#i would have included twisted fantasy

[bongwateriero]

ok fine

[mv1simp]

I love your stories so much, please write more dark manipulative Max, maybe something with mindbreak or bimbofication of an innocent reader? It would be fun if she was Toto's daughter and Max so holds it over Toto.

this is for all the dark!Max/toto’s daughter/bimbo/mindbreak reader requests all you freaks have been requesting 😼😼 for the first time i have something for the dark!lando girlies!!

Double Fantasy ♥️

Max Verstappen x Lando’s Fuckbuddy!Reader

I can tell that you think that I’m right for you, I already know that it's not true, but girl I'll lie to you (even though it's wrong)

Recently becoming a media executive for the FIA, you can’t deny that your dream job has given you access to your dream men. Sadly, your top pick, Max Verstappen doesn’t look twice your way - not interested in the daughter of Toto Wolff, who he openly dislikes. But you gladly enjoy your consolation prize of being Lando Norris’s fuckbuddy. You didn’t realise just how far Lando planned on extending your arrangement when he pisses the Dutch champion off one step too far - and now needs to figure out the perfect gift to give Max and make amends.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark! max, dark! Lando, but bimbo!reader is into it lol, have done a twist on the usual innocent! reader, she’s toto’s daughter also, dubcon, blindfold, BDSM, no threesomes sorry I can’t share max with anyone else, WC 5.6k

Multiple heads turn your way as you make your way down the FIA garage, your YSL black and gold heels clicking smoothly on the floor. You can’t hold back the pleased smile on your pink glossed lips at the appreciative glances over your curvy figure. At 22, you’ve landed your dream job as a marketing and media executive for the FIA. Glowing recommendations, a perfect GPA and of course a touch of good old fashioned nepotism via your dad, the Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff, landed you here, dressed in luxury outfits and regularly networking with some of the richest people on the continent. What can you say? You’re a material girl, after all, with a pleasure for the finer things in life.

And that included an appreciation of rich, powerful men that you inherited as a result of a strict and emotionless father who preferred to spend his time running a motorsports corporation instead of at home. Daddy issues, one might even say (actually your therapist had said exactly that.) So the Formula One grid, filled to the brim with hot, millionaire drivers who have no issue flirting with the new pretty little toy on the paddock, was the perfect place for a girl like you to work. You definitely had your fun, arriving a few months ago for your first day, dressed in a tight yet full length maxi dress, giving you the perfect blend of sexy and demure that had much of the paddock panting after you.

But you were a girl with a taste for luxury - you weren’t going to settle for any dirty mechanic or plain news reporter. No, what you wanted more than anything, was to get the best of both worlds like your lucky bitch of a stepmom Susie Wolff had done - FIA executive and WAG of the hottest and richest team principal. Even you had to admit, apart from your dad, the rest of the principals were a little bit too far on the balding old men side. But the drivers, you thought wickedly, the drivers were a completely different story. And they knew they were some of the most desired men on the planet, with their fame and status. Their egos were sky high - especially since multiple women would be throwing themselves at them every race weekend or media day. So you had made sure to play the game very, very carefully - unlike the other sultry models on the paddock, or conservative women dressed head to toe in basic team gear, you were the very picture of innocence with your sweet makeup and dark curls, cute girly dresses and heels, all shy giggles one minute and then serious, no nonsense businesswoman the next to keep them on their toes.

A lot of the drivers ate it up, too, flocking to Toto Wolff’s pretty daughter when they’d see you doing the occasional post race interview or brazenly flirting with you at a drivers’ meeting. But the one man who you truly wanted, the 26 year old in the Redbull gear with 3 world champions and a multimillionaire contract to his name, with intense blue eyes and thick thighs and broad shoulders, with a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine one second then flutters in your heart the next when you’d hear him laugh - he was the man who didn’t look twice your way. Despite your attempts to flutter your eyelashes, wearing tight outfits and bend over just so in a certain angle, or pressing your generous tits up against his bulging biceps as your breathlessly whisper Congratulations on the win, Max he wouldn’t even show a flicker of reciprocal interest. You were the daughter of Toto, after all - a principal who he was quite well known in the media for having ongoing disputes with for numerous years. As if Max Verstappen was going to be seduced by the likes of a gold digging daughter who was probably just as two faced as her father.

You’d pouted for weeks, growing bitter with jealousy at seeing Max instead walk around with Kelly, a pretty, tall and slim model who’d apparently outplayed you. But to your delight, you stumbled upon the best consolation prize. With all your pining you hadn’t realized you’d snagged one of the hottest and most desirable drivers on the grid - McLaren’s Lando Norris. Well, snagged was one way to put it - after all, a playboy like him was hard to pin down, especially when he knew how much pull he had over women. But you’d thought about that to, even going so far as saving your virginity like the perfect daddy’s little girl you were. Lando ate it up, twistedly enjoying getting to corrupt the paddock’s pretty princess, the one everyone wanted to get a piece off. So unlike the other women he slept with, the ones kept secret and hidden from the media, you were his favourite toy - one that he paraded around whenever you’d be in the same city. Not quite a girlfriend, of course, he was far too much of a flirt to put such a label on you so soon - more of a friends with benefits, a high maintenance fling, a fuckbuddy, some might call it.

And once you had your manicured hands clinging onto his arms at the races you sure as hell did not plan on letting go. Toto was not overly happy at the news that his eldest daughter was involved with a driver, of course, but had accepted it as Lando was still a good choice compared to many of the other drivers he wanted you to stay well away from - like Mad Max. So you stayed loyal to Lando, not wanting any rumours about you flirting with multiple drivers to impact your dad’s important reputation. You’d only flutter your lashes at Lando, kissing his cheek diligently with your glossed lips, sending the naughty photos of you in expensive lingerie just for him - because the rewards you got as his paddock arm candy were just too good. Always making sure your face was well cut out from any pictures, of course - you would die if they got leaked and your father found out.

But being Lando’s fuckbuddy came with a whole line of luxuries you’d quickly grown accustomed too. Tickets to whatever show you wanted, the finest food at the most expensive restaurant, the papparazzi going crazy at whatever outfit you’d wear when clinging onto Lando’s arm, and of course one of the most coveted men in the world between your legs, teaching you how to come apart on his fingers. That’s right, his fingers, and very rarely his cock, because you needed to secure that diamond ring, after all. And you sure as hell weren’t going to give him wife privileges 24/7 when he hadn’t even made you his official girlfriend yet. So instead you tried to push him to the limits, testing his patience to give up and retire his playboy ways if he finally got to bury his desperate dick inside your heavenly tight pussy again, after having taken your virginity.

Truly, you had outdone yourself, you thought, as every passing race this season Lando got more and more tense as tensions for the World Championships grew, with McLaren finally being able to threaten the Verstappen Red Bull reign for the first time in years. And with each passing race, he couldn’t relieve the tension enough, trying to furiously fuck his way through all number of vogue models but somehow always finding himself back with you, desperately begging to be let in between your soft thighs. And like always, you’d blink innocently and coo that you felt too shy, wasn’t last time enough, you didn’t want to ruin yourself for the man you were going to marry, remember?

And Lando would groan, because as much as he wanted you, he also knew there was no way in hell he was ready to take you to the altar over this. Although it had been getting harder and harder to resist, lately, because although you were truly so talented with your small hands and sweet, drooling mouth, he would endlessly replay the heaven that your pussy had felt like the rare few times you’d let him enter you with his cock.

But as the season went on even you couldn’t calm Lando down, especially after the Zandervoot race. Tensions were at an all time high between him and his normally good friend Max, after Lando stole his home race under him and even sealed the deal by throwing the Dutchman’s simply lovely phrase back at him cockily. Max was well and truly pissed off at Lando then, not even turning upto their weekly Padel games or replying to his texts. Although Lando wanted to win the championship, he also wanted to remain good mates with Max - especially because he knew being on Mad Max’s bad side always ended with the opponent finding themselves crashing into a wall at the next race. So as he pondered just what he could do to get his friend’s forgiveness, a wicked idea came to him, one night when he was out at a Monaco nightclub with you and had run into Max partying with his friends. He’d tried to talk to Max, but had been rudely ignored, so instead Lando stood off the corner, rather crossly glaring at the Dutchman, when he noticed you’d disappeared from his side to tipsily wander to the bar and get another drink.

He was about to go help you when he saw you stumble, maybe take you to the bathroom for a quick sloppy blowjob - but was suprised to see Max appear at your side, his intense blue eyes watching your tinier frame carefully as he rested a large palm over your plump ass to secure you. And Lando watched as you giggled happily, twirling your hair as Max handed over his black Amex to pay for your drink, rewarded with a lingering lip glossed kiss on his cheek from you, before you scampered back over to where Lando was hidden in the shadows. And as you loyally returned to Lando’s arms, whispering that you were going to make him feel so good tonight, he seemed so tense, the Brit found himself ignoring your seductive words entirely to instead focus on how Max’s hungry gaze lingered on your ass as you had strutted away from the tall blonde man. A sinister grin appeared on Lando’s face as he pieced it all together. He’d always thought it was weird that Max chose to completely ignore you, given that he normally was a friendly guy off the track. Turns out his good mate was just trying to avoid getting involved with Toto’s paddock bunny of a daughter, huh?

Turning his attention to you, Lando whispered if you could pretty please try out something new for him tonight, because he was really stressed, okay? He watches you nod eagerly, foolishly thinking your plan to get Lando so desperate for you that he was ready to put a ring on your finger was working. Too bad you had no idea that instead, your fuckbuddy was thinking about how he’d just found the perfect present to gift to his angry rival.

So that’s how you found yourself in a plush hotel bed later that night, all dressed up in a pretty white lace and mesh set and still in your heels, your eyes blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back. You eyes had gone wide with excitement, thighs clenching when Lando had pulled the ropes out, and you’d had to blush and act all innocent when secretly you couldn’t be happier that you were drawing out the dirtier desires in Lando. Because that meant he was falling for you all the more, right?

You had no idea about the private conversation your fuckbuddy had been having with the driver you’d previously desired, just outside the club in a dark alleyway, where Lando had finally cornered Max to apologise. The furious Dutchman had, as expected, been in no mood to hear it - but had stopped in his tracks and turned around when Lando slyly suggested that as he had taken something of his, it was only fair that Max get one of Lando’s precious things in return. Like maybe…you?

At the mention of your name, Max furrows his brows, telling Lando he wasn’t interested in the latest toy on the grid who spread her legs for whichever driver gave her some attention. Oh, Lando all but purred, that’s the catch, mate. She’s basically still a virgin, was one when I met her, only let me fuck her a couple of times, wants to save herself for the one or some shit. But I trained her how to use her holes, and fuck does she know how to suck a guy off with that sweet mouth of hers.

That’d caught Max’s attention, and he smirked to Lando, calling him a fucked up asshole for selling out the girl who was loyal to him like this, who was Toto Wolff’s daughter, no less - a powerful man someone like Lando wouldn’t want to make an enemy off. The Brit shrugged. Toto’s never going to find out. What’s mine is yours, mate. Enjoy. And with that, he tossed his room key to Max.

That night, Lando didn’t feel bad, not even one bit, as he tightly wound the rope around your delicate little wrists, knowing that you loved to act all innocent but secretly kinky shit like this has you dripping. Especially if you were going to be ruined tonight by a man who you secretly still had desires for - and Lando was certain you did, judging from the way he’d seen you look at Max like he was a God you wanted to worship on your knees. Really, he was being a good friend to you both by letting it happen - just this once of course, he wasn’t going to just hand you over to his track rival after putting in so much work to train you to be the perfect sex toy. So he’d left you there all alone in the room, abruptly saying he had an urgent call and would be back.

The drinks you’d had earlier certainly had their affects on you, making you whine against the tight ropes on your flushed and sensitive skin, almost grateful for the blindfold as you felt overstimulated already. When you finally heard the hotel door reopen, you sighed in relief as your fuckbuddy - soon to be boyfriend, you hoped! - finally came back. In your wildest fantasies you’d never have guessed that instead of Lando locking the door, Max stood in his place - and had taken one look at your tempting, restrained form and realized that the sly Brit had definitely not told you about his plans for tonight. Keeping you blind and tied up while you were tricked into thinking it was your beloved Brit entering you and not your daddy’s enemy, Max Verstappen? It was so dirty that Max got an instant hard on. He’d seen the looks, the touches you gave him too - they were rather hard to miss, after all. But he’d played aloof, not wanting to give into your gold digging ways - but he’d admit that he’s been rather disappointed when he found you’d settled for Lando instead. You’d surprised him with how loyal you remained to the McLaren driver, dutifully remaining by his side and avoiding Max’s intense gaze when it would occasionally flicker over to you. But when the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions tonight, Max had seen the desire in your blown pupils, in your hardened nipples that peaked just at the edge of your dress, and had cockily smirked at the realisation that Lando’s little toy, Toto’s precious daughter - that she was still lusting after him.

And now that this opportunity had presented itself….well, let’s just say that it had Max grinning wickedly as he plotted up all the ways he could walk away with both you and the world championship from Lando this year. That would certainly teach the younger male to mess with what was his, wouldn’t it? And even better, it would put that arrogant prick Toto in his place, keep him from daring to speak out against Max in the media when Redbull trashed Mercedes - because his adored little daughter would be spending the race weekends on her hands and knees for the Dutch world champion, if Max had anything to say about it.

So that’s how Max found himself at the foot of the bed, stripping off his clothes and lazily jerking himself off as he watched you squirm underneath your ropes, pouting as you couldn’t do your usual bit of trailing teasing hands all over Lando and rile him up. Baby? You crooned, tilting your head in the direction you thought he was in. Aren’t you going to-Oh!

You felt his warm, large palms cup your cheek, tracing your glossy, pink lips and you automatically poke your tongue out to circle his finger. Good girl, he sighed, the words making your tummy flutter. He sounded a little different to usual, his voice deeper, lower, but it was hard to think clearly over how much your head was pounding from raw desire, and you liked how he sounded tonight. You were feeling really horny and couldn’t wait for him to finally fuck you too - having had to desperately ride your tiny vibrator after stopping Lando fucking you multiple times this month.

His hands continued their path, trailing over your delicate throat and teasingly encircling it with his large hand, making you gasp - you hadn’t remembered it being quite so large that it wrapped around the whole width of your neck. But maybe your senses were more attuned now since you were blindfolded? It felt really good.

You promptly forgot to think about that any longer when those large hands moved downwards, roughly palming your bouncy tits and making you giggle from his attention. He teased and squeezed them, tugging down on the lace to free them in the open air, twisting on your hardened cute nipples. You squealed from the abuse to your overly sensitive areolas, distracted, and didn’t notice when your hands ended up being untied - only to be guided to a very large and hard cock.

Baby, you’d giggled, it’s been so long that you’re even bigger than I remembered. He swore under his breath as you diligently jerked him off with your two small hands barely wrapping around his length, spitting on it cutely to ease the glide. And then he’s rubbing his leaking cock all over your tits, slapping them with it and chuckling darkly as they jiggled, all wet from his precum. Before you know it, you were drooling and suckling all over his cock, sweetly moaning how good he tasted, even more than last time. Suckling his balls and then licking all the way the very tip, just like he’d taught you, placing messy lip gloss stained kisses down the wet shaft before sucking them clean off. You made sure to pay extra attention to the thick veins that ran underneath his length, even the new ones you hadn’t felt before, because he’d told you it drove men wild.

And when he grabbed your pretty curls, you let your mouth go lax so he could pump his full length furiously down your inviting throat, groaning how much of a good girl you were, maybe your full time job should be sucking his cock instead of trotting about the paddock. You moaned excitedly at the idea, and when he cums, all thick and creamy, you obediently swallow it all up.

Look, daddy, you say rather sluttily, dropping your mouth wide open, tongue out as you showed him how well you’d drank all his cum. Fuck, that’s so dirty, calling me and your father the same name, huh? Should’ve known you’d be into kinky shit like this.

You scrunch your brows cutely in confusion, not sure what he meant by that because you’d called him daddy many times before. But you don’t get to ponder too long because you suddenly hear the sound of a camera click and can see the flash go off through the blindfold. Your tummy lurches, because Nooo, baby, no photos, please, what if my dad sees-

Your pleas are ignored as you’re being lifted by two broad arms and tossed onto the bed, your hands dragged up and over your head as your wrists are tied to the headboard. You’re whining, asking him what he was doing, this was too much, you wanted to see him now, to touch him, but again you don’t get an answer.

Instead, you feel his thick fingers hooking around the sides of your soaked panties and sliding them off, lewd strings of your wetness clinging to the lace as it’s pulled away. Then you hear him deeply exhale a fucking hell, making you blush as strong hands grasp your ankles and push them far apart so your intimate parts are exposed for his hungry gaze.

That’s all the warning you get before there’s a foreign sensation of his warm breath blowing on your puffy folds, making you gasp, and before a broad tongue licks a stripe clean up your pink slit. You squeal in suprise, again stupidly babbling and asking what he was doing, because normally Lando didn’t like going down on you, finding it too much effort for a quick stress relieving fuck - he much preferred having you suck him off instead.

But the mouth currently lapping at your folds seems to have realized just how unfamiliar this pleasure seems to be for your sensitive cunny, because he buries his face right in, licking and slurping up all your dripping wetness. You thrash against your restrains, incoherently moaning because it feels so good baby, mmmh, why didn’t he do this more?

He laughs huskily, still buried inside your folds, and the deep vibrations make you almost cum right then and there. Your whole body is burning up with need now and you’re begging for him to put the condom on and slide in it, daddy, please, you needed it so bad-

You both moan as he finally sinks home, your creamy pussy gushing around him as it welcomes him in. You feel breathless at the size of him, because again he’s bigger and thicker than you remembered - not even just his cock, but his whole body, his bulging biceps and broad chest being able to hold you down with ease. You let him know it, too, whining that he’s so strong, it was really hot, had he been working out more?

That made him laugh again, lips grinning right by your ear, as he tilts your hips up to meet his and starts fucking your gushing pussy roughly. Through your euphoric daze, you feel familiar butterflies swirl in your stomach at the deep laugh, the accent sounding so different from Lando’s but still familiar to you for some reason - yet you still couldn’t quite place it. It was impossible to focus with the way he was thrusting into you, his hands pressing your hips down into the mattress in a bruising grip, making your tits bounce with each pump, your breath come out in soft pants as you gasped for air. You’re about to cum, you can feel it, the intensity building up-

And then, finally, he takes off your blindfold. Your brown eyes take a second to adjust to the bright lights - and then you widen them in pure shock as you realize just who’s wide cock was splitting you open.

