ways. She was trained by this demon lord to be a perfect apprentice- obedient, silent, intensely focused. It came at a high cost. Learning to be a kid again, but it's quite difficult. She wears the same clothes every day. A purple hoodie that's been enchanted with various protective runes, inscribed in gold all over the front and back. Her special ability is her empathic powers. This is less of a "I sense sadness." while someone is hysterically crying one room over, and more a keen sense of intuition and and understanding of the worst parts of human nature. She senses other people's emotions as if they were her own, and has a really hard time balancing her own personality and not integrating other personalities into her head. In this world, empaths are not born, they are made by experimentation.

'Mal' (Short for Malkieck) - Demon lord. Very tall, very buff, red skin, the whole package. Not all demons in this world are bad news, but he definitely is. Trains magic users up to be obedient soldiers, then sells them off to the highest bidder. Part of a big chain to create soldiers for armies in wars that never end. Experimented on Io to turn her into an empath because they are very good at picking up on the next attack an enemy is going to make and therefore have a high survival rate. Raised Io until she was about eight, before she escaped with Phil's help. Very upset that one of his 'prized possessions' got away. Continually looking for her and Phil, meaning they have to move around a lot.

A bit more detail for those who've read this far.

Everyone's Flaw

(unnamed) - Thinks things he doesn't understand are gross and weird.

Theophilus - toxic positivity, wants everyone to be happy to everyone's detriment.

Io - Trusts absolutely no one, even when it would be better or easier to trust them.

Mal - Will never, ever understand what he's doing is wrong, no matter how many times someone explains it to him.

These are my 'core four', of the big story I want to tell.