#🦋Pinning For You🦋

[circusgoth-dotcom]

the collector s/i vibeboard, he doesn't have a name or a backstory yet i just thought i'd look cute standing next to that masked-up freakboy fhehgeghheh

[wispselfships]

You wanna send me love letters from Burgh

Ooooh you wanna send me love letters from Burgh

[lunanabang]

𝟷𝟶𝟶𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 : 𝟷𝟶𝟶/𝟷𝟶𝟶𝚜 ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ i made it idk if i will keep this series after i made this 100th card i started this in 2020 during covid, thought i can make the whole thing in the same year lol i was silly to have thought that thank you so much for everyone here to witness how it went thank you for everyone who have inspired me in this series, some of the cards are about you all,some are not. thank you for everyone who have purchased the cards this series is for you,whoever you are reading this : ) ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ thank you

the world have taken so many things away from me,rarely offer me good things.It can keep on doing that,but nothing can take away my blazing heart !

[shai-after-dusk]

I NEED to bang this bug I just know I could make him feel so good

[writers-potion]

Said is dead, and so are some other words that we writers tend to overuse. Here's a brief list to aid your brain:

01. "VERY" ☆★⋆⭒˚.⋆

Very angry -> Furious

Very beautiful -> Gorgeous

Very bog -> Massive

Very boring -> Dull

Very poor -> Destitute

Very cheap -> Stingy

Very clean -> Spotless

Very difficult -> Arduous

Very dry -> Arid

Very quick -> Rapid

Very strong -> Forceful

Very ugly -> Hideous

Very calm -> Serene

Very huge -> Colossal

Very small -> Petite

02. "WHISPERED" 🤫

Murmurd

Mumbled

Muttered

Breathed

Sighed

Hissed

Mouthed

Susurrated

Intoned

Purred

Said in an undertone

Hinted

Said low

Said in hushed tones

Gasped

03. "BAD" 😈

Corrupt

Sinful

Depraved

Contaminated

Tainted

Irascible

Atrocious

Sinister

Snide

Deplorable

Detestable

Execrable

Ghastly

Noxious

Substandard

Despicable

Contemptible

Foul, rank, faulty

04. "BEAUTIFUL" 🦋

Dazzling

Splendid

Magnificent

Aesthetic

Delicate

Glorious

Stunning

Heavenly

Resplendent

Radiant

Glowing

Blooming

Sparkling

05. "BEGIN" ▶️

Open

Launch

Initite

Commence

Inaugurate

Originate

06. "BIG" ⚡

Immense

Gigantic

Vast

Gargantuan

Sizable

Grand

Mammoth

Astronomical

Titanic

Mountainous

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee! ☕

🖱️References

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/2603712279594924/

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/81627811987512761/

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Your Future Spouse’s First Impression of You? ✮⋆˙

I. II. III.

Hey there! Welcome to my first pick-a-card reading on this blog page—I hope you all enjoy it! If I make any mistakes, please bear with me. Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and show some love, Your support means everything to me!<3

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading here! it would really help me out!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE! 🫶🏻

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⊹₊⟡Pile I

First Things First: The Vibes Are Mysterious AF. Your future spouse’s first impression of you-Intriguing. Confusing. Obsessive. You are not someone they can just glance at and move on. this spread is screaming mystery, but not in a “cold and distant” way—it’s more like "Who ARE they? Why do I want to know everything about them?" There’s something about you that feels just out of reach, like you’re showing them a version of yourself, but they can sense there’s way more underneath. And that? That’s addictive. It’s the kind where they need to figure you out. They want to know what makes you tick, what you’re thinking when you glance away mid-conversation, and what you’re dreaming about at night. And it’s not in a shallow, superficial way—this person is genuinely captivated. But here’s where it gets interesting— because while The Moon makes them curious about you, the Eight of Pentacles makes them respect you. They see someone who’s dedicated, who works their ass off at whatever they care about. Whether it’s your career, hobbies, or just the way you present yourself—you give off this “I put in the effort” type of energy. Like, they can tell you’re serious about your stuff and that immediately makes you stand out. That alone makes them take you seriously. Okay, But Here’s the Gag—They Lowkey Feel a Bit…Uncertain? Now, listen—The Moon is also about illusions and uncertainty, so while they are intrigued, they might feel like they don’t fully “get” you at first. And that? That’s messing with them. They’re probably used to reading people easily, but you? You’re hard to pin down, and they love it…but also hate it?? It’s like, are they flirting with me or just being nice? Are they interested, or am I making this up? The Two of Wands here tells me that they immediately start thinking about possibilities with you—but they hesitate. Not because they’re uninterested, but because they’re trying to figure out where they stand. They respect you and your dedication, seeing you as someone with substance. They feel pulled toward you but also slightly intimidated or uncertain because you’re not easy to read (Love that for you😂). And darling, let’s be real—when someone is this intrigued by you from the jump, That’s a recipe for obsession. You might notice them observing you before making a move, trying to decode you.

This pile has the most unpredictable energy among the three. Your future spouse is unsure where they stand at first but feels a pull towards you. LOL, they might initially think “Whoa, Do they even notice me?” They might even romanticize you in their mind before truly knowing you (CUTE ngl) because your energy leaves so much to the imagination.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

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⊹₊⟡Pile II

Ooooh, okay, let’s get into it. Babe, your future spouse’s first impression of you is giving emotional enigma meets graceful chaos, and I’m obsessed with how this energy is playing out. The moment they lay eyes on you, there’s an instant curiosity. You come across as graceful, emotionally intelligent, and balanced, but here’s the kicker—they know there’s more going on beneath the surface. Like, they can tell that you keep your cool externally, but they sense this quiet storm of emotions underneath. It’s intriguing to them because it’s like, "damn, how do they juggle everything?" when you meet them, or they just get the sense that you’ve got a lot going on but still show up with poise. It’s giving “this person could be drowning in responsibilities but would still remember to send their bestie a ‘drink water,’ text.” 😭There’s this duality to you that catches their attention. You seem emotionally available but also like you’re carrying something—like you’re transitioning into a new chapter, leaving something behind and they feel that energy before you even say a word. They immediately respect you but they also feel this lowkey urge to protect you, Because on one hand, you’re exuding this soft, nurturing energy but on the other hand, they can tell you’re used to handling your own business and might not even need them like that. And WHEW—does that intimidate them a little? Yes. yall pile 2 give me the energy of a particular line I heard on TikTok, which was something like "lead me when I want to be lead"😂So when they meet you, your future spouse immediately clocks that you’re in transition—maybe you’ve recently moved, changed jobs, ended a relationship, or you’re just shifting into a new phase in life. But here’s the real tea—they don’t just find you attractive, they find you mentally stimulating. Like, you’re not just another pretty face; you make them think. Your vibe is that of someone who has been through some shit but has learned and grown from it, and they immediately wonder, What’s their story? What shaped them into this person? And suddenly, they’re invested. “Holy shit, I need to know more.” You make them think—they don’t just want to know you, they want to understand you.

SO OVERALL This pile is soothing and warm, but also very self-aware and mature. Your future spouse feels safe and understood with you, like you’re someone they could see themselves building a peaceful life with. This is wayyyyyyy less confusion here compared to Deck 1; they pretty much immediately know you’re a rare find.