You scream as Max grins wickedly down at you, pulling back to leave just his leaking tip inside your tight cunny, before slamming back in and, setting a bed breaking pace and drowning out your panicked wails with the loud banging of the headboard against the walls. You’re doing so good for me, schatje he croons, his voice sickly sweet but his actions pure evil as he grabs your dirty panties and meanly shoves them past your plush lips. Grabbing your soft thighs, he tosses them over his shoulder as he bullies his cock into you even deeper from this angle, repeatedly hitting your poor cervix. Tears pool in your brown doe eyes as you look at where he enters you, horrified as you see he’s making you take his cock raw - something Lando and you never did despite how hot it sounded as a baby outside of marriage would be too much for both of your families. You cry and wail and scream, tears streaming down your face at the embarrasing and degrading treatment you’re experiencing. Really, it’s such wicked and sinful behaviour and you should hate Max so much for this, hate Lando for leaving you all tied up and alone and defenceless against his evil and twisted rival to take advantage of you like this, to bully your practically virgin cunny with each deep thrust from his massive cock.

So why are you rapidly reaching your orgasm even faster than before?

Max has apparently learnt the signs of your pliant body underneath him far too quickly, because he slides his thick cock out of your swollen cunny and instead rests it just on top of your folds. Almost lovingly wiping your tears away with a flick of his thumb, he demands that you beg for it, for his cock to split you in half, to cum inside you, for him, Max, to be the only man you ever let inside your sweet pussy from now on.

You frantically shake your head, your muffled no no nos an obvious contrast to what you secretly wanted, as you’re simultaneously bucking your hips up against his hard length, drenching it in new slick. He smirks, leaning down so your foreheads meet and sweetly kissing up your tears. Despite the depravity of the situation, you’re finding yourself blushing from the unexpected gesture. Schatje, he whispers darkly, sending shivers up your spine because you’d always gotten jealous hearing him call other women that, you’re making this so much harder on yourself. It’s going to be so fun to watch you fall apart for me.

With that, he agonisingly tortures you, dragging just his tip through your folds again and again, slapping your throbbing clit with his head, biting and sucking on your sensitive nipples that leaves you arching your back into his talented mouth. You’re struggling to make sense of what’s going on, of trying to keep coherent. All that hard work and patience to try and lure Lando in was gone the very second your pussy had welcomed Max into it, because you knew Lando would never take you back if he found out about this. Your desperate brain reasons that then, it shouldn’t matter, right? It was too late for you and Lando. And now, you had Max Verstappen using your pretty body however he wanted, making you fulfill all his twisted desires. If you showed him how good you could be for him, be the perfect little pet for all his frustrations to be let out at, maybe he’d keep you around…permanently?

Max didn’t miss the dazed look that had overtaken your wide doe eyes as your whines quietened down. Guess all his teasing had finally melted that scheming brain of yours. Yanking your panties out of your mouth, he asked you if you were ready to behave and ask him nicely.

You nod obediently, looking at him with heart eyes as you confess that his cock felt so good, so addictive, you don’t think you could ever go back to Lando after being stretched open so wide, and could he pretty please fuck you hard and good?

Max growls at your submissive words. You’re offering yourself up to me so sweetly, baby. How can I say no?

He unties your aching wrists, running his soothing palms over the rope marked skin, bending down to give you a passionate, open mouthed kiss. You greedily slurp at his intruding tongue, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as he lines himself up at your entrance before easily sinking into the wet folds. This time, he doesn’t stop his wicked thrusts, not when you’re squirting on his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head, not when a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock from your cum, not when you’re tangling your hands in his hair and whining that it’s too much, you’re going to pass out.

He only stops once he’s tensing above you, one hand squeezing your neck and the other gripping the headboard as he drains his entire load into your tight cunny desperately clenching around him. Yours is truly the sweetest pussy he’s ever fucked. He’s never letting you go. He cums so much that it spurts out past your pussy lips, all over your soft thighs.

After a while, when he’s done whispering praises into your ears, your gooey brain soaking it all up, he slides out of you, admiring how his cum leaks out of your cunny that had treated him very well tonight. He places a gentle kiss to your temple and lets you doze off for a bit. It takes you a while longer to come to your senses, and when you sit up, you gulp down the glass of cold water that has been placed on the bedside table. You see Max spread out on an armchair across the room, shirtless and in some grey sweats, smirking at something on his phone - but he looks up when he hears you and lets his gaze drift down your marked up body. You flush under his intense ice blue eyes, heart fluttering at finally getting attention from the richest and fastest driver on the grid.

He beckons you over, calling you his pretty schatje, and in your blissed out state you obediently crawl over to him on your hands and knees, settling in between his spread legs and resting your head against his large thigh. And when he tells you that you looked so cute crawling for him, maybe next time he’ll get you a leash and collar with his name on it, hmm? you bite your lip and shyly nod, telling him of course, you’d do whatever daddy wanted.

He grins darkly, pleased with your submissive response, knowing you’re completely his. Forget Toto, forget Lando, the only man you’d ever be loyal to from now on was him. So you eagerly open your juicy lips wide at his command, drooling all over his cock to clean up the sticky mess your pussy walls had left behind. And when he points his phone at you, hitting record, you glassily stare straight at the camera, letting it capture how you hollowed your cheeks and licked up the creamy ring coating the base of Max’s cock. Gonna send this to your father if he keeps lying about how I’ve going to sign a Mercedes contract next year, Max teases meanly. Or to Lando if he tries to overtake me on the track again. You whine at him, brown doe eyes distressed, and start deepthroating him even faster to please him more, hoping if you did he wouldn’t show your daddy or ex fuckbuddy how much of a slut you were for the champion driver.

Being on your knees and obediently blowing Maxie was a position you became very familiar with. Because like he had wanted, every race weekend you would break your FIA contract clause of remaining unbiased and be dressed in a skimpy little outfit in Redbull colours, your lush tits pushed against Max’s thick biceps as you clung onto him through his paddock walk. Max couldn’t resist smirking at the Mercedes garage where Toto would glare, arms crossed, at the sight of his well accomplished daughter following the reckless Redbull champion around like a lost bunny. Placing a possessive large palm across your ass as he guided you into his private jet, giving it a good squeeze, Max made sure the paparazzi caught a good pic of that, too, for your father to see later when he opened Twitter.

And Lando, who knew how much Max despised sharing his toys, skulked from his seat when he saw you entering Max’s plane for the ride back to Monaco. He’d make sure to never make the mistake of flying in the Verstappen jet again, he thought as he moodily shoved his headphones over his ears to drown out the filthy sounds and desperate moans you let out as Max fucked you raw on the other side of the cabin divider. You’d never let Lando fuck you in such a public place or so often, no matter how often he’d begged you.

Fuck it, might as well make the most of it, the Brit thought once he stopped moping and realised his music wasn’t going to block out the obscene squelches as his rival continued to greedily bounce your creamy pussy on his thick cock. Shoving his hand down his pants, Lando slowly started jerking himself off, smirking when he sees one of Max’s air hostesses blush and bite her lip when he catches her looking. Apparently he hadn’t learnt his lesson of keeping his hands off what belonged to the Dutchman after all, because soon he’s thrusting into the hostess’s willing mouth with the same rapid pace that Max is fucking you with.

Your father had always said birds of a feather flocked together, after all.

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A/N: POST FIC CLARITY HIT HARD IN THIS ONE AHHHHHH 😳😳 hope this satisfies the dark max hoes (yall are so real for that)😼😼 as usual let me know what you think and send in more requests!

[submattsmxmmy]

🥀🕊 dead dove: don't eat (this fic contains dark material - read at your own risk)

hiiii, it's @ariestrxsh (this is my backup account, and here is my contribution to kinktober 🖤 no taglist included on this account bc it would be really complicated)

🥀🕊 content warning: smut, prey/predator dynamic, primal kink, establishment of safeword, knifeplay, rough sex, degradation, daddy kink, roughdom!chris

🥀🕊 author's note: if the idea of being chased around in the forest at night and then being brutally fucked by chris sturniolo doesn't sound fun to you, don't read this!!! i don't ever want my writing to trigger, offend, or upset anyone, so please just skip this one if the material sounds unpleasant to you. this is just for those of us who have this little dark fantasy. 🖤

🥀🕊 summary: while housesitting for your boss, an unsuspecting visitor drops by, and the night takes a twist.

a forest

"I'll give you a two-minute headstart," he rasped into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You took off, sprinting into the vast forest that was lit up by the full moon. Your sneakers crushed twigs and dead leaves as you wandered deeper into the woods.

You stopped for a moment to take in the sound of your surroundings, but the silence was eerie and unnerving. So quiet you could hear your heart about to pound out of your chest, along with the sound of adrenaline pumping your blood through your veins.

The thick, grey clouds in the sky slowly moved into the way of the moon, obstructing the light it emmited momentarily. You were excited to be chased, but something about this situation still triggered a primal fear in you. You started to run again, trying not to lose your sense of direction along with all the other sensory deprivation you were experiencing.

Suddenly, your shoelace snagged on a branch that had fallen, launching you forward into the forest floor beneath you.

*flashback to several hours earlier*

Your car made its way down the winding dirt road as you navigated directions to your boss' house, the branches above creating a dense canopy above you while you meandered through the tunnel of trees.

She was a sweet lady who owned the dog grooming business you worked at, and she was offering you some extra money to house sit for her, feed her cats, and water her plants while she was away on vacation.

It was a nice way to make some extra cash, and a nice way for you to get away from your roommates for a little while and enjoy some peace and quiet in the little woodsy area she lived in. An even bigger plus, she told you to help yourself to any of the food in her fridge and pantry, so it wouldn't spoil or go stale in the time that she was gone.

You slammed on your brakes, nearly losing traction and kicking up dirt as a fawn leaped out of nowhere and into the path of your car and stopped a few feet in front of your headlights. Your heart raced, but you immediately let out a sigh of relief as it got away safely and trotted off in another direction.

You'd never been to your boss' place before, but it wasn't hard to find, considering it was the only house around, and the nearest neighbors were at least a couple of miles away. You located your destination, and as you slowly ascended the driveway and admired the wooden structure, the full clouds above you started to release a light drizzle of rain.

It was a big, gorgeous, and charming home. You could tell a lot of work and money had gone into it, and you were even more excited to see the inside. You slung your bag over your shoulder, stepped out into the rain, and found the creepy owl statue, which the house key was hidden under. You put the key in the lock, turned it until you heard the click, and let yourself in.

It had a very rustic vibe, which really fit your boss, and you were so lost in the decor and the architecture that you were startled when a sweet, long-haired, black cat appeared at your feet and started rubbing up against your bare leg. She placed her two front paws on your black Converse shoe and peered up at you. "Hi, sweetie," you whispered, squatting down to let her smell you.

After she sniffed you for a few seconds, she drove her sweet face into your hand, and you scratched her under the chin. She started walking off in the other direction, looking back at you as if she wanted you to follow her.

You walked through the hall, through the living room, and into the dining room where two empty food bowls sat on the ground next to the fridge. "Awh, are you hungry?" You asked the cat as if she could respond to you, and you emptied a bit of dry food into both of the bowls, and as the sound of kibble ricocheting off the metal containers filled the room, another cat came bounding into view.

He was a short-haired brown tabby with white paws and a bit of white at the tip of his tail, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he got a look at you and ran the other direction to find something to hide under. "Can't win them all over, huh?" You said, peering down at the black cat as she gobbled up her food. She glanced back up at you and let out a soft meow as if she understood and went back to snacking.

You slowly walked through the rest of the house, acquainting yourself with the layout. You found your way to the guest room, which was right where you were told it was. Two doors down on the left after you walked through the second hallway that connected the kitchen to the bedrooms.

You set your bag down on the bed you'd be sleeping in tonight and backtracked to the kitchen to check out the drink and snack selection. You found a bottle of bourbon stored in the pantry that looked pretty fancy. You were of age, and your boss did say you could have any food or beverages she had, so you poured yourself a glass of bourbon over ice after you'd found her stash of whiskey glasses.

You grabbed some garlic stuffed olives from the fridge along with some aged cheddar and crackers you found, and you made your way to the living room to check out the entertainment. While you were flipping through apps on the television, you noticed some pictures above the fireplace.

Your boss had mentioned she had a son your age, but you'd never seen him until your gaze landed on his senior photo. "Holy shit," you whispered, admiring his beautiful smile and his lovely, blue eyes. Why hadn't your boss told you her son was so hot?

You popped an olive into your mouth and washed it down with a small sip of bourbon as you studied the picture collection she had on the mantel above the fireplace. Your eyes were immediately drawn to all the pictures of her son, and you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander while you looked at his photos. You'd never seen a man so attractive before.

You picked up a photograph of him in which he was shirtless and carried it back over to the couch with you. After looking at his picture a bit longer and taking a few more sips of your alcoholic drink, you turned your attention back to the television.

The sun had set by now, and you'd settled on watching Jennifer's Body. You'd seen it a dozen times before, but it was the only movie that sparked your interest after looking through several films on several different streaming services. Plus, you thought the movie was fitting, given it was October.

You were drinking your second glass of bourbon while you snacked on cheese and crackers when the scene came on where Jennifer and Needy make out. You were so lost in the steamy kiss that you had no idea anyone was in the room with you.

"Whatcha watching?" A voice came out of nowhere. You snapped your neck around, nearly dropping your drink, paused the movie, and asked, "Who the fuck are you?" before you could take in any of the boy's features. "I'm Chris. Who the fuck are you?" He returned the question, snorting at you.

"Sorry, you must be my boss' son," you quickly apologized, realizing he was the same man in the pictures. He was even more attractive in person. You stood up, wiping your crumby hands off on your striped shirt and your cut-off jean shorts.

You introduced yourself and extended your hand to shake his, but his gorgeous blue eyes flicked to the photo you had of him on the coffee table in front of you. "Like that picture of me?" He flashed you his million-dollar smile.

You ignored his question that felt like more of an accusation. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be here. I was told I'd be staying here all alone," you responded, still caught off guard by his presence. "Well, I didn't know anyone would be here either. My mom told me someone was watching the cats, but I didn't know that meant you'd be here full time," Chris said, still caught off guard by your presence.

"Well, your mom told me I could sleep here and eat what you guys had in the fridge. I'm not doing anything weird," you replied. "Sure, you're not," Chris smirked, his gaze flicking back up at the frozen frame on the television of the girl-on-girl kiss scene you were watching. "It's not weird at all to watch porn on your boss' couch while you have a picture of her son next to you."

"Oh, my god, I'm not watching porn. This is just some horror movie on Hulu," you turned bright red, reaching for the remote and shutting off the film. "Well, either way, I won't tell my mom you're drinking her bourbon and watching softcore lesbian porn in her living room as long as you don't tell my mom I stop by here sometimes when she's out of town. I have a long weekend, and I just wanted to get away from my dormmates and come spend some time alone here," Chris told you.

"It's not porn.. whatever," you shook your head, giving up trying to defend yourself. "Your secret is safe with me," you said, taking in all his aesthetically pleasing features. "You don't mind if I hang out and stay the night here, do you? I just drove like two and a half hours, and I'm pretty tired," he bit his lip at you, and you nearly melted.

"No, I don't mind. After all, it is your house." Chris plopped down on the couch next to you and pulled out some rolling papers and a bag of weed. "You smoke?" He asked, looking up at you. "Yeah," you responded, sitting back down on the couch beside him.

"Smoke this joint with me on the deck?" He offered, while he packed the paper full of ground weed. "Sure," you accepted. He looked into your eyes while he licked and sealed the joint. "Follow me," he muttered as he stood up and started to make his way to the back door that led out to the wooden deck that wrapped around the back-half of the house.

The rain had let up by now, but the scent still lingered in the air. The two of your found yourselves leaning over the railing, staring up at the full moon and the few stars that were visible between the clouds while you passed the lit joint back and forth.

"Guess I should have asked this before I invited you to smoke with me, but how old are you?" He wondered. "Twenty-one. How about you?" You asked, giving him the joint back after blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "Same. You like working for my mom?" He wondered, glancing over at you.

"Yeah, actually. You know, everyone really respects her because she's a little bit of a hard ass, but she's really understanding. She doesn't treat us like cogs in her machine like some of my former employers. She treats us like we're actually human," you shrugged. "That's been my experience with her, too. She's a no-bullshit type of woman. Kind of hard on you when you need it. But a really caring and genuine person," Chris told you, taking another hit.

"What are you studying in school?" You asked him. "I've changed my major like a dozen times because I can't focus on any one thing, but right now, I'm leaning towards something in finance," he replied.

"I like the taste of these rolling papers," you told him. "Yeah? They're vanilla," he responded. "That's the best flavor. Except when it comes to sex," you mumbled under your breath and giggled. "Oh, yeah?" Chris raised his eyebrows and glanced at you, smiling and shocked to hear you say such a thing. "How freaky are you?" He asked, taking another puff off the joint.

"Well, freaky is subjective," you started off. "And that's how I know you're a freak," Chris glared in your direction, still smiling. "If you'd given me a definitive no, when then, that answers that question. If you'd given me a definitive yes, that could have meant that your definition of freaky is like getting your hair pulled while you're in doggy or something," he replied, passing you back the doobie. "Well, I do like that," you chuckled. "Yeah, but what other freaky shit are you into?" Chris' curiosity had been sparked.

"I'm not telling you. I just met you," You widened your eyes at Chris and shot him an embarrassed smile. "You're the one that brought it up. I'll tell you what I'm into if you tell me what you're into," Chris promised, dying to hear you confess all your naughty fantasies to him. You rolled your eyes at him while you heavily blushed.

"Okay, fine. I really like being tied up, spit on, choked, slapped around, having my hair pulled.." You started to say, but your voice trailed off. "What else, pretty girl? I can tell you're holding back with me," Chris lowered his gaze to your lips. "Well, you might judge me," you said, taking a puff of the joint and returning it to Chris. "I don't kink-shame," Chris chuckled in a low voice.

"Okay, well I like being degraded, humiliated, talked down to, that kind of thing," you responded, nibbling on your lip and looking for Chris' reaction. "Keep going," he encouraged you, intrigued to hear what else you were going to say. "I kind of get turned on by things that would scare the average person. Like knives, blood, and like being chased. Stuff like that," you admitted, gazing down at the ground, afraid of what he'd think of you.

"Such a little whore," he said in a seductive tone. Your heart raced, and you peered up at him. "What a coincidence, because I like degrading and humiliating girls like you, and I love to hunt my prey before I fuck it," Chris curled his lips into a menacing smile while his dark eyes piercing through you. He put out the joint and clenched his jaw at you waiting for you to say something, but the words were caught in your throat.

"I mean, I'm making assumptions here, but I think you're into me, and I think you want me to chase you," Chris sneered at you, tilting your chin up at him. You hesitantly nodded your head. "You can be my little fawn, and I'll be the hungry coyote," Chris cooed, running his thumb along your bottom lip that was pink with arousal. You nodded again. He took a few steps closer to you until you could feel the warmth coming off his body.

"Just remember. I know this forest better than you do, princess," his words triggered the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. "In honor of Halloween, your safeword is Beetlejuice."

