Definition: Warm heats occur for many reasons. In some warm heats, the body is preparing for reproduction and is not quite ready. Alternatively warm heats occur to rest and recuperate the body after reproduction. Warm heats can only occur if an omega is in a safe situation. Warm heats typically last 2-4 days.
When: Warm heats frequently occur in omegas ages 14-16/17, pregnant omegas, the first couple heats after having a child, and in omegas age 40 and older.
How to handle: Lots of cuddles and time with loved ones, keep them hydrated and fed.
Symptoms: Hazy, cuddly, fever, drowsy, thirsty, produces a sweet, not seductive, scent, nesting
Sexual heats
Definition: Sexual heats occur when the body is ready for reproduction. Typically last 2-6 days.
When: Sexual heats are more reuccurent in omegas ages 17/18-40.
How to handle: Sex and knots. Keep them hydrated, but do not force them to eat. Most omegas will not eat willingly during sexual heats.
Symptoms: Hazy, fever, restless, produces slick, produces a seductive scent, lack of appetite, nesting
Dry heats
Definition: The body is not ready to reproduce or prepare for reproduction. Occurs when the omega is in a bad physical condition, mental state, or environment. Usually painful. Alters the body and shuts down all biological functions involved in reproduction. Not healthy. Dry heats can last anywhere from 2-7 days.
When: Omegas in unsafe environments. Examples: physical, mental, or emotional abuse, no pack bonds or mate, unfamiliar location, lots of stress or anxiety.
How to handle: Take the omega to a nest or den. Do not leave them alone. Keep them hydrated, fed, and maintain physical contact. If the dry heat worsens, take the omega to the nearest hospital.
Symptoms: Hazy, cramps, separation anxiety, headache, fearfulness, high emotions or extremely emotionless, distressed scent
Lovecraftian Bestiary: Creatures of the Cthulhu Mythos & Our World, S. Petersen, L. Willis/Chaosium, 1999; creators: Miklós Kónya and Noḉmi Vari; 2013 via Lovecraft eZine ; Image should magnify when clicked, but here’s the link just in case
pink - commander and the leader. probably really nice and sweet
blue - probably very close to pink, is either 100 iq smarty pants but shy or very tough and cool
yellow/orange - very happy and positive. can vary from being newbie of the group to be older and mature, probably known as the beautiful one
purple - mysterious, usually starts off as a rival or joins the group later, but is definitely known to the members as another MG. Probably has a softer side they don’t show
paring: phainon, mydei, aventurine, dr. ratio, jingyuan x fem!reader
tws : nsfw / smut, creampie (vaginal & anal), breeding kink, reverse cowgirl, mate pressing, spanking, multiple of rounds, darcyphilia, virginity loss, blow-job, face sitting (?), fingering, tummy bulge, making it fit, sloppy sêx, aftercare (?), rough sêx, dubcon elements (?), dumbifiction, headlocks and petnames.
sum : You told him he was small. He showed you otherwise. Suddenly, you didn’t mind taking every inch. MDNI 18+ ONLY.
note : not proof-read as usual.
★ PHAINON :
You thought teasing him would be fun. A quiet little smirk and that sweet whisper —
“Bet you’re not even that big.”
God, the way he looked at you. Not angry. Not offended. Just… amused. Like a priest staring down a blasphemer before the altar.
Now?
Now your legs are trembling, pushed wide open, and you’re struggling to even blink. Phainon’s fingers are deep inside you — slow, deliberate, two of them hooked just right, pressing into the spot that’s got your mouth open and your brain melting.
“Small?” he murmurs, voice like velvet-wrapped gold. “And yet… you’re drooling all over my fingers. Can’t even hold yourself up.”
You want to talk. You can’t.
Every curl of his fingers pulls a moan from you like a prayer. He’s whispering again, lips brushing your ear.
“Nothing to say now? Hm? So quiet. So wet. Should I keep going until you forget your name?”
You’re nodding before you even realize it.
Your hips are grinding up against his palm now, chasing that edge he keeps pulling away from. Every time it builds, he slows down. Holds you there. Makes you feel it. The ache, the pressure, the bliss that never quite breaks. It’s maddening.
“You’re just being prepared,” he says gently, almost reverent, like this is sacred.
“Can’t ruin you in the first round, sweet thing. But by the time I do put it in, you’ll be so far gone you won’t even remember calling me small.”
“Can’t ruin you in the first round, sweet thing,” he purrs again, brushing his fingers from your soaked hole to the base of his cock. It’s heavy, flushed, leaking against your thigh now. Thick. Long. You didn’t even look at it properly—too far gone to notice while he was playing you open like a divine instrument.
“But now?” His hand wraps around the base, stroking once, slow. You see it now. And oh—he’s huge. It’s veiny, flushed deep pink at the tip, curved just enough to hit everything he was already teasing with his fingers. “Now you’re ready.”
You try to answer, but all that comes out is a soft gasp and a nod that feels more like begging.
He moves between your legs, pushing them wider—wider—until you feel stretched out and helpless under him, like an offering. And he leans forward, pressing his cockhead against your entrance. It doesn’t even go in at first. He just grinds there. Spreads you open with slow circles, letting you feel the weight of it, the heat, the stretch that’s coming.
You choke on a sound. “Pha—Phainon—”
“Shhh,” he whispers, and he smiles. Soft. Like he’s about to baptize you in holy fire. “It’ll fit.”
He pushes in slow. Painfully slow. Not because he’s teasing, but because you physically can’t take it all at once. Your cunt clenches around the thick head, already trembling as he sinks in inch by inch, pulling a broken moan out of you each time your walls stretch around him.
You try to breathe. You can’t. His hand comes to your stomach—
—and when he’s halfway in, you see it.
“Look,” he breathes, pressing gently to the bulge forming just below your bellybutton. “That’s me.”
Your eyes roll back. “T-too big—”
“It fits,” he says again, firm this time. “You’re mine. I will fit.”
And with a slow, final push, he bottoms out.
You scream.
The stretch, the pressure, the feeling of him filling you completely—it’s too much. Too perfect. Your body tightens around him like it’s never going to let go. Like you were meant to take this cock. To take his.
He doesn’t move right away. Just stays there, buried inside you, cock twitching, eyes fixed on your face and the outline in your stomach.
“Good,” he murmurs. “You’re doing so good for me. You’re going to take all of it. Again. And again. Until I’m sure it takes.”
And then he moves.
Slow at first—long, deep strokes that drag against every sweet, ruined part of you. You’re already sensitive, overfucked from his fingers, but now? Now it’s bliss. Sacred. Your hips jerk every time he bottoms out. The bulge grows and disappears, over and over, with every thrust.
“Feel that?” he whispers, dragging his lips over your jaw. “That’s what happens when you insult something divine. Now you’re going to feel it in your stomach every time you breathe.”
Your legs are shaking. You’re moaning without meaning to, drooling, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain. From how good it is. How full.
He starts moving faster, his rhythm breaking, and his hand goes to your thigh, holding you down as your body tries to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure.
“Where are you going?” he growls, low and possessive now. “You asked for this.”
And then it hits. He slams in deep, grinds, and your vision whites out—back arching as you cum hard, squeezing around him, sobbing from the force of it. But he doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets rougher. Harsher. His breath ragged, his grip bruising.
He’s close.
And you know it.
“I’m going to fill you,” he grits out. “So full you’ll feel it dripping for days. You’ll smell like me.”
You whimper something incoherent, but your hips rock up to meet his thrusts. You want it. You need it. The sacred burn of him claiming every inch.
“I’ll breed you until your body forgets every cock before me. Until it only remembers mine.”
The moment it happens, he growls your name, slams in deep one last time—and stays there.
You feel the heat first. Then the stretch. Then the rush of cum flooding you.
He doesn’t pull out.
Not even a little.
He just groans, low and broken, pressing his forehead to yours as he pumps every last drop inside.
And your stomach swells just slightly more with the warmth.
You don’t know how long it’s been.
The room feels warm. Your body? Weak, trembling, leaking. You’re still stretched open around him, thighs twitching, mouth parted with soft gasps. His cum is still inside you—hot, heavy, pooling deep in your cunt, trickling down your inner thighs with every shift of your hips.
You should be done.
Any normal man would’ve pulled out, cleaned you up, let you come down from the high.
But Phainon? He never even left your body.
He’s still there.
Still inside.
Still hard.
And he’s watching you—blue eyes narrowing, one palm gently resting on the bulge in your stomach.
“You’re full,” he murmurs, brushing your sticky hair off your forehead. “But you’re not bred yet.”
You try to speak. You can’t. Your jaw slackens as he pulls back just slightly, just enough for your raw, fluttering walls to feel the drag of him.
And then—
He thrusts back in.
Hard.
You scream.
It’s not pain. It’s not even pleasure. It’s too much. Your body jerks, overwhelmed, the thick mess of cum inside you squelching as he slams back into your already-spoiled cunt. You cry out again, eyes wide and watery.
“Pha—Phainon, I—can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice is calm, but low. Tight with restraint. “You’re made for this. I just have to remind you.”
His hips roll again, slow at first, but deeper. Hungrier. Every stroke pushes against that oversensitive spot inside, and with the way you’re already so full—so stretched—it feels like he’s everywhere at once. Your body tries to squirm away, but he pins your hips down with one hand and holds your thigh up with the other.
“You can take it,” he breathes. “You will take it. You said I was small, remember?”
His cock slams deep, knocking the air from your lungs. He starts rutting now—thrusts rhythmic, brutal, divine—every inch pounding up into your heat like a promise. The bulge in your stomach pulses with every push, getting more visible. He presses it as he fucks into you, and you sob.
