#she’s lus’ good girl of course she gets special treatment

[sentientgolfball]

Cumulus not letting any of the boys cum in her. Not because she’s worried about getting pregnant but because the look on their faces when they pull out and see their spend dripping down her cunt instead of out turns her on way more than being filled.

[sokkastyles]

The scene in “Zuko Alone” where Azula tells Zuko that Iroh is coming home is very interesting for what it says about both characters. 

A lot of people focus on Azula’s lines because it’s shocking to hear a young girl speak so callously about her cousin’s death, mocking her uncle’s grief and saying that a “real general” would burn everything to the ground. And these lines do tell us a lot about Azula and her capacity for cruelty and lack of empathy for others even at a young age, and her belief in the Fire Nation’s violent nationalism. Of course, we also know that the reason she believes this is because this is what Ozai has told her, and she most likely is parroting Ozai’s words here, which we can guess because Zuko did not even know about Iroh coming home before that. I’m assuming that Ozai told Azula this in private, and also put his own spin on it similar to the way Azula describes it to Zuko.

Another aspect of the scene that is interesting, though, is what it says about Zuko, and the way Zuko’s character is contrasted with Azula’s. As I said above, Zuko didn’t know about Iroh coming home, although he did know about Lu Ten’s death, since Ursa told both children in the previous flashback scene. So I think we can infer here that Zuko is largely kept in the dark about the realities of the war. Ursa probably wants to shield her children somewhat. Ozai probably would see no reason to with Azula, though, and I imagine he was probably training her to be his little soldier from an early age. 

I think one of the reasons Azula doesn’t get along well with her mother, actually, is because her mother treats her like a child verses her father treating her like an adult. A young child would see this treatment from Ozai as immensely appealing. In fact, this is pretty textbook child grooming. Ozai makes Azula feel special by treating her like an adult, and Azula is too young to know that she should be treated like the child she is, that Ozai is robbing her of her childhood.

Azula still understands the war in a way that a child would. “Burn the city to the ground” isn’t exactly a great battle strategy, but it’s what her mind comes up with as what Iroh should do in response to his son being killed. I think this says less about Azula’s conception of what a “real general” should do and how she sees life in terms of retributive violence, because of course she does, she’s Ozai’s little princess. Iroh was wronged, therefore Iroh should burn the whole city to the ground. Iroh not doing that is seen as a weakness, a failure to prove himself the stronger person.

Meanwhile, Zuko’s perspective of the war is also that of a child, but different from Azula’s, and more innocent. At the beginning of the scene, Azula comes upon Zuko playing with the knife that Iroh gave him and remarks disdainfully how he spends all his time alone in his room playing with it and that he’s “not even good.”

Right off the bat this gives two contrasting views on violence and war. Young Zuko, very much a typical child, sees it as a game of fantasy. Azula sees it as an opportunity to prove one’s strength. Her comment reveals both a more practical attitude and a perfectionist one.

So that’s the backdrop here, but then we get Zuko’s response to what Azula says about Iroh coming home.

Zuko: Does that mean...we won the war?

What does ten year old Zuko even think “winning the war” looks like? If Iroh is coming home, it must mean the fighting is over, in his mind. Except that the Fire Nation’s war against the Earth Kingdom (and by extension the other nations as well) is a war of conquest in which they are the aggressors. In that sense, Azula does have it right, because she understands the tenants of imperialism at eight much better than ten year old Zuko does, and coming home = quitting. In a nation that values its own superiority above all else and the ability to prove such through violence, the fighting must continue perpetually, until death (as in the case of Lu Ten) or the enemy’s total destruction (as Azula suggests) or self-destruction (which is what eventually happens to Azula.)

It’s also interesting that when Azula calls Iroh a “quitter,” Zuko protests, but this is because they have different definitions. As stated above, to Azula, who embodies the ideology of imperialism, refusing to fight, grieving a dead loved one, is a sign of quitting, a sign of surrender and weakness. 

So what is Zuko’s definition of quitting? It’s the one that Uncle Iroh gave him, the one engraved on the dagger that features so prominently in this episode: Never give up without a fight. We also know that this is a motto of the Earth Kingdom people, and one that Zuko takes to heart, when he embraces the gift of the dagger, and later as a sixteen year old adrift in the Earth Kingdom, learning both how to endure, and the damage that the war has wrought on the Earth Kingdom’s people, and when he defends those same people to his father in the war meeting. 

Azula, for her part, also makes a statement which is a callback to this episode in that same war meeting, when she once again suggests burning the Earth Kingdom to the ground. As Zuko’s time in the Earth Kingdom has led him to understand compassion for others, leading him to conclude that the war is unjust, Azula’s has led her to continue to perpetuate the same cycles of violence, which ultimately leads to her own defeat.

[memtides-archive]

@persxqui said:  ❝ i don’t understand, but i want to try. ❞ / @ levy @persxqui said:   “it’s been a tough few days. how are you holding up?” / @ levy

Levy had felt a wave of strong anger towards her ‘father figure’, Fairy Tail being her home since she was old enough to walk by her own after her parents’ death. Then sitting in her room in the Fairy Hills dormitory, until she had to leave because there was no guild, meaning no jobs, meaning she couldn’t pay rent to continue living there. So, she left with the help of Jet and Droy, as she couldn’t sit in her room any longer, having done so for a whole month.

So, she has to find work, telling Lu-chan where she would be so she can write to her and had traveled long with the help of Jet and Droy. Cedar Town, more importantly, her eyes set on the guild of the town, one that she had admired during the Grand Magic Games. While she was loyal to Fairy Tail, even she noticed favorability in her guild, so much so that Team Natsu took care of things and Levy lived leisurely, this time that wasn’t happening. She was going to get stronger, work hard on her magic, and grow as a person.

After days of being there, she sat at the bar in the guild, having stared at her new guild mark on her shoulder blade when in her dorm. She feels the empty void that was left behind when her Fairy Tail guild disappeared now replaced with the Mermaid Heel guild mark.

It was a lot quieter and peaceful in this guild, unlike the loud and rambunctious energy of Fairy Tail. All of the girls were sympathetic to the script mage, she still gets letters from Lucy, Jet and Droy; the last two coming around to pick her up so they can hang out in the city. Hearing the strong, but soft voice that could belong to one, she looked up to see Kagura, someone Levy hoped to be as strong as one day.

“Kagura...” Honestly, it meant a lot to hear reassuring words of sympathy, she never fishes for it, but it was welcomed with such a huge change. “It’s alright, I’m just feeling like my energy is just drained... Like I’m not good enough...” Levy let a pitiful smile appeared, one she knew wasn’t showing happiness, but self-doubt, “In Fairy Tail, almost all of us... Of course, I love them all, they’re like my family, but... It always felt like a lot of us got the short end of the stick. But when I joined you guys here, you all help each other grow, there’s no special treatment to one strong team... You make sure all of your mages are growing and happy...”

With a small sigh, she shook her head and gave a pitiful chuckle, “I always knew I was the weakest... I don’t even know how I was even considered as an S-Class candidate, really. The entire time, I needed Gajeel’s help, it was hardly with my own power.” Levy just shrugged, “Sorry for burdening you with my self-pity... I guess the letter I got from Lu-chan really got to me.”