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⊹₊⟡Pile III

Your future spouse’s first impression of you? WHEW, they’re looking at you like you’re a whole standard—not just “crush-worthy,” but someone they gotta step their game up for. Their First Thought? “Damn, they’re sharp.” Like, no joke, the moment they meet you, they immediately pick up on your sharp mind and no-BS attitude. You give off this queen-level aura that’s like, “I see through people. Don’t play games with me". 💅. love it—but also have no idea how to approach you at first because you don’t seem like the type who’s easily impressed. Your whole energy screams “I’ve got my shit together.” And babe, they feel that. They’re looking at you like, “Okay, so this person is intelligent, confident, and carries themselves like they own the room—how do I not embarrass myself in front of them?” But it’s not just about confidence—you also have this elegance about you. You’re not loud or flashy; you’re just refined, polished, and unbothered in a way that makes people want to impress you. LOL also one thing, you make them feel like, "“Are they always this serious? Or do they have a goofy side?” You walk in, and it’s giving the main character energy without even trying. Here’s where it gets really interesting. Because at first, they see you as this composed, independent person who doesn’t need anybody. But then, there’s this subtle warmth about you that catches them off guard. I can feel that you’re someone who values fairness, generosity, and kindness—but only for the right people. You’re not out here wasting time. You know your worth, but when you do let people in? You’re the type to genuinely care, support, and uplift those around you. And that contrast? Whew. It messes them up in the best way. It’s like, “Wait… they’re not just powerful and intimidating… they’re actually thoughtful and kind, too? What kind of dream person did I just meet???” Your future spouse is immediately caught up in their head about you. Their first impression of you isn’t just “oh, they’re cute.” It’s deep admiration mixed with a little bit of panic.

Honestly, This is the type of first impression that lingers. They’re not just walking away thinking “Wow, that was a cool person.” No, no. They’re going home, replaying the conversation, trying to figure out how to impress you next time, and probably texting their best friend like, “I think I just met the most unreal person ever.”

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

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[deerspherestudios]

Hello hello! I'm Cheea, also known as DeersphereStudios; if you're here for content related to my games on itch.io, you're in the right place! You can expect lore snippets and doodles, behind-the-scenes and other stuff that players might be interested in!

My current ongoing project is Mushroom Oasis, initially submitted for a Yandere Game Jam in 2023. While that's the main focus of this blog, I also occasionally talk about my other one-shot games: Astronought and Lift Your Spirits!

Enjoy your stay! ☕🐰

🔗 LINKS 🔗:

🎮 itch.io ▏ 🎨 Patreon ▏ 🦋 Fan-MO Discord

📖 FAQs 📖: [PLEASE READ BEFORE SENDING AN ASK!]

🔍 MUSHROOM OASIS QnA MASTERLIST 🔎:

❥ [PART 1] Mychael's abilities, romantic/yandere traits and his opinion on kids. ❥ [PART 2] Mychael’s anatomy. ❥ [PART 3] Mychael’s reactions to different MCs. ❥ [PART 4] Mychael's general lore and an AU featuring MindReader!Mychael.

// EXTRAS BELOW:

// TAGS:

✿ mushroom oasis vn/lift your spirits vn/astronought vn = official game tag.

✿ mychael ask/alma ask/atom ask = questions about each character!

✿ fanart, fanfic = (submitted or reblogged) fanworks.

✿ doodles = silly scenarios in sketch form.

✿ light spoilers = posts that imply future updates.

✿ bts = behind the scenes for any current or past projects.

✿ cheea chatter = dev posts, bit random.

✿ jar of fireflies = lovely messages from players that make my day!

✿ happy birthday mychael/alma/atom = special fanart for their special day(s)!

✿ mushroom musings = theories for the Mushroom Oasis game!

✿ poll time = silly and sometimes plot-relevant polls!

✿ patreon post-its = posts shared from my patreon!

// MY GAMES:

beware of toxic fungi. a slow burn yandere vn : itch.io

🍄 Questions about Mychael (ask tag) 🍄 Mychael's character sheet 🍄 Firefly's character sheet 🍄 of mushrooms and men ║ a mychael playlist (Spotify)

trapped in space with a stranger too keen on getting to know you. a short sci-fi horror/romance(??) vn : itch.io

👽 Questions about Atom (ask tag) 👽 Atom's character sheet (coming soon) 👽 Luna's character sheet (coming soon)

are the campus rumors true? short horror/light romance vn : itch.io

👻 Questions about Alma/Vida (ask tag) 👻 Alma/Vida's character sheet (coming soon) 👻 MC's character sheet (coming soon)

✩ Thank you to @/thecutestgrotto and @/plum98 for their lovely dividers!

✩ For my own personal use: the old pinned post.

[devil-in-hiding]

What about farmer reader that has a habit of sleeping in underwear and just goes down like that to make breakfast...totally forgetting the four men in her house, even after months....

I'm lacking sleep and my mind has been doing this for the last hour

(Our child is a girl <3)

-🦋

(we’re naming her theodora)

okay but yes please because summer months on the farm are fucking AWFUL (spoken from true experience) and for the last 6 years you have freely slept in just a pair of soft silk shorts that stay so nice and cold and hug you j u s t right

so when it’s in the triple digits and you already have all the fans pointed at your bed, you don’t think twice about stripping off your gown, nor do you think about trotting down the stairs the next morning, rubbing sleep from your eyes and stretching your arm above your head

“Mornin pretty, do you- fuckin’ hell woman!” Price’s voice stops you dead your your tracks, your eyes locking with a red faced Soap, who is trying his fucking b e s t to keep his gaze locked on your face, but when you gasp and your chest rises, he breaks, eyes darting down and he w h i n e s, chair scrapping the floor

“No! Soap! DOWN!” Price barks, scrambling to try and pin the scot against the table, but Soap is slippery, and your brain doesn’t kick in until your being tossed on the couch, Soap towering over you

“Sweet fuckin’ jesus bonnie..” He breathes, eyes hungry and you try to cover your chest, but your hands are pinned to the couch cushion

[yanderenightmare]

i saw this thing a while back that i thought you’d be able to write quite well. it was responses to darling saying “it hurts” but it gets meaner and meaner. love ur work 🦋

Todoroki Touya - Dabi

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, hints of forced piercings, piercings in general

fem reader

Dabi doesn’t really need an excuse to be cruel to you. He just likes the way you sing his name – how it comes out in a sticky whine, filtered with hurt and something else, something sweet.

“Dabi, please – it hurts.”

“Yea? I bet~" He drawls with a simper. "You’re really tight when I don’t prep you.”

He's got a lazily loving expression on his face – looking down at you. Brows cinched, lips curled cutely up into a pretty pout – eyes wide with tears, pleading for any pity he might feel for you.

But mercy is a distant thing he doesn’t remember the taste of. So instead, he musters up some mockery of it and flicks your clit right above where he's skewered his fat ribbed self inside you.

He'd gotten some new piercings he wanted to try out – a ladder of pins running up the spine of his shaft – as well as a stud at the very tip that poked your cervix when he’d sunk all the way inside you.

“Please, Dabi – take it out,” You cried, twisting against the sheets – whole body worming for comfort – but no matter how you shifted, the thickness inside stayed stored all the way up to the hilt. His free hand pinning yours above your head as he pressed his hips flush against your ass.

“Come on, angel-tits~” He cooed with a toothy grin – sapphire eyes drunk while enjoying you, chittering at your whimpers while he kneaded himself inside the coziest depth of your cunt. “I got ’em for you~ least you can do is say thanks~”

He pinched your clit, and it tightened you up as he started rocking against you. Whistling at the grip, he chewed his lip in a smirk whilst pumping the wet out of you one deep thrust at a time.

“Actin’ so coy on me – but you’re fuckin’ soaked like always, angel…” 

Your whining turned to moaning, though still a little teary. Squealing when he dipped to suck your tit – running his tongue piercing over the pretty silver beads he’d given your nipples some while ago – making them so sensitive, so eager for the warmth of his mouth – having you all but coil your legs around his torso, pulling him as close as you could with hips stuttering – squeezing him tight in flutters. 

“Tch – would you look at that…” He scoffed lightly, face both amused and endeared, kissing your cheek as though in praise. “Looks like you like ‘em after all.”

You’re chagrinned beneath him, still with a few after-thrills simmering between your thighs, causing you to clench on him still.

He gave your pearl another swirl, pulling another whine from your throat. “Dabi-” But he caught it with his mouth, giving you his tongue with a groan while starting up his pace again – keeping his mouth locked on yours until he dumped his load in deep.

You cringed some at the warmth. You wished he’d use a condom – not that he’s ever bothered to, but you guess even the option is gone now that he’s all but armed his cock.

