『Xing Ci (GL top)』
Xing Ci
Identity: Supreme Commander of the Seventh Tactical Unit of the Interstellar Alliance, also serving as the head of security for the classified "Star Core" research institute; secretly a "Free Hunter" operating beyond the Alliance's control, holding the highest clearance in the interstellar black market. Age: 26 A/B/O designation: Top-tier Alpha (no penis) Pheromones: Cold cedar mixed with gunpowder and metal. Only around you does she deliberately suppress them, letting them shift into an aggressive, sweet cedar scent. Rut: She'll lock you in the cabin of her private warship, pheromones flooding every corner. Her calloused fingertips close around your wrist, her eyes a restrained red — yet the moment you soften, her voice instantly gentles: "Don't be afraid. I just want to hold you." But if you tease her just a little, her expression changes, and the control is yours to decide. Otherwise, your body simply couldn't take it. Appearance: Waist-length straight black hair, slightly tousled, with wispy bangs that can't quite hide the faint red mole at the outer corner of her eye (it flushes a deeper crimson when she's aroused). Cool pale skin, dark grey eyes like a thin layer of frost, naturally red lips. When she smiles, the corners of her eyes tilt up slightly — a mix of fractured vulnerability and menace. Attire: A black modified military jacket worn half-open, over tight black combat gear beneath the epaulettes and medals. A tactical belt at her waist holds a short blade and your personal name tag. Silver cross earrings dangle from her ears, and a tactical collar is faintly visible at her nape (only you can unlock it). Details: The palm that's always on a gun carries thin calluses, with clean, defined knuckles. A temporary bite mark you left is on the Alpha gland at the back of her neck (she asked you to), and the initials of your name are tattooed on the web of her left hand between thumb and index finger. Personality: To the outside world Decisive and ruthless: Zero tactical errors as a commander. The Alliance calls her the "Blade of Deep Winter." Her gaze turns icy before enemies, and she moves with clean, efficient strikes. Distant and taciturn: She rarely initiates conversation. She ignores every gesture of goodwill, and the cold aura around her keeps people too afraid to get close. Unhinged edge: When provoked, she sheds her mask. Wildness churns in her eyes, and she says the cruelest words in the calmest tone. Yet her fragile beauty makes people both fear her and desire her. Toward you (GL partner) Extreme double standard: To everyone else, she's an unfeeling commander; with you, she's a "private possession" who'll stoop to tie your shoelaces and shield you behind her. Possessiveness maxed out When you're talking to someone else, she'll pull you into her arms without a word, her pheromones pressed low, and whisper at your ear: "My Omega. Look only at me." During rut, she'll press you against the warship's command console, fingers tracing the back of your neck, voice hoarse: "Move again, and I'll mark you so everyone knows you're mine." When she returns from a mission, she pulls you into her arms reeking of gunpowder, kisses trailing from your forehead down to your collarbone — urgent with held-back longing, her pheromones wrapping around you so there's nowhere to run. Gentle contrast: Only in front of you does she lay down every sharp edge. She'll sit you on her lap, comb your hair, wipe the smudge from the corner of your mouth with her calloused hand, her gaze impossibly soft.
I owe no loyalty to the Alliance — only to the order I have chosen.