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2018, Part V

We’re finally here. Thank you for reading. Or at least scrolling around to the movies that you care about. GREAT MOVIES

12. Minding the Gap (Bing Liu)- In part because it's produced by Steve James, Minding the Gap's easy short-hand is "Hoop Dreams for skateboarding." Because most of the film's pleasures come from following the subjects over the course of five or six years, that makes sense. What differs is that director Bing Liu is so young, which makes this a promising film if a less definitive one than James's feature debut. It’s trying to do so much, but it never feels calculated or constructed as it expands. Boldly, Liu seems to suggest that people don't really change that much, that what drives them or gnaws at them just manifests itself in different ways. The cycle of abuse ends up being a common element for the three skaters, and, as Liu admits on camera, domestic violence is the reason he made the film. (The treatment of it is raw, a blunt object when a more delicate instrument might work better.) He got the hard part right though: delicately getting us to care about people who sometimes don't care about themselves. 11. A Quiet Place (John Kransinski)- Strong early Shyamalan vibes from this lean chiller. Krasinski's directing debut, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, didn't do much for me, and I skipped his obligatory man-comes-back-to-hometown-because-his-mom's-dying follow-up. But the filmmaking really impressed me here just by understanding how to set the table of this kind of movie. A close-up on an important nail sticking out of a floorboard here, an effortless explanation of a rule there. The hang-up for a film this high-concept is that you get distracted by all of the unanswered questions. (How did he get a printer quiet enough to print out all of those radio call signals?) But this world is fleshed out enough, especially an eerie dinner sequence, to bypass that kind of stuff for me. More than anything, there's a sort of elasticity of shot selection that serves the suspense. A tender early scene in which the central couple is dancing while wearing headphones goes on for maybe twice as long as one might expect. So later, the cross-cuts and smash-cuts have even more weight because the camera was allowed to linger earlier. Here's maybe the biggest reason for the movie's success: The characters are all slightly smarter than the audience, whereas the temptation might have been to go the other way with it. 10. Black Panther (Ryan Coogler)- I don't know if I can add anything to the discourse on this meditative yet ambitious film. I do think one early scene points at what makes it special for the genre. When T'Challa is first named king, he has to be drained of the Black Panther powers to fight anyone who wishes to challenge the throne. A member of an outsider tribe challenges him and nearly beats him. It shows a) the world-building of this noble, fair culture, b) the existence of this fully developed clan that will be important later, c) just how human T'Challa is if his reign can come so perilously close to ending just as it has begun. Every scene like that has a logical purpose. Of course, once Killmonger, the best, most realistically motivated Marvel villain of all time, gets introduced, we return to that method of challenging the throne, and writers Ryan Coogler and Joe Robert Cole aren't afraid to let the worst possible thing happen to T'Challa. What occurred forty-five minutes earlier makes this fight seem like a fait accompli. And it's in this sort of narrative detail that the film is able to work up to its thematic purpose. The first half is about, to quote T'Chaka, whether a good man can be a good king. But the second half is about the responsibility of goodness. Show me where Iron Man bit off that much. 9. Support the Girls (Andrew Bujalski)- Although it takes place mostly in one location during one day, Support the Girls has a bigger world going on in its margins. We hear it on radios, or we see it in the people taking a pitstop in Double Whammies while they're on their way somewhere better. But the force that's really encroaching on the characters' insulated environment is Mancave, the national chain that threatens to put them out of business. "They have commercials and everything," one character complains, and we get snatches of those commercials that were presumably directed by Andrew Bujalski himself. It's ten seconds of content maybe, shot in a bigger, broader style than the modest approach of the rest of the film. But the key to understanding how far Bujalski has come is realizing that he is no longer making fun of the people in the commercial, even if they're jacked bros screaming for a boxing match. That portrayal is amplified, sure, but Bujalski is mature enough now to not ridicule those people. It's okay that they're just not the people he's interested in. He's supernaturally empathetic toward the rogue's gallery of people he is interested in, who spin the ordinary challenges of the working class into something extraordinary. The sunniest member of the team is played by Haley Lu Richardson, who deserves special recognition as the indefatigable Maci. I can't think of parts that are much different from her roles in this, Columbus, and Split, to the extent that people probably don't realize they're played by the same woman, but she rules in every single one. The sky is the limit for her. When a workplace is described as "a family," it's usually just a way for the boss to take advantage of workers when the "family" designation does nothing to help them: "I know I shouldn't ask you to work off the clock, but can you help me out as a FAMILY MEMBER?" Occasionally though, it does feel like a family when people work closely to one another for hours on end and depend upon one another for real life needs. This movie is about what happens when a work family is both control and support.

8. Roma (Alfonso Cuaron)- The trailer for Children of Men advertises itself as "from the director of The Prisoner of Azkaban and Y Tu Mama Tambien," and I remember an audience giggling at that strange CV. For one thing, at the time people didn't understand yet why someone would brag about contributing to a Harry Potter movie. But to pair that children's picture with either a Spanish title they hadn't heard of or a movie that they knew was sexually explicit? Who was this guy? Roma is who he is. I like some of his other films more--I would argue that his approach hurts the performances here--but it seems impossible for him to make anything this personal again. The baldly emotional highs that it reaches come not only from the direct simplicity of the story but also from the sophisticated perspective with which it's being downloaded directly from Cuaron's memory. (It's also, accidentally or purposefully, quite a political film at this moment in time. It insists, sometimes in the dialect of Mixtec, that these people around us silently washing dishes or picking up dog poo are, in fact, part of our family.) There's a moment when one brother throws something at another's head, barely missing, and they both stop in their tracks with fear about how tragically things could have ended up. My dad experienced a similar moment in his childhood, and he would tell the same story about Uncle Steve throwing a shoe at him any time we passed the wooden door with a dent in it at my grandma's house. What a tiny moment to live on for decades, in tangible and intangible ways. Cuaron claims that all of these moments shape us, and taking us to the moon was only a warm-up for resurrecting them for us. 7. Happy As Lazzaro (Alice Rohrbacher)- Alice Rohrwacher won the screenplay award at Cannes, probably because her script for Happy As Lazzaro is fundamentally unpredictable. Games of checkers are unpredictable though. That word doesn't quite cover the way the viewer is forced to guess at something as elemental as "What year is this taking place?" And none of the twists and turns of the storytelling--I refuse to spoil--would gel if Rohrwacher as a director wasn't teaching you how to watch the film the whole time with a rich, warm, light touch. Considering the purity of this vision as a fable, buoyed by realistic labor concerns on the other hand, it's a pity that people are calling Birdbox "crazy" when something like this is just a few clicks down on that service. 6. The Favourite (Yorgos Lanthimos)- When assessing The Favourite, the easy temptation is to say that because it isn't stuffy, because of its scabrous wit or its intimate filming techniques, that it "isn't your mother's chamber drama." It is invigorating, but in a lot of ways, the film isn't saying anything that the average Masterpiece Theater production doesn't. Instead it takes cultural touchstones about the emptiness of power and distorts them, much like the fish-eye lenses that Yorgos Lanthimos favors to photograph the palace. It says an easy thing in a hard way, with conviction to burn. Lanthimos seems freed by not having to write the screenplay, and every decision of his is rooted in making things more narrow. The barrel distortion of the fish-eye seems apt for this idea, but so do the secret passageways that Queen Anne gets wheeled through to avoid the lower rungs of the estate. Of course there's no outside world to intrude upon her majesty. But there's even an inner world to the inner world. (It's impossible to watch Olivia Colman's gonzo depiction of Anne's incurious indolence and not think of Trump.) I'm convinced that Emma Stone can do anything, and the final shot, an all-timer, only validates that suspicion. 5. Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot (Gus Van Sant)- You have to check out every Gus Van Sant movie, even after a few missteps, because you never know: He might take the emotional climax that you didn't even know you wanted and score it to inter-diegetic "Still Rock 'N Roll to Me," thus grounding real poignance with even realer goofiness.I'll admit that the bar is low, but this is probably the most authentic, least treacly movie ever made about addiction recovery. Van Sant, who wrote, directed, and edited, tells the story with patient command. We take Joaquin Phoenix for granted at this point, but everybody on the poster is exceptional. And Udo Kier gets to say, "Pop, pop. It's always about penises." INSTANT CLASSICS

4. A Star Is Born (Bradley Cooper)- In one scene Cooper's Jackson Maine wears a black leather jacket under a brown leather vest, and the movie itself risks that kind of hat-on-a-hat silliness and redundancy. But instead it comes off as the best kind of big swing, a comforting and warm serving of Old Hollywood. Cooper's camera knows how to embrace silence and let the leads play off each other to craft raw, touching performances. Sometimes the close-ups are so intense and focused that, when he cuts back to a master, it's disorienting to be reminded that there are other people in that space, in the world at all.The movie's deficiencies come from "Wait, how much time has passed?" moments in the writing, problems that I always have had with Eric Roth projects. But it's easy to get swept up in a movie of moments that believes so much in itself.