“Look at this,” he whispers. “Look what I’m doing to you. That’s my cock inside your womb, my girl. Claiming every inch. You feel it?”
You nod. You don’t even mean to, but you’re nodding like a broken thing, tears down your cheeks, gasping his name over and over like a prayer.
Phainon groans—finally slipping. His breath hitches, rhythm growing faster, more desperate.
“I’ll fuck you stupid,” he growls. “Fill you until it’s leaking down your thighs for days. Until your stomach stays round even when I pull out.”
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He ravages you now. Your pussy is fluttering, clenching, spasming around him, soaking his cock with slick and leftover cum—and he fucks you through it. Like he’s not just fucking you, but teaching your body a lesson.
You cum again. You don’t even realize it until your vision goes white, and your body locks up, and your voice breaks into moans that don’t even sound human anymore. You’re shaking, body arching, drool on your lip—and he still doesn’t stop.
“You love it,” he says into your skin, his lips hot against your temple. “You love being ruined like this. You’ll remember this every time you try to walk.”
You’re crying. Whimpering. Nodding.
And then—his thrusts get sloppier.
You feel him swell.
You know it’s coming.
And he grips your hips and slams in—deep, to the hilt—and holds you there as he spills inside again.
This time? It’s worse.
There’s so much. You can feel it—thick, hot, and endless, rushing in and filling you again like your body was empty. Your belly feels heavier. Rounder. The bulge pulses with warmth as he unloads for the second time.
You can’t even make a sound. Just wide eyes and soft, shattered moans.
He stays there, cock buried inside, twitching, body trembling.
You’re limp. Your thighs are soaked. Your belly’s full. His seed’s dripping down your ass in thick, creamy strings—but he’s still there. Still holding you like something sacred and fragile.
And he leans down, kisses your lips gently, and whispers:
“Still think I’m small?”
You’re too ruined to answer.
But the mess between your legs answers for you.
★ MYDEIMOS :
“You’re small.”
You say it soft. Real soft. Barely a whisper in his ear while you lie under him, half-smirking. You think you’re being cute. Teasing. Stirring that man into a scoff.
But what you get isn’t a scoff or a groan
It’s silence.
Mydei just looks at you—no expression, just heat—and the next second?
He’s on you.
You’re grabbed, flipped, thrown down, and spread open in seconds—legs pinned back to your chest, his thick arms caging you in. You barely get a breath before he’s lining his cock up to your dripping pussy and slams it in.
No warning. No build-up. Just the wet, brutal sound of your cunt getting split open around cock that doesn’t fit but forces its way in anyway.
You scream.
It’s not pain—it’s your pussy trying to figure out how to swallow something that fucking thick. Your lips stretch wide, your walls clench down like they’re confused, stuffed past their limit, already leaking and sucking him in like they know who’s boss now.
He leans in close—chest pressed flat to yours, his full body on you. You can’t move. Can’t breathe. You’re folded up under him like you’re nothing but a fleshlight with a heartbeat, pinned so tight your legs tremble and twitch beside his ribs.
His cock’s balls deep inside.
His stomach presses down on yours.
You look down and see the shape of it—see the thick bulge of his cock pushing up against your belly like he’s trying to break through it.
“Small?” he finally grunts, voice rough in your ear. “You feel that, baby? That’s my dick rearranging your insides.”
And then he starts thrusting into your already wet cunt.
The sound of skin smacking skin gets wetter every second, your pussy making those filthy, squelching noises with every bounce of his hips, juices spilling out everywhere, dripping off your ass and soaking the sheets.
You’re gasping. Whining. Eyes rolling back. You try to say something, maybe beg, maybe moan—but he just grabs your throat and slams in deeper.
You can’t move. You’re folded. Flattened under him. His thick body covers you, keeps you down, presses his weight into you like he’s trying to leave a permanent mark inside your guts.
He spits in your mouth.
“You wanna say that again?” he growls, snapping his hips. “Call me small now.”
You can’t. You’re just moaning, mouth open, drooling on yourself while your pussy flutters and twitches around his cock, slick and swollen from the constant stretch.
“God, you sound stupid,” he groans. “You are stupid now, huh? Just a dumb little hole to fuck. Nothin’ goin’ on in that brain except how deep this cock is.”
And it’s true.
You’re quiet. Brain blank. All you know is the drag and shove of that thick cock inside you, bruising your cunt, flattening your womb. You’re leaking all over his balls, slick sticking to his thighs, his dick punching your guts over and over.
He sits back—brings you with him—doesn’t pull out.
Now you’re in his lap, straddling him, but still bent back, your pussy still spread open, still stuffed with cock. He’s bouncing you now—your ass smacking down on his thighs, tits bouncing, cunt slapping messy around him with every brutal thrust.
You’re just moaning.
“My fuckin’ girl,” he pants. “You were made for this. Made to take all this cock. Gonna breed you right. Knock the last of your thoughts out with my load.”
Your tummy bulges again as he lifts you and slams you down harder.
He wraps one thick arm around your neck—tight headlock—and fucks you through it.
“Say it again,” he hisses in your ear. “Say I’m small while your pussy’s creaming on me like a bitch in heat.”
But you can’t speak. You’re gone.
You’re drooling, eyes crossed, pussy fluttering tight around his dick, holding him in like you’re scared he’ll pull out. You’re gushing—cum and slick squirting out around his cock, dripping mess all over the floor.
He moans. And he breaks.
He grabs your hips, slams you down to the base, and stays there—deep, buried, locked in place.
You feel his cock twitch.
Thick. Heavy. Flooding your cunt, stretching you with cum. You feel it pump into you in hot, heavy spurts, overflowing inside, leaking down your thighs. Your belly gets heavier with it. You swear your pussy’s too full to take more but he doesn’t stop—he keeps grinding.
You’re folded in his lap now, cock still buried so deep it feels like it’s in your throat, cum dripping down between your cheeks in fat, warm globs—and Mydei leans down and brushes your hair from your face like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.
He smirks, nuzzles your flushed cheek.
“Well?” he murmurs, hips slowly rolling again, so slow, just enough to make you feel every inch of him dragging against your raw, sensitive walls. “Still think I’m small?”
You whimper.
That’s all you can manage. Your voice is gone, fucked out of your throat. Your legs won’t stop shaking. Your pussy’s twitching around him like it’s begging for more even though it’s so overstretched, puffy and red from being used.
He hums.
“Didn’t think so.”
And then he kisses you.
Soft. Deep. One hand cupping the back of your head while his tongue lazily rolls against yours. His cock stays buried inside—warm, pulsing—but he’s not fucking you now. Not yet. He’s just holding you there, like he’s soaking in the mess he made.
You blink at him slowly, dazed, drooling, skin slick with sweat.
“Mydei…” you whine.
That’s it. Just his name. Barely even that.
He smiles.
Kisses you again. Starts rocking his hips in that gentle, sweet rhythm—like he’s in love with the way your pussy squeezes him, like he could spend all night just watching you fall apart again under him, all flushed and sore and needy.
“You want more, don’t you?” he murmurs against your lips. “Can feel this little hole begging for it. She’s so greedy, baby.”
You nod. Eyes glassy.
“Good girl,” he breathes. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”
He shifts—pulls out halfway, then slides back in slow, cock thick and veiny and still leaking cum. You moan. Loud. Body arching, hips rolling up to meet him like your pussy’s chasing him.
He watches your face. Watches your expression twist and tremble while he fucks you slow—tender, now, but deep. Deep enough to make your stomach bulge again. Deep enough to make your toes curl.
You look down and whine.
“Look at her,” he growls softly. “Still stretched open. Still dripping for me. You’re so fucking full, baby…”
He slides his hand down between your bodies—presses gently on your lower belly.
You squeal.
Because you feel it—his cock pressing from the inside, bulging your stomach, thick and firm. His thumb rubs circles there while his hips start rolling deeper again, gentle but intentional, grinding into the soft spot inside you like he knows exactly where to touch.
And of course he does.
He’s Mydei.
Your big, mean man. Who just turned into your soft, obsessed husband the second he dumped a load in you.
“Still got room in there,” he murmurs. “Don’t lie, I can feel it. Gonna fill you up again, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine again and again ‘til it’s dripping out of your belly button.”
You’re babbling now.
Begging. Sobbing.
Tears well up as the overstimulation kicks in—but it’s good. It’s so good. He’s so sweet with it, kissing your face, stroking your sides, murmuring filth right into your ear like it’s a love confession.
“You’re everything,” he says. “You hear me? . My pretty girl. I’d fuck you every hour of every day if I could. You were made to take this cock.”
You clench.
He groans.
He cums again.
Slower this time, but hotter somehow—he moans into your mouth, deep and low, hips locked against you as his cock throbs and spills another load inside you, thick and lazy and so much. You feel it pushing everything else out, dripping down your thighs again.
He doesn’t move. Just holds you there, cock deep, cum inside, lips on yours.
“Still small?” he whispers again.
You shake your head, dazed and full.
“No…”
His smirk is feral.
“Didn’t think so.”
★ AVENTURINE :
You’re smirking. Shouldn’t be, but you are.
He’s got you cornered, back against the sleek marble wall of your suite, his tie undone and sleeves rolled, chest warm against yours. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other gripping your chin, keeping your gaze locked with his like you’ve just handed him a challenge on a silver platter.
“Repeat it,” he says softly. Too softly. That smile on his face isn’t a smile , it’s a loaded weapon.
You raise your brows like you’re innocent. You’re not. You know exactly what you said.
“I said,” you purr, playing with the buttons on his shirt like you don’t feel your heartbeat slamming in your chest, “you’re a bit… small.”