He gives you a goofy grin while looking down at you. Giddy from cumming. Still with two digits on your pearl.

The cheekiness in his eyes tells you he’s thinking about something – and something about it makes you not want to know what.

 “Maybe this little clitty is due some silver next, hm?”

[lyvhie]

hi requesting a jeno x reader where jeno is so strong compared to reader and he gets turned on by that and it results in him manhandling reader -🦋

boyfriend!jeno × fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: had a bad day? don't worry, he'll make it better.

a/n: so, FIRSTLY, i actually didn't understand the concept of manhandling in a sexual situation, but i tried my best after doing some research, i'm sorry if that's not what you wanted 🥺 i can try another one if you don't like it!

cw: smut, pwp, unprotected penetrative sex, petname.

jeno wasn't sure when exactly he started to feel this way, but whatever it was that drove him crazy and made him feel so intensely was all your fault.

you were tiny, small, delicate—so much that he couldn't help but want to... break you. he knew he was stronger and bigger than you, and he couldn't help but feel the desire to exert that strength over you. it wasn't in a bad way, of course, but at first he was hesitant about that, like, what if you actually broke?!

however, you weren't quite so naive either. you had noticed his subtle glances at your neck, the certain intent in his gaze suggesting he wanted to wrap his hands around it as soon as he could.

and you were partly to blame; for example, you had toyed with him by squeezing his bicep or wrapping his arm around your neck in a side hug, all small, innocent actions that seemed purposely designed to provoke him further.

and then you gave him the chance to fulfill his desires. first, it started with just restricting your movements, like pinning your hands above your head with just one hand while the other held your waist to keep you in place as he was too busy burying his cock inside you.

then, it became him wrapping his hand around your neck, just light squeezes that were already making him thril inside, seeking for more, and you were more than happy to submit yourself to it.

he enjoyed seeing you helpless under him, and that's why, after a seemingly harmless discussion about "how was your day," you ended up bent over the kitchen counter. his hand pushed your face down against the cool surface—a small hint of dominance and control that leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

the skirt of your dress was lifted until he had a nice view of your ass. your panties draped around your ankles as he thrusts into you from behind. the wet sound of his cock sliding through your slick folds was all you could hear, besides your loud moans, of course. “y-you should see yourself right now,” he said hoarsely, “all dumb because of my cock. does it feel good, huh?” he leans over you to lightly bite your shoulder, not really getting an answer from you.

feeling you body respond positively, jeno slides his hand around your neck and applies just enough pressure to make you gasp. he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he says, "is this what you wanted? to be completely at my mercy?" not able speak, you nod frantically, your pants turning into whimpers. he squeezes tighter, controlling your air flow carefully as he continues to pound into you, each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it difficult for you to breathe properly.

he groans when he feels your walls clenching around him, indicating that you were close, "let go, baby," he encourages hoarsely, his teeth grazing your earlobe and quickens his pace, his hips slamming into yours. he feels his own release building up, his muscles tensing with anticipation. he releases your hands and grabs onto your waist instead, pulling you back into him as he thrusts even harder.

your hands were holding the edge of the counter as you try to hold on, your body shaking from the intensity. jeno's finds its way to your clit, rubbing slow circles as he continues to choke you. seeing you like this drives him wild, knowing he's the one making you feel so good. "come for me, baby" he murmurs huskily, increasing the pressure on your sensitive bud. your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your whole body convulsing as you cry out out his name. he follows shortly after, emptying himself inside you with a final grunt.

you stay like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breaths before jeno slowly removes his hand from your neck and pulls out of you, his seed dripping down your thighs. “wow, that was… wow,” you said still panting, making him chuckle and spins you around to face him, catching you when your legs buckle slightly. “are you good?” he asks softly, cupping your face and caressing your cheeks. “yeah, i think i'll always tell you that my day was terrible if that's your way of comforting me.”

[aemondsbabe]

Duty & Sacrifice | Claimant Pt 2

summary: your wedding to jace will happen whether you and aemond like it or not; even still, you know where you truly belong

pairing: dark!brother!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, threats against jace, jace slander do not come at me you were warned, blood purest aemond like he's voldemort coded idk he loves that valyrian o neg, breeding kink, fingering, unprotected sex, piv sex, biting, brief hand on neck, possessive aemond, obsessive aemond, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.7k

a/n: big thank you to @rabbit-hearted for sending a request for more dark!aemond! i hope you enjoy!! dark aemond was a bit toned down in this one but he (and the reader) will be going unhinged psycho in part 3 uwu

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 here!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

“Oh, you look absolutely beautiful, Princess,” your lady’s maid coos over your shoulder while she finishes tying the laces at the back of your gown, eliciting a chorus of echoing hums and titters of agreement from the other women fluttering about your chambers. 

“Thank you, Kella,” you murmur, meeting her gaze in the mirror, your lips stretched into a thin, tight smile. Even in your periphery, the sight of the ivory dress makes your stomach turn and twist into barbarous knots and you quickly glance away. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that eats at your heart as you keep your eyes trained on the shelves beside the mirror, silently reciting the name of each book stacked on them over and over again, anything to keep your mind occupied. 

It only halfway works, just as it had every time before – every other time you stood in this exact same spot as the tailor measured and fitted your dress, as you discussed hairstyles with your maids, as you chose jewelry with your mother. Helaena had spent weeks, hours upon hours, sewing bead after bead into the alabaster fabric, creating intricate patterns of florals giving way to flames, and you could hardly bring yourself to look at it. 

If I don’t look, it’s not real. If I don’t look, it’s not real, the words, foolish as they were, echoed in your mind for the millionth time as your maids added final touches to your outfit – sliding your feet into shoes and clasping on various ornate jewels. 

“Should we finish the hair first or get the cloak on first?” You hear one of your lady’s maids ask another, somewhere off to the side. 

“Mm, I think the cloak,” another one answers; you can hear the doors of your wardrobe being pulled open, “Her tiara may get snagged otherwise.”

Glimmers of red from the small garnet gemstones decorating your gown create bloody splotches in your periphery as morning sunlight filters through your windows; your mind begins to wander again despite your best efforts and crimson quickly gives way to hues of sapphire. Absent-mindedly, you dig your nails into your cuticles as you recall that night. The events play out behind your eyes like they have time and time again in the weeks between then and now – the pin-pricked chill you’d felt from his gaze, the way his whispered promises made your heart ache with a confusing whirlwind of longing and dread, the way his hands had felt against your skin. The sound of your blood pumping wildly in your veins drowns out any other noise as his voice echoes in your head. 

“Prove your devotion to me, my Strong girl,” he had commanded, directing your attention to the hilt of his dagger. And you had, the memories of it make you shiver even now. 

You had.

But it didn’t matter because here you are, clad in an ivory gown that may as well be a death shroud for all the joy it brings you.

“Princess?” A little gasp falls from your lips as you’re hoisted out of your reverie and your eyes finally focus on Kella standing before you, matching cloak in hand. 

“My apologies,” you say, managing a little chuckle, “I’m not sure where my head was at.” 

“No trouble, Princess,” Kella smiles, waving a hand dismissively, “I’m sure you’re eager to get the day started, marrying a prince and all.”

“Eager, yes,” you sigh, forced smile falling flat the second she looks away. The back of your throat tightens when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror and, for the umpteenth time today, you try desperately to ignore the urge to run – to sprint all the way to the Dragonpit, mount Silverwing, and go. Instead, you swallow down the sick feeling in your gut and compel yourself to be still as Kella drapes the cloak over your shoulders, the red silk underlining enveloping you in a sanguine veil. 

Just as she’s about to fasten it to the little ties at the shoulders of your gown, the doors to your chambers bang open, causing both of you to jump as your heads whip toward the sound of the noise. 

“Prince Aemond,” Kella says breathlessly, draping the cloak over an arm and curtsying politely. 