3. Mission: Impossible- Fallout (Christopher McQuarrie)- The pattern of Mission: Impossible- Fallout is: infodump that explains the stakes and the strategy of what we're about to see, followed by an action sequence that is somehow even more thrilling than the one that came before it. Imagine a really interesting day of grade school classes, in which you learned, like, multiplication, followed by recess every other period. As for T.C., what more could you possibly want out of a human being?

2. Wildlife (Paul Dano)- When Jerry, Jake Gyllenhaal's groundskeeper of pathetic pride, figures out that his boss is about to fire him in front of his son, he smiles and, through clenched teeth, asks if this talk can happen tomorrow. Part of him actually believes that postponing the meeting will help; maybe the boss's temper will cool overnight. But this is a man who is bound by the same desperate spirit as his wife Jeanette, who muses, "Tomorrow something will happen that will make us feel different." When people are living day-to-day, clinging to their dignity--he refers to himself as a "small person" at one point--tomorrow really does offer a regenerative power. Those characters are the same-pole magnets that inform this coming-of-age tale, and the subtext of the film is "Can you believe Carey Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal have a fourteen-year-old son?" It works for the 1960 setting because these are people who defined themselves before they knew who they were, and they'll now do anything to re-define themselves as brave/sexy/valuable. But it works for the actors too. Gyllenhaal in particular is tender and heartbreaking in a true supporting role, allowing himself to look his age, framing himself with the dad akimbo arms. But Mulligan's fake confidence is great too, especially in a scene in which she nearly begs her husband to let her work. Something tells me that I should credit a director for coaxing two career best performances from two great actors. Some people just have it, and Paul Dano does.

1. First Reformed (Paul Schrader)- In 1998 I dragged my father to see Paul Schrader's Affliction, a movie that was kind of about my father's father. When the end credits rolled on that bleak, wrenching film, my dad turned to me and said, "I feel like I have to take a shower." We walked around a nearby hotel and talked for an hour, not that he was able to articulate why he was so shaken. We discussed the difference between entertainment and art and what makes a piece of either successful. Even though he hated the experience, he couldn't deny that it was an experience. He kept on saying, "That's not why I go to the movies." And no matter what I, fifteen at the time, told him, he couldn't understand that's exactly why I go to the movies. First Reformed had the same mesmerizing effect as the best of Schrader's work: When I exited the building, I stumbled into the sunlight because I had been trapped in someone else's mind for almost two hours.

Part of that effect comes from the narrative device of Reverend Toller's journal, which plants us in his headspace from the beginning. Part of it comes from the intimate scale of the film, which features only a handful of locations. But if what I'm explaining seems small, then I'm doing a bad job. The canvas expands. Schrader insists that our care for the environment is our most immediate responsibility; this film historian has no problem with planting the film at 2017 in dialogue. And that emphasis is matched only by his disdain for how big business encroaches on personal aspects of our lives. There's even a scene that tries to account for a recent rise in extremism among young people. As if to prove that he isn't being pedantic, he has one character communicate one of those ideas, letting you assume that role is his mouthpiece, then he has another character reply with something just as convincing. First Reformed weaves in those elements, but it's ultimately a character piece that humanizes the type of person we think we know but for which we have no frame of reference. In Ethan Hawke's piercing performance, we see a Reform minister who punishes himself actively and passively for what he thinks are sins. He uses faith as an armor and as an excuse, being so of the mind and--as another character puts it--"in the garden" that he denies himself medical care. No matter what anyone else tells him, he is convinced of one of the tenets that Schrader could never shake from his Calvinist upbringing: There's nothing you can do to save yourself.

[royalnovels-blog]

EET Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: Crown Princess There was actually someone who asked this question at the palace banquet. Was this to make trouble for Xian Junwang Fei, or for the Emperor who had decreed the marriage? No matter what the rumors were, the Emperor “did not know.” He had decreed a marriage under the identity of an elder and out of consideration for Xian Junwang who did not have any parents. If the people in the Imperial House knew of the rumors outside, didn’t it mean they were accusing the Emperor of making terrible matches? Hua Xi Wan raised her head to look at the person who had spoken. It was a matron with white skin and slightly heavyset. The gold hairpins in her hair flashed brightly and added a noble and intimidating air to the matron. “Is Li Yao Furen talking about how the outside speaks of how Junwang Ye treats qiewell?” When she said this, Hua Xi Wan’s face was bashful. “Junwang Ye does treat qiewell.” The matron’s husband, Count Jing Ping’s grandfather had been a junwang. After three generations, they had barely managed to keep their title of count. This was only because the man’s son was favored by the Emperor, so the Emperor had promoted him from third-rank count to first-rank count. This family could only be considered poor imperial relatives compared to the grandness of Xian Junwang Fu. This Jing Ping Countess’s hairpins were clearly common, and the style was that from several years ago. If this was in an average prestigious family, the hairpins would be melted down to new styles and then bestowed to servant girls to play with. Countess Jing Ping hadn’t expected Hua Xi Wan to agree with the rumors. She opened her mouth and wanted to say that this wasn’t what she was asking about, but then she saw the people in the surroundings had strange expressions. Even the people who were on good relations with her were giving her looks. She was unwilling but she couldn’t keep pressing. This world never lacked people without brains, even in the Imperial Family. Hua Xi Wan saw Countess Jing Ping back down, and was too lazy to argue with her in this kind of setting. She pretended nothing had happened, smiled at everyone looking at her, and then lowered her head. This smile caused many people to inhale sharply. Some men who liked beauty even thought that, if Hua Xi Wan smiled at them alone, they would be willing to do anything she wanted. “Drink some digestive tea for your stomach.” Yan Jin Qiu raised his wide sleeve and reached out to pour tea for Hua Xi Wan. It also covered half of the stares in this direction. His actions were flowing, and the tea drew out an elegant curve in the air before it accurately poured into the cup. Not a drop was spilled. Hua Xi Wan picked up the teacup. Even though the tea was still steaming, the cup gave off a feeling of coolness in her hand. She took a sip before putting down the teacup, and looked outside the hall. “The time is late.” This was the time for her sleep. Yan Jin Qiu realized what Hua Xi Wan was thinking about and said in a low voice by her ear, “It will end soon.” Hua Xi Wan smiled and imperceptibly tilted her head to move her ear further away from Yan Jin Qiu’s mouth. Yan Jin Qiu looked at her pearl-in-cage earring as he smiled and poured a cup of wine for himself. As Yan Jin Qiu had predicted, fifteen minutes later, the three most noble people in the Imperial Palace left quickly one after the other. Since the hosts had left, the guests only sat for a while longer before making their farewells. Just as Hua Xi Wan and Yan Jin Qiu were about to get on the carriage, an inner palace attendant rushed and knelt in front of the two with a sandalwood box. “Greetings to Xian Junwang, Xian Junwang Fei. This servant is a personal attendant of the Crown Prince Fu, Yang Neng. The Crown Princess saw you and instantly felt you were like an old friend, so she specially ordered this servant to deliver some playthings to Xian Junwang Fei.” During the entire banquet, other than when they first exchanged greetings, when were they like friends? Hua Xi Wan looked at the sandalwood boxes embedded with pearls, nodded and then said with a smile, “Her Highness the Crown Princess is really too polite, subject-wife is afraid.” Yang Neng saw that Hua Xi Wan had not shown any surprise at receiving special treatment from the Crown Princess, and guessed that while this Xian Junwang Feiwas not an extremely smart woman, she was steady. He gave the box to Hua Xi Wan’s personal servant girl, Bai Xia, and then bowed. “This servant has done as the Crown Princess has said—thousand gold cannot buy a true friend; it is the greatest fortune to see Xian Junwang Fei as an old friend. These little things are just dead objects for people to play with and are not worth a mention.” Since the other was persisting in giving the objects, Hua Xi Wan did not resist. After exchanging some more courtesies with this Yang Neng, she stepped onto the stool and into the carriage. When the carriage left the palace gates, Hua Xi Wan didn’t even look at the things inside the sandalwood box. She said in a tone resonating with hatred, “Lock this up when we get home, and don’t even mention this to me.” Even though Yang Neng kept on mentioning the Crown Princess, she was certain that the one who was sending the gifts was not the Crown Princess but someone else. Sending her something in front of Yan Jin Qiu, was this looking down on Yan Jin Qiu or trying to disgust her? Hua Xi Wan fiddled with the jade bangle on her wrist and tried to smooth her temper. She said hatefully in a low voice, “A dog.” Yan Jin Qiu put a hand on the back of hers and laughed lightly. “He really is a dog.” And a dog who would not have any children. He raised the curtain and looked outside. The carriage had already entered the main avenues of Jing. The noisy crowds along the streets gave people the feeling of prosperity. “Is the outside beautiful?” Yan Jin Qiu turned his head and saw Hua Xi Wan lazily leaning on the cushion. She was asking about the outside, but there wasn’t any curiosity on her face. “Joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, all the emotions are there.” Yan Jin Qiu put down the curtain and suddenly said, “Has Xi Wan ever seriously thought about truly seeing the thoughts of these people?” Hua Xi Wan lay on the back cushions and didn’t care about Yan Jin Qiu’s question. “From the side, a whole range; from the end, a single peak “far, near, high, low; no two parts alike. “Why can’t I tell the true shape of Mount Lu? “Because I myself am in the mountain. “What does Jin Qiu think about this poem?” Yan Jin Qiu’s eyes changed slightly, and then he smiled. “What does Xi Wan mean?” Hua Xi Wan adjusted her position and said lazily, “Just what the poem means. I’m just one of the many people; I cannot even see myself clearly, and never thought about looking at others.” “Xi Wan is simple and straightforward.” Yan Jin Qiu stared at her eyes. “Then has Xi Wan ever thought that the scenery at the highest place is different?” “Of course it is different, tall mountains and strong winds.” Hua Xi Wan yawned and said with half-lidded eyes, “If you are going to sightsee next time, prepare thick clothing for me, don’t let me get cold or hungry—then I can accompany you.” Yan Jin Qiu had a complex expression as he looked at Hua Xi Wan who was resting with her eyes closed. A moment later, he laughed. “You are the woman I’m closest to in this life. How can I bear for you to endure hardship and tiredness?” Hua Xi Wan’s eyelids moved but did not open. The carriage continued to move. As it swayed, Hua Xi Wan gradually slipped into sleep. 孤 gu: how a king or crown prince refers to himself, similar to zhenfor the emperor. Inside the Crown Prince Fu, the Crown Prince looked impatiently at the old Imperial Doctor who was taking his pulse. “A check-up and medicine every day, yet gu has not seen any effects.” Hearing this, the Imperial Doctor went back two steps and knelt on the ground. “Your Highness, your liver and kidneys are weak and should not use wine. Today…” “All right, gu knows how gu’s body is.” The Crown Prince stood and looked with a dark expression at the old Imperial Doctor who was shaking. “You do not need to speak more. Leave.” The old Imperial Doctor wanted to advise, but when he saw the Crown Prince’s ugly expression, he suppressed the urge. The Crown Prince was at a prime age and had a high demand in certain areas. But for children, he should rest and nurture his body, drink less, and restrain himself from bedroom matters. But the Crown Prince was one who did what he wanted. What ability did he have to persuade such a person? Coming out of the inner rooms, the old Imperial Doctor saw the Crown Princess come with a few palace attendants. Before he finished his bow, one of the Crown Princess’ palace attendants came to support him. “Imperial Doctor He does not need to be so courteous. How is the Crown Prince’s body?” Compared to the lack of etiquette from the Crown Prince, the Crown Princess appeared easy to talk to and gentle. “Is there a good turn?” Hearing this, Imperial Doctor He said, “Your Highness, His Highness the Crown Prince is just slightly over twenty, and at a good time in life. If he could drink less and rest, it would be more beneficial for having children.” After the Crown Princess heard this, she had servants see Imperial Doctor He out with a smile on her face. Inside, she sighed. The Crown Prince was like this, and because the Crown Prince had disregarded her a few times, she, the Crown Princess, had lost her authority in front of the other women in the Crown Prince’s palace a long time ago. How could she persuade the Crown Prince to change his attitude? Previous          Main menu          Next Click to Post