There it is. That twitch in his jaw. That flash in his violet eyes like you just poked a sleeping god awake.
He laughs, low and rich, like you just handed him a glass of vintage wine and dared him to break it over your head.
“Small,” he echoes, tilting your face up further. “Interesting.”
You try to act bored. You’re so full of shit.
“Not small small,” you add with a shrug. “Just… not as big as you pretend to be.”
Silence.
Then his lips press against yours — hard. His tongue slides past your lips like he owns them, teeth catching your bottom lip in a cruel, teasing bite before he pulls back just enough to speak again.
“You’re gonna eat those words,” he murmurs, hot against your mouth. “Every single one.”
He takes his time getting you on the bed. Doesn’t throw you down—no, that’d be too easy. He leads you there, fingers on your chin, your throat, your wrist. Every step is deliberate. He pulls you into his lap, clothes still half-on, thighs spread, cock already hard under the slacks he hasn’t even taken off.
“Come on then,” he says, loosening his belt. “Climb on. Since you’re so confident.”
You crawl into his lap like the brat you are — like you’re still in control — grinding slow against the thick outline of his cock as you straddle him, smug smirk still on your face.
“Gonna prove me wrong, little man?” you whisper, voice sugar-sweet.
That earns you a slap.
Not on your face—no, Aventurine’s too elegant for that—but on your ass. Hard. Your body jerks forward, chest colliding with his, a sharp gasp punched from your throat.
“Wrong?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “Oh darling. I’m gonna ruin you so thoroughly, you’ll beg me to be smaller.”
He grabs your waist and flips you around, pulling you back into his lap so you’re facing away from him now, knees spread, his cock sliding free from his slacks and standing proud between your thighs.
You glance down and blink. …Oh. Okay. Maybe he’s not small. Maybe he’s the opposite of small. Maybe you’re very stupid.
Before you can recover, he spits into his palm and strokes himself once—twice— then presses the head against your entrance, one hand gripping your waist and the other trailing slowly, so slowly, down your front.
“Go on,” he whispers against your neck. “Show me how small it feels.”
You sink down.
Your mouth falls open. No words. Just a gasp—long, high, desperate, as his cock stretches you open, thick and hot, filling every inch with a pressure that borders on unbearable.
“Mm?” he purrs, hands gripping your hips as you struggle to take him. “Not speaking now? I thought you were feeling brave tonight.”
You whimper. He laughs.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he groans, sliding in deeper until your thighs are shaking. “This is barely halfway.”
You try to lift yourself off—you try—but he yanks you right back down with a smack to your ass, his cock punching so deep inside you your belly bulges just slightly, perfect and obscene.
“Look at that,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over the spot. “That little bump? That’s me. That’s how ‘small’ I am, hm?”
You’re shaking now. Gasping, drooling, grinding down on him with needy little movements you can’t even pretend are confident anymore.
He drags his lips along your shoulder, bites lightly at your neck, and then thrusts upward. Just once. Deep. Hard.
You sob.
“What was that?” he says sweetly. “Sounded like you were gonna apologize.”
You try—you try so hard—but all that comes out is a pathetic, broken moan.
“Oh, honey,” he breathes, voice full of velvet cruelty. “You don’t get to apologize yet.”
He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back so you’re arching beautifully in his lap, cock still snug and deep inside you. His other hand? Slipping down your front, fingers rubbing right over where you’re throbbing, making you jolt.
“You don’t apologize,” he hisses, “until your knees give out. Until you’re sobbing on my cock.”
You whimper again.
He slaps your thigh—once, twice—then grips your hips and starts fucking up into you, slow and deliberate at first, then faster. Harder. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with your messy, choked cries and his deep, smug groans.
“You said I was small,” he pants, cock ramming into that spot that makes your eyes roll back. “Say it again.”
“N-no—”
“Say it.”
You try, you do—but all you can say is his name, over and over, like a prayer, like a surrender.
He laughs. Moans. Slaps your ass again and watches the ripple with admiration.
“Not so mouthy now, huh?” he says against your neck. “But don’t worry. You’ll get your words back.”
He pulls out, flips you around, and shoves you down to your knees.
His cock is flushed, slick and throbbing, still twitching from the tight heat of your cunt, and he grips it at the base with one hand while guiding your face forward with the other.
“Put that smart little mouth to work,” he growls. “Since you seem to like talking shit.”
You suck him in with shaking hands, lips stretched wide, eyes glassy. He watches you —loves watching you—as you gag and drool around him, your body still trembling from the wreckage he left in his wake.
“Mm, that’s it,” he groans, thrusting slow into your mouth. “Choke on it, baby. Just like you choked on your pride.”
You blink up at him—ruined, teary-eyed, mascara smudged, thighs shaking from being fucked half senseless—and he smiles down at you like the devil himself.
“Still think I’m small?” he whispers.
You shake your head.
“Mmm. Thought so.”
★ DR. RATIO :
You really thought you were funny.
Laid back against the library table, your skirt barely hiding the subtle shift of your thighs, you looked at him with that smug, syrupy smile. With a little shrug, you said it clearly,
“You don’t seem like much, Doctor. Bet you’d barely reach.”
The air went suddenly colder.
He didn’t even blink. Instead, he stared at you like you’d just insulted his entire intellect or knocked over his carefully brewed tea. His fingers twitched near his belt, then the sharp clack of his book closing echoed like a gunshot. He stood up.
“Is that so?” His voice was low, dry, and uninterested. That dangerous, mean little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — not amused, not flirtatious, just a condescending twist that made your stomach knot.
“Well. Let’s test your hypothesis, shall we?”
You should have run. But no. You bit your lip and smirked like the brat you were.
That was your first mistake.
He didn’t say a word as he reached out and flipped you over the desk like you weighed nothing, settling you down flat.
“Still think I’m small?” he gritted, voice low and sharp as his hips ground down hard against you. Your mouth fell open, no witty comeback ready — just the sharp, helpless squeal that escaped when you felt every inch of him.
He was not small. Far from it. He was massive, pressing into you relentlessly, while piles of research scattered beneath you like forgotten papers.
Your cheek stuck to parchment. One hand pressed between your shoulder blades, holding you still, while the other landed on your ass with a resounding smack that made the desk creak beneath you.
“Use your words, test subject.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, irritated and turned on. “You wanted a measurement, didn’t you? Want me to push deeper?”
You whimpered, your legs trembling. That wasn’t enough for him. His hand smacked your ass again, harder this time, then grabbed and spread you wider without shame. He watched you — how your body folded and shivered under his weight — your belly visibly bulging each time he thrust deep, as if your insides were made just for him.
“You’ll take it. That’s what happens when you provoke a man smarter than you.”
It was filthy. Your legs shook uncontrollably, thighs wobbling under the pressure, but he didn’t relent. His body was big, lean but solid — every breath sharp, every growl low and frustrated in your ear. He was not romantic. He was not gentle. He was merciless.
“You’re so full it’s pathetic,” he hissed, grinding his hips harder. “Still think I’m small? Look down. Look at what I’m doing to that belly.”
You did.
You shouldn’t have.
A big, round lump pushed out against your stomach, his cock deep enough to mark you completely.
“You’re drooling,” he sneered. “Still think I’m small?”
You couldn’t answer. You were gasping, nails scraping at the wood as he locked his arms tight around your waist — not letting you escape, not letting you think — mate pressing you until your toes curled and your moans came ragged and raw.
“Say you’re sorry.”
You didn’t.
So he spanked you again, harder this time, then slammed into you deeper until the wet squelching of your cunt echoed through the silent study.
You choked out something broken and breathless. He didn’t care.
“I’ll breed the arrogance out of you,” Ratio muttered under his breath, like your whining was just another tedious experiment. “Let’s see if a few loads fix your attitude.”
He gripped your waist tighter, his breath hot against your ear as his hips pressed deep and unrelenting. Every thrust carved into you, making that heavy bulge in your belly push out more, like you were stretched perfectly around him—no chance to hide it, no mercy given.
His hand found your ass again, slapping it hard, fingers kneading and holding you in place. “You think you’re so clever, talking shit. But look at you now—mine. All wrapped around me, dripping and desperate.”
Your breath hitched, body trembling as he kept pounding into you, the sound of your slick wetness mixing with the harsh smacks filling the quiet room.
“Say it,” he growled, voice low and rough. “Say you’re mine.”
Your voice broke, trembling out, “I’m yours.”
His grin was cruel and satisfied as he pulled you flush against him, mate pressing with all his weight, making sure you couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. The fullness inside you stretched tighter, and he whispered, “You’re so full. Can’t get enough of me, can you?”
You whimpered, head thrown back, utterly undone.
With a sharp slap to your ass, he pulled out just enough so you could feel the thick length twitching, then slammed back inside, his pace rougher, more demanding.
“I’m gonna breed that stubbornness right out of you,” he breathed, voice dark and possessed. “You’ll remember this every damn time you think you can test me.”
Your walls clenched hard around him, moans slipping free as he kept driving you into the desk, holding you down like you were his prize.
“Beg for it,” he said, dragging his hand up to grip your hair, tilting your face so you had no choice but to look at him.
You whimpered, “Please… don’t stop.”
His laugh was low and satisfied. “That’s my good girl.”
He pressed forward, hips snapping, every movement pounding deeper, stretching you full and making your belly roll with the pressure.
Your breath caught as he tensed, voice rough, “Say it. Say I’m the only one.”
“I’m yours,” you gasped, trembling and undone.
With a final, heavy thrust, he claimed you fully, breath hitching as he spilled inside, filling you with everything he had.
He held you pressed tight as you trembled beneath him, hips still rolling lazily, possessive and relentless.