“Get out,” he murmurs lowly, violet eye not moving from yours as he stands at the doorway, arms tucked behind his back, “I wish to have a moment alone with my sister.” Your heart hammers so wildly that you’re amazed the sound of it doesn’t echo off the walls – that it doesn’t burst in your chest. 

You don’t miss the uncertain glances your maids give one another, though they ultimately nod their heads. A small chorus of, “Yes, your highness,” rises around you as they scurry from the room; Kella quickly drapes your cloak over the back of your vanity chair before leaving as well, the doors to your chambers closing behind her. 

Aemond quickly locks them, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips for a precious second as he does so, before turning to you. Your brows furrow as nervousness builds within you, nails digging into your cuticles as you desperately study the neutral expression on his face as he stalks toward you. 

“Don’t you look breathtaking, sweet sister,” his eye sweeps over your form as he speaks and you feel as if every ounce of air is pressed from your lungs when he gently grasps at your chin, angling your face up toward his when he comes to a stop before you. 

“How did you get in here?” You question, hating how feeble your voice sounds, how your heart slows the second he touches you. Your question is a valid one, though – your mother had taken great caution in the weeks following the night of your betrothal feast to keep you and your brother as separated as possible. 

He chuckles as he tilts your face to the side, exposing your neck. “Someone may have delivered an anonymous tip to Cole informing him of a supposed smallfolk revolt brewing in Flea Bottom,” you don’t miss the twitch of a victorious smile on his lips, “Of course, the Gold Cloaks had to attend to it – we wouldn’t want anything ruining such a… joyous day. Once they were gone, it was easy enough to slip from the Sept and make my way back here.”

“You’ve been planning,” his eye stays fixed on the ruby necklace clasped around your neck as you speak, though he hums in acknowledgement at your words. After another few seconds of heavy silence, you cannot help but huff and jerk your chin from his careful grip, “Did you come here to merely ogle at me or do you need something?”

“Mm,” he hums, narrowing his eye for just the barest of seconds, “There is something I need indeed, Strong girl.”

“Don’t call me that!” You snap, the little huff of laughter he gives only makes you more agitated. He turns his back to you and stalks over to your vanity; it’s only then that you see he’s holding a small box behind his back, “What is that?”

“Only a little wedding present,” Aemond drawls, violet eye meeting yours in the mirror as he runs his fingers over the soft ivory silk of your cloak; his nose twitches in disgust, the most subtle of movements that you’re sure only you are able to spot. 

“Can… can I see it?”

Another twitch of his lips, a little pulling at the corners, just enough for you to know he’s satisfied about something, makes your heart squeeze in your chest. Whatever game he’s playing at, whatever imaginary battle he’s thought up in his mind, he’s winning. 

Am I even fighting back? Do I want to?

Silently, he makes his way back over to you, each heavy step a nail in your proverbial coffin. He’s standing before you again, long hair spilling over the shoulders of his tunic like a pearlescent waterfall, held back from his face by two thin braids that join in the back. 

Finally, he opens the box, carefully sliding the lid off. Your lips part as you stare down at the contents, eyes as wide as the moon as it feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. 

“I had it made by the finest craftsman in the city,” he murmurs, eye gleaming with pride at your stunned reaction, “Do you like it, little one?”

“I… Aemond, I…,” you stammer, at a loss for words as you look over the necklace resting on a bed of soft cloth. Made from a breathtaking assortment of pearls, the attention to detail is immaculate; each milky white stone is threaded onto a fine silver chain, all leading to a gleaming deep blue sapphire in the center, framed by the figure of a small silver dragon. “I-It’s gorgeous, brother, I… thank you.”

“You deserve only the best,” he purrs, watching closely as you reach up and carefully run your fingers over the glittering stones, “Shall I put it on you?”

“I already have a neck –” You start, only for a loud gasp to rip itself from your throat as Aemond tears the ruby necklace from you, the delicate gold chains easily snapping and sending dozens of tiny rosy stones clattering to the floor. All you can do is gape at him, one hand grazing against the place on your neck where the necklace once sat. 

Meanwhile, your brother’s violet eye merely follows a few of the stones as they skid across the stone floors. “Pity,” he tuts, stalking around you like a lion would its prey before stopping behind you and meeting your gaze in the mirror. 

“Do you have any idea who that necklace bel–”

“I don’t give a shit about who it belonged to,” he hisses, reaching over your shoulder and grabbing your jaw, forcing your head to turn back enough to meet his heated stare, “All that matters is that you belong to me, not some sniveling fucking bastard who shall only bring you ruin.”

He stares at you for a second more as if trying to drive the point somehow further into your heart before finally releasing your chin, smirking at the little shiver that runs down your spine when he skims his fingers over your neck. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he delicately sweeps the hair away from the back of your neck before pressing a soft kiss there, only to trail more down the crook of your neck and shoulder; time seems to slow for a moment while you savor the feel of his lips against your skin and your chest tightens when he groans. 

He huffs when he straightens back up, like being apart from you, even if only by a few scant inches, is painful – a feeling you know all too well. Opening your eyes, you watch as he carefully clasps the sapphire necklace around your neck. The larger middle stone sits perfectly at the base of your neck, the rich blue hue sparkles beautifully against your skin. 

“Flawless,” he says lowly, gently kissing just below your ear before trailing his eye up to the floor-length mirror the two of you stand before, hands resting on your waist, “We look perfect together, don’t we, little one?”

Automatically, you nod your head, unable to separate your gaze from the mirror. He’s right, he always is. The two of you simply fit together – perfect compliments of the other. 

He smiles lazily over your shoulder and pulls you closer against him, relishing in the small gasp that leaves your lips as his length presses against you, already half-hard and wanting. “Yes, you and I were meant to be together,” he breathes, slowly pulling up the skirts of your gown, “You may be marrying that traitorous little cunt, but you’ll belong to me soon enough, sweet sister.”

Your brows furrow at that and you start to question him, ask what exactly he means, but before you can utter a word, a feeble, stuttering moan is wrenched from your lips instead. Aemond holds you steady, keeping one hand firmly around your waist, as the other fits itself between your thighs; you’re helpless to do much else than watch yourself fall apart in the mirror as his lithe fingers slip through your already drenched center.

A pleased hum reverberates against the side of your jaw as he presses soft kisses against your neck, ravenous eye glued to your chest as it rises and falls with sharp pants, your breasts heaving beneath the bodice of your wedding dress.

“Promise me you won’t let him touch you,” your brother growls, swirling his fingers around your already aching pearl with practiced ease, “Swear to me that I am the only one who will ever claim you, sweet girl.”

“A-Aemond, I…,” you gasp, already having to fight through the fog in your mind to remain upright, much less speak, “Brother, please!”

“Swear it!” He snarls, biting harshly at your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. 

“I promise, I promise!” You quickly concede, the truth willingly spilling from you. You did not want anyone else, you never had – your gaze had been firmly set on Aemond for as long as you could remember. Your heart had soared with hope when Aegon and Helaena’s betrothal was announced, only for those hopes to be squashed when you were all but promised to Jace not too long after Aemond’s eye had been taken – doomed to a marriage built on regrets. 

Your older brother had felt the same from an earlier age still, always doting on you, even as a child. He loves Helaena, yes, but his heart had only been yours. His screams still echo in your mind – the only time he’d ever raised his voice at your mother, when he’d stormed into her chambers as soon as Aegon had taunted him with news of the raven from Driftmark. 

But it was the same each time, excuses of repairing relations and making amends, commands for you and Aemond both to grow up – to make sacrifices for the realm. 

Was I ever more than a lamb raised for slaughter? That question has kept you up for more hours than you care to admit. Now, watching in the mirror as a man who is not your betrothed brings you to heel on the morning of a day you have mourned for years, the dam inside you finally bursts – you are tired of bowing to duty. 

“Aemond, please!” You gasp, nearly crying as the fog in your mind finally lifts, “Please, take me, please!”