[gossipnetwork-blog]

Real Housewives of New York City Reunion Part 1: All the Times Luann de Lesseps' Defense of Tom D'Agostino Broke Our Hearts

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Real Housewives of New York City Reunion Part 1: All the Times Luann de Lesseps' Defense of Tom D'Agostino Broke Our Hearts

Luann de Lesseps didn’t want the Real Housewives of New York City season nine reunion special to be about Tom D’Agostino. But as the saying goes, it’s about Tom.

During part one of the three-part special, after host Andy Cohen took Ramona Singer to task for her erratic behavior all season long and grilled Sonja Morgan over her touchy relationship with Dorinda Medley, talk turned, as it so often does when these women all get together, to the onetime, but now former, Mrs. D’Agostino’s doomed marriage to the man everyone warned her about.

And while it’s easy to bask in the schadenfreude while watching poor Lu twist herself into a pretzel as she tried to excuse any and all of Tom’s bad behavior, knowing that she’d file for divorce only a few short weeks after sitting down to tape the reunion, we couldn’t help but feel terrible for her. This isn’t going to be an easy watch for the erstwhile Countess.

Charles Sykes/Bravo

First, there was the initial, rose-colored glasses description of married life: “It’s fantastic. I love being married. I love the life that goes with it. I love having a partner in crime, and I love Tom. He’s a good guy.”

Then came the moment when Andy brought up last year’s reunion, where Ramona seemed to imply she was aware of further indiscretions on Tom’s part, but chose to keep quiet. “Yeah, I did,” she told Andy when asked if she knew more than she let on. “When Tom was at the Regency, the reason he was at the Regency kissing another girl was he had a huge fight with you and was pissed at you. Then he went to L.A. and started kissing that girl again…And he laughed and said you deserved it.”

And she didn’t stop there. “He met a woman from Philadelphia who was recently divorced at the Regency bar and he went up to the hotel room with her and he said he had an open relationship with you,” she revealed. “But nothing happened.”

Then came Tom’s infamous “de-mic” moment with his ex Missy from the season finale. Turns out Lu had only gotten to see that episode the night before taping. “I have no idea,” she admitted when asked what he said free from prying microphones. “I didn’t see it until last night. Now I’m going to ask him because I haven’t had the chance.”

Up next? Her defense of the “dog with a leash” “joke” Tom made in regards to his wedding ring. “I always look like the tough guy. I try to look at it he’s trying to be funny and he doesn’t realize it’s going to look weird,” she said. “He shouldn’t say things like that, obviously.”

Then came the depressing admission that not everyone in her family welcomed Tom with open arms. “That’s been tough, especially on Noel, my son,” she revealed. “It was hard for him to accept him in the beginning because of what happened. Of course, he’s my son. He’s very protective of me.” 

And then, in the face of everyone echoing Ramona’s suggestion that she “ban the Regency,” came this tepid response: “It’s either I accept him for the way he is—I’m not going to change him at this point.”

Had she demanded he stop frequenting bars known to get him into trouble, the others wondered? “I have suggested,” she said. Oof.

While the Tom train will chug along into part two next week, it wasn’t all D’Agostino doom and gloom this week. Read on for our favorite one-liners.

Best Bites – “You’re in a good place. I have no face.” – Bethenny Frankel, mocking Ramona’s mushy Mexican chat with Sonja while recovering from her major facial laser treatment – “No, I mean, I think a monkey has the same opinion.” – Bethenny, on whether she found it ironic that she and Jill Zarin shared the same opinion about Ramona’s mental state – “Someone said it at CitiBank to me the other day, one of the tellers.” – Dorinda on her legendary “CLIP!” moment – “I did trash her, but by the time she saw me, she was pissed and I had moved on.” – Sonja, not understanding how feelings work – “No. But like at what point–how many decades into this do I have to not answer this question? What do I have to fucking do? Do I have to Dorinda’s house apart, wear her fucking underwear? What do I have to do not hear this question that you ask me every Watch What Happens Live, every reunion, birthday, Hannukah. You ask me all the live long day, OK? Like, enough.” – Bethenny, shutting down Andy’s latest inquiry into whether she would ever reconcile with Jill

What did you think of Luann’s Tom defense, especially now that they’re divorced? Sound off in the comments below!