“I told you,” he whispered against your skin, “I’m never small.”
★ JING YUAN :
You really shouldn’t have said it.
You really shouldn’t have looked the General of the Cloud Knights in the eye—shirt tugged up, thighs bare and your panties already wet—and had the audacity to say:
“Tch. With all that confidence, your cock’s probably small anyway.”
The room went quiet for a second.
The kind of quiet where even the crickets were like oh no she didn’t.
Jing Yuan blinked.
Smiled.
Then laughed—that slow, deep, maddening chuckle that slithered straight down your spine like warm honey.
“Small, huh?” he repeated, stretching his arms behind his head like he wasn’t already rock hard in his robes. “Ah… You poor little thing.”
You weren’t prepared for how fast he moved.
One second you’re smug.
Next second your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, legs spread open like he owned them, your panties tugged to the side and his thumb lazily brushing over your soaked folds.
“Say that again.” His voice was low, a little breathy. He hadn’t even taken his robes off. “Let’s see how long you keep that mouth running.”
You gasped when he pulled it out.
Holy—
He knew. Oh, he knew exactly what kind of look crossed your face. The shock. The panic. The twitch of your thighs like they were second-guessing their own bravery.
“I think someone owes me an apology,” he murmured, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit like he was just casually testing the weather. “Or should I make you eat those words?”
Smug bastard. That slow, lazy smile. That thick, achingly hard cock.
You didn’t even have time to beg.
He grabbed you by the back of your head, tilted your jaw open, and fed it to you.
Slow. Deep. Sloppy.
“Mm— look at you now.” His hips rolled like he was half-asleep, voice curling with pure sin. “Choking on the small one, are we?”
You clawed at his thighs when he held you down, cock pressing heavy on your tongue, mocking your every breath. He groaned every time you gagged around him, every time you tried to glare up at him through teary eyes.
“Can’t talk back with your mouth full, hm?” Jing Yuan chuckled, cupping your cheek. “Maybe I’ll keep you like this for a while. Let that attitude melt off your tongue.”
When he finally let you breathe, you were wrecked.
Mascara smeared. Drool dripping down your chin. Knees trembling.
“Aw,” he cooed, petting your hair. “What happened to all that big talk?”
And then—he flipped you over.
One smooth motion, you were face-down, ass up, and his cock already nudging at your entrance.
“This might stretch a little,” he murmured, completely fake sweetness in his tone.
Liar.
You screamed when he pushed in. Inch by thick, punishing inch. Your pussy clenched like it was trying to reject him, but it only made him groan, hands gripping your hips like he was claiming them.
“Fuck, you feel that?” he growled into your ear, voice deeper now, panting against your neck. “Say it again. Say it’s small while it’s splitting you open.”
You tried.
You couldn’t.
Not when he started moving.
Lazy, powerful thrusts that made the bed shake and your legs wobble. He stayed buried deep, hips grinding in slow circles like he had all the time in the world. His hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit like he was spoiling you—just to drive you even crazier.
“Tell me how small I am while you’re dripping like this,” he teased, pinching your clit until you squealed. “Come on, sweetheart. Be brave again.”
All you could do was cry his name.
Over and over.
When you finally came, it was messy. Shaky. So tight around him he groaned into your skin, fucking you through it until your body gave up.
You collapsed, twitching.
And he?
He stayed inside you. Still hard. Still smug.
Leaning down, lips brushing your ear, he whispered:
“…Want to try that again?”
You don’t remember how you got here.
Well, actually—you do. It started with a smug smirk, your bratty mouth, and one too many giggles tossed at the general’s expense.
“With how lazy you are, your cock’s probably soft and small too.”
And now?
Now you’re stuffed full.
Flat on your back, legs trembling, and that massive cock buried so deep your belly’s showing a bulge.
You don’t even have the words anymore. Just little hiccuping moans, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth, and your fingers pressed against your lower belly in pure awe.
“Look at that.” Jing Yuan leans over you, lazy eyes glinting as he lays his palm right on the bulge in your tummy. He presses.
You squeal. Your legs twitch.
“You were running your mouth earlier,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing soft, slow circles over the swollen outline of his cock in your gut. “And now you’re just whining and taking it.”
He rolls his hips, and your back arches. Your soaked pussy clenches again like it can’t help it.
“Can feel me here, can’t you?” he purrs. “Might be small… but it’s so deep, baby.”
You try to speak—really—but all that comes out is a whimper, a little breathless sob of “Yuan—too much, I-I can’t—”
He smirks.
“Yes, you can.”
Then he pulls out—slow, dripping wet, your folds clinging to him—and slams right back in, thick and deep enough you swear you see stars.
You scream.
Your body jerks. Your brain just shorts out.
And he leans down, whispering filth into your ear:
“You don’t need to think. Just keep your legs open and take your stuffing like a good little pillow princess.”
You moan, dumb and needy. All that snark from earlier? Gone. Replaced with sniffles, tears, and broken hiccups as he pounds into you—slow, lazy, and endlessly smug.
“Fuck, gonna breed you,” Jing Yuan growls, fucking you deeper, slapping your thigh. “Gonna fill you so good you’ll be dripping my cum for days. Want that, huh? Want to get knocked up on a small cock?”
You nod.
You sob.
He groans when you clench down again, cock pulsing, hips slamming into your thighs as he spills inside you. Thick, messy ropes that flood your womb and drip out around his base—but he doesn’t stop.
“Stay still,” he pants, pinning you down. “You’re gonna take another one.”
And you do.
And another.
You don’t even realize he’s lying down beneath you until you’re shoved onto his face.
Your thighs shake. His tongue slides right up your slit and licks his own cum from your pussy.
Your moans are broken, hands digging into his messy blond hair as you grind down, riding his face like it’s the only way you remember how to breathe.
“That’s it,” he hums against your folds, voice muffled by your soaked pussy. “Sit on me. Get dumb on this tongue too.”
You do.
You lose your mind.
You cum. Again. And again. So messy, so overstimmed, your voice cracking into little sobs.
When you collapse off his face, ruined and twitching, he kisses your thigh.
how honkai star rail men would be with their very heavily pregnant wife
pairings. jing yuan, blade, anaxa, phainon, mydei, aventurine, boothill, dr ratio, gepard, sunday, sampo, moze x fem/afab! reader
warnings. phainon and mydei might be ooc! slightly suggestive for mydei, angst if you squint for boothill
a/n. my professor is pregnant and i got inspired, is that weird? i think i went a little overboard when writing.
wc. 18.2k
jing yuan
✧ super protective general mode activated – jing yuan won’t let you lift a single finger. you’re a literal empress in his eyes, and he treats you like one.
✧ he constantly rubs your belly, murmuring sweet nothings to your baby, calling them “little cub” or “our future star.”
✧ yanqing is over the moon, already asking when he can start training the baby. jing yuan just laughs and tells him to be patient.
✧ he pretends to be chill, but he secretly has his cloud knights monitoring your every move. if you so much as sigh, he’s rushing to your side with a massage ready.
✧ jing yuan is so unbelievably soft with you. he treats you like you're the most precious thing in the world, because to him, you are. he’s already a laid-back general, but when it comes to you and your pregnancy, he becomes even lazier—only because he insists on doing everything for you, so you don’t have to lift a single finger.
✧ “why would i let you do anything, my love? you’re already doing the most important thing—bringing our child into this world.” he says it so smoothly, like it’s the most obvious thing ever, all while he’s feeding you slices of fresh fruit.
✧ he loves talking to the baby. every night, he rests his head against your belly, rubbing slow circles over your stretched skin as he murmurs soft words. “are you being good to your mother? not causing too much trouble, i hope.” his voice is teasing, but there’s so much warmth in it.
✧ yanqing is excited beyond belief. he treats your belly like a sacred treasure, constantly checking in and promising to be the best big brother figure. jing yuan just watches with an amused smile, letting the boy go on about how he’ll train the baby to be the best swordsman when they’re older.
✧ if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately at your side. tired? he’s carrying you. back hurting? he’s massaging you. craving something? he already sent someone to get it.
✧ he lets you sleep on him whenever you want. if you’re tired in the middle of the day, he just pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped securely around you as he leans back, perfectly content to stay like that for hours.
✧ you catch him daydreaming about your child a lot. he’ll be sitting at his desk, chin in his palm, a soft smile on his lips as he imagines what they’ll look like. “will they have your eyes?” he asks one day, reaching out to brush his fingers over your cheek. “i hope they do.”
✧ he’s secretly very nervous about the birth. he won’t show it, but you catch the way his fingers tighten slightly when he thinks about it. he just loves you so much, and he hates the idea of you being in pain. he’ll be right by your side when the time comes, holding your hand, whispering reassurances in that deep, soothing voice of his.
✧ at the end of the day, jing yuan is just so deeply in love with you. every moment, every touch, every gentle smile—he’s cherishing all of it, because this is the family he’s always dreamed of.
✧ jing yuan is absolutely smitten with you and your pregnancy. he’s always been affectionate, but now? now he’s downright insatiable when it comes to touching you. his hands are always somewhere—resting on your belly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back, cupping your cheek as he presses soft kisses against your lips. he just wants you to feel loved every second of the day.
✧ he’s a chronic nuzzler. when you’re sitting together, he leans in to bury his face in your neck, breathing in your scent, his hands splayed across your belly. when you’re lying down, he rests his forehead against yours, murmuring sweet little reassurances about how well you’re doing. if he could, he’d never let you leave his embrace.