You weren't sure how long you'd been running for. It could have been forty-five seconds, or it could have been ten minutes. You felt disoriented, your perception seemingly disconnected from reality as time seemed to fold in on itself. The smell of wet dirt filled your senses as you got a face full of it. You placed both of your hands on the soil and grass beneath you to prop yourself back up onto your feet, but your shoelace was still stuck.

Instead, you scooted yourself down towards your feet, frantically reaching around for the branch you were caught on. After fiddling around with it for a few seconds, you whispered to yourself, "Shit." You ultimately decided to pull your shoelace untied, and tried to knot it back up quickly before getting to your feet and bounding further into the woods.

You weren't sure if you were even running the right way or if you were tracing your footsteps back from where you just came. That's when you heard his footsteps, dead autumn leaves crushing under his weight, and you whipped around in the direction you heard the crunch.

You hoped it was the attractive boy you just met, stealthily setting his sights on you through the trees where he could see you but you couldn't see him, rather than an actual coyote, but you expected him to chase you and tackle you right away. Instead, he was behaving like a four-legged wild animal - stalking you. Hunting you.

You heard a few more brittle leaves and twigs crack as he slowly stepped closer to you. You took off, sprinting as fast as you could, still a bit unsure about what was chasing you. He was hot on your heels, and you made it only a few more feet before he lunged forward, grappling you to the forest floor.

You fell on your stomach, and the pressure knocked the air out of you. You were almost relieved when you felt human hands tearing at your clothes, and you heard Chris whisper, rasping in your ear from behind you, "Gotcha!" He ripped your shirt off of your torso in a swift motion, and you gasped as you tried to get away from him, but his hands were strong, and he had all his body weight on you, his erection stabbing you in the backside as you squirmed, digging your nails into the soil beneath you.

You grew increasingly wet as you heard him fiddle with his belt buckle and his zipper. Then he tugged your shorts down and took them off you. He didn't waste his time, pulling your panties to the side and lining his length up with your entrance.

He roughly pushed into you, causing you to sharply inhale and whimper as he started moving his hips back and forth, stretching you out. You'd been caught and defeated, but you loved every second of the way Chris took you. You began arching your back and leaning back into the boy while he fucked you senseless.

You could hear his deep, animalistic grunts in your ear and you could feel his hot, shallow breath on the back of your neck. You couldn't conceal how much you loved it. You threw your head back and let out a few loud, satisfied sounds.

Your hands and your knees dug into the soft ground beneath you while you graciously took Chris' rod. He pounded into you, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass echoed throughout the forest and reverberated through your body. Chris placed his hand on the back of your head and pressed the side of your face into the dirt while he began to fuck you harder.

"You fucking love it, don't you? Such a worthless little cunt," Chris grunted breathlessly. You responded by rolling your eyes back into your head and moaning at his words. "I'm gonna flip you around, slut, and if you try to run away from me, it's not gonna go well for you," he whispered in a raspy voice.

As soon as he pulled himself out of you and went to grab you and turn you onto your back, you jumped up and took off running in nothing but your thong and your sneakers. You couldn't wait to see what he had in mind.

"Bitch!" Chris growled as he pulled up his pants and started chasing after you again. You didn't get far before he tackled you to the ground again and flipped you onto your back. "What did I fucking tell you? Defiant little brat. You're gonna be sorry you ran from me," Chris chuckled under his breath as he nudged your legs open and pinned both your wrists above your head with one of his strong, veiny hands.

You watched Chris pull something out of his pocket, and you noticed the way the moonlight bounced off of it and made it glimmer. It was something long and metal. As well as sharp, you noted as Chris started teasing you with it. He took the blade and started running it along the center of your rib cage.

He brought the knife up to your chest and started grazing the curve of your breasts. Your breath quickened. You shuddered at the feeling of the cool metal as he subtly grazed your nipples with it. He did this over and over until adrenaline was flowing through you. You were both worried and excited that he may actually draw blood.

He dragged the cold, sharp edge down your stomach and replaced the tantalizing feeling of the blade against the sensitive buds on your chest with his soft, pouty lips. He engulfed each nipple, swirling his tongue around and eliciting sweet whines from you while the knife grazed the insides of your thighs. You felt it rest up against your vulva through your panties, and suddenly, Chris took the switchblade, hooked it into the strap of your underwear, and sliced them off of you.

You gasped and squirmed beneath him, fear and excitement flooding your system. The forest was so eerily quiet besides the sounds of your desperate mewls that Chris could hear your heartbeat. "Do you trust me?" Chris whispered in a creepy voice as he took the switchblade and held it up to your neck, nestling his cock back into your sweet, wet pussy.

You barely knew him, but you had to trust him. After all, he was weilding a weapon and holding it about an inch away from your carotid artery and one subtle move, purposeful or accidental, could end your life or at the very least, put you in critical condition. "Yes," you managed to choke out.

"Your pussy is all mine. You're nothing more than my little cock sleeve. Isn't that right?" Chris degraded you while he thrusted into you, still holding your wrists down overhead. It turned you on even more that you were letting a stranger fuck you, and not just any stranger - your boss' son.

"Fuck, you take daddy's cock so well," he chuckled, causing you to smile and letting your eyes roll back into your head once more. You hadn't even told Chris about your daddy kink, but it's like he could smell it on you. "Yes, daddy," you whined as he pounded deep into you, hitting the spot with every stroke. He knew just what to say and do and how to fuck you just right.

Chris loved the way your cunt swallowed his length perfectly and how warm and wet you were as he did what he pleased. He loved the way you were getting off on your own fear and adrenaline. He could feel you losing control, your body convulsing beneath him and your tight hole rhythmically clenching around him. Waves of euphoria traveled through your veins, filling every one of your senses with pleasure.

"You're so pathetic and needy to cum, aren't you?" Chris cooed in a condescending tone. "Yes, daddy," you whimpered. "I don't know if you deserve to. You've been such a naughty girl," he shot back. "Please, daddy," you whined, squirming around. He relished in the way you begged over and over, flirting with the idea of letting you cum with every desperate plea that escaped your lips.

"Beg harder for it, slut," Chris replied in a deep voice. "Daddy, please, I need it," you cried out. He delivered a few more hard thrusts before he gave in to your whining. "Okay, fine. Cum on my daddy's cock, slut," Chris huffed, pressing the knife to your neck with just a bit more pressure.

All you needed were those magic words, and you reached the point of no return. Your orgasm swept you under like a strong current you couldn't stop, carrying you in its flow, and you surrendered to the feeling. It ripped through you mercilessly, leaving you in a pool of your own drool and cum. You spasmed around Chris' cock while you finished onto him.

The way your body reacted tipped Chris over the edge as well, sending him through the same euphoric sensations. He loudly moaned, slammed his eyes shut, and slacked his jaw before he pulled out and finished all over your stomach. He admired the way the moonlight caught his load and made it glitter against your flesh. "Fuck, I needed that," Chris breathlessly mumbled, squeezing out every last drop.

He switched the blade shut, put it back into his pocket, and pulled up his pants while the two of you caught your breath. Your legs were numb, and you couldn't think straight, recovering from the thrilling experience. You laid still for a few moments, your gaze fixed on the stars that were scattered overheard and barely visible through the storm clouds.

Chris grabbed you, slung your naked and mud-covered body over his shoulder, and then climbed to his feet to carry you back to the house. "Don't worry. I know exactly where we are. I'm gonna get you back safe."

[elmushterri]

2K followers on tumblr and 30K subscribers on YouTube! In celebration, here’s my story. Not a rewrite. This is all a work in progress and subject to change.

Being a HEMA fencer, I’ve wanted a story semi-based on actual swordsmanship and actual fencing techniques.. but fantasy.

It’s a story like… Spiderverse meets Steven Universe meets Owl House meets She-Ra.

It’s called

The Knight’s Handbook

——————

It’s modern Earth but there are supernatural people who protect it like guardian angels called Knights: Humans who’ve died via sacrificing themselves for someone else, and have been revived (not by choice). They protect humans from things as small as tripping over to protecting them from demons, dragons and other dangerous entities.

A Knight can pull their weapon from a magical, glowing scar called their Mortal Wound, the injury they acquired and a sign of the end of their mortality, like how SU Gems can pull their weapons from their gems. A Knight’s weapon can be anything including guns and crossbows, but these shoot magic/energy bullets or arrows.

Knights have their own realm to go to just for each other, (Gallantia) but can live on Earth hiding as normal humans if they wish (so long as they hide the magic scar!)

They function a bit like bees in that there is a Queen, chosen instantly when someone dies by sacrifice according to ‘qualifications of their soul’ (So not completely random like other Knights). Of course, this only happens when the former Queen is killed. Never have there been two Queen Knights at once, so written history goes. Like bees, that would create a huge issue!

Here is the main character and the main antagonist. For the first time apparently ever, there are Two Queen Knights. A mistake of nature, perhaps?

Sidra Saiffudeen

Our main enby is Sidra, she/they. A normal teen turned Queen Knight chosen right after her death, impaled through the chest (where you can see her Mortal Wound symbol) by saving her father. Her design is based on a bee! Not all Knights’ designs are, but I thought I’d lean into Queen Bee stuff.

She’s the ‘Acknowledged’ Queen. Most Knights, ones in support of the past Queen who just died (it’s a mournful period), back Sidra, but think she’s a bit immature. Sidra adores her new people though and vows to be a good Queen. Knight Queens don’t just sit back like Earth Royalty, they’re the most powerful and therefore in battle a lot. The past Queens tended to be adults (The Captain of the Royal Guard was in love with the past Queen (sapphics >:) ) and so having Sidra around is painful but they do their best to teach her.

Then there’s Juliana Fontana, always called Jules. She… is also a Queen Knight. You can tell this because a Queen’s mortal wound symbol is always the same as the Knight Symbol, a sword. Some Knights went traitor to back Jules rather than Sidra. Jules is a very very tired and sneaky girl, but more academically intelligent than Sidra. She’d be a very different Queen, and that’s why the Knights that took her side did so! She hasn’t figured out how to access her weapon or knight form.

The twist? They haven’t seen each other for a long long time… but Sidra and Jules know each other.

Info on Weapons, Mortal Wounds and Knight Forms.

Lastly, The Title’s “The Knight’s Handbook”… what are Knight Handbooks?

Well, for Knights, along with a weapon you can pull from your Mortal Wound, you also have your Handbook! Every Knight has a Handbook with their symbol on it. Like I said, Queen Knights don’t get their own unique personalised symbol, rather they get the default symbol representing all Knights as a species (unfortunate!).

Every Handbook is personalised except for the first couple pages and chapters. The first few pages *always* contain The Rules of Knighthood. One of which is that there Cannot Be Two Queens. But… have these Handbooks with their strict rules on who your friends and enemies are and what you can or cannot do always been a part of the Knights? Or did someone *write* these books for their own purposes? Control?

Handbooks also contain info on how to fight/fence, how to defeat certain entities, anatomy, etc (I’ll figure out more). But, Handbooks also serve as phones! You write something in your handbook for someone else and your writings will appear in *their* handbook! Not sure, but I imagine handbooks can also be used as little sketch hologram projectors (you sketch a map for example or a plan and project it into the air using your book.)

Sidra and Jules may have this giant plot going on around them because they happen to be Queens, but that doesn’t mean they’re not teenagers who want to have fun. A lot of Knights are kids and teenagers and still have their senses of fun, much to the dismay of the serious adult Knights. But they’re all immortal so they’ve got plenty of time to grow up before they hit an age to stop. Being a Knight is tough and scary cause you *could* die at any time in a fight, so adult Knights tend to protect the teens from going out before they’ve trained properly. Queens are not afforded such a luxury and besides, a lot of teen Knights are totally reckless regardless of what the adults say!

So yeah!

That’s an intro to The Knight’s Handbook. I’d love for people to join in like they did with GunnTech and make their own Knights for this, if you feel inspired. It’s kinda like a DTIYS but instead of Draw This In Your Style, it’s… Draw Your Sona for this concept? Working title… /j If you wanna do something, I suppose tag it with “The Knight’s Handbook” with the apostrophe and whatnot, but I do not expect anything, you guys already do so so much 🧡.

Any art or ocs of The Knight’s Handbook will definitely be featured on my next YT vid and I’ll be reblogging (Plus I would love to draw you guys’ ocs, and basically consider them canon since there’s an infinite number of Knights in TKH!)

Thank you for all your support, guys!

[kookiewithluv]

❥✿ ASHES OF A PROMISE ❥✿

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

•WORD COUNT: 4.2k

• GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, werewolf au, Royal au

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains mention of abuse, with themes of intense physical desire, possessive (dom-sub) dynamics, and primal, instinct-driven encounters. It also explores deep emotional conflict, grief, loss, and difficult decisions surrounding love and sacrifice. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

• SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover he’s no ordinary wolf — he’s the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isn’t an option he’ll allow.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

MASTERLIST 01

PROLOGUE: bound by fate forsaken by love

"Careful," Alpha Sebastian growled, his fingers clamping down around your arm like a vice. His nostrils flared, the sound of his shallow breaths prickling your skin as he yanked you upright. You winced, pain flaring in your arm, but he didn’t let go, his grip ironclad. "I didn't bring you here to humiliate me."

Your pulse raced, eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion, but you nodded quickly. His gaze burned into you, his jaw clenched, as if daring you to do anything out of line. His fingers tightened, and for a moment, you thought your bones might snap under the pressure.

Abruptly, he shoved you back. “Behave.” The force sent you stumbling, your feet struggling to find balance. You caught yourself just before falling, your hand instinctively reaching up to cradle your arm, your fingers brushing over the dark bruises already forming in the shape of his fingers.

He turned, striding forward as if nothing had happened, but you stayed a step behind, the sight of the looming Lycan Palace making your stomach twist. The Lycan King, Jeon Jungkook, ruled from there. The heir to the Moon Goddess herself. But even his power felt distant and untouchable compared to the suffocating presence of Alpha Sebastian beside you.

Each step you took felt heavier, dragging you closer to something you didn’t want to face. You’d dreaded this moment—being forced to make a public appearance with Sebastian, to let the world assume you were his. People would talk. They would say you'd given yourself to your Alpha, that you were bound to him. But you weren't. Not yet. You were still waiting for your mate. But how long could you hold on when Sebastian hovered over you like a predator, desperate to make you his?

"Look," he spat, spinning around so suddenly that you collided with his chest. The bitter stench of sweat and something rotten made you flinch, and you recoiled instinctively, your nose wrinkling in disgust. His lip curled as he grabbed your shoulders roughly, his fingers digging in. "You stupid woman. I should never have brought you here."

You trembled, your breath hitching as his hand shot up. You flinched hard, instinctively bracing for a blow. But it didn’t come. He sneered at your reaction, his eyes darting around, scanning for witnesses. "Don’t you dare make a scene. Do you hear me?" His voice dropped to a low hiss, filled with threat. "If you embarrass me, you'll pay for it later."

You swallowed hard, your eyes fixed on the ground, trying to steady your shaking hands. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Call me Seb, my love.” His voice softened mockingly as his rough fingers trailed along your arm, leaving a sickening trail of goosebumps. "We'll be mated soon." His laugh was low and smug, and you fought the urge to shudder as he brushed his lips against your ear.

His hand closed around yours without warning, pulling you roughly beside him. As you crossed through the grand golden gates, your breath caught. The palace was magnificent, towering and glittering in the golden light, its beauty almost blinding. It was like stepping into a dream, something so beautiful, so overwhelming, it felt unreal. But all you could feel was the suffocating grip of Sebastian’s hand, his presence a chain, dragging you deeper into a world you wanted no part of.

But the moment you crossed the threshold, something else took hold of you—a scent, one you couldn’t place but that sank into your senses like fire and silk. It was sweet, yet left a trace of salt on your tongue, like a tease of something forbidden. Your wolf stirred violently, clawing at you, demanding you follow it, to find the source. Instinctively, your feet moved in the same direction the scent was coming from, pulling you toward it, but then, Sebastian’s grip tightened.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, cold. He yanked you back, his eyes locking on yours, hard and blazing with fury. You whimpered, trying to suppress the surge of your wolf's presence, but it clawed beneath your skin, making you tremble.

You weren’t scared. Not of him. But the loss of that intoxicating scent stung like a fresh wound, an aching emptiness you couldn't explain. You glanced down, guilt swirling in your chest, and muttered an apology, though you weren’t sure why.

Alpha Sebastian’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as he glared at you. His nostrils flared as if he was holding himself back. You knew he wanted to lash out, to punish you for daring to act on impulse, but here, at Lycan palace, surrounded by other powerful alphas, his hands were tied. He couldn't do anything here. Not openly, at least. He was smart enough to understand the consequences of disrupting the highly anticipated celebration of the Lycan king.

His grip was bruising as he yanked you close again, his fingers digging into your skin, and without another word, he dragged you forward, his movements sharp and impatient. You stumbled, trying to keep up, your chest tight, the air thick with the scent you couldn't chase. Every step away from it felt like losing a piece of yourself.

The grand hall you were pulled into was nothing short of magnificent—gleaming chandeliers hung like jewels from the high ceilings, casting a golden light across the polished marble floors. The walls were draped in rich, dark silks, with delicate gold accents that made the entire space feel otherworldly. Tables were laid out with decadent feasts, plates filled with dishes you couldn’t name, though their smells mingled together in an overwhelming haze of spices and sweetness.

Wolves of every rank were scattered around the room, their conversations buzzing in the air, their clothes elegant and fashionable. Alphas stood tall, their chests puffed out as if to assert their dominance even here. Lunas, the mates of the alphas, swirled in flowing gowns, their laughter light but their eyes sharp. You could see them dancing together—pairs spinning in perfect harmony, their movements fluid and powerful, exuding grace and strength. For a moment, you let yourself imagine being in that position. How it would feel to be in your mate's arms, not dragged around like a possession, but held close, cherished.

Your heart ached at the sight. You wanted that too—a mate, someone who would look at you the way these alphas gazed at their lunas, with love and pride. The longing inside you twisted, pulling at the raw edges of your soul. The scent that had driven you mad earlier lingered in the back of your mind, making it impossible to forget. It was as if your wolf was howling inside you, desperate for something you couldn’t reach.

As you and Alpha Sebastian made your way deeper into the hall, Royal Beta Kane approached, his posture stiff but polite. His eyes flicked to you, then quickly back to Sebastian. "Alpha Sebastian," he greeted with a slight nod, his voice steady though his expression barely hid the distaste he had for the man beside you. Kane was well respected, a figure of calm authority, but here, in front of Sebastian, there was something uneasy about the way his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Alpha Sebastian barely acknowledged him, his fingers still digging into your arm. “Bee, this man has some serious issues,” your wolf whispered in your head, and you couldn’t help but agree. Alpha Sebastian was undeniably disrespectful. Beta Kane could easily take him down, but you trusted that he wouldn’t; he was strong yet kind. Kane's gaze slid to you again, softer this time, but still cautious. "Welcome," he added, though it was clear the welcome was more for you than the alpha at your side. There was something in his tone that hinted at a shared understanding, like he knew more than he was letting on. "The night’s just begun."