The Real Housewives of New York City‘s reunion special continues Wednesday, Aug. 23 at a new time, 8 p.m., only on Bravo.

(E! and Bravo are both part of the NBCUniversal family.)

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Dangerous Woman (Part 3) 🌙

A/N: At the rate I’m going, DW is going to be a series instead of a trilogy XD So anyway, to start off, Part 3 is full of song references, smut, angst and a whole lot of emotional conflict. I’ve even created a playlist on Spotify for this series HAHAHA, so if you’re interested in it, just drop me an ask in the ask box! Enjoy Part 3, and remember to leave some feedback at the end of it! x

Pairing(s): Luhan x Reader

Warnings: Blowjobs and emotional turmoil

Genre: Smut/Angst

Requested: No

Summary: (Y/N) is determined to apologize to Luhan after her drunk behavior the night before, but the outcome is different from what she expected it to be.

Word Count: 6523

Soundtrack: 

Lolita // Lana Del Rey

Hurricane // Halsey

Ride // Lana Del Rey 

Part 1 | Part 2 | PART 3

I’m roused from my half-dead state by the annoying buzzing of the intercom, forcing me to reach up and press the answer button. Blearily sitting up and rubbing my eyes, I place my mouth near the speaker. “Yeah?” I mumble, wincing at the sour aftertaste of red wine lingering on my tongue.

“Morning, sunshine!” Sehun yells through the intercom, his voice brighter than it’s been in ages. “How was your night with your lover?”

“What lover?” I ask grouchily, clutching at my throbbing head with irritation and already scanning my room for any spare Panadol lying around. What the fuck happened last night? I feel like I’ve been run over by a double-decker bus and thrown off a fifty-storey building, which probably isn’t what happened.

“What do you mean? Did Luhan fuck you to amnesia land? C’mon, cinnamon roll! Spill the juicy details! Did you confess your feelings for him?” Sehun natters on feverishly.

Luhan.

At the mention of my client’s name, sick starts to rise at the back of my throat as the events from the previous night come flooding back like an incoming tsunami. Catching sight of Luhan lingering in my doorway, discussing about cats with him, cracking open a bottle of red wine and just lying in each other’s arms as we chatted and laughed together for a couple of hours. Then the rosy picture melts, accompanied by my drunk self lashing out at him and screaming at him to get out.

Even a few hours after that and in my hangover state, I can still clearly recall the glint of hurt in Luhan’s eyes as he gathered up his belongings and made a run for it, all because I couldn’t control my anger.

Dropping my head in my hands with despair, I feel the tears rush fast to my eyes once again. Over the buzzing intercom, Sehun is still yelling at the top of his voice. “Cinnamon roll? You there?”

Grabbing the nearby wastepaper dustbin, I bend over it and throw up, sick pouring out from my mouth and all over the condom wrappers dumped in it. The revolting stench of vomit fills the entire room, causing even more tears to spring to my eyes as I retch and cough to my heart’s content.

“(Y/N)? Cinnamon roll! Are you okay?” Sehun continues babbling, his voice growing more frantic as the seconds tick by.

Wiping at my mouth with some tissue paper, I chuck them in the bin together with all the alcohol-stenched vomit and sprawl across my pillows with a groan, clutching my head. “No, I’m not okay”, I say curtly in response to Sehun’s question. “I royally fucked up this time”.

“Will be up in a few”. With a click, my best friend hangs up on me, silence flooding through the room. In a matter of minutes, he’s barging through the door with his hands full of Panadol, a bottle of water, a cup of Chamomile tea and a teddy bear tucked under his arm, a bright smile on his face. “Special delivery”, he sings out, kicking the door shut with his foot and ambling over to where I’m sprawled out on my bed like an exhausted starfish.

He proceeds to dump the tea and bottled water on my side table, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing the teddy bear by my side. The mattress dips beneath his weight, causing me to roll over to face him. He offers one of his trademark smiles, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Tell me everything”, he says gently.

Squeezing the teddy bear to my chest, the tears start to flood my vision as I recall the events of the previous nights. I pour out the entire story to my best friend. I tell him about how I attempted vainly to turn Luhan away at the beginning of the night and how I eventually relented and let him stay because Lu took a liking to him. Then I confess that I got out of hand after having too many glasses of wine and lashed out at him and threw him out.

By the time I’m finished with my story, I’m full-on blubbering and Lu has padded over to me and made himself comfortable in my lap, purring contentedly. Sehun digests everything I’ve said quietly, absentmindedly running his fingers behind Lu’s ears, to which the cat seems to love. Letting out a shuddery breath, I press my hands to my face with humiliation but Sehun is having none of my self-pity.

Leaning forward, he patiently peels my hands away from my tear-soaked face and pulls me in for a hug, Lu squashed between us and grunting at his predicament. “Do you love Luhan?” My best friend asks earnestly, running his fingers through my hair affectionately.

I cling onto him, sniffling ungraciously into his shirt. “If I did, I wouldn’t have lashed out”, I lament. My head is starting to throb again and I silently vow to myself to never overdrink ever again. Drinking is bad for the complexion anyway and I can’t risk that, especially with a job like mine. Men wouldn’t want to fuck girls with bad complexions, I muse grimly.

“Well, are you sorry about it?” Sehun asks matter-of-factly.

“Of course. He doesn’t deserve the treatment I gave to him yesterday”.

“Then why not just apologize?” My best friend chuckles. “He loves you, (Y/N). He’ll definitely forgive you in a heartbeat”.

I stick out my lower lip petulantly like a child. “I can’t call him up. It’s against work ethics, Sehun”.

“Who said anything about calling?” Sehun smirks, glancing down at me with a knowing expression. “We’re going straight to Lu Corporations to see him”.

“I still can’t believe you chose to wear flip-flops and cat ears to the largest corporation in Asia”, Sehun complains as we pull up in front of the building of Lu Corporations, turning off the ignition as we do so.

I roll my eyes good-naturedly, undoing my seatbelt and shoving the car door open. “I’m a call-girl, not an office worker”, I point out, already flippity-flopping up to the main doors of the building with Sehun struggling to keep up with my pace despite the fact that he has much longer legs than I do.

“Well”, my best friend pants, “Luhan still loves you, no matter how shitty you look”.

He squeals as he earns a punch on the shoulder for his snarky remark, stumbling back a step as I huffily push the double doors of the entrance open and stride in confidently despite my quivering nerves, adjusting my cat-ears headband.

Spotting the receptionist’s desk, I shuffle over in my flip-flops and pin on my most dazzling smile as he lifts his head from his laptop screen to eye me. I recognize that look anywhere. After all, men have been staring at me in that exact way for the past few years; malicious glint in the eyes, lips curled up in bone-chilling smirks in that disgusting way of theirs.

At the sight of the male receptionist and his cat-like smile, I feel my confidence waver a bit. Then Sehun touches my arm reassuringly, already understanding the squeamish way I’m feeling deep down. “You’ve got this, Dangerous Woman”, he hisses through his teeth encouragingly, giving my arm a squeeze before making way to the nearby waiting area.

Feeling a tad bit better, I square my shoulders and approach the receptionist with newfound confidence. “Hi”, I begin cheerily, leaning my elbows on the desk while batting my eyelashes flirtatiously. “I’m (Y/N)”.

“Hello there, Miss (Y/N)”, the receptionist croons in a surprisingly husky voice. “I’m Jongdae. How may I help you?”

“I would like to see Mr Lu”, I request sweetly. “Is that possible? I know it’s all very sudden and I should’ve made an appointment beforehand but this is an emergency”.

Jongdae raises an eyebrow, running his tongue over his lips lustily. “And what emergency could a pretty little thing like you have?” He whispers sultrily. “Anything I can assist you in?”