✧ he absolutely spoils you. your cravings? already fulfilled before you even realize you’re hungry. your feet hurt? he’s massaging them while looking at you with those warm, golden eyes. you’re feeling emotional? he’s pulling you into his lap, whispering words of love as he strokes your hair.
✧ his favorite thing is feeling the baby kick. he lights up every single time—his eyes softening, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he presses his palm to your belly. “ah, little one, i see you’re already training to be a warrior.” he chuckles, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.
✧ he reads to you at night. sometimes it’s poetry, sometimes it’s old tales of the xianzhou, but he loves the idea of his voice lulling both you and the baby into sleep. he takes it as an unspoken duty to make sure you’re as comfortable and relaxed as possible.
✧ he will not let you lift a single thing. you could be reaching for something as light as a teacup, and suddenly his arm is there, effortlessly taking it from you. “tsk, tsk, my dear. what did i say about doing things yourself?” he smirks as he hands it to you, obviously enjoying how much he gets to dote on you.
✧ yanqing is so excited that it makes jing yuan even more excited. when yanqing starts talking about how he’s going to train the baby in swordsmanship, jing yuan suddenly finds himself indulging in the fantasy, too. “hm… perhaps they’ll wield a greatsword like me,” he muses, stroking his chin before glancing at you with a teasing smirk. “or maybe they’ll be as quick-witted and sharp as their mother.”
✧ he secretly makes a journal about the pregnancy. he writes down little notes—about the first time he felt the baby kick, about how breathtaking you looked under the moonlight as you rested, about how his heart aches with how much he loves you both. he never tells you about it, but he plans to give it to your child when they’re older, so they’ll know just how much their father adored their mother.
✧ he absolutely, 100% cries when the baby is born. he tries to be strong, tries to keep his composure, but the moment he hears that first cry, he’s done for. he cups your face with shaky hands, pressing his forehead to yours as he whispers, “you did so well, my love… so well.” and when he finally holds the baby, his chest tightens with overwhelming love—he’s never known a happiness like this before.
blade —
✧ he rarely shows outward emotions, but his hands always find their way to your belly, as if grounding himself in the reality of your shared future.
✧ if you ever feel pain, even if it’s normal pregnancy discomfort, he tenses up immediately, staring at you with worry. “are you okay? do you need something?”
✧ he lets you sleep curled up against him, his body warmth soothing you. even if he doesn’t need rest, he’ll lay beside you, hand on your stomach, eyes half-lidded.
✧ the stellaron hunters tease him for being so soft for you, but he doesn’t care. his priority is you and the baby—nothing else.
✧ buys you those pregnancy pillows, not one, not two, not three, but FIVE of them. why? don't ask why. he just did what he had to do.
✧ blade is both the most terrifying and the softest man you have ever seen during your pregnancy. anyone who so much as glances at you the wrong way gets a death glare so sharp it could cut through steel. he becomes hyper-aware of his surroundings, his protective instincts dialed up to a thousand. but when he's with you? when he's resting his palm on your belly, feeling the faint kicks of your child? he's tender in a way no one else will ever see.
✧ he doesn't speak much, but his actions say everything. he’s not the type to whisper poetic words about his love for you, but when he pulls you into his chest, his calloused fingers brushing through your hair—when he kneels in front of you, pressing the softest kiss to your swollen belly—you know exactly how much he cherishes you.
✧ he has a habit of placing his hand on your belly whenever you're together. it’s instinctual, protective, like he’s always ready to shield both you and your child from harm. even in his sleep, his hand finds its way to your stomach, fingers twitching slightly as if standing guard.
✧ he worries about you, even if he doesn’t always say it outright. you catch him watching you with furrowed brows when you move around too much, his lips pressing into a thin line when he sees you wince. if he had his way, you'd be in bed all day, wrapped up in the safest cocoon possible—but he knows you’re strong, so he holds back. barely.
✧ he is unbelievably gentle when touching you. it’s almost ironic—blade, a man who knows nothing but violence, whose hands are stained with countless battles, touches you like you’re made of the finest glass. every time he cups your face, every time he trails his fingers over your belly, his touch is so, so careful. he would rather die than cause you any harm.
✧ he talks to the baby when he thinks you're asleep. late at night, when the world is silent and you’re curled up against him, he whispers words he could never say when you're awake. “i will protect you.” his voice is barely above a breath, his hand splayed over your belly. “you and your mother. always.”
✧ he makes sure you're eating properly, even if it means forcing you to sit down while he prepares something himself. he doesn’t care if he’s never been much of a cook—he will make sure you're fed and taken care of, even if it means standing in the kitchen for an hour, staring at a recipe with a deep frown.
✧ he pretends not to care about the baby shopping, but he totally does. when you bring him to look at baby clothes, he acts indifferent at first, hands tucked into his coat. but the second he sees a tiny onesie in your favorite color? he picks it up, runs his fingers over the fabric, and mutters something about how “this one looks… acceptable.” (he buys it immediately.)
✧ he doesn't know how to express it, but he's excited to be a father. he never thought he’d have something like this—something soft, something real. he never thought he’d have a future beyond endless battles. but now, with you by his side, carrying a child that is part of both of you, he finally starts to believe in something more.
✧ when the baby is born, he is completely, utterly still. for the first time in his life, blade feels like he has no words. he holds the tiny bundle in his arms, staring down at this little life he helped create, and something deep inside him shifts. when he finally looks at you, eyes glassy with unspoken emotion, he whispers the only thing he can say—“thank you.”
✧ blade is absolutely helpless when it comes to your cravings. you want something specific in the middle of the night? he’s already putting on his coat, ready to hunt it down no matter how absurd it is. he doesn’t even question it anymore. one time, you craved something bizarre—like spicy pickles dipped in chocolate—and he just stared at you for a full ten seconds before silently retrieving the ingredients. when he watched you eat it with a satisfied hum, he muttered, “...i have never feared anything more than i fear your cravings.”
✧ there was one time when he brought you the wrong food, and you almost burst into tears. your craving was very specific—a warm peach bun from a particular vendor—but he accidentally got a different flavor. when he saw your lip tremble, he immediately turned on his heel and went straight back out to find the exact one you wanted. “i will not return until i retrieve it,” he swore, like he was going on some life-or-death mission.
✧ he tries to act like he doesn’t care when you make him try your strange craving combinations, but the second you say, “if you love me, you’ll try it,” he knows he’s lost. cue him begrudgingly taking a bite of something absolutely cursed (like ice cream and soy sauce) while you eagerly watch for his reaction. he chews. he swallows. he slowly looks away and mutters, “i am never doing that again.” (he does it again the next time you ask.)
✧ one time, you craved something so bad that you started getting emotional over it. “blade… what if i never get to eat it again?” you sniffled, burying your face in your hands. panic. absolute panic. he thought this was an actual emergency. he dropped everything he was doing, ready to fight the universe itself if it meant securing your food. when he finally got it and handed it to you, you sighed dreamily, saying, “you’re my hero.” his ears turned a little red after that.
✧ you get unbelievably clingy, and it’s both endearing and confusing to blade. he’ll be standing still, minding his own business, when you just attach yourself to him, draping yourself over his back like a koala. “don’t move,” you mumble. he doesn’t. if anything, he just shifts slightly so that you’re more comfortable.
✧ there was a moment when you dramatically flopped onto the bed, groaning about how your feet hurt. before you could even finish your sentence, blade was already kneeling down, silently massaging your feet. you gasped. “oh my god, you’re actually good at this—” his fingers worked into the sore spots with expert precision. you immediately melted. blade, meanwhile, just continued as if he’d been doing this for centuries. “your body is under strain,” he simply said. “this is the least i can do.”
✧ blade has an uncanny ability to appear whenever you need help. you’re struggling to bend down to grab something? suddenly, he’s there. you’re about to lift something heavier than he deems acceptable? boom, he’s already taking it from you. you once tested this by whispering, “i’m craving something…” and within seconds, he materialized behind you with an unreadable expression, already holding his coat, waiting for instructions.
✧ he does not tolerate anyone making unnecessary comments about your size. one time, a stranger made an offhand remark about how big your belly was, and before you could even react, blade was staring them down with the most chilling gaze imaginable. he didn’t even say a word—just narrowed his eyes ever so slightly—and the person immediately backpedaled.
✧ despite his serious nature, there was one time he made a mistake that neither of you will ever forget. you asked him to fetch your favorite snack, and he misheard you. instead of returning with the correct one, he came back with something completely different. when he handed it to you, looking all serious, you just… stared at it. “blade… what is this.” he frowned. “the food you asked for.” you shook your head.
✧ “no, this is not what i asked for.” a long silence. then, without a word, he simply turned around and walked right back out to get the correct one.
✧ sometimes, he gets so used to catering to you that he forgets he doesn’t need to keep doing it after the baby is born. one time, you got up to get something for yourself, and blade immediately tried to stop you. “sit down,” he said automatically, already moving to do it for you. you had to gently remind him, “blade, i can move now.” he paused. thought about it. then, in a deadpan voice, muttered, “...i don’t like that.”
anaxa —
✧ the man is obsessed with your pregnancy. every single day, he’s marveling at your growing belly, resting his head on it, whispering to the baby.
✧ “can you hear me, little one? your father loves you very, very much~” and then he looks up at you with stars in his eyes. you can’t walk five steps without him offering to carry you.
✧ he’d literally sweep you off your feet in public if you let him. he handmakes baby clothes, paints the nursery with celestial patterns, and makes sure you’re always surrounded by warmth and love.
✧ anaxa is absolutely ecstatic about you carrying his child. he’s a man of passion, and this is the most exciting thing to ever happen in his life. he showers you in affection constantly, hands never far from your belly, and every little change in your pregnancy fascinates him. one day, he catches sight of your growing bump in the mirror, and his golden eyes widen with pure admiration.