Before you could respond, a woman appeared at Kane’s side, her posture relaxed but her smile sharp. Beta female Shina, Kane’s mate. She greeted you with warmth that almost made you drop your guard, her hand gently touching your arm. "You look stunning tonight," she said kindly, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes. Curiosity, maybe even suspicion. Her words seemed genuine, yet you could feel the weight behind them, like she was searching for something in you.

“Thank you!” you replied, a subtle smile touching your lips. “You look lovely as well.”

Shina’s gaze lingered a little too long before she asked, almost too casually, "Have you found your mate yet?" The question came like a dagger wrapped in silk. Her tone was light, but you could feel the intensity of her interest, the way her eyes seemed to pierce through you, trying to extract some hidden truth.

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it again.

You hesitated, but before you could say anything, Sebastian’s grip tightened, pulling you closer to him. "That’s not a concern right now," he interjected smoothly, his voice cold but controlled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He didn’t even look at Shina, his eyes staring straight ahead, but his tone was enough to shut the conversation down. "We’re here for the gathering, not to entertain idle gossip."

Shina’s smile didn’t falter, but you could see the flicker of disapproval in her eyes, though she quickly masked it. Kane, on the other hand, openly glared at Alpha Sebastian for a split second before offering a strained smile. "Of course, Alpha." His voice was clipped, and you could sense how much he loathed the man dragging you around like a trophy.

As you continued through the hall, your eyes wandered again. The space was filled with grandeur, but it all felt suffocating, like you were on display for everyone to judge. The music, the laughter, the mingling wolves—it all felt distant, like you were watching from behind a glass, detached from the joy around you. Your focus kept drifting back to that scent, tugging at your mind like a beacon, and every step Sebastian pulled you further from it, the more hollow you felt.

Then, as you glanced back at the couples dancing together, something inside you snapped. Your wolf stirred, restless, a growl rumbling in the back of your throat as you watched their perfect harmony. You wanted that too, but not with Alpha Sebastian. Never with him. The frustration, the longing, everything was becoming unbearable. You could feel your wolf pushing at the edges of your control, wanting to break free, to find the source of that scent that had consumed you.

Alpha Sebastian suddenly pulled you closer, his face hard as he whispered into your ear, his breath hot and cruel. "Keep your eyes forward," he growled. "You’re making a spectacle of yourself." His grip on you tightened again, and this time, you felt your resolve harden.

The night was only beginning, but you were already suffocating.

The night stretched on painfully. Eyes followed you everywhere, and not just because you stood beside an alpha. You could feel the weight of their scrutiny—the whispers, the stares from the other wolves, especially the women. The kind of attention that crawled under your skin, making your body tense and your heart race. But you knew why they looked at you like that.

Alpha Sebastian had lost his mate. Your luna, beautiful, kind, beloved by the pack, was gone. And yet here he was, parading you around like a replacement. It didn’t sit right with the other alphas. Their glances spoke volumes—curiosity, disdain, disbelief. Even the lunas looked at you like you had somehow betrayed your mate’s memory, as if you had willingly stepped into this twisted role.

But they didn’t know the truth. None of them did.

You forced yourself to stand tall, even though their whispers buzzed like wasps in your ears, stinging with every word. They thought you wanted this—power, position. They thought you were trying to become the next luna. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Power meant nothing to you. All you wanted was freedom. To be loved, to be safe, to find your mate and escape this nightmare.

Alpha Sebastian’s hand was still a vise around your arm, his anger barely contained. You could feel it radiating off him in waves, his frustration at being unable to act, his fury at the alphas who dared question him. His eyes burned with it every time someone looked at you for too long, his grip tightening as if to remind them that you were his.

But suddenly, it hit you again—the scent. That same intoxicating smell that had nearly pulled you under earlier. Sweet, but with that strange, salty edge. Your wolf surged to life inside you, snarling, pushing, desperate to follow it, to find its source. You tensed, fighting the urge to tear away from Sebastian’s hold, to run toward it. Your breath quickened, heart pounding as the scent grew stronger, pulling at you like an invisible thread.

Your wolf howled in your chest, clawing to get free. You couldn’t stop it this time. Your body trembled, muscles twitching with the need to move, to find the one who carried that scent.

Alpha Sebastian must have felt the shift in you because he suddenly jerked you closer, his face twisted in rage as he leaned down, hissing in your ear. “Don’t even think about it.”

But, it was too late. The worst was already done. You were the one who had done it.

Your hands were trembling, outstretched before you, eyes glazed over with a wild yellow glow as your wolf surged to the surface. You didn’t even realize what you’d done until you saw him—Sebastian—your alpha, sprawled on the floor. His face twisted in shock, a groan escaping his lips, the pain evident in his expression. But it wasn’t the pain that held his features for long. It was humiliation. His eyes, wide with disbelief, met yours, and then that disbelief turned into something worse.

Rage.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as his eyes burned into you, glowing with that fierce, golden fury only an alpha possessed. You knew you had crossed a line. A line no one crossed and lived to tell about. Panic bloomed in your chest, a voice screaming inside your head, This is it. You’re going to die. Today’s your last day on this earth.

"Really, Bee? You're telling yourself that crap? He won’t kill you." Your wolf's voice broke through, but her words didn’t settle the fear. Not when you saw Alpha Sebastian’s jaw clench, the muscles ticking as his eyes flared even brighter.

He stood, his movements quick and deadly, not even brushing off the dirt on his clothes as he advanced. In a heartbeat, his hand was on you again, tighter than before, pulling you forward with a bruising grip. You stumbled, your feet barely keeping up as he dragged you through a maze of dark hallways. The walls seemed to close in, the darkness swallowing you both, but none of it mattered. The scent—the one that had your wolf clawing to the surface—grew stronger, pulling you closer to it with each step.

But then, he stopped.

Before you could even catch your breath, Alpha Sebastian slammed you against the cold stone wall, his hand wrapping around your throat, cutting off your air. Your back hit the wall hard, knocking the wind out of you, and you gasped, clawing at his hand. His grip only tightened. You could feel your wolf shrinking, her presence slipping away, retreating like a coward.

“How dare you,” he snarled, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and bitter on your skin. His eyes blazed with raw fury, and you could almost feel the heat of it searing into you. “You fucking slut!” The words were venom, dripping with hate as his grip tightened even more. The edges of your vision blurred, your chest heaving as you tried to suck in what little air you could.

"Yuck," your wolf muttered from the far corners of your mind, disgusted. But you couldn’t respond to her, not with the way his hand was crushing your windpipe.

“You dare embarrass me? In front of them? In front of the all? All those people?” His voice was low, dangerous, his wolf rising to the surface as well. The deep growl that followed shook through your chest, sending tremors of fear straight to your core. You had never seen him this enraged before. His wolf was there, just beneath the surface, and you knew the consequences would be dire.

Your hands reached up, weakly clawing at his arm, but his strength was overwhelming. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up, and your mind was screaming at your wolf to help, to do something, but she stayed hidden, her tail tucked, too afraid to face what she had started.

Coward, you thought bitterly, your vision growing darker as Alpha Sebastian’s grip tightened. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on.

Your vision began to blur, the edges darkening as you felt consciousness slip through your grasp like water. The pressure on your throat was suffocating, your body giving in, but just before the darkness could pull you under, a thunderous growl reverberated through the palace walls. It was so powerful that even Alpha Sebastian stumbled back, his grip releasing you as he collapsed to the ground.

Gasping for breath, your body slumped against the wall. You barely had a moment to recover when you heard it: "Your Majesty." The words, though whispered by Sebastian, echoed with fear. His head was bowed, his voice faltering despite the forced firmness.

The moment the air returned to your lungs, that scent hit you again, this time sharper, intoxicating, and overpowering. Your gaze, still weak from the lack of oxygen, followed the scent until your eyes locked on him—the Lycan King, Jeon Jungkook. The air thickened around you, and before you could stop it, your wolf stirred, her presence undeniable as she howled the word: Mate.

You had dreamed of meeting your mate countless times, picturing it so vividly that it felt real in those sleepless nights. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, your mind running wild with every possible scenario—bumping into him unexpectedly, his eyes locking with yours, an instant connection that would spark something deep inside you. You imagined feeling safe, cherished, like every piece of you had finally fallen into place. Each night, the thought of him made you smile, and you held on to the hope that your meeting would be nothing short of perfect.

But nothing had prepared you for the way it actually happened. It was nothing like the gentle, romantic moments you had envisioned. Instead, it was raw, overwhelming, and filled with tension you didn’t know how to handle. The reality of your mate was so much more intense, almost frightening, and certainly not what you had expected. There was no softness, no easy smiles or warm embraces. There was only the power of his presence, the way his gaze pierced through you, the storm that surrounded both of you from the moment your eyes met.

And yet, despite the fear and confusion, despite how things had unraveled in the most unexpected way, a strange sense of satisfaction settled in your chest. There was something about him, something undeniable, that made all of it—every sharp moment, every overwhelming second—feel right. You couldn’t explain it, but even after all that had happened, you were glad you were here, glad you had come.

And a broken sob tore from your throat, your body shaking as you instinctively reached out toward him, the one you were bound to. Jungkook stood at the entrance, his broad frame tense, caught between shock and a deep, simmering rage. Despite the anger rolling off him in waves, his presence brought you an unexpected sense of calm. You inhaled shakily, your gaze clinging to him, your wolf desperate to reach her mate.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked over your figure, pausing as he swallowed hard, but when they fell on the bruises circling your neck, his expression hardened once more. His entire posture shifted, muscles coiled tight with barely restrained fury. Just as you tried to crawl toward him, Alpha Sebastian’s rough hands grabbed you, yanking you back toward him.

Jungkook's eyes darkened further, his gaze a cold, lethal blaze. The air around him seemed to still, thick with the weight of his fury. His lips curled back, baring teeth in a vicious snarl as he took another step forward. The ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet, and even Sebastian flinched under the intensity of his presence.

"Take your filthy hands off her." His voice was low, commanding, vibrating with power. There was no question in his tone, only an undeniable force. His eyes never left Alpha Sebastian’s, burning with a warning that promised destruction. "Now."

Alpha Sebastian, frozen by the sheer weight of Jungkook's command, released you instantly. His trembling hand dropped to his side as he took a half-step back, but it wasn’t enough.

"I'm afraid I'm unable to understand you, your majesty. She is my mate—" Alpha Sebastian's voice trembled with urgency, his brow furrowed and eyes wide, fists clenched at his sides. He felt the heat of the moment, the tension wrapping around them like a coiled snake, ready to strike.

Before he could finish, a low growl rumbled through the air, echoing off the stone walls like thunder. Alpha Sebastian flinched, his muscles tensing instinctively as he met the piercing gaze of the Lycan king. The alpha’s chest heaved with a mixture of anger and desperation, a primal instinct fighting against the authority before him.

Jungkook's hand gripped your waist, yanking you upright with a sudden, rough motion that left you gasping. His touch wasn’t gentle—it was possessive, and in that moment, you felt like nothing could tear you from him. His body pressed against yours, a solid wall of fury, his scent engulfing you, filling every part of your senses. His eyes, wild and unrelenting, flicked back to Sebastian, voice low, deadly.

"You think she’s yours?" He laughed, a dark, humorless sound, his lip curling in disgust. "I should rip you apart just for daring to speak those words." His grip on your waist tightened as his gaze bore into Alpha Sebastian, his voice dropping to a growl that was pure dominance. "She is mine. Her soul, her body, her very breath belongs to me." His eyes gleamed with a deadly promise. "Touch her again, and I’ll show you what happens to those who cross me."

Alpha Sebastian took another step back, fear flickering across his face. But Jungkook wasn’t done. His smile stretched wider, more menacing, as he tilted his head, eyes narrowing into slits. "You don’t get it, do you?" he spat. "She was never yours. Not for a second. She is mine—my mate, my queen, and you will never touch her again, not in this life or any other."

You felt your heart race at the possessive words, but the weight of them brought you comfort, a promise of safety in the chaos. Jungkook’s hold on you tightened just slightly, and you leaned into him, the warmth of his body pushing away the cold fear that had taken hold of you moments before.

Before Alpha Sebastian could respond, Jungkook scooped you up effortlessly and turned away, walking swiftly to somewhere unfamiliar. But you didn’t care where he was taking you. You exhaled loudly, resting your head on his shoulder. His body, already tense, grew even more rigid under your touch. His eyes darted to you, wide and hesitant—almost scared. Scared?

"Why does he look like he’s seen a ghost? I told you to wear that red dress bee. You do look like a ghost in white." your wolf’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp with irritation. "I’m already furious that Alpha is still breathing, but this? This isn’t something I expected from a king. Not nearly possessive enough."

Her words shocked you, but you had to admit, she had always been bold, unapologetic in her opinions. You didn’t have time to respond, though, as you realized Jungkook had carried you into a room. It was dark and dusty, the air stale, as if no one had used it for months. Gently, he laid you down on the bed, his touch surprisingly careful. You were hurt, but your wolf had healed most of the injuries, leaving you with barely a bruise. Still, you couldn’t help but savor the attention, his attention, as fleeting as it was.

He stepped back, hesitating. You could feel the tension thick in the air, the way his gaze lingered on you, searching, maybe even conflicted. He wanted to say something—you could tell by the tightness of his jaw, the way his fists clenched at his sides—but silence stretched between you, suffocating. You finally broke it.

"So, is this your room?" You said shyly, but he only stared at you. His eyes glazed with half longing and half disdain. "It’s not bad, just… not clean." You explained further.

"It’s a guestroom," he replied curtly, his voice hollow, leaving you confused. Before you could press further, he turned, his broad shoulders tense as he faced the door. "I’ll send someone to tend to you."

"Why?" you blurted out, panic rising in your chest. Why is he leaving? Male wolves were notorious for not leaving their mates' side after meeting, sometimes staying close until the bond was fully cemented. He was the Lycan King—shouldn’t his need to be near you be even stronger? Why was he abandoning you here?

His back still to you, his voice came out low, almost growling, "I’m no saint, and this isn’t some fantasy. Being bonded to me isn’t a blessing—it’s a curse. The Moon Goddess punished you, and I’m here to make sure you live through it."

With that, he walked out, leaving the room before you could say another word.

You stood there, stunned, the weight of his words sinking deep into your bones. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the bed, mind reeling. Punishment? What had just happened? He had claimed you, pulled you from Alpha Sebastian, protected you—only to throw you away like this?

You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, trying to make sense of it all, but the pain was sharper than any of your injuries. What did this mean? What had you done to deserve this?

Taglist: @jksusawife @nnnnmmmuuiu @jiminismine4ever @freyaniobe @piercidh34rts @furioustrashlover @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo @teeheewhy13

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! What's your favorite part of this chapter? I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just holler. Also, character asks and drabble requests are open, so hit me up with your wildest ideas.

[falmerbrook]

Ear Headcanons

So this was meant to be just my headcanon for the differences between the different mer races' ears (size, shape, if they can move on their own, etc.), but there's a tinge of just general visual differences between them in there too (because this ended up being really good face practice for me). I'll mostly talk about ears though. Obviously this is more meant to be general trends than hard and fast rules.

I'll start with the playable races.

Altmer

Tall and skinny ears that can move out and back a bit (moderate range of motion). They mostly are close to the head but can also stick out a bit.

Dunmer

They have a wide variety of how their ears can be shaped; small, tall, wide, big, straight up, curvy, etc. The typically stick out more than Altmer's and have a larger range of motion.

Bosmer

The largest variety of any of the races. Their ears can look like just about anything any other race has (except maybe Maormer) from any mer ears, to more human ears, to more animal-like ones. They have a large range of motion regardless of how they look.

Orsimer

Small, almost human-sized ears, but they stick out more from the head than humans and can be wider. The pointed end tends to stick out. They can rarely move.

Breton

Breton basically just have human ears with a little point at the top. I thought it would be fun to draw a sort of comparison to your average Nede and average Breton to highlight the subtle more merish look that I think Bretons should have too.

Ok now for non-playable races

Snow elves/Falmer

Ok so I have terminal Falmer brainrot so I have a lot of completely made up headcanons for these guys sorry lol.

Snow elves have the least variety. They are usually shorter and closer to the head than the other mer races (which evolved as an adaptation to counter frostbite in my headcanon) and can't move. Conversely, I like to headcanon that falmer are on their way to evolving rudimentary echolocation, and therefore have huge ears that stick out far from their head, and are very mobile (this is also why their faces are covered in wrinkles). They can look more traditionally merish, or some of them have real funky shapes.

Chimer

Basically a mix between how the Altmer/Aldmer and current Dunmer look (both in their general appearance and ears). Think of it like the transition between the Aldmer look and Dunmer.

Dwemer

Dwemer have relatively short ears (compared to other mer) and don't stick out much, but they can be wide along the side of the head. Their shape is usually pretty angular and have limited mobility.

Aldmer

Your standard pointy fantasy elf ears. So I technically headcanon the Aldmer as many different (although similar) groups that are referred to as one group due to the nature of retelling history and some propaganda sprinkled in there, but in general, since the other mer of Tamriel descended from them, I see them as sort of generic. Nothing particularly notable in their ears. Minimal to moderate ability to move them.

Ayleid

Curvy. They have Aldmer sized ears with twisting and curving in different directions. Limited movement, and not too much range in size (just shape). I have 0 reasons for thinking this, I just thought it would be fun and unique and maybe fit their aesthetics.

Maormer

I like that canon Maormer ears look fin-like but I want to turn it up to 11. Large variety of shape and size, but usually large and fin-shaped as a general trend. Huge range of movement.

Ohmes/Ohmes-raht

They aren't elves, but they are described as human/mer-like, so I figured I'd include the Ohmes. They usually have pointy, mer-esque ears, but less distinct than most mer. Despite being relatively small, they have a wide range of movement for their size (and move in similar ways to the way cats ears move for the rest of the Khajiit). They can be extra fuzzy or have little tufts at the end for Ohmes-raht.

[onlycosmere]

The Kickstarter goes live tomorrow!

When Brandon Sanderson began working with Brotherwise Games on the first adventure for The Stormlight Roleplaying Game, he considered how it could help him fix holes in the narrative of his bestselling fantasy series. He settled on a mystery from the first Stormlight Archive book, The Way of Kings, that will have big implications for the fifth book in the series, Wind and Truth, which will be released in December.

The Stormlight Archive is set on the planet Roshar, where 10 heroes known as Heralds spent millenia protecting humanity with the help of highly magical swords dubbed Honorblades. All of them abandoned their duties except Taln, the Herald of the Common Man. Despite Taln’s best efforts, the forces of the vengeful god Odium have returned. Taln was left maddened by his ordeal and soon after he first appears in the books, his Honorblade goes missing. Its whereabouts remain unknown.