I ignore the familiar churning in the pit of my stomach, trying my best to not throw up all over this greasy receptionist at his lame attempt at trying to get into my pants. Hastily pasting back my dazzling smile, I fish around in my pockets and pull out the Swiss knife Sehun gave to me all those years back and brandish it threateningly, to which Jongdae’s eyes widen in fright.

“You can assist me by picking up the damn phone and paging for the fucking CEO of this goddamned place”, I snap, ensuring that the end of the blade is hovering dangerously closely neck to his throat.

Swallowing, Jongdae tentatively reaches for the nearby phone and jabs a button on it. A ringing tone fills the air and soon, Luhan’s familiar sharp voice comes on, curt and cold. “What do you want?” The CEO demands impatiently.

Jongdae casts a nervous glance at the blade in my hand. “Uh…sorry to disturb you, sir. But there’s someone here to see you”.

“Who the hell is it?” Luhan snaps, and I can hear the shuffling of papers in the background. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. If it’s another one of those goddamned girls claiming to be my long-lost wife again, tell them to fuck off”.

“Uh, it’s a girl. But she’s not claiming to be your wife, Mr Lu”. Coughing, Jongdae subtly inches away from the open threat of my Swiss knife and leans in to the phone.

“Then who is it, Jongdae? I don’t know many girls”, Luhan sighs over the line.

“She’s, um…wearing cat ears”, the receptionist squeaks, his wide-eyed gaze travelling up to the headband on top of my hair.

There’s an abrupt silence on Luhan’s end. Even the shuffling of papers has paused. I wait in anticipation, my stomach clenching with nerves. Until Luhan commands curtly, “Send her up to my office. Right now”. With a click, the CEO hangs up, leaving me and Jongdae staring at each other in awkward silence.

Beaming at him appreciatively, I close the Swiss knife and slip it back into my pocket. “Thanks for that”, I say breezily. “Where is his office, may I ask?”

“I’ll lead the way”, the receptionist offers nervously, pushing back his chair and hastily making a beeline for the nearby elevators with me at his heels. Turning back, I catch Sehun’s eye in the waiting room and give him a thumbs-up, to which he excitedly returns the gesture. Then I disappear into the elevator with Jongdae, the doors sliding shut silently as the receptionist jabs the button for the top floor.

70th floor. Geez, and I thought Luhan had a phobia of heights.

Finally, a ‘ping’ echoes throughout the elevator as the automated voice drones out ‘Storey seventy’. The double doors slide open and with my ears still popping, I step out onto a dimly-lit corridor as Jongdae leads me past a few other offices. The staff lingering around stop and stare at me as I flip-flop past, their dumbfounded expressions fixated more on my cat ears than anything else. Unable to help myself, I give a little wave at everyone as I saunter past and I don’t miss the way Jongdae discreetly rolls his eyes.

Soon, I find myself facing a closed door right at the end of the corridor and that’s when the nerves start to bubble up once again, roiling on in me like a pot of soup left to boil. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. Maybe I should just hole up in my room back at the brothel and hope that Luhan would come knocking at my door again and play the entire thing off-

“You may enter”, Jongdae announces, twisting the door handle and pushing the door open. A blast of cologne-scented air hits me right in the face, combined with the rich scent of expensive leather. Thanking the receptionist self-consciously, I take a hesitant step into the office, the soles of my flip-flops slapping noisily against the marble flooring.

The last thing I hear is the click of the door as Jongdae closes it behind him and merrily ambles back downstairs to resume his receptionist work, abandoning me in a posh office on the top floor of a skyscraper building with nobody but a very bemused-looking CEO eyeing me from behind his mahogany desk.

Luhan’s dark gaze travels from my cat ears and down to my flip-flops, an eyebrow lifted. He’s reclined back in his chair, hands clasped in front of him critically. “(Y/N)”, he says smoothly, my name like honey on his tongue. “What a pleasant surprise”.

“Is it?” I can’t help blurting out, immediately cursing myself for doing so. “I didn’t think you’d be pleased to see me”.

“And why’s that?”

I stare at him in bewilderment, frantically searching his face for any evident signs of anger or annoyance but I find none. In fact, he’s the exact opposite. Extreme serenity settles across his features, a smile tugging at his lips. And my mind is blown beyond belief at his nonchalance. “What do you mean?” I stammer. “Shouldn’t you be pissed off about…yesterday?”

“Were you sober enough to even remember what happened yesterday?” He shoots back, his voice level.

“Yes”, I retort defensively. “What do you take me for? Somebody who is too weak to handle a few drinks?” Then I bite my lower lip, startled at my abrupt snappiness. He seems to take notice of my embarrassment, judging by the smug way he gets to his feet and pushes his chair back, hands clasped behind his back as he nonchalantly leans his hip against the side of the desk.

“So did you come all the way here to pick a fight with me over your alcohol tolerance?” A thread of amusement runs through his words and I drop my gaze to the carpeted floor, staring at my faded flip-flops sheepishly.

“No”, I say quietly once I find my words. “I’m here to apologize for yesterday. I didn’t mean to lash out at you. I went overboard with my actions and I’m sorry. That’s what I came here for. To tell you that I’m sorry. If you want, I brought forms for you to fill in so that you can file a complaint against me. The brothel takes this kind of stuff seriously”.

Luhan says nothing for a long time and I don’t dare to lift my head to look at him. Not only because I’m too humiliated but also because I know that if I steal another glance at him, I’ll just melt into a puddle right here on the spotless marble flooring. Not every man can pull off a suit as well as Luhan himself and the longer I stare at him, the more I feel like my heart is going to burst right out of my chest. He does it so well.

“(Y/N), come here”. He orders, and I peer up to see him beckoning me over to where he’s standing by the desk. Bashfully, I flip-flop my way over to his desk as he sinks back down on his chair. Once I’m standing by his side, I keep my stare fixated on my toes as I await what he has to say.

I expect him to demand of the forms neatly tucked in my pocket, ready to sign them and send them off to the brothel so that I’ll be fired by tonight for inappropriate treatment of a client.

I expect him to heave a disappointed sigh and say, “I take back my words from last night about falling in love with you”.

What I do not expect him to do is look up at me with raised eyebrows and ask, “What are you waiting for? Get down on your knees”.

This is when I realize that his legs are spread further apart than usual, his arms dangling off the armrests of the chair lazily as he eyes me hungrily, a tent already forming in his pants.

I feel myself blush beetroot red, which is pretty stupid because I’ve been asked to suck dick for the past many years of my life. But with Luhan, everything feels overly intimate and filthy, although in the best way possible.

“N-Now?” I stutter. “But you have a meeting in a few minutes, don’t you?”

“In case you haven’t noticed”, he sneers, “I’m the fucking CEO of this goddamned place. I think I have the right to cancel meetings whenever I feel like it, don’t you?”

He has a point. So without another word, I slowly get down on my knees before him and sit back on my heels, my petite form fitting nicely in between his legs. Peeping up at him beneath my eyelashes, I swallow nervously. “Are you sure, Mr Lu?” I whisper uncertainly, the blood pounding in my ears.

“Jesus, (Y/N)”, he sighs exasperatedly. “Sehun was right when he said you never shut up. Put that pretty mouth to good use, girl”.

I make a face at his remark, sticking out my lower lip petulantly. “Rude”, I mutter under my breath cheekily.

“What was that, kitten?”

“Nothing”. Beaming up at him angelically, my trembling fingers trail up to his belt buckle, undoing it swiftly and reaching for the zipper, yanking it down. With my breath caught in my throat, I dip my hand into his boxers and slowly pull out his half-erect cock. The muscle lies in my small hand, twitching eagerly and I feel myself grow wet at the bare sight of it, much to my twisted humiliation. After a couple of years of sleeping with Luhan and I still can’t grow accustomed to his size.

Blushing modestly, I lean forward to take his tip in my mouth shyly, giving it little kitten licks. He hums in satisfaction at this, drumming his fingertips on the armrest and I can feel his heavy gaze boring right into me.

Feeling a little flustered, I lower my head to take more of his length into my mouth, stretching my lips over his cock. Saliva is beginning to pool at the back of my throat and I have to mentally force myself to relax, allowing my eyelids to flutter shut. I’ve done this to Luhan a million times, so why am I feeling so flustered and bashful now?