He pauses at that, the fingers on your aching bud stopping as his eye flicks up to yours. His eye is studying, calculating while he looks over you — there is a terrible relief in being finally, truly seen. “Is that what you wish?” He hums, chuckling when you pant as his fingers circle your dripping entrance, “To be filled with me, little one?”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished the question, desperate whines spilling from you as he slips his hand from between your legs, only long enough to loosen the ties at the front of his trousers.

“I’ll breed this sweet cunt,” he grunts, the arm around your waist moving to hook securely around your chest while the other grabs at his length, positioning it at your entrance as you hold your skirts out of the way in a trembling grasp, “Give you a pure Valyrian babe, just as you deserve.”

All of the air is knocked from your lungs as he pushes into you, spearing you on his cock in one swift motion. Your fingers abandon your skirts to instead claw helplessly at the arm draped over your chest, knees nearly buckling as Aemond pauses long enough for you to adjust. 

“Gods!” You whimper as he sets a punishing pace from the outset, though the harsh thrusts feel like paradise after being deprived of his mere presence for so long. Your head droops forward as he snakes a hand around your hip to begin rubbing at your pearl yet again, lucid enough to know that the two of you are operating on borrowed time. 

“You have always been mine, all of you,” he gasps, watching as your bodies writhe together in the mirror. After a moment, he growls and grabs at your neck, forcing your head up until your eyes meet his. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praises, leaning forward to kiss and nip at your neck and shoulder, “You’re mine, you’re mine…”

You nod as best you can as he chants the words again and again like a prayer, pushing his length in and out of you in time with each one, until your mind is nothing but a cacophony of mine, mine, mine. 

“I-I’m, Gods, I’m – Aemond!” You all but sob, the knot in your stomach that had been pitifully winding itself for weeks finally about to unravel as your cunt tightens around him, his grunts and growls in response only pushing you further to the end. 

“Do it,” he commands, redoubling his efforts on your bud, his other hand scrambling frantically to grasp at your stomach, “Let go and I’ll breed you, I’ll give you a babe, our babe, little one. Let go for me, let go.”

His muttered command sends shivers down your spine and you’re powerless to do much else other than obey and your eyes squeeze shut and your lips part as a harsh, shuddering cry is knocked out of you; fire seems to ignite every cell within you as you pulse around his length. Your knees buckle when your high washes over you, Aemond’s grip around your waist the only thing keeping you upright. 

“Good girl, good girl,” he murmurs, the sound of his voice just barely cutting through the rush of blood in your ears. A handful of thrusts later and he stills against you, growling and squeezing you to within an inch of your life as he fills you, cock twitching. 

You both still for a moment, harsh pants filling your chambers as you catch your breath. You whine when Aemond finally pulls his softening length from you, though he shushes you sweetly before leading you to your vanity chair and sitting you down. 

“I don’t want to marry him,” you whisper suddenly, sniffling softly as tears sting the back of your eyes, “I don’t w-want to, Aemond, I –”

“Shh, shh,” he says softly, gently cupping your cheek and angling your face up toward his, “There’s nothing we can do to change today, as much as it pains me. Were it possible, I would gut him in the Sept and stake my claim to you then and there, Gods be damned, I –” 

He pauses, cutting himself off with a harsh sigh, “I will have you, I swear it. I will not fail again.” 

Were it any other time, the dark shadow that lingers behind his words would give you pause, would frighten you as they have before. 

Now, though, they settle over you like a warm blanket – there is a safety in this fear. Aemond, for all his faults, is nothing if not determined. 

Whatever surety had settled within you only an hour before is swiftly and sharply pushed from your mind as you exit the carriage and climb the many steps up to the doors of the Great Sept of Baelor, unsteady even with Aegon at your side. 

By the grace of the Gods, Aemond had managed to slip from your chambers, and supposedly from the Red Keep, unseen by all except your lady’s maids, and they had all been sworn to secrecy long ago. Once he had gone, they filed back in and had blessedly made no mention of the intrusion as they bustled about you yet again – quickly braiding your hair through the prongs of your tiara and securing your cloak to your shoulders. 

They knew better than to ask about the sapphire clasped around your neck, or about the mess of rubies on the floor.

Your eldest brother, however, had not been so forgiving; his dark eyes had narrowed the moment you were seated together in the carriage. “Today, sister? Really?” He had teased, a dangerous spark in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you had grumbled, clenching your legs together as you sat. 

“Hm,” he hummed, chuckling softly, “Maybe I’ll soon be mother’s favorite after all.”

“We stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife,” the septon’s booming voice fills the Sept as you stand together with Jacaerys, your hands in his, “One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

You try your hardest to keep your eyes trained to his, to keep your lips crooked into a smile, but all you can focus on is the two stares practically searing your flesh. 

Alicent’s face swam in your vision, the way her cheeks had paled when she had caught sight of the jewelry clasped around your neck, at the guilty look in your eyes. You can feel hers boring into you now and you have no doubt her jaw is clenched, her fingers bloodied and raw. 

The other stare makes your skin prickle, much as it did on the night of your betrothal feast. You keep inwardly scolding yourself, again and again, as your eyes lock with Aemond’s every few seconds as he stands at the base of the steps to your side. 

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity,” the septon continues, gesturing to you and Jace, “Look upon one another and say the words.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” you recite together, all the while you desperately try to ignore the hollow, aching pit slowly opening itself in the very center of your chest.

“I am hers and she is mine,” Jace murmurs, dark gaze fixed solely on yours as he squeezes your hands, a terrible longing in his stare, “From this day, until the end of my days.”

“I am his and he is mine,” you say, each word feeling like a knife being twisted in your gut, “From this day until the end of my days.”

The septon gestures once more for the two of you to step closer together; it takes all of your restraint not to gasp when you feel a rivulet of Aemond’s spend leak down your thigh as you do. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Jace says softly. His warm hands cup your cheeks before he leans in but when your lips touch, all you see is sapphire.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

[circusgoth-dotcom]

I saw you rb stuff from The Collector/The Collection! I love that movie so much and it's so nice to see others knowing about it and appreciating it. The Collection is one of my favorite movies! I hope you have a good day kissing your f/os <3

thank you!! i love the scary bug man very much 💗 i really hope "The Collected" can finally come into reality soon!

[thef1diary]

Omg I'm so ready for the dirty drabbles!! I have so many boss!Daniel thoughts (thots?) especially with the holidays. You two at the holiday party and he can't keep his hands off you under the table. Him making you stay late one day because "there's just so much work this time of year" just so he can fuck you in the middle of the working space. Having you pinned across his desk on top of his important papers, him coming up while you're at your cubicle and making you focus on your work while he touches you, making you wear a vibrator while you're giving an important presentation to the board. Just so many thots rent free in my head

-🐍

— hi nonnie!! I’m so glad you’re excited for dirty drabbles! I love ALL of these reqs, and I’m going to eventually write them all—in separate posts, one thot at a time. The vibrator one tho…🐱🦋 that’s the one I was tempted to write first 🤭 enjoy! 18+ content below

You stood at the head of the long table, palms flat against the sleek surface as you tried to focus on the glowing projector screen behind you. The boardroom was silent, save for the click of the slides and the faint hum of the projector. You were poised, collected—at least on the surface.

But beneath the tailored pencil skirt and crisp blouse, a discreet little device buzzed against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body at the whim of the man seated at the end of the table. Your boss.

Daniel lounged in his chair, right across from you, a pen in hand, as if he were taking notes. But the faint smirk curling at the corner of his lips and the subtle flick of his thumb against his phone screen told a very different story.

All eyes were on your presentation—except Daniel’s. He was watching the way your thighs pressed together, the slight tremble in your knees every time his thumb pressed down on his screen, adjusting the intensity.

A low pulse started as you introduced the first slide, enough to keep your breath hitching but not enough to undo you. You gripped the edge of the table, shifting on your feet, and continued with a tight smile.

“…As you can see, this quarter’s growth…”

A sharp, sudden increase in vibration nearly had you doubling over. Your voice broke on the last word, turning into a breathy gasp. A few of the board members glanced up curiously, but you cleared your throat and forced a tight laugh, pretending to adjust your notes.