“The adventure is answering that question,” Sanderson told Polygon. “What happened? Where did it go? What’s going on? And you get to be part of the story. We were looking for an adventure you could do that would intersect with the canon of the books in an interesting way, and allow you to fill in a hole yourself.”

The Kickstarter for the d20-based game goes live on Aug. 6 along with a beta preview of the rules and a first level adventure meant to walk players and game masters through the setting and core mechanics. The hardcover Stonewalkers Adventure, where players encounter Taln and learn what happened to his honorblade, will be released in 2025 along with the Stormlight Roleplaying Game Handbook and World Guide.

...

Players will hunt for Taln’s honorblade across Roshar, from the Shattered Plains where much of The Way of Kings is set, to the magical forest of the goddess Cultivation, where bold souls can receive both a boon and a curse. There are a mix of dungeon crawls, puzzles, chase scenes and prison breaks. As they choose how to approach the problems they face, player characters will be able to attract the attention of spren, spirit-like beings who can bond with like-minded people to bestow them with incredible abilities. Completing the mission can allow them to join the newly re-founded ancient order known as the Knights Radiant.

...

The PCs can meet major antagonists from the books, including the twisted Herald of Justice Nale and the traitorous General Meridas Amaram, and learn how the talking sword Nightblood first featured in Sanderson’s 2009 book Warbreaker wound up on Roshar. As they move through key moments from the series, like the emergence of a raging storm that brings Odium’s most powerful lieutenants back to the world, Sanderson welcomes players to reshape his narrative.

...

“There’s a lot of cultural details being filled in, but at the same time, we dig a little bit further into what each order of Radiants’ oaths, spren, and motivations are,” Sanderson said. “There’s some new stuff there that I think fans will really enjoy.”

[hitomisuzuya]

i keep having this fantasy over and over of scara pinning me down and taking lewd photos for himself of /everything/ dhsfjkdshf u////////u tysm if you do this one aaaa

Scaramouche x fem!reader. I consider this as smut. Scara taking lewd pictures.

I hope this turned out okay. I tagged this as Scummy Scara because this is seems like the kind of thing he would do. This fantasy would make anyone act up, myself included, obviously 😳

Scaramouche straddled you, his knees resting on top of your hands, pining them to your sides. He would need both hands to take the kind of pictures that he wanted.

"Let me see those pretty tits," Scaramouche said, his eyes drinking in the sight of your bare breasts before angling the camera on his phone, capturing pictures of how his fingers looked pinching your nipples. He twisted and pulled them, rolling them between his fingers.

He wanted to command you to hold your breasts around his cock so he take pictures of it while he pumped it between them.

But Scaramouche had a better idea in mind.

Taking his knees off your hands, he moved down your body and spread your legs. "Hold these open for me," He instructed, his voice husky with lust.

When you spread your folds for him, he got down on his knees at the foot of the bed, rubbing your clit a few times being pushing his fingers up inside of you.

He took a series of pictures of his fingers pumping in and out of you, the pace of his fingers increasing, wanting to see you squirt on his fingers. His fingers hovered over the button, ready to take the picture once you did.

Scaramouche even made sure to take pictures of your fucked out expression after you came, wanting to capture the image of having pleased his perfect darling so well.

"Stand up," He commanded, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Keep this pretty eyes focused on me while I take some pictures of my cock in your mouth."

You didn't need to be told twice, sinking to your knees whenever he pushed you down by shoulders in front of him. Feeling his cock push against your lips, you eagerly open your mouth for him.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

how about that uhhhhh Fantasy Julie. she gets her sword <3 no one can take it from her <3

rambles:

SIKE you get an extra, lower quality doodle

SIKE AGAIN here's the rambles

yeah... i caved and gave her a tail... I'm Not Sorry! it's cute! i wanted to stick with her sorta flower motif - it's stronger in her princess look, since I imagine that when she was part of the royals she was very blatantly flower power based. it was her Thing!

but a Julie free of her noble shackles... she deserves her big sword. like yeah, she has flower magic, but who needs it when she has a Giant Blade??? on the royalty vein, and if we're classifying "rainbow monster" as a species, i feel like horn size/curve would be a status symbol of some kind. maybe Julie would have kept her horns filed short. but if she ran away from that life... longer horns! i like to imagine that they'll keep growing until she has a pair of Extra Weapons attached to her head! curved forward like mammoth tusks maybe!

i imagine that like Frank, she goes with minimal armor - range of movement over protection, yk? some scale mail over her front, a thick leather flower over her chest w/ scalloped leather pauldrons, wrist armor and metal knuckles! i'd think that the faux-suspenders include a back sheath for her sword... i wish i'd thought of that Before i finished the little ref! i don't feel like going back and editing!

i imagine that she was forced to cut her hair when it got caught in something (a gelatinous cube, mayhaps). it didn't look good! don't let anime and Mulan fool you! cutting your own hair with a blade will not look nice! but someone - Eddie, probably, he's good with scissors i'd assume - cleaned it up for her. and hey, it didn't look bad! plus, Julie probably liked being able to just tuck up her long strands into her hat when she's feeling a bit more like a Julius than a Julie!

it's been a fun challenge transforming their canon outfits into a similar variation with fantasy flavoring and twists! i want them to suit the setting but still maintain Themselves! Julie's was tough i gotta admit. i was messing around with the princess look and the fighter look side-by-side. it worked better when i sat back and thought "fighter Julie is Julie unrestrained. that version would be more aligned with her canon look"

i wanted her princess form to look Restrained! she has to be a ~delicate flower~, a noble woman, pristine and poised and very much a princess. soft colors, poofy clothing, bright white gloves that are not to be sullied. carefully bundled up hair! jewelry! that dress must be Heavy and hard to move in! her tail must be so cramped under there!

but Julie Unleashed? violent pinks! rose gold accents! short skirt so that she can sprint and Kick! fun boots that she can be active in and delight in watching them get dirty! her hair is free to whip in the wind and get caught in things! fun straps and Deadly Accessories! a sword that she stole from the royal armory on her way out the window! she has forearm wraps both to match Frank and to support her wrists!

[tossawary]

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."

[skywalkr-nberrie]

Fake Anidala fans saying that Padmé needed Anakin’s “whiny ass” as way to undermine her character and sort of bash her for loving and needing Anakin will never be true Padmé understanders. Padmé needing Anakin ≠ her needing a man and isn’t independent. Padmé literally never liked or wanted anyone before Anakin. She didn’t NEED a man to complete her. She was her one person and IS her own person even with Anakin. She crafted a successful career for herself at a very young age, became queen and led a whole planet at age 14. Then become a well known public figure of justice, and served as one of the most high ranking Republic senators in the galaxy. Padmé falling in love doesn’t take away from any of her individuality and independence. There’s also absolutely nothing wrong with her needing Anakin. It’s because she loves him so much. They both needed each other like that equally. Yet it’s only ever talked about as if it was “one-sided” and Padmé is some helpless lovesick damsel in distress who needed a man to fulfil her, while her hero didn’t give two craps about her. NO! That’s NOT their story. 

Padmé loved Anakin so much, and needed him just as much as he needed and loved her (I mean, take a look at where he ended up just because he thought she’d die.) people would call this “co-dependency” in reality, but I’m going to get a little controversial here and say that’s the point of their love story and even be the first to say that it’s not framed as a bad thing either. Because under the lens of fantasy and not reality, this narrative is acceptable. Anakin and Padmé are based off classical love tragedies, and essentially their so called “co-dependency” as people say (not me) isn’t supposed to be viewed as “unhealthy.” It’s supposed to be viewed as a testament to how much they love and need each other. It’s part of the “Star Crossed Lovers” narrative, in literally every single piece of media that includes this trope. What they have wouldn’t even be considered “co-dependency” either within the context of their story, it’s just naturally how they love one another. However, I’m only using the word because that’s what people have referred to them as.

While we’re on the topic of “unhealthy and toxicity.” That’s another misconception of Anidala’s relationship I’ve seen the shippers themselves say against their relationship. First off, Anidala isn’t abusive, and it’s getting tiring to keep hearing that. “Yeah but he choked her.” Yes. Because that’s what happens when you fall to the darkside. You get twisted and corrupted. All your good traits fall away and it strips you from your true self. It makes you behave in a way that’s completely unlike you. Compare the affect of the darkside to a the addiction of a drug. This is how the darkside works canonically. Anakin was never awful nor abusive towards Padmé before this point of no return. They were madly in love. That’s why his actions are considered (in universe) to be so unlike himself because Anakin would NEVER hurt Padmé. Everyone can connect Vader’s redemption to Luke, and say he’s the person who always believed in his father, but Padmé was the one who started that. Padmé was the first to have unwavering faith in Anakin, even after what happened. Because that’s how strong their love was. Anidala was always meant to be seen as “true love” that it transcended and reached their son.

It’s okay if they make you uncomfortable and their kind of love isn’t your cup of tea, but don’t paint them under a narrative that has never existed.

[rainylana]

“I’ll think about it.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: your sexual desires finally come to light.

warnings: very dark fic with very dark topics. topics include; rape, rape fantasies, fantasies of being beaten and abused, unhealed trauma, language, breakdowns and some smut. please do not read if you are triggered by these topics. this speaks heavily to me and i poured my heart into it. please let me know what you think>3

There’s a way he makes you feel like no other man has before. It’s a new level of trust, loyalty and desire. There’s a way he makes your body ache for things that you’ve never dreamt of before. This new love with him, though you would not trade it for anything ihn the world, makes you sick with your own guilt. These scenarios your brain puts him in with you, these desires you have. It eats you up, because how can you ask your partner, who you love and respect, to do such horrible things to you. You don’t know. Maybe you’re sick. Well, you have to be.

It started a few months after you started having sex. That was nearly a year ago. You came so close to asking him what you wanted from him, but you were petrified. It wasn’t that you weren’t satisfied in your sex life, it wasn’t that you couldn’t get off with him, but there were many times after he fell asleep you would sneak off and cry.

Eddie knew of your assault back during your childhood. You’d told him about it early on and he had listened. He did what everyone else did, apologized and offered his ear if you were to ever need it. You would like to think you recovered well from it, but if you had, would you be thinking this way?

This had to be the way to heal you, just one night of what you wanted and all of it would go away. You needed it. It consumed you. It was all you thought about, what you dreamed of and desired most. You wouldn’t ever admit it to yourself, but because you loved Eddie so much, because you trusted him, you wanted it to be with someone you felt safe with. You wanted to take it back. You wanted to be raped by your own rules.

There were many of times the single thought made you throw up and want to slit your wrists. You could never ask it of Eddie, but small steps. Yes, you could definitely start small.

“Y/n?”

His voice startled you, snapping you out of a daze at the dinner table.

“You alright?” He chuckled. “Seem a little out of it there.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Fine. Just daydreaming, is all. Is the spaghetti good?”

“Oh, yeah, babe,” He said, scooping up another bite. “Always is. You’re the best at cooking. I don’t know how you do it! I thought Wayne was a master chef till I met you.” He laughed.

“Don’t diss Wayne.” You defended the man with a smile. “He can somehow manage to make a frozen pizza better than anyone.”

“That’s true.” He agreed, your eyes locked in a shared moment of bliss. You liked these moments, moments when you could forget your own mind.

“So tell me how your day was?”

You both talked about your days, what you had for lunch, what your coworkers were up to. You talked and talked, but your mind would not stop twisting and pulling at the curtains of what you kept back and away from your mouth.

Your stomach was hot, the space between your legs throbbing and ready to be played with. You were ready all the time, always sexually driven and ready for Eddie to touch you. At work, during sleep. You needed these things and you weren’t getting them.

An hour later you and Eddie were on the couch, cuddled up and watching the game show channel. You were kissing softly, passionately, little nips here and there that made you stifle a moan. Eddie’s hand moved to run up your thigh and down to your ankle, caressing your leg.

Your hair was let loose from your pony tail, tossed to the floor and forgotten. Your shoes kicked off along with them. Eddie kissed your neck, biting at it, switching up the tempo.

He pulled you atop of his lap, pants off and panties discarded. He sunk into you, and you both sang out in a satisfied moan of relief. You rocked back and forth slowly, then faster. Eddie sucked at your chest, moaning out joyfully as you road him.

“Ah,” He pushed out between his pink, plump lips.

You were screaming vulgar things inside yourself, the horrible things you wanted him to do to you. You focused on the pleasure building inside your stomach, the idea of his hands slapping you, holding you down. It brought you so close to the edge.

“Y/n? Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie stopped his thrusts, concern etching his voice.

You opened your confused eyes. “What? Why’d did you stop?”

“You’re crying.” He said, sitting up, his cock still buried inside of you. “Am I- did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m-” You brought up a hand to your face to prove that you were doing just that. “Oh.”

“Are you alright?” He was slightly panting, tilting his head. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, not knowing why you were crying. Well, you did. You wanted him to take you in the cruelest way possible. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I ruined the moment.”

It was clear you were not fine. Your voice broke. Eddie looked at you oddly. “Honey,” He gently lifted you off of him. “What’s goin’ on, huh?”

“I’m alright.” You smiled through your tears, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

He stared at you like you were crazy before he eventually nodded. “Okay.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “We won’t do anything tonight, alright, honey?”

“No, no,” You rushed. “I want to! Please, let’s keep going.”

“But your crying.” He said dumbfounded. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’m fine, Eddie!” You stressed, throwing your hands up in the air. “I just want to fuck, okay?”

You were going crazy, that’s what he assumed, but he wasn’t going to turn down sex. He fought the urge to roll his eyes and scoff, nodded and reached up to kiss you. You moaned loudly into his mouth, trying to prove to him that you were okay.

He brought you back down on his cock, hard and frustrated. You could feel it. It filled you with adrenaline. It became messy, the thrusts, the kisses and noises. “Spank me.” You begged.

He did as you asked and smacked your ass, but not hard enough for what you wanted. He never did. Eddie sure did think he was heavy into the bdsm, but to you, he wasn’t.

“Stop.” Eddie again, quickly pulled you off of him, lifting you with both hands to sit you down beside him. “Y/n, what’s the matter with you?”

You were sobbing, naked and embarrassed of your behavior. You couldn’t possibly tell him. He’d never understand. You’d scare him. You’d only been dating for a year. Was this something your relationship could handle so early on? You weren’t sure.

He wanted to shake you. He was scared and worried he’d been hurting you. “Sweetheart,” Eddie cooed, grabbing your shoulders. “Look at me. Take a deep breath and look at me.”

You did as he asked and looked at him through tears and snot, taking a deep breath.

“Angel, you’re scaring me.” He laughed without humor. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

You shook your head, pulled away and buried your face in your hands. “I can’t.” You blubbered. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” He tried to be gentle with you. You had breakdowns like this before. He knew you were sensitive to things, and one of those things was sex, that’s why he tried to be gentle with you. He hadn’t realized that was the problem. “You tell me everything. What’s changed? Is it me?”

“No.” You whimpered, not looking at him. You didn’t realize you were wearing a blanket over your shoulders now. “It’s me. I’m fucked up.”

He didn’t know what to do. You’d be ready to talk to him if he gave you time. He scooted closer to you and wrapped and arm around your back, pulling you to his chest and leaning back into the couch. You cried like a baby. He knew there was something wrong. You hadn’t gotten this upset in quite some time.

“I don’t want to scare you.” You sniffled. “I’m afraid…of what you’ll think of me.”

He pulled away to grab your face. “Listen to me, baby. We’ve been through hell. Apart and together. Nothing is going to change the way I feel for you, understand? Nothing. That’s crazy talk. Now you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong if you really don’t want to, but you can okay? I’m here and I want to be.”

God he was perfect. When he talked like this, it made you feel as though you were the only girl in the world. You could trust him.

You stared at him before nodding slowly. “Okay.”

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek and your hand. “I love you, sweetheart. I wish you knew how much.”

You nodded. “I do. I wish you knew how much I love you.”

He smiled. “I do.”

You hugged him, arms folding around his back, perfectly fit. You both held each other for many minutes. He was giving you time and you knew he was.

“Please, don’t be scared of me, Eddie.” You begged. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I want you to— I want…I-no, no, I can’t do this!” You panicked, quickly darting up and running across the room to gather your clothes.

“Y/n!” He pounced up with you. “Calm down-”

“No!” You quickly pulled up your shorts and threw on your shirt. “Forget everything I said! Just forget it! I’m sorry!”

“Baby,” Eddie pulled on his boxers, keeping eye contact with you. “You need to calm down and just tell me what’s bothering you so bad, okay? Please? You’re scaring the hell out of me? Did someone hurt you?”

“No!” You practically screamed. “No one hurt me! You didn’t hurt me! That’s the problem! I need you to hurt me!”

“What?” He said confused, watching you break down right in front of him. “Y/n, I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t.” You cried. “I don’t either. I’m sick in the head, Eddie. I have these needs that aren’t…they’re just sick! I can’t ask you to do them!”

And maybe that was the case. Maybe you couldn’t ask him to do these things. But you could still talk about them. As upset as you were, you were spilling the load off your chest that you’d been carrying for months.

“Do what?” He took a step toward you. “Just tell me what it is, y/n. Just tell me so we can talk about it. I want to help.” He held out a hand like he was training a wild animal.

He was so sweet and innocent. This would ruin him. You couldn’t ask him of this. You couldn’t.

“I want you to rape me, Eddie!” You sobbed, throwing down your hands to lock eyes with him. “I want you to beat me! I want you cut me and hurt me and make me cry and bleed and-and,” You cried hysterically, hugging your stomach in the middle of the trailer kitchen. If Wayne were to walk in, he’d surely loose his mind.

“I don’t understand why!” You continued through tears. “I guess….maybe it’s because of back then! With…him. I don’t know! I just know I want you to do it! I want to be raped by someone I trust! I trust you and love you, Eddie. I need you to do this for me, please!” You were so loud. You didn’t realize how loud you were being. You couldn’t help.

“God, I’m crazy!” You scoffed through tears, pacing around and completely forgetting your boyfriends existence. “This is insane! I’m insane! I think about it all the time and I can’t stop!”

Eddie felt like he was going into shock. He was watching you, taking it all in. He tried to be calm and collected, trying to be relaxed so he could help the situation, help you, but how could he understand what you were saying? He couldn’t. It didn’t make sense.

“You- want me to,” His voice was eerily quiet, bringing your clouded daze back over to him. “To rape you?” He shook his head. “Y/n, I don’t understand.”

“I know.” You sobbed. “I’m sick.”

“Beat you?” He said aloud, testing the words on his tongue. “Cut- rape you?” He gave you an incredulous look. “No. No, we are not having this conversation.” He went to turn away, but you wouldn’t let him.