He seems to have the same question in his head, as he gently places his hand on top of my head, something which he has never done before. “Good girl”, he coos down at me. “Keep going, you’re doing great”.

My entire being flushes with pride at his little praise and I hate myself for feeling this way. I hate how I’m so obsessed with the idea of being praised, of being noticed for my hard work. I hate how riled up and excited my body gets when Luhan calls me a good girl and I especially hate how I’m in love with the idea of falling to my knees in front of him, completely vulnerable and ready to cater to his sexual needs.

I hate how I’m willing to do absolutely anything he says, just so he would reciprocate my genuine feelings for him. And no matter how much he claimed to be in love with me yesterday night, my heart has trouble believing it. Men are good at murmuring sweet nothings in your ear and I know that from years of experience. So what makes Luhan any different?

At that thought, I feel the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes and I glance down at his length so he can’t see my blubbering. Instead, I channel all my emotions into giving him the best blowjob he’s ever received in all the years we’ve known each other, lowering my head until I feel his tip brush the back of my throat.

My gag reflex kicks in instantly but I control it steadily, feeling my throat contract around his tip. A deep groan from Luhan spurs me on to hollow out my cheeks prettily, my damp eyes trailing up timidly to meet his. The dark glint in his pupils tell me everything I need to know; he’s relishing this, enjoying the wanton sensation of having my lips wrapped around his cock, enjoying the vulnerable sight of me kneeling in between his legs like some sort of needy kitten.

A condescending smirk crosses his pursed lips as soon as our eyes meet. “Are you sorry, kitten?” He coos, his hand hovering over my head lazily, his fingers toying with my cat ears.

I bob my head up in silent agreement, feeling my eyes beginning to water once more as his cock grows in my mouth, filling up every inch of my wet cavern until it becomes hard to concentrate.

I’m rewarded with another pat on the head and I sigh around his rock-hard length with pleasure, enjoying the lazy way he cards his fingers through my hair. My heart thumps with glee at the prospect of being called a good girl again, so I resume my work on his cock, fully intent on giving him the pleasure he deserves.

Slathering his entire length with my tongue, I observe as Luhan’s head falls against the back of his chair, mouth wide open as a few Mandarin curse words leave his lips. The fingers aimlessly carding through my hair tighten, gripping onto a fistful and tugging forcefully, causing my head to be pushed down further until I’m deep-throating him.

My moans reverberate along his length, something his body reacts beautifully to, judging by the hisses through his clenched teeth. His hips buck forward automatically, his tip hitting the back of my throat and I’m so close to passing out right on the spot. Not because I’m tired or anything, but because the needy sensation bubbling up in me is so overwhelming that I feel that I might release all over the carpet even without being touched.

The salty tang of semen stirs me from my reverie and I can feel that Luhan is close to his climax, judging by the pre-release trickling from his tip and into my mouth. Timidly, I flick a glance up at him and meet his hooded eyes immediately, glinting down at me.

Good girl, he mouths and my heart swells up with adoration. Spurred on by his silent remark, I hollow out my cheeks as much as possible although my jaw is starting to ache.

His body turns to putty as I work him up to his climax, one of his hands pressing gently against the back of my head. With one trained flick of my tongue against his shaft, a hitched moan leaves his lips and he releases in my mouth, semen filling up my wet cavern.

Not a drop escapes from my lips and I swallow obediently, reluctantly pulling away from his softening length bashfully. His hand lingers at the back of my scalp, fingers trailing through my hair absentmindedly as he uses his free hand to pull his pants back up, expertly slipping the belt through the loops while never tearing his drowsy gaze away from me.

Quietly, I rest my cheek against his knee and allow my eyelids to flutter shut, the tears pouring down my face silently. “I’m sorry”, I choke out again, unable to stop the flow of saltwater flooding my eyes.

I sit in between his legs for a long time, my cheek pressed against his knee as I bawl my eyes out, my shoulders trembling as my sobs rock my entire form. I cry over everything wrong in my life; my shattered morals and dignity, the loneliness eating at my heart, my conflicted feelings.

And throughout it all, Luhan lets me cry my heart out. He says nothing, just cupping his hand round the curve of my cheek and wiping away the stray tears with his thumb. Then, without a word, he yanks me to my feet and pulls me into his lap, holding me close as I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder and cry through the expensive material of his suit jacket.

Yet, he says nothing about it. He just cards his fingers through my hair soothingly, planting a little kiss on my temple. That just spurs me on to cry harder, clinging to him like a baby monkey. “I thought I would never see you again”, I hiccup, composing myself enough to lift my head and stare at him through the tears.

Luhan raises an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know”. I sniff delicately. “After yesterday, I thought you wouldn’t want to see me ever again”.

He rolls his eyes, grabbing at my chin not-too-gently so that I’m forced to look him right in the eye. “What are you on?” He asks bluntly, his fingers digging into my jaw. “After three years, you thought I could’ve just upped and leave? Fat chance, (Y/N). You’re not getting rid of me so easily”.

A glimmer of hope sparks up in me. “So you’re still coming to see me for sessions?” I ask, sounding exactly like a child who’s been promised cookies.

“I’ll come and see you for no apparent reason, not just for sessions”. He says calmly. “As much as I love having sex with you, (Y/N), I love your presence even more”.

I flush at that, suddenly too shy to say anything else. So I gently turn my head away, his grip on my jaw slackening as I slip out of his lap awkwardly, reaching up to adjust my cat ears. Bowing my head a little, I cough. “Well, I’ll get going now”, I mumble. “Thank you for taking the time to…see me”.

With that, I pivot on my heel and frantically flip-flop my way over to the door, not daring to glance back over my shoulder. My hand is on the door handle when Luhan’s voice halts me right in my tracks.

“(Y/N)”, he calls out softly, “wait”.

I pause, still facing the door as I hear the soft pad of his footsteps approaching me from behind. My heart slams in my chest frantically and for one frightening moment, all my brain can think of is, ‘He’s going to spank me’.

But the sharp end of a whip never comes in contact with my clothed ass, like what my other clients do to me whenever I misbehave or don’t adhere to their command. Instead, Luhan’s arms wrap themselves around my trembling figure from behind, lowering his head to rest his chin on my shoulder. I tense beneath his hold, to which he chuckles and places both hands on my stiffened shoulders, squeezing them teasingly.

“Relax, baby”, he croons. “Turn around and look at me”.

Hesitantly, I turn around to face him. He smiles that dashing smile of his, folding me into his arms for a warm hug and I practically melt inside out at the embrace, my nose buried in the crook of his shoulder. The tempting scent of musky cologne fills my nostrils, setting my nerves on tingling fire and I literally have to physically detach myself from him.

Leaning back a little, I tilt my head to stare up at him. “I should go”, I murmur, albeit reluctantly.

Luhan heaves a sigh, not bothering to hide his glumness. Lifting a hand, he caresses my cheek with the back of his hand adoringly, smirking a little. “I’ll see you tonight, then”, he says softly.

My heart soars at the thought of seeing him again, although I try to mask my excitement. “Okay”. The word leaves my lips as a whisper, a fleeting promise.

With that, I turn on my heel and dart out of the office, never looking back as a grin ghosts my lips, nearly splitting my face in half.

It’s just been a little over twelve hours since Luhan was thrown out of (Y/N)’s bedroom last night when she was in the midst of a hissy fit but he’s already undergone a turmoil of multiple heart-wrenching emotions ever since he forced himself to work this morning.

As much as he was upset with her for manhandling him out when he was so indulged in his genuine feelings and the lovely influence of alcohol, his heart broke when he recalled the hurt glinting in her glazed eyes when she yelled at him. As drunk as she was, her words were sober thoughts and he understood how she felt.

So when she turned up at his office in her terrible flip-flops, cat ears and irresistible pouty lips, he was more than eager to usher her in albeit his ice-cold demeanour. He didn’t really plan to coerce her into giving him a blowjob as a form of an apology but his cock has been playing merry hell with him again and he couldn’t resist those pretty little lips of hers when she gazed at him pitifully as she pouted sadly.