✧ “by the aeons, look at you… you’re stunning.” he twirls you around, beaming, like you’re the most divine sight in the universe.
✧ he is obnoxiously protective but in a warm, dramatic way. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately cupping your face, his gaze filled with concern. “beloved, are you unwell? do you need anything? say the word, and i shall move the stars themselves to bring you comfort.” if you so much as stumble, he is catching you like a hero in a romantic novel, dipping you slightly as if it were a dance.
✧ he goes insane over your cravings. no matter how ridiculous, he takes it as a personal challenge. one time, you craved the most specific fruit from a distant planet, and before you could even consider changing your mind, he was already making arrangements to have it imported. it arrived within hours. you stared at him in disbelief as he proudly presented it. “for you, my beloved, there is no distance too far.”
✧ he gets competitive about taking care of you. he must be the one to do everything. need a foot massage? he’s already doing it. thirsty? your drink is already in your hands. you tried to reach for something on a high shelf once, and he gasped dramatically, lifting you into his arms instead. “such tasks are far beneath you, my dear.” you just wanted a plate.
✧ when the baby kicks for the first time, he is overwhelmed. his hands freeze over your stomach, golden eyes widening in shock. he looks up at you, utterly stunned, before breaking into the most lovesick grin you have ever seen. “they’re strong,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “our child is strong.”
✧ he talks to your belly. all the time. and not just little greetings—he has full conversations. he tells your baby about the adventures he’s had, the beautiful places they’ll see, and how lucky they are to have you as their mother. sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers soft promises to them. “you will be loved beyond measure, little one. i swear it upon the stars.”
✧ he spoils you rotten. anything you want, you get. it’s impossible to stop him. the moment you so much as glance at a pretty item, he’s already purchasing it. if you tell him “you don’t have to—” he hushes you with a kiss to your forehead. “nonsense, my love. you deserve the world.”
✧ he gets extremely emotional when you’re in labour. despite his usual confidence, he is on edge, pacing the room, running a hand through his hair, whispering prayers under his breath. the second he hears your baby’s first cry, he collapses into the chair, exhaling a deep breath of relief (like he was the one giving birth.... 😒).
✧ when he finally holds them for the first time, he is speechless. his usual poetic words fail him, and he just stares, eyes glossy with unshed tears, before finally whispering, “you are the greatest gift i have ever received.”
✧ anaxa treats your pregnancy like the most important quest of his life. from the moment he learns you’re expecting, he dives headfirst into research. he devours every article, medical journal, and ancient text on pregnancy, memorizing every detail.
✧ at night, he’s hunched over stacks of datapads, reading about fetal development, prenatal nutrition, and even obscure childbirth traditions across different planets. when you wake up and ask what he’s doing, he simply replies, “studying for the most important role of my existence.”
✧ he takes notes. meticulous, detailed notes. he carries around a small journal where he writes everything—your mood shifts, your cravings, even what time of day the baby kicks the most. it’s filled with observations like “beloved seemed irritated today—possible correlation with lack of midday nap?” and “baby prefers right side of belly—will investigate further.”
✧ one time, you peeked into his notes and found a page titled “top ten ways to make my love comfortable” with a ranked list of his most successful strategies.
✧ he does field research. he doesn’t just rely on books—he goes out and seeks firsthand knowledge. he interviews every mother he can find, from warriors to scholars, recording their experiences and advice with intense focus.
✧ he once stopped an entire group of mothers in the marketplace just to ask, “ladies, if i may—what was the most effective way your partners supported you during pregnancy?” he listened very seriously, nodding at each answer, before thanking them with a deep bow.
✧ he becomes hyper-aware of pregnancy symptoms before you even notice them. you sigh slightly, and before you can say anything, he’s already handing you water because “dehydration can cause fatigue, my dear.”
✧ If you rub your lower back even once, he instantly offers a massage. one time, you mentioned feeling warm, and within seconds, he adjusted the room’s temperature to the optimal degree for pregnant comfort.
✧ no one can escape his lectures. if someone offers you food that’s even slightly questionable for pregnancy, he immediately intervenes, launching into a detailed explanation of why you cannot eat it. “that dish contains an ingredient known to cause nausea in twelve percent of expectant mothers. i simply cannot allow it.”
✧ you once caught him educating a fellow father-to-be about the importance of emotional support during pregnancy. “your partner’s needs must always come first. if she craves something at midnight, you go. no hesitation.”
✧ he gets way too into prenatal bonding. he doesn’t just talk to the baby—he reads stories, sings songs, and even plays music. one day, you walked in on him reciting a dramatic monologue from one of his favorite plays to your belly, gesturing passionately. “and so, my dear child, this is the tale of heroes and honor… may you inherit my love for storytelling.” you couldn’t stop laughing.
✧ when you’re nearing your due date, he prepares a full emergency plan. he has a route mapped out to the medical facility, a list of supplies packed and double-checked, and contingency plans for every possible scenario.
✧ if labor starts unexpectedly, he has multiple escape routes memorized for a quick departure. one time, he even did a practice drill, making sure he could carry you effortlessly if needed. “i must be ready, beloved. i refuse to falter in your moment of need.”
✧ the moment you go into labor, he activates like a man on a mission. his usually playful and dramatic nature is replaced with laser-sharp focus. he’s immediately by your side, holding your hand, guiding you through breathing exercises he memorized. but internally, he is barely holding it together.
✧ the second he hears the baby’s first cry, he lets out a shaky breath, his entire body relaxing. when he finally holds your child, all the stress melts away, and he just gazes at them in awe, whispering, “you were worth every moment.”
phainon
✧ this man treats you like the most precious treasure. If anyone so much as breathes near you the wrong way, he’s glaring at them. every craving? immediately fulfilled.
✧ even if you wake up at 3 am and want the most obscure food, he’ll find a way to get it for you. he’s fascinated by the baby’s movements and constantly asks, “did they kick just now?”
✧ when you can’t sleep, he’ll hold you close and hum soft lullabies, stroking your hair until you drift off in his arms.
✧ phainon is absolutely obsessed with the idea of being a father. from the moment he learns you’re pregnant, he acts like he just won the greatest cosmic jackpot in existence. he picks you up and spins you around before freezing and setting you down gently, apologizing because “right, right, must be careful now.” but he’s grinning ear to ear, already talking about all the things he wants to do with the baby. “do you think they’ll like stargazing? i’ll teach them all about the constellations, and we can name a star after them.”
✧ he immediately starts making preparations. within days, he’s turned an entire room into a nursery, but it’s not just any nursery—it’s a masterpiece. he hand-paints galaxies on the ceiling so the baby will always feel like they’re sleeping under the stars.
✧ he even commissions a custom-built crib that gently rocks like a spaceship in zero gravity. he’s so proud of it, constantly adjusting tiny details to make it perfect. “our little star deserves the best, don’t you think?”
✧ he takes baby-proofing to an extreme. he starts evaluating your entire home with the scrutiny of a scientist studying an uncharted planet. “this corner? too sharp. that table? unstable. this step? a potential hazard.”
✧ you catch him padding furniture, securing every single cabinet, and even installing a soft landing zone in case the baby ever falls. you try to tell him that it’s way too early for this, but he just winks and says, “better to be safe than sorry, starlight.”
✧ cravings are his absolute favourite part of the pregnancy. the moment you mention wanting something, he’s on it. he once woke up at three in the morning to hunt down a very specific dessert you were craving.
✧ when he finally returned, slightly dishevelled but victorious, he proudly presented it to you like he had just returned from a heroic quest. if you ever apologise for asking for something difficult, he just kisses your forehead and says, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you and our little one.”
✧ he gets really into talking to the baby. not just casual conversations—full-blown storytelling. he lies with his head on your belly, telling the baby about all the wonders of the universe, all the places they’ll visit, all the things they’ll see.
✧ “you’re gonna love it out here. just wait until you see your first comet—it’s breathtaking.” he also sings lullabies, soft celestial melodies he swears have been passed down in his family. even you find yourself falling asleep to them.
✧ he fusses over you constantly. anytime you so much as sigh, he’s immediately checking in. “are you okay? do you need anything? here, let me get you some water. or a pillow. or—” you have to physically stop him from treating you like a fragile piece of glass.
✧ if you so much as try to lift something heavier than a book, he swoops in immediately. “whoa, whoa, whoa—absolutely not. no heavy lifting for my love. let me handle it.”
✧ despite all his excitement, he does have moments of deep, quiet reflection. sometimes you’ll find him sitting by the nursery, looking up at the painted stars with a soft smile. when you ask what’s on his mind, he just pulls you close and murmurs, “i just… can’t believe this is real. that i get to have this with you.”
✧ his hand will rest on your belly, his thumb tracing slow circles as he whispers, “i promise to be the best father i can be. i swear it.”
✧ when the day finally comes, he is a wreck. for all his usual charm and confidence, the moment you tell him it’s time, he panics. he grabs the hospital bag, then forgets where he put the hospital bag. he tries to call someone but dials the wrong number. you have to physically pull him back to reality.
✧ but once he sees you, really sees you, he takes a deep breath, centers himself, and holds your hand with all the love in the universe. when he hears the baby’s first cry, his eyes fill with tears, and he laughs, breathless, as he whispers, “welcome home, little star.”
✧ phainon is an absolute menace when it comes to public displays of affection, and your pregnancy just makes it ten times worse. he’s already the type to drape himself over you, kiss you whenever he pleases, and hold your hand no matter where you go, but now? now he’s practically glued to you. he’s always resting a hand on your belly, rubbing soothing circles over it, or just holding you close like he’s staking a claim. whenever someone congratulates him on the baby, he just beams and says, “i know, isn’t it wonderful? my starlight is glowing.”