“No! No, Eddie, please, don’t leave!” You hyperventilated out your words. You grabbed at his arms, doubled over and fell to your knees. He caught you as you fell, shushing you with a shaky voice. “Y/n, please.” He begged. “Take a breath and calm down. I’m here, okay? I’m not leaving. Just breath for me, alright, sweetheart?”

He held your face and helped you breath.He repeated it over and over. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, or maybe it was yours. Maybe both. You both looks at each other, and right when he thought you’d calmed down, you squeaked out a cry that broke his heart.

“I’m so sorry.” You shook your head in disgust.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He tried to keep you calm. “Just keep breathing, okay?”

“I don’t wanna be like this, I don’t.” You cried in his hands. “I don’t, I don’t.”

“Shh, shh, baby, come here.” He pulled you to his chest, lifting you up to lay in his lap like a baby. It was too much for his heart. Everything was finally catching up to him, and funny enough, it was making sense. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew this was because of your past assault, these….sexual desires you were speaking of.

He knew there were dark corners that were like cobwebs in your mind. They did in everyone’s. Everyone had their skeletons, and who was he to judge. No, Eddie wasn’t judging you. He was afraid for you. He thought you had healed. He had watched you heal with him. It was your first time being in love, having consensual sex. It was your first big, so of course all of these feelings were coming to light. He had to be understanding.

But at the same time, under no circumstances, would he rape you. He would not beat you. Cut you. He couldn’t. He would help you in every way he could, but rape? That wasn’t something he could do. Of course, he knew of rape fantasies, but if it hadn’t meant as much to you as it did, you wouldn’t have been carrying on so.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me?” He said after a few minutes is silence, apart from your hiccups and sniffles.

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.” Your voice was hoarse and dry.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, honey.” He sighed, kissing the top of your head. “I think you’re trying to survive in a world that’s done you wrong. That doesn’t make you crazy, y/n.”

“Can we just forget about it?” You looked up at him. “About everything I said?”

He looked down to you, watching as fat tears fell down your face. “I don’t think we should. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

You looked down to the floor and cried. “I just want to feel normal. I feel like it would help me.”

“I don’t think you realize just what you’re asking me.” He husked, already aching with guilt. “You’re asking me to rape you, y/n, just like that scumbag fuck did to you when you were a kid. I won’t ever do anything like that to you ever.” He could see the disappointment in your eyes, the way they welled up with fresh tears and stared off into the space of nothing. It made him want to vomit.

“Y/n,” He grabbed your face. “We can have rough sex. I can slap you around a little, that’s one thing. There’s nothing regrettable about that. But what you’re asking is a completely different ball park. I’m not going to do it.”

“But,” You sat up. “What if we start small?”

He sighed heavily. He didn’t want to entertain the idea, but he also wanted to help you. You thought this would help you, but there was no way he could—

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” You began. “How about you just hit me more? We can roleplay maybe? You could choke me or spank me? Is that okay?” You sounded so enthusiastic, so happy at the idea.

It wasn’t a terrible idea, going slow, increasing the speed to sexually satisfy you. “We can do that.” He nodded.

“We can go slow. Work up to it. We can-”

“Y/n,” He interrupted you, shaking his head. “Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. I’m not going to do that. I can’t. It’s just not right.”

You were going to crying again, he could see it.

“Please, Eddie.” You begged silently through bright eyes. “Just think about, please? Please?”

He would start slow, baby steps to “help you”, but he worried in his gut that he would be making a terrible mistake. He sighed.

“I’ll think about it.”

[magicalella]

Hi all!! For those of you who don’t know me, My name is Ella Griffin, I’m a 24 year old trans woman based in south florida. For the last four years, I’ve been working on a super special project that I’m beyond thrilled to share with you all: my debut novel, The White Liar. As a big fan of fantasy books, I’ve felt for a long time that there’s a serious lack of authentic trans representation in the genre. For years, I yearned for even just one iconic transfem hero in a high fantasy setting. The White Liar is my attempt to fill that gap in the literary canon.

As a bit of background, I am a massive fan of hard fantasy books with an epic scope and in-depth magic systems; such as Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere books or Ursula Le Guin’s Earthsea series. I’m also a big fan of gothic literature and character-driven classics like Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables and Anna Karenina, all of which have played an influence on this book. The White Liar’s setting is heavily inspired by celtic folklore, mythology and history with a feminist twist.

It’s a world where fae creatures range from tiny glowing insectoids to massive flying mounts and even humanoid beings. Yet, even the tiniest of these has the potential to unlock unfathomable magical potential through the art of Serimancy! Serimancy, the primary magic system of the book, gives users the ability to transmute or ‘spin’ the silk made by fae creatures into supernatural strength, telekinetic threads, and twelve other distinctive powers. Think Rumplestiltskin spinning straw into gold, but more vaporwave.

Without giving too much away, the book features a diverse cast of characters from all different backgrounds, including transfem, transmasc, nonbinary, aspec and disabled characters, although those aspects don’t always define their motives or character arcs. Mainly, The White Liar is a book about the nature of truth and identity; the ways in which our environment affects how we perceive those things, and the friction that creates with our own perception.

I would also characterize the book as a gaslamp fantasy like the Mistborn series or the video game Lies of P, with a baroque/art nouveau-meets-Bridgerton 19th century aesthetic. I’m a 100% independent author with a summary $0 budget publishing through kindle direct, and flat broke, so I would highly appreciate any and all support with this project, be it word of mouth or otherwise. The cover art is a digital painting created entirely by me and is canon to the book!

Thank you so, so much for giving me your time and attention. This book is my love letter to the queer community and I truly hope someone somewhere finds it hopeful or inspiring like I’ve found with the works that inspire me.

The White Liar is available now on E-book here:

[dailyadventureprompts]

I think this is the most I've ever agreed with Colville on anything, which is saying something because the man is a genius.

TLDR: Running smaller adventures (like, the span of a level or two) is healthier for your games in the long run because it gives players a sense of accomplishment. The endless mega adventures are pushed by publishers because they make more money, but promote bad design/play habits that not only put undue expectations on everyone involved but also rob the story of vital momentum.

What I was struck by in the video was how much the non-d&d media I've grown up with (open world games, streaming series, epic fantasy books) have coloured my expectations for how long the default d&d game SHOULD be. Sure, I can keep a whole campaign's worth of information in my head down to the accents of the shopkeepers in all the settlements we've visited and the machinations of courtly power players we'll never get to meet, but I can do that because I'm a freak with a head for details and my players mostly aren't.

By stretching out my stories too far I was diluting their effectiveness, as vital information and emotional beats were lost over weeks and months. I was inadvertently inflicting marvel-fatigue on my own party, putting too much work into setups that I might never get a chance to land because building up to big shocking twists and AHA red string moments was what I was conditioned to expect.

I know I was doing this because it's the exact same thing that I see happening with a lot of media I've tried to get into in the recent past and ending up bouncing off of. Just like with marvel (especially the later phases) there's a constant feeling of "what you're looking at doesn't really matter, this is just to set up to something that's going to pay off later", which is so pervasive that it prevents me from getting genuinely invested in anything. I hate that shit, and I would definitely hate inflicting it on my players.

I also applaud Matt here for repeatedly bringing up the idea of "the health of the game", as it's an umbrella term that can not only be used to describe a lot of good practices, but a mindset that we should take around our own tables for ensuring everyone (us DMs included) are having a good time now and into the future.

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xxii

⟶ Chapter summary | Anyone would think you daring to gamble with your life, to keep using the magic doors to escape despite your circumstances. But you cannot help to feel restless, unable to stay still when you still have too many questions to answer, nor when fate keeps pointing a new path for you and doors to enter. So when fate once again points you towards a new door, you cannot resist stepping into the next world, to see what kind of surprises that fate has in store for you.

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy!AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 9,500 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include magic terms, classism, brief mention of slavery, black market, usage of drugs mentioned, hypnotism.  ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

⟶ Author's note | Forgive me for the delay, but we finally have a new chapter and we'll continue our little adventures. I know I said that I wasn't going to split this part into separate chapters, but after finishing it, the lengthy word count didn't seem fitting for me to post this one as a full piece. I hope the change won't ruin your reading experience! Enjoy reading and have fun!

chapter xxii. serendipity-2

The silence in the hallways of Stargrave feels peculiar today.

The sun is still up. You can hear the palace maids chatting in their break rooms and service halls when you walk past after you are done with your lessons with Lady Laurel at the library, yet you have yet to see any of them walking down the corridors and halls when you make your way through the castle. 

Once again, your day was filled with long, exhausting hours of tutoring—hours of reading through a variety of tomes on magic and old folktales of Ancients and Kings—and minor royal duties, which ended only once afternoon comes and your tutors retreated to their quarters. With Lord Gordan once again absent for your afternoon lessons, still busy filling in for His Majesty King Aneas and dealing with the royal duties until the King returns, it leaves your afternoon free of any activities.

But your mind is still too lively for you to retreat into your bedchamber and find a moment to rest. The adrenaline that you felt from the previous days still keeping you high-strung to remain still. So you fill your free time strolling down the hallways of Stargrave, finding some entertainment in memorising the long-winding corridors, mapping out the halls and rooms and the indoor atriums that you walk past just to keep your mind busy. 

Normally, you would be spending the time browsing for the magic doors, either finding one that would tempt you into using the magic key to venture through the portal or simply learning more about their characteristics and the secrets behind each door. 

But not this time. 

Not because you are reluctant, or that you are disinterested in having another journey so soon after the last one you had. But it is because of the lack of privacy you are getting after stepping out of the library.  

Aside from your mealtime and the designated time for your daily tutoring sessions, you are rarely escorted by the royal guards. You would usually see them standing in their posts during this time of the day, all staying alert even when there is barely any threat coming to Stargrave. 

But today, you have Sir Stephan following you close, watching your every move and making sure to be there while you are making a stroll from one place to another. 

“Do you have nothing to do with your time, Sir Stephan?” You finally speak to him after walking in silence together for quite some time with him keeping only a few steps distance behind. “Or do you wish to have another sparring today?” 

You hear a soft chuckle from him before he speaks. “Lord Gordan has caught wind of what happened the other day,” Sir Stephan responds with a slight tilt on the corner of his mouth. 

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him. “Did he scold you for indulging me?” 

“No, Your Highness. He didn’t seem pleased, but—” His lips twitch, as if amused to say, “He seemed oddly intrigued by the news when he learned that you have beaten me during our sword fighting.” 

You let out a scoff. “As he should, since he’s been the one training me in place of my father.” Your hand twitches, suddenly aching to have a grip on the hilt of your sword again, to have a grip on something. 

You suddenly feel the desire to have your body moving again with another practice. The golden dagger that you had slipped under the skirt of your day dress this morning feels tight against your upper thigh, reminding you that it exists there, even if hidden from sight, ready for you whenever you find the need to pull it out. 

And you do have enough free time to mess around with it this afternoon. 

Only that your muscles are still aching, caused by the rigorous sparring and the intense fight happening on the same day. The wound from the fight against the guards of Arselon itself has mostly healed—thanks to the medicinal herbs that Gaia pasted on your skin and possibly some kind of remedial spells that she might have slipped in—but the faint scar was still visible when you took off your bandage this morning. 

Instinctively, you move your other hand, reaching up to your forearm and pressing against the scar from over the sleeve of your dress. Choosing a long-sleeved day dress this morning raised some questions from the maid assigned to help you this morning, as the weather is quite warm today and she had expected you to request a thinner and shorter dress instead. But you managed to alleviate her worries simply by telling her that you wanted to have a nice change. 

The healing scar might be hidden now under your sleeve, yet you can still feel the phantom pain pulsing when you move, reminding you that it would be too soon for you to raise your sword again.  

Your arms fall back to your sides as you turn toward a corridor leading to the side courtyard, the sounds of Sir Stephan’s footsteps echoing close as he follows. You take notice of the silence and bring up a different topic to get your mind out of it—of the fight, the scar, and the empty feeling in your hand with nothing to hold. 

“It seems that Lord Gordan has been rather busy.” 

“He is indeed, Your Highness. The royal duties never stop coming for the royal aide.” 

You look over your shoulder, meeting Stephan’s gaze. “And he has since sent you to make sure I’m not causing trouble when he’s not babysitting me? Or is this some sort of a punishment that he has given you for accommodating my actions from yesterday?” 

Again, the guard’s lips twitch to a broken smile. “I won’t dare say that the royal aide sees you as a troublemaker, Your Highness.” 

Holding back a chuckle, you turn away to continue your stroll, your escort quickly following close behind. “Everyone seems to be busy today, more than other days,” you muse, almost to yourself. “Is something happening?” 

“I cannot dare say—”

“Without my guardian’s permission, I take it?” you retort back with another scoff. “Nanny Abigail has been my guardian since I was a wee babe. Well, supposedly older, if I recall correctly. And she has always been open to me about the business with the empire, no matter what it is,” you find yourself sharing a bit of yourself before you can stop it, before glancing back at your guard again. “I assume that Lord Gordan has taken over the duty under the King’s order? Seems like he’s doing things differently when it comes to sharing information about the happenings in the empire.” 

It makes you feel bitter just thinking about it. You have always hated being kept in the dark about certain things. Including all the things that should have mattered to you. And you will surely hate it should you be placed in such position once again. 

Sir Stephan takes a moment to consider his response, which only confirms your suspicion. “It has been officially passed on to the palace staff that you are currently under Lord Gordan’s guardianship, though Lady Abigail still retains her role as your governess,” he carefully explains instead of giving you a direct answer. “If there’s any news that may involve your wellbeing and your duties in the palace, I am sure that either the royal aide or the Governess will inform you themselves.” 

Sighing, you can only nod. You keep your eyes looking towards the courtyard for a moment before smiling at him. “And until then, you’re going to have to remain patient as my babysitter?” 

This time, when you turn to look at your guard again, he makes no effort to hide his amused smile. “I wouldn’t mind it.” 

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head up, relishing the warm late afternoon sunlight falling on your face. 

This is quite a nice change, you wonder with a grateful sigh. 

After your previous trips, where you were taken to sacred places where you were met only with twilight and dim grey of sunlight, having this kind of warmth blanketing your skin and being surrounded by all the radiant colours spreading around you feels like a nice treat to enjoy. 

Having an adrenaline rush flowing through your blood may have alleviated this feeling too. A mixed sense of thrill and relief that you had gotten after fate gave you the chance to slip away from your temporary shadow of a guard. 

Any hope you had for being able to find the time and a chance to escape so you could travel today had started to dwindle, when Sir Stephan continued to follow you, shadowing your movements. Even when it was obvious that you had simply been walking down the long hallways and quiet corridors of Stargrave with no obvious direction, the guard was relentless. 

He only kept quiet, letting you continue exhausting yourself for quite some time. Barring you from entering the hallway where the magic doors were located so you could slip away to a different part of the realm. Until fate intervened. 

Another guard came in just when you were about to give up. Announcing that Lord Gordan had summoned Sir Stephan to come and meet the royal aide in his office. Not expecting the sudden change of duty, Sir Stephan looked hesitant about stepping away, while you couldn’t have been more eager to relieve him from his duty before he could even get a word in. 

“I should at least walk you back towards your bedchamber,” he said before he departed. You may have only known him for a short time, but it was quite obvious that he was displeased to know that he was being let go from his post. 

You held back a smile as you teased him, “To make sure that I won’t escape and cause some trouble?” From the corner of your eyes, you could see the other guard widening his eyes. He seemed baffled as he looked back and forth between you and his fellow knightly guard, amused to see the other guard bantering smoothly with their princess. 

Sir Stephan’s lips quirked to a grin. “Just making sure that you’ll be safe without an escort,” he said, stressing out his words as he regarded you with, “Your Highness.” 

“I’ll be safe between these walls. My bedchamber is merely a hall away,” you answered him by tilting your chin towards the small connecting hall leading you towards the West Tower. “It seems that your business with Lord Gordan is more urgent than sending me off to my afternoon nap.” 

Sir Stephan said nothing to respond, but the way his gaze flickered towards the next hall was sharp and quick, and you could tell that he had to hold back. A lot. Keeping his words to himself, the guard merely nodded and bowed. 

“Then I shall take my leave,” he said. “I shall inform the royal aide that you are on your way to your quarter.”  

You returned his bow with a nod and turned away before he could say anything else. And you kept on walking towards the next corridor, listening closely to the sound of their footsteps as they walked the opposite way. Only once you were sure they were no longer in sight, you quickly turned to a different hall to begin your afternoon exploits. 

You walked through some more corridors and then headed down some stairs, finding yourself in the Apex Hall connecting the center palace and the tower housing the king’s chambers, where lines and lines of doors appeared before your eyes. The hall was devoid of any form of activities, as there were only guest bedrooms and galleries for royal guests available in this part of the castle. But after going through a royal guest room the one time to find your way to Aeris, you were curious to see if you could find any portals hidden among these doors that would be able to lead you to places similar to the mage city.

Places that wouldn’t be as daunting and gloomy as the previous places you’ve recently been to, that aren’t as dilapidated from hardships or haunted by their dark history. 

The ground floor hall was filled with charming things, trinkets and decorations that made the place look even more alive than the other parts of Stargrave; royal portraits of who you assumed to be your ancestors or the previous kings and queens; sculptures and vases filled with fresh flowers; tables similar yet smaller to the ones you saw in guest rooms, all carved similarly to the ornate doors standing all round the atrium.

You walked up some steps and stood by one of those doors which had caught your attention among others. Made of old cherrywood—much like these other doors, only slightly darker—with carvings of tendrils of ivy looping around its frame, the door had a delicate charm which was alluring to look at.

It was the image carved at the center which had mostly drawn you to it; the carving of a chalice and crescent moon, similar to the image painted on the banners you saw at the temple of Arselon. 

The only difference you saw was that the crescent moon wasn’t hovering above the chalice but instead carved within its core, as if it was portraying the moon as being presented like fine and holy wine. 

The grooves around the carvings were filled with threads of silver lining, glinting under the dim light of the afternoon which penetrated through the glass windows under the arch ceiling above your head. Silver dust floated from the keyhole as you pulled out your magic key, beckoning you to reach it. 

The same silver dust seems to have followed you to this place, floating in the air where the streaks of sunlight are falling, floating above the lake filled with crystal-clear waters vastly spreading before you, and between your fingers when you reach out to touch the vibrant petals of the wild roses growing all around you.

There is magic here, pulsing in the same rhythm as your heartbeat as if living and breathing. Strange how it makes you feel like you have become one with the place, and you barely spent more than an hour strolling across the grassy plains. 

A spread of green grass as thick as the rugs you find back at the palace lies beneath your feet. Your low heels sink into the soft grass with each step you take, yet you find no discomfort as you continue to stroll down the small forested hill where you had emerged from. Excitedly, but cautiously at the same time, you cross the meadow with your eyes drawn towards the glittering lake. 