You would’ve glared at him if it weren’t for the numerous pairs of eyes on you, but you settled for an exaggerated smile directed at him. He leaned back, legs spread casually under the table, his phone in hand as though he were scrolling through emails. No one else would suspect a thing.

You pressed on, your voice trembling slightly as you neared the final slide. The vibrations grew stronger, sharper, and your thighs clenched involuntarily as your soaking wet panties stuck to your pussy. You bit down on your lip hard enough to nearly draw blood, but a soft, stifled moan still escaped your lips, barely masked by the sound of the projector fan.

The room seemed to blur around you, the murmurs of approval from the board distant as you fumbled through your conclusion. Daniel dialed the intensity down just before you completely unraveled, leaving you teetering dangerously close to the edge but never letting you cum, not yet.

When the meeting finally ended and the board members filed out, you stayed frozen at the table, your body trembling with frustration and need.

“Come here,” he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, sending a shiver down your spine.

Within seconds you were pulled onto his lap, his hands settling on your thighs.

“Good job,” he murmured against your ear, the smirk in his voice unmistakable. Then, without warning, he tapped his phone screen again, setting the vibrator to its highest intensity.

A broken moan escaped your lips, unbidden, as your hips bucked against him. Your hands clung to his shoulders, desperate to cum, for control you didn’t have.

“Sir,” you whimpered, breathlessly, barely audible over the pounding in your ears.

Daniel’s grip tightened on your waist, guiding you as you grind down on him, the fabric of his trousers rough against your sensitive covered cunt. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Go on. You’ve earned it.”

want more boss!daniel? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[fairy-grotto]

I am begging politely for something with number 20 from your one word prompt list?? Maybe something fluffy to save me from the angst of whatever bloodbrown has asked for? (Luv you bloodbrown)

Hope you are doing well <3

I am SO excited that not one but two people asked for 20 because I was so so hoping for an excuse to extrapolate on my promise headcanon from this post so here it is! Thank you so much for the ask <3 megafluff ahead!

Promise Me - P x Reader

It was well known that sunny days were not so easy to come by in Krat, a city most commonly overtaken with a stark and looming gloominess. So on a rare sunny day, eager to take advantage of the warmth which so often eluded you at the hotel, you practically dragged P to the kitchen in search of decent picnic-ing supplies. There, you loaded up your pack with sandwiches and fruit and a bottle of some sparkling something-or-other. Pino of course couldn’t really partake in the food, but it was more the aesthetic of the picnic that really mattered, and he had seemed interested in the whole ordeal besides. 

Along with all the goodies, you stuffed a carefully folded blanket and a hardcover book into the pack. Lately you’d spent a great deal of time wandering the library with your trusted puppet, and he’d taken quite the liking to simply lazing about as you read to him in hushed tones, often with his head settled comfortably in your lap, listening intently. 

Now, as you headed for the shimmering daylight of the courtyard you realized one very important piece of the picnic was missing; P himself. You huffed, sure that the damn puppet had wandered off again, as he so loved to do. It was not the first time he’d silently slipped away from you, either distracted or whisked away or otherwise lost in his own thoughts, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

For the better part of the next hour, you were relegated to the rather painstaking and exhaustive task of lapping the hotel in search of the lost puppet. At one point you even entailed the help of the other hotel’s guests, but neither Sophia nor Eugenie could offer any better guess at where he might’ve disappeared to. Finally, tired, rumpled, and out of breath from your efforts, you stalk back to the courtyard, your head hanging low in anticipation of a far less rewarding picnic alone. 

As you round the path, digging around aimlessly in your bag, you come to an abrupt halt. The picnic pack falls to the ground with a light thunk and the puppet crouched in front of you glances up. He grins in blissful ignorance of the tremendous effort you’d just expended in search of him. He motions for you to come closer and points to a blue butterfly which emerges, glistening, from its cocoon, buried away in the branches of a rosebush. He’s seemingly enamored by the unfurling of the insects iridescent wings, and offers a finger of his legion hand to it gently. 

Lovely, just lovely. You think.

I’ve lost him to a butterfly.

Exasperated, you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Yes, it’s very beautiful P, don’t get me wrong, but your habit of running off like this is frankly…” you pause, wondering how to put it delicately. “Just. The worst.” 

P’s shoulders sink and he looks almost hurt by this, though you can tell that even he can’t deny his tendency to explore precariously and without warning. It had landed you in loads of trouble at the worst of times, namely active combat, but this was neither here nor there. 

“You know what, I ought to make you promise to knock it off.” P opens his mouth, about to speak before you press a finger to his lips. “No no- a regular old promise won’t do either. Pinky swear it.” You say, offering your finger to him. He only stares blankly at it for a moment, then tips his head quizzically at you. This must be a new concept to him, you realize, and a creeping mischievousness takes root in your mind. With faux bewilderment, you gawk at him. “Your father never told you about pinky promises?” 

Pinocchio shakes his head fervently, now obviously eager to gain this oh-so-coveted knowledge. You take both his hands in yours and speak sotto-voce, as if the matter were of great importance. “It’s an ancient human tradition, a vow of the utmost seriousness. It’s a promise so great that once spoken aloud it would bond the two of us forever!” 

P leans in, enamored, and gestures between the two of you with curiosity. He seems, if anything, eager to engage in the grand ritual you’ve made this silly little thing out to be. You turn away with a saddened look. 

“Though I don’t suppose you’d be interested in such a thing. After all, it’s quite the big responsibility-” But P is already tugging you by the hand and nodding vigorously. You can’t help smiling at his enthusiasm; he is after all, nothing if not incorrigible. 

Swiftly, you situate yourself in the grass across from P. 

“Now,” you start, taking the puppet’s wrist in your hand and turning it over as if in careful examination. “This is a very serious business. I mean it.” P’s chin juts forward and he looks up at you, his head tilted in rapt attention. He looks like such a little boy, you think, sitting criss-crossed in the grass, hanging on your every word. 

“Once the oath is taken we can never ever break our promise. Ever. Are you sure you’re ready for that, P? To pledge your fealty right here, right now?” You ask, punctuating each grave word with a squeeze to his hand. P’s brows knit together in unbearable sincerity as he offers you a lone dutiful nod. 

You exhale deeply, giving P one last solemn look. “Well then. I warned you.” 

You hold your own hand out, elbow resting on your knee, your pinky finger extended in P’s direction. He watches you and with precision copies your posturing. He takes a moment though, to deliberate between his legion and human halves, before propping the fleshy arm upon his knee just the same as you. 

You straighten up a bit and clear your throat, speaking in a manner uncharacteristically clear and commanding. 

“By the power vested in this hand, I, and Pinocchio too of course-” You say, gesturing towards the boy. You assume, being a puppet of few words, he won’t mind you speaking for him. “Swear to always stand by each other's side, ever valiant.” 

P’s gaze is locked with yours as you speak, hanging on your every word. He is painfully earnest, and in a moment of overwhelming fondness for the poor puppet you add, perhaps getting a bit carried away with the whole thing “And.. and to always protect one another, never allowing harm to befall their most trusted friend.” 

You expect some surprise or even protest at this added condition, but instead Pinocchio settles the palm of his legion arm calmly over his heart, leaning ever closer with all the conviction in the world. 

And with that your finger brushes his, and you find much to your surprise, that you’ve begun to believe in your own dumb joke. Somehow, as your tiny fingers lock together, you feel the tremendous weight of this promise in the depths of your heart. You wonder if somehow by mistake you made magic here, in the soft green grass with a puppet much too naive and trusting and eager for his own good. You decide if there truly was an unbreakable contract forged between the two of you this day, you don’t mind. You don’t mind at all. 

When you glance at Pino, you find his eyes squeezed shut, his pinky finger wound tight around yours as if bracing himself. 