✧ the chrysos heirs do not make things easy for him. the moment they find out you’re pregnant, it’s like they’ve been given free rein to tease him relentlessly. they’re always making comments about how he’s become soft, how he’s acting like an overexcited first-time dad, how he’s basically your personal servant at this point. phainon just waves them off with a smug grin, completely unbothered. “jealous? i would be too if i didn’t have someone as perfect as my starlight carrying my child.” the teasing only gets worse after that.
✧ some of them take it a step further, trying to rile him up by making bets on what kind of father he’ll be. “ten credits says he cries when he holds the baby for the first time.” “twenty says he panics and passes out before the baby even arrives.” phainon just scoffs, but the truth is? he does cry when he holds the baby for the first time, and he almost passes out from the sheer emotional overload. the heirs never let him live it down.
✧ despite their teasing, some of them are actually really invested in your pregnancy. they offer parenting books, advice (some useful, some absolutely ridiculous), and even propose setting up a baby fund to spoil the child the moment they’re born.
✧ phainon, of course, refuses. “i appreciate the thought, but my little one won’t need all that nonsense.” ten minutes later, he’s accepting a tiny celestial-themed onesie from one of the heirs with a soft, “... okay, maybe just this one.”
✧ in public, phainon is the proudest future father to ever exist. he makes sure everyone knows. if you go out together, he’s showing you off like you’re the most precious treasure in the galaxy—which, in his eyes, you are. if someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s immediately on guard, slipping an arm around your waist and fixing them with a look that says don’t even think about it.
✧ he gets so protective when you’re in crowded areas. he insists on keeping a hand on you at all times, whether it’s resting on the small of your back or holding your hand tightly. if someone bumps into you even slightly, his entire demeanor shifts—his usual easygoing attitude replaced by something much sharper. “watch where you’re going,” he says, his voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
✧ if you ever get tired while walking, he doesn’t even hesitate before picking you up. bridal style, over his shoulder, whatever gets the job done. you try to protest, but he just grins. “what? i can’t have my starlight overexerting themselves. besides, you deserve to be treated like royalty.” people definitely stare, but phainon does not care in the slightest.
✧ you catch him buying so many baby-related things on impulse. he’ll see a tiny pair of star-patterned socks and immediately grab them, muttering “they’re going to look adorable in these.” his collection of baby clothes, plushies, and toys gets so out of hand that you have to physically stop him from buying more.
✧ he gets so smug when people comment on how lucky your child will be to have him as a father. he’ll flash you a knowing grin and say something like, “of course they’re lucky. they have the best parents in the universe.” and then he’ll lean in and murmur against your ear, “but between you and me, they’re going to love you more.”
✧ at the end of the day, despite all the teasing from the heirs, the doting, and the over-the-top protection, phainon is just so deeply in love with you and the life you’re building together.
✧ every time he looks at you, he sees the future he’s always dreamed of. and every time he places a hand on your belly, he’s reminded that his greatest adventure is just beginning.
mydei
✧ overly doting husband award goes to… mydei! he treats you like royalty.
✧ if you ever try to do anything yourself, he’s immediately stopping you. “what do you think you're doing? you are carrying our child. i’ll do everything.”
✧ and he means it. he writes letters to your baby before they’re born, leaving them in a box for them to read one day. you constantly wake up to breakfast in bed, your favourite drinks prepared exactly how you like them, and soft, warm blankets because he wants you as comfy as possible.
✧ mydei is absolutely obsessed with your pregnancy in the best way possible. the moment he finds out, it’s like his entire world shifts—everything he does, everything he thinks about, revolves around you and the little life growing inside you.
✧ he becomes so soft, his usual cold, distant demeanor melting away when he’s with you. whenever he talks about the baby, his voice is filled with nothing but warmth. “our little one is going to be amazing. just like their mother.”
✧ he takes everything about pregnancy very seriously. he practically turns into a scholar overnight, gathering every book, article, and medical journal he can find. he takes meticulous notes, cross-references sources, and even reaches out to professionals—doctors, experienced parents, even midwives.
✧ he even asks random pregnant women and mothers about their experiences, carefully logging every detail. “everyone’s journey is different,” he tells you, eyes filled with determination. “but i need to be prepared for anything.”
✧ his research leads to some very specific routines. he makes sure your diet is perfectly balanced, ensuring you get all the necessary nutrients while still indulging your cravings.
✧ he tracks your hydration levels, sleep patterns, and even stress levels. if he notices you looking tired or overwhelmed, he immediately whisks you away to rest. “no arguments. you need to take care of yourself.”
✧ despite his usually elegant and refined nature, he is so comically weak to your cravings. he will go to the ends of the universe to find whatever it is you’re craving, no matter how difficult or absurd. “you want a very specific fruit that only grows on a planet halfway across the cosmos? give me a moment.” he does not settle for substitutes. if it’s not exactly what you want, he will not rest until he finds it.
✧ he gets extremely protective in public. he’s already the type to keep an eye on his surroundings, but now? he’s on high alert. he positions himself between you and any potential danger, shields you from crowds, and death-glares anyone who so much as bumps into you. he carries extra layers if it gets cold, makes sure you’re never overexerting yourself, and always finds the safest routes when walking anywhere.
✧ if anyone even dares to make an inappropriate comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s about your body changing or unsolicited parenting advice—his entire demeanor darkens. his polite mask drops, and his voice turns icy as he calmly but mercilessly shuts them down. “your opinion was neither needed nor wanted. kindly leave before i lose my patience.”
✧ pda with him becomes softer, sweeter, and more frequent. he was always a little reserved when it came to public affection, but now? he doesn’t care who’s watching.
✧ he kisses your forehead absentmindedly, holds your hand everywhere, and often keeps an arm around your waist, rubbing gentle circles over your belly. when he talks to people, his hand naturally rests on your stomach as if it’s second nature.
✧ at night, he always falls asleep with a hand on your belly. he whispers to the baby, telling them stories, making quiet promises. “i’ll keep you and your mother safe. always.” his fingers trace light patterns against your skin, his voice laced with adoration. if the baby kicks, his eyes light up with wonder, a rare, unguarded smile stretching across his lips. “already so strong.”
✧ he takes nesting very seriously. he personally oversees the nursery, ensuring everything is perfect. the colors, the furniture, even the atmosphere—he carefully selects everything with precision and care. he tests the crib himself, sits in the rocking chair to make sure it’s comfortable, and painstakingly arranges and rearranges decorations until he’s satisfied. if something isn’t up to his standards, it’s gone. “only the best for our child.”
✧ the moment the baby arrives, all the walls he’s ever had completely crumble. he holds them with the gentlest touch, his eyes brimming with emotions he can’t even put into words.
✧ he presses the softest kiss to their forehead, whispering their name like it’s something sacred. he looks at you, exhausted yet radiant, and for the first time in his life, he feels truly complete.
✧ mydei insists on accompanying you every single time you go shopping for maternity wear. at first, you think he’s just being his usual meticulous, overprotective self, but then you realise—he genuinely enjoys it.
✧ he treats it like an event, carefully selecting pieces he thinks will be both comfortable and stylish for you. he has impeccable taste, so he always picks out the most flattering outfits, running his hands over the fabrics with a thoughtful hum before handing them to you. “this one will look beautiful on you. try it on.”
✧ the moment you start feeling insecure about your belly, he notices. you run your fingers over the curve of your stomach, frowning slightly at how different your body feels, how nothing fits the way it used to. the way you sigh while looking at yourself in the mirror doesn’t go unnoticed by him.
✧ he steps behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. his hands slide over the curve of your belly, holding you close.
✧ “why do you look so troubled, my love?” his voice is so smooth, low, and filled with warmth. when you mutter about how different your body feels, how you don’t feel as attractive, he simply tilts his head, his lips brushing against your ear.
✧ “you look breathtaking. absolutely divine.” he turns you around gently, his fingers lightly tracing patterns against your stomach. “do you even realise how incredible you are? you’re carrying our child, our future. there is nothing more beautiful than that.”
✧ his reassurance does not stop there. if anything, it becomes a little suggestive. his lips trail down to your neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses as his hands roam your sides. “this body, this belly, this softness... all of it is perfect. you are perfect.” his voice is velvety, filled with unfiltered adoration, and when you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, he just smiles against your skin.
✧ “you don’t believe me?” he whispers, his hands sliding lower before resting firmly on your hips. “perhaps I should show you just how irresistible you are to me.”
✧ you swat at his chest, flustered beyond belief, telling him you’re in the middle of a clothing store, but he only chuckles, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. “fine, fine. I’ll behave… for now.” but the way he lingers, the way his eyes darken just a little, tells you that he’s far from done.
✧ even after leaving the store, his hands never stop touching you—tracing over your belly absentmindedly, rubbing soothing circles over your back, occasionally squeezing your hips just to see you flustered. whenever you wear the clothes he picked out, he cannot take his eyes off you.
✧ if you ask him why he’s staring, he simply smirks. “admiring my wife. is that a crime?” he pauses before leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “though, I must say, I quite enjoy seeing you without these clothes, too.”
aventurine
✧ he acts nonchalant (well not really...), but deep down? he’s besotted with you and the baby. he boasts about you to everyone at the family, showing off the sonograms like they’re a rare jackpot he won at a casino.
✧ every time you walk into the room, his eyes immediately land on you. “and how is my favourite future mother doing today?”
✧ if you’re feeling down, he spoils you like crazy, showering you with gifts and trips to the fanciest places just to see you smile.