Beautiful, you wonder to yourself. And it feels so peaceful here. 

You look at your surroundings, enjoying the scenery that is presented for you to see. All around you, there are only trees, spreading all around and to the top of the hill. A myriad of colours appear before you as the shades of yellow and beige and brown are mixing into the green as they grow from the trees, a sign that autumn is seeping in. Some leaves have also dropped onto the ground, covering the green grass with yellow dots sprouting here and there among the vibrant roses. The air is fresh, filled with the scent of fresh grass and damp soil. A cool breeze flows all around you, and the warm sun feels comforting against your skin. 

Looking over across the lake, you see no sign of a town or anything that may indicate the presence of humans. But the more you look, the more you are curious, seeing that the trees on the other side of the lake appear to be bigger, stretching up to reach the sky, and thicker. The foliage seems denser, enough to hide something in the shadows. 

Just like the grove back in Arselon which kept the Keep and the shelters where the humans lived in hiding. 

You continue to stroll around the lake, hoping to find a way to get across and see if you can find anything on the other side. Once again, fate seems to be on your side—or perhaps you are just getting lucky today—as you find your wish fulfilled the moment you see the bridge crossing the lake.  

Without any hesitation, you walk up to make it across. From up the bridge, you find the chance to fully marvel at the nature around you as you get a better view of everything. And you cannot help but marvel at the structure stretching over the lake, connecting the two separate plains together. 

The sturdy bridge rises from the lake, standing firm from one end of the woodlands to another and high above the water like a solid gate. The structure is built with weathered stones, the foundation below covered with moss and lichen, adding a touch of green to the grey and brown. Thick ivy weaves its way along the stone bannister, softening the hard edges with its delicate tendrils. Looking down to the body of the bridge below, you see arches formed high enough to allow small boats to come passing through. 

On the top, the bridge’s width is enough for a single horse carriage to travel across, while the passage is covered with natural stones that are smoothed by countless footsteps and slightly etched by marks of wheels from carriages that may have come across from time to time. It’s obvious that this isn’t some simple structure that manifested itself from nature, nor was it built by lesser beings. Although the earthly colours do make it seem like the bridge has blended into the nature it is built on, causing you to nearly miss it the first time you looked. 

Halfway across the bridge, a gentle breeze flows around you, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, and something more succulent and vibrant and fresh, a different vibe from the quiet woodlands you had just stepped away from. Slowly, you come to a halt, taking this moment to take another look at the lake as you get to see it from a different angle. 

From up here, it seems as if the lake is stretched out endlessly, its surface is clear like crystals, with the glimmers coming from the silver specks of dust and the reflection of the warm sunlight glowing all the way up to your skin. Small ripples disturb the mirror-like stillness, appearing in multiple spots where you think you might find fishes swimming beneath the surface or leaves falling from above. 

Smiling, you take a deep breath, taking in the scents before continuing your journey across. At the end of the bridge, a canopy of leaves welcomes you as thick branches appear to be growing and stretching low, covering what is hidden on the other side. You keep your eyes forward as you step off the bridge, and the moment your heel lands on the less solid gravel pathway, the air around you seems to ripple and shift. 

With a gasp, you feel a rush of magic coursing through your body. It doesn’t feel painful, yet strange enough to make your head spin a little before you finally regain your bearings. Only a short moment later do you finally realise that you have just walked across what seems to be a border, where a protective spell has been cast to cover the land before you. With a jolt, you realise that your arrival has somehow disturbed the spell, unlocking the magic to allow you passage to continue your journey.

Still reeling over your sudden encounter with a foreign magic spell, you continue walking down the gravel-covered pathway without a word. The sparks from the magic cling to your skin for a moment longer before it slowly wanes as you walk deeper into the thickets, clearing your senses just as the low branches in front of you begin to sway. 

The movement is quick, as if they are suddenly forced to hold some kind of weight. As the rustling sound of leaves begins to grow violent, its shaking sends drying leaves falling down your path, your steps falter until you completely stop. 

The swaying of branches intensifies, and before you can even reach your dagger to protect yourself, something pops between the leaves. 

“Hello!” 

A small, cheerful voice greets you, coming from a creature that is just as small—tiny face, tiny smile, with a pair of pointy ears that remind you of the elves, yet a version of it which is probably merely a palm-sized big—hanging upside down from the low branch hanging right in front of your face. Only once your shock subsides when you recognise what kind of being is greeting you from behind the leaves. 

A pixie. 

A smile grows on your lips. You have learned about them—the pixies—through one of the books in the library that Lady Laurel made you read. The Magnificent Beings of The Elements. 

In the book, the pixies have drawn your interest more than others. Known as little magical creatures that hide in the woodlands, the pixies were treated almost like dragons—mythical beings that are rare but most sought after. They are known to create the magical element, the pixie dust, which has a myriad of effects which are valuable to many. 

To nature, pixie dust helps cast magic into the land—helping plants to grow more affluent and flowers to bloom more vibrant, for water to be cleansed of any toxin or grime, and for the air to remain fresh even in the bleakest of weather. 

To other beings, pixie dust can be used as a cure for ailments, to heal physical wounds, and to alleviate the ailment of the mind. 

But for most humans, pixie dust can act like a drug, giving them psychedelic sensations and causing them to feel high and happy and filled with joy or to have intense hallucinations. 

For these reasons, the pixies were once hunted down, captured and sold as pets as part of illegal trade, to be made into house slaves, or to be used to create as many pixie dust to be sold illegally in the black markets as drugs that humans can use to get high. That was until the protection law for magical beings changed, forbidding any form of trading involving the pixies and other mythical creatures of the fairy tale land. They have since been declared as one of the most protected creatures, mostly hidden in sanctuaries that were built on higher grounds, up in the mountains, and the deepest woodlands.

“Oh, hello there. I didn’t see you up there,” you greet them back, smiling, and you can see the creature’s smile widening further. 

“Of course, you didn’t. You weren’t supposed to,” the pixie pridefully boasts, before flipping back into the leaves and jumping into another branch, this time sitting down with their legs swaying beneath them. 

“But we’ve seen you,” the tiny thing adds, while you tilt your head, wondering what they meant.  

“Have we met before?” 

The pixie excitedly nods, throwing the short strands of their honey-blond hair up and down their face. “We work with our master, Trish, at the magic shop in Aeris. We helped Master find some spell book for ‘ya.” 

Blinking, you suddenly remember the day you spent in Aeris. And then you remember entering the magic shop—l'Équinoxe—and the female elf who was running it, and your eyes grow wide at the memory of seeing tiny pixies jumping between the racks to fetch orders for their customers. Some with their hair pinned or tied up in ponytails, while others wore floppy hats that clung to their heads even as they moved quickly from one corner of the shop to another. And all of them wore the same bright green top and white pants, exactly what your new little friend is wearing right now. 

“Of course!” you cheerfully say, clapping your hands when you recall seeing a pixie with honey-blond hair perching atop the bannister on the mezzanine floor above the shop, where the shop owner—Trish—disappeared into to fetch your spell book. “So you were the—staff, in the shop?” 

The pixie’s lips curl to a sneaky smile. “We were not taken in to work in the shop as slaves, if that’s what you’re worried about—” the creature says, while you are taken aback and feeling guilty that the pixie can guess what you were thinking, “Trish has helped a lot of us in the sanctuary and when we wanted to do something in return, she gave us the job in her shops. We earn our wages, benefits, and even some vacation time when we need them, just like any other creatures in the mage city.” 

“So you mean”—you look around with a new sense of awe—“this is your sanctuary.” 

“This is home.” The pixie says, sighing with a content smile on their face. And then their eyes flicker with curiosity as they question you, “So what are you up to in this place?” 

The smile that comes to your face is small, but unguarded. It feels refreshing to hear the same question given to you, only without any underlying threat or suspicions this time. For the first time, you aren’t feeling like a criminal for crossing a border to a new land. To be seen as a regular traveller instead of a stranger trespassing into others’ land. 

“I was merely passing through,” you answer with a tilt of your head. “I was running away from home because I was having an odd day.” 

The pixie snorts. “Odd day isn’t good.” A frown forms on their face as if the thought of you having an unpleasant day is making them unhappy too. “It’s weird that you choose to hide here.” 

You shrug. “Why would it be weird?” 

Shrugging—the action coming out as a mirror to yours instead of it being something natural for them to do—the tiny thing nonchalantly answers, “Because only elves and fairies can pass through the gates. That was a part of the condition in the protection spell that was given to the sanctuary to protect us from danger.” 

Your heart skips a beat. A tiny slip that makes your breath catch, while something starts nagging at the back of your mind. Every single peculiar event that you have encountered before comes rushing back to you; from your previous journeys, from the words shared by the people you met, and the things you inadvertently learned from them—

“But you won’t regret it,” the pixie continues, oblivious to your wandering mind. “There are many things to see here.” 

You brush away your thoughts to smile. “Is that so? Then it’s a good thing that I’m here.” 

“Do you need a guide? We can show you around. We know every place to see here and where not to go,” the pixie says, jumping up and down on the branch with excitement, as if guiding you through their land seems like some kind of a fun game for them. 

Seeing this, and noticing the playful gaze in their eyes, remind you of something about them that you’ve learned from your books that cannot resist teasing, “Will it be okay? Are you sure you wouldn’t trick me into anything nefarious?” 

You grin at the pixie while they cock their head to the side, narrowing their eyes at you. Based on the texts you read in the books, their kind is often portrayed to have childlike personalities; mostly friendly and kind-hearted, but other times mischievous and playful, with a bit of naughty nature as they all love to play and have fun. 

There were stories written in those books where pixies, who live mostly in the deepest woodlands and higher plains, would come out at night and use their pixie dust to trick travellers and hunters, manipulating their minds with the potent magic of their dust to leave them astray between the woods. 

But there were also stories of pixies helping little children in distress, saving them from any kind of peril and guiding them home when they were lost in the woods, making them one of the most contradictory beings among any other mythical creatures you’ve learned about. 

The pixie merely rolls their eyes. “We might be naughty bits, but we promised Trish to not cause trouble as long as we live here. We’ve lost our old home a long, long time ago, and we want to keep this one for as long as we’re allowed to.” Their words are filled with grief, yet the way they are talking about it doesn’t show much about their loss, as the tone of their voice remains playful. 

As if their mind is already jumping to the next topic, the pixie leans forward with a grin to ask, “What’s your name?” 

“I’m ________,” you answer with a smile. “What should I call you?” 

“Eydan,” the pixie introduces themselves by standing upright on the branch and bowing down to their waist—like a royal greeting. A wide grin appears on their face when they straighten up again, the strands of their hair flowing with the breeze. “That’s the name. The only pixie here with honey-blond hair”—Eydan flips their hair—”never forget it.” 

Y'ethmelle is the name of this place. 

A town where elves reside, those with a deep connection to the earth and plants and deep respect for nature. Their home becomes the source of their power, their magic, and it breathes and pulses together with the lives within. 

And this place has become the perfect sanctuary for pixies like Eydan, who had once been through the kind of hardship just like what you have read in the books. 

While sharing a bit of their past before entering Y'ethmelle, Eydan guides you through the trees, entering the woodlands until you finally get to see it—a town hidden in the forest, blending in with the trees, the boulders, the hills, before rising up the stone wall where water was cascading from the top to the banks below. There are structures built along the thickest giant trees, forming from the ground and up the thick branches were small houses made of timber and glass that look like crystals. 

The same structures appear on the stone walls; small wooden houses floating on either side of the waterfall; hanging on top of the massive boulders framing the riverbanks; and some sinking into the foot of the cliff wall. Some houses were built extremely low and just enough for the pixies to reside in, as they blend into the small hills or hidden between the roots of the giant old trees that you saw during your stroll through the magic town. 

Eydan points out their home—the one small opening hidden between the roots of a giant elm tree—before pointing to a house built with stone structures at the very end of the tree line. “That’s where Master Trish lives. The pixies that work with her live in small houses like ours, all built close enough to her home, so she can often invite us for dinners and other celebrations when she’s free.”

“Where is your boss now, then?” you ask when you notice that the house is quiet. 

Eydan hops from one branch to another, and that is when you realise that the pixie never truly stops moving. They are constantly jumping, hopping and swinging on the branches, rarely ever stepping foot on the ground unless when they are sitting atop a stone. 

“At the city. Aeris. She mentioned having some business to take care of at the shop. The shop is closed today, that’s why we’re home,” Eydan explains, “But Master Trish is always working. Even when she’s not busy at the shop, she would be away on trips to gather some new things to sell.” 

“Is that why you have enough free time to guide a human across your homeland?” 

Eydan grins. “Yes, but it was also an odd day for us.” 

“How come?” 

Flopping onto a nearby boulder, Eydan stands on one leg, balancing themselves as they answer, “We weren’t supposed to be off work today, but Master Trish suddenly said she had something important to do and people to see, so we were told to stay home. But then we had so much free time that we played all morning, dancing, and jumping around the river, but then we got bored. That’s when you came.” 

The pixie flips to balance themselves on their hand when they continue, “Besides, it’s nearly the full moon. Us pixies always grow restless when it is time to celebrate the memorial of our found freedom.” 

And that is when Eydan sits you down, sharing with you the tale behind the pixies’ freedom and how they all got to this place. 

“Once upon a time, a young pixie managed to escape from their master. Seeking freedom in the woodlands, the pixie hid between the trees, claiming the forest as their new home and shelter and away from dangerous people looking to exploit their magic for nefarious uses. 

One night during their hiding, the pixie sensed a human walking through the trees. While staying in the shadows, the pixie cautiously watched the human, thinking that the human had come to harm them. But upon closer look, the pixie found out that the human was just a little girl. A princess who got lost in the woods and couldn’t find her way back home. So the pixie revealed themselves, offering to use their pixie dust to guide the princess to find her way home. Once she was saved, the princess returned to favour by fighting for the freedom of all pixies.”

You listen to their story with a fond smile. Among every single tale you’ve read about the pixies, you have never seen this part of their story written in the books, nor the old scriptures you found in the library which told about old, forgotten tales of The Land Far Far Away. 

“That was how we finally got our freedom. All because one pixie escaped their master and became friends with a kind-hearted princess one night. The princess was the one who wrote the law to protect us, to free us from anyone who tried to keep us like pets and slaves.” 

Eydan’s eyes glow with pride as they continue with their tale, while your heart feels warm, feeling privileged to be able to hear this story. “Each full moon, pixies gather around the waterfall or any revered places in each of their sanctuary and sing under the moon to pray for the princess. It’s our way to send our gratitude to our saviour.” 

Once your new friend is done with their story, the tour around the sanctuary continues. 

From the homes, the pixie guides you through the small town, passing some more houses that are intricately built to blend in with nature. They greet some of the elves that come peeking out their windows, introducing you as one of their friends, and then do the same with some other pixies that you come across during your mini tour. 

The tour continues until you reach even deeper into the woodlands, past the heart of Y'ethmelle, and past the old structures that look like an old Keep, completed with a tower built in the same weathered stone as the structure of the bridge on the lake. 

“This was where the warriors and guardians of the sanctuary used to live. We still have elves that take the role as guardians, but the elves no longer have warriors to guard the place ever since us pixies started living here,” says Eydan, as they guide you to follow the river, going down the stream until you reach the part where it is quiet and peaceful and safe. 

This place turns out to be the meeting spot where Eydan would hang out with their little friends, where Eydan had been earlier before meeting you by the bridge. 

A few of Eydan’s friends are in the middle of playing down the stream of the river when you arrive. A couple of pixies who look no different than Eydan, hop between boulders and branches while splashing water with their tiny feet, while two others have wings on their back, allowing them to float and soar in the air as they dance between the rosebushes. 

At first, they seem cautious, as they probably didn’t expect to have their wayward friend returning with a random human after missing for hours. But right after Eydan finishes introducing you to the little gang of mischievous pixies, they become more curious about you as they start throwing questions at Eydan while examining you closely. 

“Where did you find her?” 

“You didn’t kidnap her from the human town, did you?” 

Eydan huffs. “Of course, not. She came in by herself. Passed the bridge and the borders after the thing we felt earlier,” they explain with their small hands waving around as if describing what they saw. 

“Oh, the invisible magic ripple that came from the lake?” asks one of the pixies, surprising you once you realise that they are possibly talking about the ripple of magic coming from the portal when you came. 

“You felt a magic ripple?” 

Eydan nods. “Yep. It was rare for us to feel any magic of that kind. That’s why we left the others here and went to the bridge to see what it was, and then we saw you walking across the lake.” 

The chattering and the line of questions continue right before you get the chance to ask them about what they felt. The other pixies who kept their distance at first soon begin to join in, asking you where you came from, how you managed to find this place, and why would a human like you need a spell book from their master. You barely manage to answer each one before they get distracted when a couple of butterflies come fluttering in between the bushes, and they soon lose any interest in your evasive, non-answering responses. 

You join them for a while as they play around the stream. You even take off your heels to splash around in the water, feeling your body cooling down with it. It has been a while since you’ve felt such joy. The pixies are skilled in showing you just how to have fun and enjoy yourself the way they do, helping you forget all of your troubles without them realising it. 

Exhausted, you choose to rest at the edge of the river, soaking your bare feet in the stream as you watch the pixies continue to play around, showing no sign of their energy draining. You enjoy the cool ripples of water pressing against your sore ankles, while the stream also washes away the soil tainting the hem of your dress that you had gotten after the long walk you had through the elven town. 

Your heels, once covered in mud and slightly tainted from the twigs brushing against their sides, are now resting on the ground beside you after it was cleaned and mended using one of the pixies’ magic dust. 

The same pixie is the only one who chooses to stay with you, studying you closely with their curious eyes while ignoring the sound of giggles and cheers from the other pixies playing in the rosebushes. 

“You smell like human,” the pixie says as they flutter around you, sniffing at your hair, your back, and then pinching at the sleeve of your dress before going back to your front with a tilt of their head. 

“You can—identify a person from their scent?” 

Illyn, the pixie with fair skin and long golden hair nods, their delicate wings—which look like firefly wings, with silver dust sparkling from each —flutter behind them as they move around. They have their hair gathered to a braid, long enough to reach their ankles. You wonder if their hair ever gets tangled with the wings, yet the pixie has kept the braid hanging over one shoulder, keeping it away from the fluttering wings.  

“Every living thing has a certain smell in them. For walking beings such as yourself, those scents come from blood, skin, soul, or even magic,” Illyn explains with wide, curious eyes, while your eyes grow wide with intrigue. 

“Can you smell—my magic?” 

Illyn nods as they fly around you. “Yes, we can. It’s faint. That’s why it’s confusing.” 

The way they speak draws a soft laughter from you. “Why does it confuse you?” 

The pixie makes a humming sound. “You smell human, but also something else. Your magic isn’t like what most humans have, and we’ve met many human mages in Aeris to know the difference.” 