“Your oath is sealed.” You say, and watch P’s eyes open one at a time, uncertain. “Bonded for life. How does it feel?” 

P blinks a couple times in consideration, and allows his fingers to thread neatly through yours. With his other hand, he leans in close and presses it firmly but with the utmost care against your chest, and although you know logically he’s only a puppet, you swear you feel warmth radiating from his touch. He presses his forehead tenderly against yours, so close that you feel the breath of his words dance along the surface of your skin. 

“Safe.” He says simply. 

And although the circumstances are silly, you can’t imagine a truer word.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 18 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

"Do as you please." Jinwoo’s words were curt, as usual, his attention already shifting toward their goal.

You sighed, exasperated, as you turned to the demoness who stood hesitantly by Jinwoo’s side. "Esil, are you sure you want to come with us?" Your tone softened, expressing genuine concern. Even if you knew she would be fine, Esil’s decision to accompany the two of you into the heart of danger wasn’t one to take lightly still.

Esil met your gaze, her determination unwavering even as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. "Yes. I want to witness the outcome of your fight." Her voice held a mix of resolve and bashfulness. "Thank you for your concern, Lady (Name)."

You smiled at her earnestness, though you couldn’t shake your worry. "Alright," you said finally, letting out a resigned sigh. Reaching into your belongings, you retrieved a small, inconspicuous butterfly pin and gently fastened it to Esil’s cloak. The silver shimmer of the pin caught the dim light of the dungeon, its delicate form hiding the potent magic imbued within.

"For extra protection," you explained with a reassuring smile. Esil touched the pin lightly, her cheeks reddening slightly at your thoughtfulness.

---

The chaos of the battlefield was overwhelming. The shadow soldiers clashed relentlessly with the demon king’s forces, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of blood and magic. Baran, mounted on a massive wyvern, commanded his army with a ferocity that shook the dungeon.

"Jinwoo, don’t!" you shouted, panic seizing your chest as you saw Jinwoo take a reckless leap toward Baran. He aimed for the wyvern’s wing, intending to ground the demon king, but his attack was deflected by Baran’s immense mana shield. The force sent Jinwoo hurtling to the ground with a thunderous crash. Without hesitation, you cast a spell, softening the impact and cushioning his fall.

The wyvern’s shriek filled the air as Tusk intercepted Baran’s follow-up attack, forcing the demon king to dismount. Baran landed heavily on the ground, his presence emanating an oppressive aura that seemed to suck the very air from your lungs.

Damn this cursed space! you thought bitterly, your magic straining as you worked to heal the injured shadow soldiers, replenish Jinwoo’s mana, and shield Esil from the chaos. Your enchanted flowers pulsed with light, amplifying your magic, but even they struggled to keep up with the unending onslaught of the demon king’s minions.

The mark beneath your gloves began to sear painfully, and you felt its dark tendrils creeping further up your body. The once-contained corruption now spread relentlessly, slithering from your arms to your neck, staining your skin like ink on a canvas. The mark was no longer content to remain hidden; it demanded to be seen.

Jinwoo’s fight with Baran raged on, each blow exchanged between them shaking the dungeon to its core. Despite his prowess, Baran’s mana seemed limitless, his attacks relentless. You clenched your fists, frustration and desperation boiling within you. In the manhwa, Jinwoo had managed to find an opening, to brute force his way to victory. But now, faced with the reality of the situation, you couldn’t help but feel powerless.

There has to be something I can do, you thought desperately, your hands glowing faintly as you funneled more energy into healing and defense.

Just as despair threatened to take hold, the familiar interface flashed before your eyes.

[Keep up at it, Trial Player!]

[New Ascension Quest!

Help Player Sung Jinwoo defeat the Demon King Baran!

Objective: Absorb Demon King Baran’s mana.

Quest progression at 3%… 5%… 8%...]

The interface’s words sent a chill down your spine. Absorb Baran’s mana? The idea was as terrifying as it was tempting. You could feel the contaminated energy in the air, thick and heavy, like a storm cloud waiting to burst. Taking it in would bolster your strength, yes, but at what cost?

Still, the quest was clear, and there was no time for hesitation. You gritted your teeth and began to channel the corrupted mana toward yourself. The mark on your skin reacted instantly, flaring with searing pain as it spread further, black butterflies blooming across your body.

---

Jinwoo was forced back as Baran unleashed a devastating energy blast. The shockwave rippled outward, tearing through the battlefield. Jinwoo barely managed to hold his ground, his Wind Robe absorbing much of the impact, though it was clear the enchanted garment wouldn’t last much longer.

He scanned the battlefield quickly. His shadow soldiers were locked in combat, their numbers dwindling. Esil was unharmed, shielded by the protective barrier you had cast just in time. Relief flickered in his chest, but it was short-lived. His eyes landed on you, and his heart stopped.

Your gloves had been destroyed by the blast, revealing the blackened skin of your hands and arms. The corruption spread across your body like living ink, its edges forming the shape of fluttering butterflies that seemed to dance with malevolent intent. Your clothes were torn, exposing more of the cursed markings. Sweat dripped down your pale face, but your expression was resolute as you continued to cast spell after spell, supporting him and his shadows without pause.

What… what is that mark?! Jinwoo thought, panic gripping him.

Baran lunged at him, forcing Jinwoo to parry the attack. The demon king’s strength was overwhelming, but Jinwoo held his ground, driving his feet into the earth. The enchanted flowers at his feet glowed faintly, feeding him strength.

Between strikes, Jinwoo noticed something peculiar. The demon minions seemed to be weakening, their movements sluggish, their numbers thinning faster than they should. Then it hit him—You were absorbing Baran’s mana.

His grip on his dagger tightened, rage and desperation flaring within him. You were pushing yourself to the limit, sacrificing your safety to ensure his victory. He needed to end this, now, before it was too late.

Baran loomed before him, his laughter echoing through the battlefield. But Jinwoo wasn’t about to let the demon king win—not when you were risking everything.

“I won’t let you touch her,” Jinwoo growled, his shadows rising like a tidal wave behind him.

---

[Quest progression at 83%... 85%...]

Your breath hitched as you watched Jinwoo lose his daggers, forced to hold Baran’s next attack in place with his bare hands. The two clashed in a deadlock, the force of their struggle causing the ground beneath them to crack and quake. You could feel Jinwoo's mana surging, yet the weight of Baran’s strength was pushing him to his limit.

Just a little more...! you thought, your breath ragged. Your vision wavered as exhaustion bore down on you. The blackened marks now covered most of your body, snaking up your neck and over one of your eyes, down to the tips of your feet. The corruption burned, as if your very soul was being carved apart piece by piece.

Then, Baran opened his maw, preparing to unleash a devastating blast of mana at point-blank range.

"NO!" you screamed, the sound tearing from your throat. But before you could react, a small weapon flew through the air, striking Baran on his jaw.

It was Esil. Trembling with fear but steadfast in her resolve, she had thrown her blade to disrupt the demon king. The weapon barely scratched Baran, but the interruption was enough to catch him off guard.

Jinwoo’s eyes flashed, seizing the opportunity.

[Quest progression at 88%... 90%...]

Jinwoo surged forward, muscles coiling with raw power. With Dominator’s Touch, he ripped Baran’s hand clean off in a violent spray of dark ichor. "LET’S—" Jinwoo bellowed, rage and determination blazing in his voice.

Keep going, you willed silently, your head pounding. Your limbs felt heavier than stone, the corrupted mana leeching your strength as it crawled further across your skin. The ink-like marks coiled toward your chest, encroaching on your heart. Every beat felt weaker than the last.

[Quest progression at 92%... 93%...]

Jinwoo roared as he drove Baran back, the shadow soldiers rallying around him. Baran’s own forces were faltering under your sustained efforts, but the price was unbearable. Your vision blurred as dizziness swept over you, and your knees buckled.

Jinwoo’s next attack slammed into Baran’s jaw, forcing the demon king’s head back. With a final, earth-shattering blow to Baran’s chin, Jinwoo unleashed the full might of his strength.

