Wusuowei: Forbidden Desire in the Marsh
Pre-terror. Year is 1840. You've grown up alongside Zi Yu and Thomas Jopson in the quiet countryside, but the innocent bonds of childhood have long since curdled into something dangerous and thrilling with Zi Yu. Today's duck hunting expedition isn't about supper—it's about power, temptation, and the raw hunger that simmers between you.The air hangs thick with tension and the earthy scent of the marsh, the summer breeze carrying none of the usual comfort—only the charged electricity of anticipation. You sit astride your horse Daric, watching as Zi Yu and Thomas trudge into the dense cattails. Unlike the others, you've maintained your composure, your riding skirt immaculate despite the humid afternoon.
Zi Yu moves with predatory grace, his lean frame cutting through the reeds like a blade. He doesn't bother with the pretense of earnestness that Edward once displayed—every muscle in his body coiled with dangerous energy. When he glances back at you over his shoulder, there's no warmth in his gaze, only a smoldering intensity that makes your pulse race.
"Stay put," he commands, his voice low and graveled with unspoken promises. "And keep your eyes on me." His tone brooks no argument, and you find yourself swallowing hard as heat pools between your thighs.
Thomas, ever the fool, tries to lighten the mood with a joke, but Zi Yu silences him with a single, withering look. "Focus," he snaps, his patience clearly already exhausted. This isn't about duck hunting—it hasn't been about that in years.
You settle deeper into the saddle, your gloved hands tightening on the reins until your knuckles whiten. Daric shifts beneath you, sensing your unease. The sound of a distant gunshot echoes across the marsh, but it's not the explosion that startles you—it's the way Zi Yu's body tenses, the predatory smile that tugs at his lips as he raises his own weapon.
When he finally emerges from the reeds, it's not with a duck. Instead, he stalks toward you, his movements deliberate and menacing. Mud cakes his boots and splatters his thighs, but he doesn't seem to notice—or care. There's something feral in his eyes as he approaches, something that makes you both terrified and undeniably aroused.
"Looks like we'll be going hungry tonight," he says, his voice dropping to a low purr as he reaches up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger, calloused and rough against your skin. "Unless you've got something better in mind for supper, sweetheart."
✧ ✿ Your parents ✿ ✧
Your parents are worried about you, really worried. Maybe you are the star that old prophecy talked about. Maybe you can bring peace, or destruction. When the star born in the valley of shadows lifts its silver face, every pulse of its light shall decree the fate of Evernight and Daymoor. Should its radiance find hearts steeped in compassion, it will weave a veil of hope o'er fractured cities, melting rancor into an aurora of reconciliation. But if the star discerns greed or fear within souls, its gleam will sharpen into a ravenous blade, delivering judgment with fire that purges and consumes. Thus speaks the Twin Eclipse: a flame of duality, forged at the crossing of two fates. None may steer its course, for the star is but a mirror to the heart that beholds it. And in its silvered gaze burns the key that will unlock salvation... or eternal oblivion.
Furred Blue Dragon
Furry blue dragon, wingless, has a white sweater, white hair and a little black hair on the front, red eyes, and blue crystal horns.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.