You raise your brow. “Really? How odd,” you hum softly, although you have no idea what that really means. You keep your eyes on the pixie as they continue to float around you, their eyes locked on parts of your face, as if searching for something. “So that’s not normal?” 

Instead of answering, Illyn inclines their head to ask with a whisper, “Are you sure you aren’t a fairy?” 

Hearing this, you begin to laugh. “A fairy? No, I’m pretty sure I would’ve known if I’m secretly a fairy. Why would you even think that?” 

“The way you came,” they say, still keeping their voice low as if sharing a secret, “you came with the ripple of magic that we felt from the end of the river. It’s been long since we’ve felt something like that.” 

Creasing your brows, you recall the way they talked about the magic flow earlier, remembering how they seemed unsure about what they felt. “And you don’t know what that magic was?” 

Illyn fell silent for a moment. “Well, not really, but—” The pixie considers their answer for a moment, thinking deeply before continuing, “There were old folktales about magic portals hidden all over the land of the Far Far Away.” 

Their eyes blink rapidly as they add, “Fairy portals.” 

Your eyes grow wide. “Have you ever seen them?”

Illyn’s hair nearly flips back when they quickly shake their head. “No, we haven’t. But some naughty ones who went across the bridge claimed they had. We think they all lied to us and exaggerated things, because fairy tales are stories for children.” 

Your lips twist to a smile. It is adorable how the pixies believe that they are normal beings, when their existence seems more like a part of a myth. Characters told in children’s bedtime stories and folktales shared by the people—humans—back in the mortal realm. 

But then your mind begins to register through the information that Illyn had just shared with you about the magic they felt. You wonder if they had truly sensed the magic coming from the portal. You can still feel it on your skin, lingering like a delicate touch. And if the same magic portal you have been using to go through these various places had truly been the same as the portals known as what they believed as part of the myth among the fairies—

Just like always, when the wheels in your head are turning and you are thinking deeply about something, your hand reach up, taking hold of your necklace that has been humming with its own magic—it has been that way since the moment you stepped through the border, you realise. 

Lowering your gaze, you carefully lift the ruby pendant so the pixie can have a look. “Could it be that the magic you are sensing from me actually comes from this?” you ask them, referring to how they claimed to have tried to sense and recognise the magic coming out of you. 

Cocking their head, Illyn flies closer. They examine the necklace for a moment before shaking their head. “No, your magic is vibrating from inside you,” they say, before they begin rambling rapidly, “I can sense your mana. It smells a little bit like Master Trish, with a little bit of the magic that felt similar to the one we felt from the woods”—they stop with a gasp—”do you perhaps have elves where you live?” 

“I don’t suppose—” You begin to answer, even if your mind can barely keep up with the quick flow of their words. 

And then any chance for you to respond to their question is soon stolen when Illyn suddenly turns away, distracted by the sudden shout of their friend coming from a rosebush a few feet away. Soon, the thought of your magic and your smelling of humans is forgotten as they start fussing about a wild rose that seems to have bloomed at the heart of a dying brier. You can faintly hear them cheering at its peculiar size and colour, before they start fighting about how they should be saving it before it withers. 

Seems like they have a short attention span, you wonder with a soft chuckle. Just like a child. 

You continue to watch them play for a little while until Eydan returns to your side. After chasing off an innocent hummingbird that had appeared from the nearby meadow, the pixie flops down to rest on the boulder next to you, though still restless, their feet kicking out the white mist that is starting to form from the rushing water. The cold that comes as the sun begins descending beyond the trees only causes the mist to grow thicker.  

“How come you don’t have wings?” you ask Eydan, pointing at the two pixies who are floating and dancing in the air, laughing as they toss each other around between the rosebushes, having a blast in their wild dance. 

Eydan blinks and begins to explain to you the differences between each pixie. “Us pixies gain different characteristics depending on which element our magic comes from. We”—Eydan points at themselves—”and Aela are earth pixies.” You look over at Aela, the auburn-haired pixie who is dancing with the dark-haired pixie who has been mostly silent, and instantly start comparing the two. 

While Eydan keeps their hair short, reaching only to their jaw, the other two have long hair—Aela keeps their hair in a thick, high bun which looks like a crown on top of their head, while their dance partner lets their hair down, swaying with them as they dance to some music that only they can hear.

“We live closer to the land, our homes built on the ground, while Illyn and Jolyn are air pixies. They live on trees, the ones that grow close to Master Trish’s home,” Eydan continues, pointing at the two pixies who are flying over the nearest rosebush, their wings fluttering wildly on their backs, picking up speed as they banter loudly with each other, debating about what colour the rose they are pointing is called—maroon red, according to Illyn, while Jolyn insists that it’s the colour of blood. 

Just like Illyn, Jolyn’s hair is long, but in the shade of brunette. Unlike the other pixies, Jolyn is the only one with curly hair, and they have kept it untied, leaving it as a mess of wild curls fluttering with the wind as they float around with their little wings. 

Eydan points at Aela’s dancing partner next. “Emara is a water pixie. They live near the lake, while their family live by the riverbank. They are good swimmers, always playing with the fish in the summer.” 

“That’s interesting,” you muse as you watch them all play together. “I suppose the same can be said about the elves? About how they gain their magic from elements?” 

Eydan considers it for a moment in silence, furrowing their brows as they answer, “For the elves that protect us, they do gain powers from elements, but mostly nature. But some types of elves gain power from the moon, giving them similar powers and traits to those of moon fairies.” 

“You know,” you gently muse as a thought comes across your mind. “I’ve always assumed that fairies are small creatures just like you are.” 

“No, obviously, they’re not,” Eydan says with a scoff. “That’s only true in children's bedtime stories. Perhaps they thought children wouldn’t be interested in fairies if they all knew that fairies look like regular humans—sometimes they even look like ghouls, depending on where they live—so they took our looks instead when they started writing stories about fairies, all to make them presentable and cute for children to love.” 

Once you feel rested enough, you cannot resist joining the pixies to play on the grass. Watching them play has been fun, and you want to join in while you still can. 

You join them in their little hide-and-seek—mostly as the one seeking—and then let them teach you how to do tricks on the grass. They have you join them in their group dance, following the tune of their music that only they know about. And now you are joining them in a messy game of charades. 

You are in the middle of trying to guess what Jolyn is trying to mimic—as the little pixie hides behind a small boulder at the edge of the river and acts as if they are singing in high tune while seducing you to come closer—when all of a sudden, everyone around you grows still. 

A gasp comes from Jolyn, the only one facing the opposite way from the others, and the pixies turn to look at the woods behind you. Everyone seems tense and wary that you start feeling worried. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, just as Eydan steps forward, standing right in front of everyone, while the rest gather closer around you. 

“There’s another stranger!” One pixie hisses as you try to look beyond the thickets. 

You carefully trace the hilt of your dagger with the tip of your fingers. “Are you sensing danger?”

“We’re not smelling danger, but this scent is not familiar to us,” the silent one of the bunch—Emara—speaks. Their voice sounds more like a whisper. But their fear tramples their shyness as they slide closer to hide behind your dress. 

For a brief moment, nothing happens. 

The darkening sky is also making it hard for you to look beyond the line of trees. You can only faintly see the shadows moving in the forest, yet you are not certain whether you are looking at swaying branches or if it is an actual figure, that something else—or someone—has arrived in the woods and is now moving in the thickets. 

The trees sway a little—or perhaps the low branches?—and there are rustling sounds coming together with the heavy sound of boots landing on hard ground, stepping over fallen leaves, as if someone is walking slowly towards you and your little friends. While the pixies remain alert, you can feel a warm hum rising in your chest. A sensation that is quite familiar that every tension in your body is immediately lifted. Your heart thuds, rising slowly with a different kind of feeling that has nothing to do with fear. 

There is only one person who can incite such a feeling from you. The one person who has been occupying your thoughts and dreams, even on the days that you spent without him being present. Within moments, he finally emerges from the line of trees, like a piece of a dream emerging into the waking world. 

Wearing a white tunic on top of dark trousers, his leather boots sturdy at the bottom, and his half sword hanging from his left hips, Min Yoongi looks just like a prince; a dreamy character plucked out of a fairy tale written in storybooks as he walks into the dim light. 

The Prince Charming coming to life. 

The length of his hair falls to frame his perfect face, fluttering with the gentle breeze as he slowly comes closer. The urge to pinch at your skin comes over you—because you cannot tell if you are simply dreaming—yet you make no move, too mesmerised by the sight of him. 

Because every image of him which you tried to conjure in your thoughts and your dreams didn’t do any justice to the real him. 

As Yoongi stops, a smile slowly forms on his face. His eyes, upon finding you, seeing you completely left stunned, seem to glow brighter. A look of mirth dancing in his gaze when he gently greets you, 

“There you are, little dove.” 

You briefly close your eyes, relishing the shudder that Yoongi’s deep voice brings. This isn’t an imagination and I am not dreaming, you muse to yourself as you open your eyes to see him still standing right before you instead of dispersing with the wind. The white mist forming around the stream close by and from the temperature drop curls around his boots, breaking away when he takes another step closer. 

You listen to the sound of your heartbeat for a drop of a moment before finding your voice again. 

“You’re late.” Too many long days, three different trips late. “I almost believed that I wouldn’t be so lucky to see you today before I leave.”

Your gaze flickers towards the darkening sky as you say this, noticing how close it is for dusk to come. With merely a short time left to spare, he would have made this the fourth time you would be missing him if he had come once the sunlight was gone.  

A painful pinch shoots right through your heart when you take a sharp inhale of breath. You never realised how badly you have been hoping to see him. How you kept wishing that you would cross paths with him again. 

You didn’t realise until now, how often you kept looking over your shoulders during your previous excursions, or how you’ve kept your eyes open the entire time with the hope that you would see him again, that he would suddenly appear the way he had done it before. You were starting to lose hope, believing that fate may have decided not to give you another chance to see Yoongi. 

As you look up to him again, you are surprised to see a hint of remorse in his eyes. As if he feels the same way as you do. 

“I must admit that I was losing hope of seeing you as well,” he gently says. You know you shouldn’t, yet you find how pleasing it is to hear that he is feeling the same. 

In your fascination and delight of meeting Yoongi, you fail to realise that your pixie friends—who have remained in their places and have been watching closely at your interaction—have begun to move out of their hiding. Except maybe Emara, who is still clutching at the skirt of your dress, too wary about the other human suddenly interrupting their playtime. 

“You’ve made some friends,” Yoongi muses, his gaze softening as he looks at the pixies that are watching him curiously. 

You shrug. “I was getting lonely in my travels, since the only one I was expecting to accompany me has been absent,” you tease him with a smile, and for a brief second, Yoongi’s eyes widen at your playful tone, before his own smile grows just as wide. 

“Do you know him?” you hear Aela asking you as she flutters by your head, cautiously flying closer. “Is he a friend?” asks Eydan, and you answer them without pulling your gaze away from Yoongi. 

“Yes. A good friend.” 

Yoongi’s lips quirk to a grin. His eyes move to find Eydan, who is standing right in front of you with their shoulders rising as if to make themselves look bigger. You aren’t too sure if the tiny creature has been trying to protect you, or if they were just too curious to remain hidden, but it is still quite amusing to see them acting tough in front of the newcomer.  

Yoongi elaborately bows in front of the curious pixie. “You mustn’t worry about me. My name is Yoongi. I’m also a traveller like _____, and I meant no harm.” 

Neither of the pixies says a thing at first, until Emara slips out of your skirt to gingerly say—their voice sounds so gentle it almost fades with the wind, “Well, if _____ trusts you, perhaps we can trust you too.” 

Once again, Yoongi bows. The gesture looks perfectly elaborated to make him look like a royal. His gentle smile nearly melts your heart when he answers, “It’s an honour that you would accept me just as much as you have welcomed her into your home.” 

— © 2024 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

So happy belated 3000! I know I am a little late to the party but we’ll, here I am 😅 I kinda missed the post for the „I love you 3000 writing bonanza“… But if you still take request I gonna leave this one here:

What about some smutty CEO!Ari „I might be a terrible dancer, but I‘ve got great moves in bed“? Because… Ari is… 🥵

Ari is in a league of his own and it's been a while since I've written him so oh boy was this a treat!

Elementary - CEO!Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Too many shots of tequila plus an insanely attractive boss equals an unforgettable night

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: Fluff! Alcohol Consumption! SMUT! 18 + ONLY! Minors DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

You had no idea how you got into this situation. Well… actually no you did. To break it down into a simple mathematic equation (office party + alcohol) + insanely attractive boss = incredibly awkward and frankly stupid social interactions. 

From the moment you met Ari, you were completely smitten. You were surprised that you even got the job as his personal assistant after spending the majority of the interview drooling over his insane body which he teased with his rolled-up sleeves and one too many shirt buttons undone. Yet somehow you did, you guessed your extensive CV and experience did most of the talking because your mouth certainly didn’t. 

When you were offered the job you weren’t even sure if you should accept it or not. If you did you would have unlimited access to stare and daydream about him, you would be the person closest to him in the entire company. But you weren’t entirely sure whether you could actually do the job with a distraction as good as him only a short distance away. You didn’t think you could bear the embarrassment of being fired by him. 

Your friends and a couple shots of tequila gave you the courage to accept the job, because you were really, really good at being a personal assistant. So surely even if you were distracted you would still just be a good assistant. 

Thankfully it was surprisingly easy. While your crush remained it definitely became less intense and debilitating after a couple of weeks. You guessed it was because of Ari’s easy-going, charismatic nature. It was impossible to not become friends with him and with that friendship came an air of ease between you. He wasn’t a big terrifying CEO, he was just Ari. Did you still have fantasies about him? Yes of course, but you were still able to walk into his office and not be a bumbling mess. 

That easygoing friendship was irrevocably changed at the most recent office party. You couldn’t remember exactly why or what you were celebrating, you just knew that Ari asked you to book a private bar and make sure there was plenty of booze. Which you did, too well, because if there had been less booze you probably wouldn’t have made a fool of yourself. 

In your defence Ari is a terrible influence, all it would take was a flash of his lopsided smile and you’d do whatever he said. Including drinking more shots of tequila than you should have. You could argue however that you were a bad influence too, you were the one who dragged him out onto the dance floor. With so much alcohol pumping through your veins you didn’t think much about how you were moving your body, you just danced. Ari had laughed and danced along with you, the warmth of his hand never far from you as he held your hand, or ran it down your back or sides. 

“It’s a good thing dancing skills weren’t essential when I hired you” he laughed after you pulled out a dance move that was frankly criminal. 

You shot him a smile as you turned to face him, hips twisting as you placed your hands on his shoulders. He in turn rested his on your waist, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as your hands shifted down to rest on his chest.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” you said beckoning him closer so you could whisper in his ear “I might be a terrible dancer, but I‘ve got great moves in bed”

You could hear his quiet groan over the heavy bass of the music as he pulled away enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze turned so heated you were sure you were about to melt. 

“Oh really? Are you up for showing me those moves?” he asked, voice low, his hands drifting to the small of your back. 

You bit your lip as you smirked up at him. To hell with the consequences. You nodded your head. 

Ari gave you a wolfish grin “Let’s go then” he said, turning you around, keeping his hands on your hips as he led you out of the bar. 

You knew exactly where he was taking you, he’d asked you to book a bar in a hotel and to also book him a room so he could crash there without needing a driver to take him home. Your heart was pounding in your chest, electricity pulsing along your skin as heat pooled at your core. 

You’d barely stepped into the suite when you both began devouring each other. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and practically climbed him like a tree as he walked you back towards the bed. Your dress was discarded on the floor, and his shirt ripped open before the back of your knees even hit the mattress. 

Despite the amount of alcohol in your system, you felt 100% sober and aware as he knelt down, hooked your leg over his shoulder and dove in to taste you. If the alcohol was dampening your senses you wondered what this would be like sober because it was already so goddamn amazing. You weren’t even embarrassed at how quickly you came because it was the best damn orgasm of your life. 

As soon as he rose back up you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down on top of you, tasting yourself on his lips and his weight pressed down onto you. No time was wasted getting him completely naked and inside you. The stretch was so perfect that you were certain you were completely ruined. It was like a completely animalistic side of both of you won out as you clung onto him, nailed biting into his skin as he thrust deeply into you. 

The rest of the night was a blur, yet one you could remember with absolute clarity. You’d lost count of how many rounds you had gone but you knew that you had performed more positions in one night than you had in your entire sexual history. If you had a sex bucket list it would be halfway completed by the time you and Ari collapsed back into bed, too tired and out of surfaces to carry on. 

Which brings us to now. The moment you wake up, your body sore like you had climbed Mount Everest five times and your head pounding. You blinked a couple of times as your eyes tried to adjust to the light pouring in. Once they had it didn’t take you long to realise you weren’t in your bed, nor were you in your apartment. The weight draped across you was not your duvet, it was a long and muscular arm.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you followed the arm back towards its owner, alarm bells ringing when you saw Ari fast asleep next to you. Shit. You remembered every last detail from the night before, you didn’t regret any of it because how could you regret the best night of your life? But you were absolutely certain you were about to lose your job. 

You didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought at all though as Ari’s eyelid fluttered open and his bright blue eyes immediately landed on you. 

“Hey,” he murmured, voice deep with sleep. 

You instantly melted hearing his voice, he already had a deep sexy timbre but adding sleep to it just took it to a whole other level.

“Hey,” you whispered. 

His arm around you tightened, pulling you closer so your head was resting on his chest “I had a lot of fun last night… did you?” he asked, fingers tailing up and down your arm. 

“Yeah… I did” you admitted because there was no way you could lie to him. 

“Good” he hummed “wanna make it a regular thing?” you were silent for long enough that he added “And I don’t just mean last night, I mean dinners and all that other stuff people do together” 

You were pretty sure your heart skipped a beat, you gazed up at him and saw that lopsided smile that made it impossible to say no. And why the hell would you say no, more nights like last night and mornings waking up next to him? You’d be insane if you said no.

A smile crept onto your face as you nodded “I’d love that” you said quietly. 

Ari smiled back down at you, as he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly “Good” he grinned before shifting slightly beneath you “I don’t wanna talk about work but on Monday I want you to wear that cute little black pencil skirt” he smirked. 

You chuckled “Done, anything else you want me to do boss?” you smirked. 

“I want you to put out a job advert for another PA,” he told you. 

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you, yeah you loved the idea of being with Ari but you still needed a job “What?” you choked out. 

Ari shushed you gently “Don’t worry, you still have your job if you want it” he reassured you “I just think we’re gonna need another assistant to help out while we have some fun in my office” he grinned. 

Your smile returned to your face as you nodded “It’ll be the second thing I do Monday morning” 

Ari arched a brow “What’s the first?”

You bit your lip as you shifted closer to him, your lips a breath away from his “you” you whispered before kissing him deeply.

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Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

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