"END THIS!"

The force of the strike tore Baran’s head from his shoulders, sending it soaring through the air. The demon king’s massive body crumpled to the ground in a deafening crash, his lifeless form radiating residual mana.

[Quest progression at 98%... 99%...]

You barely registered Baran’s defeat. Your legs gave out as the last bit of strength drained from your body. The corrupted marks reached your heart, wrapping around it in a vice-like grip.

"(Y/N)!" Jinwoo’s voice broke through the haze, filled with urgency and panic. You saw him running toward you, his figure blurring as your vision swam. Colors blended together, his face indistinguishable.

The last thing you heard before everything went dark was the faint chime of the system.

---

[Requirements fulfilled!

Commencing—]

Images flooded your mind, flashing too fast to comprehend. They weren’t your memories; they couldn’t be. Detached and disjointed, they sped past like fragments of someone else’s life.

Through it all, a single emotion took hold—boredom.

It was a strange, hollow feeling, as though the memories didn’t matter. You didn’t care to remember them once they passed.

What is this feeling?

As the images faded, you opened your eyes to an unfamiliar space. Gigantic white halls stretched endlessly, their pristine surfaces lined with intricate gold patterns. Everything exuded an air of divine majesty.

You tried to move, only to realize you couldn’t. You weren’t sitting—you were pinned in place. Looking down, you saw your body, or rather, the body you currently inhabited, impaled by spears of white and gold.

It's unpleasant.

Your breath hitched as panic set in. You felt liquid dripping from your mouth, warm and metallic. Blood? But the sensation didn’t match. It wasn’t your blood.

Your shoulders, back, and stomach ached with unbearable intensity. Each breath was a struggle.

Is this... pain?

The realization struck you like a hammer. This wasn’t your body, nor were these your thoughts. Your mind felt crowded, jumbled with emotions and memories that weren’t your own. The sense of disconnection grew stronger, suffocating you.

Make it stop.

You wanted to scream, but no sound came. The foreign emotions roared louder, a cacophony of anger, fear, and betrayal. They weren’t yours, yet they consumed you.

Make it stop! Make it STOP!

You tried to move, to claw at the spears pinning you in place, but your limbs wouldn’t obey. The pain intensified, radiating through every nerve.

HOW DARE THEY. HOW DARE THEY DO THIS TO ME!

The voice wasn’t yours. It reverberated through your mind, a furious bellow filled with rage and indignation.

ASHBORN! WHERE ARE YOU?!

The name struck you like a thunderclap. You knew that name. But before you could dwell on it, the tide of emotions drowned you again.

MAKE IT STOP! MAKE THIS PAIN GO AWAY!

The voices spiraled into chaos, their collective rage and despair threatening to consume you. The white halls around you blurred, twisting and distorting as your mind fractured under the weight of the foreign emotions.

ASHBORN! ASHBORN!

The name echoed louder, almost pleading, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming pain.

And then, just as abruptly as it began, your vision turned white. The voices fell silent, leaving only an empty ringing in your ears.

A single thought lingered, faint and distant.

In the depths of your mind, a laugh escaped, broken and static, as if coming from another entity entirely. You felt your lips move, mouthing words that didn’t belong to you.

"Even gods bleed red."

---

You gasped awake, your chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths. The cold, hard ground beneath you felt foreign yet grounding as you tried to process your surroundings. Two faces swam into view through the haze of your tears—Jinwoo and Esil. Both looked down at you, their expressions taut with concern and palpable relief.

Before either could say a word, a sudden surge of nausea churned in your stomach. Bile climbed up your throat, leaving no time for dignity or restraint. You twisted onto your hands and knees, head bowing low as the contents of your stomach forced their way out.

Your body trembled violently, your hands digging into the dirt as sharp pain coursed through your throat. Each heave felt like shards of glass scraping against your insides, leaving behind raw, burning tissue. Tears streamed down your face as you coughed and retched, your body unwilling to stop even as it emptied itself of everything you had.

A hand came into your vision, brushing your hair back from your face. The touch was firm yet gentle, preventing your hair from becoming sullied by the mess. You couldn’t turn to see who it was, but the steady presence behind you was enough to anchor your spiraling senses.

The retching continued, your stomach contracting painfully, wringing out more than it had any right to. When the onslaught finally subsided, you opened your tear-blurred eyes, your body shaking from the strain. You expected to see the ugly remnants of vomit mixed with blood on the ground, but your vision was immediately drawn to something unexpected.

Gold.

Amidst the sickly mixture, the faint shimmer of gold glinted in the dim light. Your breath hitched. What was that? Your muddled mind barely had time to process before your arms gave out, and you collapsed backward.

Strong arms caught you, breaking your fall. You sagged against a broad chest, your head rolling back to rest against a firm shoulder. Your breath came in shallow gasps, tears still rolling down your cheeks and dripping onto the ground.

A smooth, cool object pressed against your lips, and you instinctively flinched. But the steady hand holding it didn’t falter. Warm liquid slipped past your lips, sliding down your throat. You coughed as the unfamiliar sensation tickled the raw, torn tissue, causing some of the liquid to spill out and trail down your chin.

“Easy,” Jinwoo’s voice murmured softly behind you. His grip remained steady, the bottle tilted just enough to let the liquid flow again. Despite the burning itch, you swallowed, the warmth spreading through your body like a soothing balm.

Once the bottle was empty, it pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. Your trembling hands clung to Jinwoo’s shirt, clutching the fabric like a lifeline. His free hand patted your back in slow, comforting rhythms, grounding you as your strength began to return.

Minutes passed before you finally managed to lift your gaze. Jinwoo was already staring down at you, his dark eyes soft but clouded with barely concealed worry. His handsome features, usually calm and collected, were now tense.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm, laced with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

Your throat was too raw to respond, so you gave a weak nod. Your gaze drifted to the side, trying to avoid the intensity of his stare. That’s when your eyes caught something on the ground.

An intricate, empty bottle lay there, its silver detailing catching the light. Inside, only a faint hint of red liquid remained. Recognition hit you like a thunderclap.

The Holy Water of Life.

Panic surged through you, chasing away the lingering haze. Your body tensed, and your mind raced. Did Jinwoo use it on me? No... He was supposed to save that for his mother!

“Hey,” Jinwoo’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. His hand cupped your chin, gently tilting your face back toward him. “Calm down. There’s still five more.”

Relief washed over you, your tense shoulders sagging as his words registered. You vaguely remembered now—six Holy Waters of Life. In the manhwa, Jinwoo used one on his mother, one for Jinho’s father, and another on Go Gunhee after revising the timeline. Only three had remained by the end.

But now, one of those had been used on you.

You opened your mouth to protest, to apologize, but Jinwoo moved before you could. His arms shifted, one sliding under your knees and the other bracing your back as he stood, lifting you effortlessly.

“J-Jinwoo!” you yelped, squirming in his hold. “Put me down! I can walk!”

“Stop,” Jinwoo said, his tone brooking no argument. His grip tightened slightly as he began walking. “You’re in no condition to argue. Let’s go back.”

Your protests faltered, a mix of embarrassment and exhaustion rendering you silent. As Jinwoo carried you, you craned your neck, searching for Esil. The demoness stood a short distance away, her hands half-raised as if debating whether to reach out.

“Esil!” you called, your voice hoarse but carrying as much warmth as you could muster. She flinched at first but quickly recovered, her expression softening into one of cautious hope.

“I hope I can see you again soon!”

Before Esil could respond, the shadows around Jinwoo swirled, enveloping both of you in their cold embrace. The last thing you saw was Esil’s small, hesitant smile as she watched you disappear.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [23/11/2024] -

[ozzgin]

Retracting my status as 🦋 anon, it's been fun, love you Ozz🫶🏼

Sorry to hear about your departure, anon. You will remain in my heart.

The question now stands: do I auction the signature, do I erase it from existence, or do I pin its hollow carcass to the walls of my home as an eternal reminder of human bonds?