When she’d broken down in tears in front of him, it was like a ferocious tug on his heartstrings and it shocked him out of his wits. Luhan, the coldest and most cynical businessman in practically the whole of Asia, cares about somebody else’s wellbeing besides his own. If that ain’t love, then he has no idea what is.

He wanted nothing more than to let her sit in his lap for the whole day as he stroked her hair and comforted her but she’d pulled away faster than his lovesick brain could comprehend, hastily dusting herself off and bolting for the door.

Luhan never wanted to let her go.

But she’d slipped between his fingers like water and just like that, he’s forced to make a phone call once more to see her.

“…and so I told him that he could complain to the brothel about my inappropriate treatment of a client and the next thing I knew, his cock was in my mouth!” I babble to Sehun feverishly, flapping my arms around animatedly.

Sehun chokes on his mouthful of bubble tea, sitting up in the driver’s seat as he coughs dramatically. As usual, we swung by the bubble tea shop just round the corner and now we’re chilling in the parked car as I recap the whole Luhan incident to my best friend. So far, everything I’ve said includes the words ‘cock’, ‘blowjob’, ‘crying’ and ‘sexy’, which isn’t out of my usual vocabulary word bank.

Now, with the car engine off, my sexual encounter seems even louder in the enclosed silence of the car. Sehun wipes at his mouth with the back of his wrist, placing his cup of bubble tea in the cup holder by his side as he whips around to stare at me curled up in the passenger seat.

“(Y/N), you were supposed to march in smartly, make a quick and business-like apology and march right back out”, my best friend points out. “Instead, you swung by a drug company in flip-flops, threatened the sexy receptionist with a Swiss knife and sucked the CEO off. Which wasn’t really part of the plan”.

“The receptionist wasn’t sexy”, I shoot back defensively, internally shuddering at the thought of Jongdae’s greasiness. “Also, I didn’t just suck Luhan off. We cuddled a bit while I was crying and then he gave me a hug before I left”.

“Wait, hold up”. Sehun raises both eyebrows at this outbreak of news, obviously interested. “Cuddled? Hugged? What else went on in that office of his? Did he propose to you too?”

I pout at his sarcasm, pulling my knees up to my chest in the passenger seat and staring absentmindedly at a stray cat padding past the car, its tail swishing in the air happily. Its ginger coat glimmers in the fading sunlight, eerily similar to my own cat Lu.

“Lu likes Luhan”, I murmur, my gaze still fixated on the stray cat.

Sehun chokes on his bubble tea again. “Your ferocious feline likes a client of yours?” He rasps after coughing his lungs out, one hand pressed to his chest. “God, I’m going to die young at this rate”, he mutters to himself, eyeing his bubble tea cup with faux vengeance.

“Yeah”, I say in response to his earlier question. “Which is really surprising, because Lu scratches and bites every man I sleep with. Even Junmyeon, who feeds him”.

“Then this love must be real”, my best friend announces proudly. “The cat gods have answered our questions”.

“Am I really in love with Luhan, though?” I ask doubtfully, turning my attention away from the stray cat and focusing on Sehun, who is happily taking another sip of his bubble tea despite his near-death encounter just now.

He makes sure to swallow his mouthful first before responding. “Yup”, he says matter-of-factly. “You’ve got the goo-goo ga-ga glint in your eyes and it’s disgusting. Which definitely means you’re madly in love with Mr Drug Dealer for sure”.

“But I can’t fall in love with him”, I protest, feeling myself starting to panic. “He’s a client. I can’t fall in love with a client, I’ll be fired!”

“If there’s a will, there’s a way”, my best friend reassures me. “Haven’t you watched ‘Pretty Woman’?”

I shoot him an annoyed glance, wringing my hands worriedly. “I can’t believe you’re comparing my life to a movie”, I whine. “God, Sehun. Why must love be so fucking complicated?”

“This is like something out of a Lana Del Rey album”, Sehun remarks solemnly. “Falling in love with rich men, sugar daddies, dark obsessions with sex. But look on the bright side, (Y/N). At least you’re not falling in love with your stepfather, like in ‘Lolita’”.

“I love ‘Lolita’”, I sigh dreamily. “It must be wonderful to be her, flawlessly beautiful and admired by men”.

“You just described your life”, my best friend points out, grinning as he turns the key in the ignition and reverses out of the parking lot. “Beautiful and admired by every man out there”, he adds, gesturing to himself playfully. “Even gay ones”.

Luhan made arrangements with (Y/N) to meet her outside their usual hotel downtown at exactly seven-thirty sharp tonight. She’d agreed readily, her husky voice sending excited chills through his trembling form as she murmured, “See you tonight, Mr Lu” through the phone, causing all the blood in him to rush straight down to the area between his legs.

As soon as he placed the phone back down on the desk, he’d collapsed in his chair with his head in his hands, shoulders convulsing violently as images of her flood his mind mercilessly. He’s madly, cruelly, completely in love with this girl and as much as he tries to tell himself to get a grip, he’s teetering on the edge and about to plunge straight into the chasm of love. And to his utter horror, he doesn’t mind one bit.

For the first time ever, Luhan doesn’t plunge his hand into his pants and start jerking the fuck out of himself. Instead, he just sits in the calm silence of his office and allows his mind to play a slideshow of memories.

In his mind’s eye, he sees (Y/N) for the very first time three years ago. There she was, lingering on the pavement outside the hotel and dressed in the classiest black sleeveless dress he’d ever seen. Her matching black kitten heels were at least five inches high, giving her tiny and petite form a large boost.

However, the spark of life in her doll eyes was a stark contrast to her tiny figure. That spark was the only thing that kept her going, the only thing that kept everyone coming back for more.

The boys, the girls, the men and the women all loved (Y/N). She may be a little unusual, a young girl with a chameleon soul and a shattered moral compass, but as lost and confused and sad as she was, she had a heart of gold and nobody could take that away from her.

All she ever wanted was a home, which propelled her to seek safety in other people and that was something Luhan could relate fully to. And as much as he wanted to create a home out of a significant other, he found himself wanting to be the person (Y/N) built a home in, somebody she sought safety in.

And as much as he loved her, he feared her too.

She danced to the beat of her own drum and as much as she belonged to every man out there, she still belonged to nobody but herself. She was a hurricane, a one-night stand and she belonged to no city and to no man.

Luhan loved that about her.

He loved everything about her.

He loved the way she pranced about in cat ears shamelessly.

He loved how she always had a lollipop stuck in her mouth.

He loved her dick jokes.

He loved her stubbornness.

He loved how she chattered on about nothing and everything, how her pretty little soul was never dented by any setbacks.

He loved her drowsy expression whenever she fell asleep in his arms after a long night of mind-blowing sex.

He loved how she gazed at him adoringly in the dim candlelight during one of their fancy dinners, her chin propped up on the palm of her hand as she grinned at him.

He loved the way she poured her heart out to him, how she trusted him so much to keep her disclosed feelings close to his own heart.

He loved her boisterous laughter.

He loved her flaws, her tears, her body, her mind, her soul, her intelligence.

And now, three long years down the road since he spotted her outside the hotel, he’s still in love with her. Completely, cruelly and madly in love with her. And there’s nothing he would change about it.

I loved everything about Luhan.

I loved how he listened to me intently whenever I babbled on about whatever was on my mind on that particular night.

I loved his contented expression after a night of making love.

I loved how he gazed at me with that spark in his dark eyes whenever we were in the midst of another candlelit dinner.

I loved the way he placed his trust in my hands whenever he poured out his emotions into the open as he held me close in the depths of the night.

I loved his ugly laughter, the astonishing way his jaw practically unhinges itself whenever he opens his mouth wide and scrunches up his eyes in the midst of his giggles.

I loved his cold and calculative nature whenever it came to business matters.

I loved his weaknesses, his strengths, his body, his soul, his mind.

And now, three years down the road from when I first met him on that fateful day outside the hotel, I’m still in love with him. Completely, cruelly and madly in love with him. And there’s nothing I would change about it.