✧ aventurine treats you like absolute royalty the moment he finds out you’re pregnant. not that he didn’t already spoil you before, but now? it’s on a completely different level. you barely have to lift a finger—he’s already taking care of everything before you even think about needing it.
✧ he immediately starts building a nursery, and by "building," he means designing the most extravagant, high-end, luxurious baby room money can buy.
✧ he spares no expense—custom furniture, premium-quality baby clothes, plush toys imported from different planets, the softest blankets in existence, a crib that probably costs more than a spaceship, you name it. everything is top-tier, only the best for his child.
✧ he goes overboard with baby shopping. you tell him the baby isn’t even here yet, and he just smirks, unbothered. “better to be prepared, sweetheart. besides, it’s fun.” he buys every cute outfit he sees, from tiny formal suits to cozy little onesies, and don’t even get him started on toys. he buys so many that you swear your baby won’t even get to play with half of them.
✧ food? taken care of. cravings? immediately satisfied. he has chefs on standby ready to make whatever you want, whenever you want it. at 2 am, when you wake up craving something obscure, you hesitate to wake him, but the moment he stirs and hears you shifting in bed, he insists. “tell me what you want, love. i’ll get it for you right now.”
✧ and if it’s something rare or hard to find? he pulls strings, makes calls, and by some miracle, has it in front of you within the hour. if that’s not possible, he personally goes out to find it himself. no complaints, no hesitation. he does it happily.
✧ he is obsessed with making sure you’re comfortable. if he catches you shifting around, trying to find a better position, he’s already fluffing your pillows, adjusting your seat, anything to make sure you’re perfectly cozy.
✧ he arranges regular massages for you, has the softest, most luxurious blankets at your disposal, and if he catches you even looking slightly uncomfortable, he fixes it before you can even say a word.
✧ the way he dotes on you is almost comical. he won’t even let you walk too much without insisting you rest. “why strain yourself when I can carry you, hm?” and if you protest? he smirks, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet anyway.
✧ he loves talking to your belly. at first, it’s just quiet murmurs when he thinks you’re asleep, soft reassurances and promises. but then? he gets dramatic. “you better take after your mother. if you inherit my gambling habits, we’re going to have a problem.” he fully has conversations with your unborn child, completely shameless, and honestly? it’s adorable.
✧ he lives for your flustered reactions. if you ever feel insecure about your body changing, he makes sure you never doubt how beautiful you are. “look at you,” he purrs, eyes gleaming as he trails his fingers over your belly.
✧ “glowing. divine. absolutely stunning. you have no idea how breathtaking you are, do you?” and when you get all shy? he just chuckles, pleased. “should I remind you some more?”
✧ the second you complain about your feet being sore, aventurine doesn’t hesitate—he immediately takes off his shoes, swapping them with yours. it’s a comical sight, especially when you see his ridiculously expensive, immaculate shoes paired with your cozy, worn-out sneakers. you can’t help but laugh, but he just smiles, so proud of his solution. “there, that’s better, right?”
✧ he then proceeds to buy you an entire new wardrobe of sneakers—comfort over style, he insists. no more heels unless you want them. “you don’t need to suffer in those when we can make you look just as good in something more comfortable,” he says, his voice serious, as he orders half a dozen pairs of different styles, colours, and designs of the softest sneakers imaginable.
✧ he doesn’t even flinch when the bill comes in, just waves it off like it’s nothing.
✧ lord your man is sexy.
✧ of course, if you really want to wear heels for an occasion, he’ll never stop you. “you look stunning in heels, my love. wear them for as long as you like,” he says, but he always makes sure there’s a soft, padded seat nearby for when you need to rest, and he’ll literally help you change your shoes afterward.
✧ now, when it comes to mood swings, aventurine is the ultimate calm presence. he knows it’s just one of those things, so he simply adjusts to whatever mood you’re in. when you get irritated, frustrated, or upset, he’s there with a soft, unwavering smile, letting you vent as much as you need to.
✧ if you snap at him, he’s not offended at all. in fact, he’s almost amused by it, seeing it as just another aspect of your beauty—your passion, your fire. “feel free to let it all out, darling,” he says, taking your hand, his grip steady and soothing. “I’m right here. whatever you need, I’m here for you.” he doesn’t try to calm you down immediately, because he knows it’s important for you to express yourself.
✧ after you’ve finished ranting, he checks in with you again, his voice soft and considerate. “are you okay now? did yelling at me help?” he asks with genuine care, his smile patient and gentle, never judging. if you’re still upset, he’ll simply hold you and let you settle into his arms, letting you know that whatever mood you’re in, he’s not going anywhere.
✧ nothing rattles him. no matter how dramatic your mood swings get, he handles it with endless patience, making sure you feel safe and loved through every moment. if you start to feel guilty afterwards, he’ll just smile and say, “you have every right to feel how you feel. nothing to apologise for.”
boothill
✧ rough cowboy, soft husband. he insists on carrying you everywhere.
✧ walking is not an option for you, his pregnant wife.
✧ calls you “darlin’”
✧ speaks so softly when talking to the baby, completely in awe that you’re carrying his kid. he always has a protective hand on your back, guiding you gently.
✧ if anyone stares too long, his hand moves to his holster. (you have to smack his hand and scold him)
✧ when you can’t sleep, he sits beside you and talks about life on the frontier, his deep voice lulling you into peaceful dreams.
✧ boothill’s love for you is overwhelming, and yet, at times, you can’t help but notice a slight weight behind his affection. when he spoils you, it’s not out of simple joy—it’s out of a deep need to make sure you’re always okay, that you’re always happy, and it’s almost like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t try hard enough.
✧ he goes all out with everything—buying the best things, preparing the most extravagant meals, filling the house with comforts, and making sure you never have to lift a finger. he does it all with a quiet, unshakable intensity, like if he’s not constantly doing something for you, he’ll fail somehow.
✧ his attention is unrelenting. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately there, asking if you’re feeling okay, if you need anything, if you’re comfortable. and while you know it’s all out of love, sometimes you wonder if it’s a little too much.
✧ there’s an unspoken tension that lingers in his actions—an underlying anxiety that if he doesn’t care for you in every way, you’ll somehow slip from his grasp.
✧ when you become pregnant, that tension only intensifies. suddenly, he’s not just worried about you—he’s anxious about the baby, too. the world around him seems to sharpen, and he starts doting on you even more, almost to the point where it feels like he’s smothering you. but his love isn’t suffocating—it’s desperate.
✧ in the quiet moments, when he watches you sleep or rubs his hand over your belly, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a quiet fear. he’s afraid, deep down, of losing you, or the baby, or both.
✧ he hates the thought of you being in any kind of discomfort. when you tell him about the aching in your back or the soreness in your feet, he acts immediately, as if your pain is his fault. it’s as if he believes that if he doesn’t fix it right away, something terrible will happen.
✧ he’s obsessive in his need to make everything perfect for you, and even though you appreciate it, sometimes you wish he would just let you be. let you have some space to breathe, to exist on your own terms.
✧ in moments when the weight of it all gets to him, he retreats a little—his jaw tightens, his eyes harden. when he’s alone with his thoughts, you can see the flicker of self-doubt, a slight crack in his usually confident demeanour. he knows that his fear is something he needs to deal with, but it feels so out of control that it’s hard for him to admit it. he doesn’t want to show you his vulnerability, doesn’t want to burden you with his insecurities.
✧ but you see it in the way he holds you at night, the tightness in his arms, the way he checks on you repeatedly, his hands brushing over your body as if he’s trying to make sure you’re all still there. and when you ask him what’s wrong, he’s quick to mask it, brushing it off with a grin, but you know. you can always tell. the angst isn’t loud or overt—it’s hidden beneath his gestures, his actions, his love.
✧ still, his devotion to you is undeniable. even though he has his own silent battles, even though there’s a constant flicker of fear within him, he loves you with every ounce of his being. the moments when he’s vulnerable with you are rare, but when they come, he holds you closer, as if afraid of letting go for even a second.
✧ you can feel the fragility in his touch, the quiet fear that you might slip away from him.
✧ he doesn’t always have the words to express what he’s feeling, but his actions speak louder than anything. and in the silence, when he looks at you, you know. you know that despite all of his worries and fears, he will always protect you, even if he has to keep some of that pain hidden in the quiet corners of his heart.
✧ when the sun is a little too bright for you, boothill doesn’t hesitate. he’s quick to take off his hat and place it gently on your head, adjusting it with a playful smile. “there, now you can enjoy the sunshine without turning into a tomato,” he says, chuckling at how cute you look in his oversized hat.
✧ if the sun is especially brutal, he’ll even suggest you both find some shade or just spend time indoors with the air conditioning, but he knows it’s about making you feel comfortable, not just avoiding the heat.
✧ if you’re feeling particularly tired, he doesn’t wait for you to ask. the moment he sees you yawn or slump a little, he’s already sweeping you off your feet, giving you a piggyback ride with the kind of enthusiasm that’s almost comical considering his usual serious demeanour. “i’ve got you,” he says, grinning widely, despite his usual stoic nature.
✧ if you’re too tired for a piggyback ride or just don’t feel like walking, he’ll immediately scoop you up in his arms. it’s as if you’re his most precious treasure, and he wants nothing more than to ensure your comfort at all times.
✧ “you know, if you just need to be carried all day, I’m perfectly fine with that,” he teases, and you can see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. he loves it when he gets to take care of you, and he’s never shy about showing it.
✧ sometimes, when you’re nestled in his arms, you’ll catch him quietly grinning to himself, probably at how happy he is just to be with you. you can tell it makes him feel lighthearted to see you enjoy these little moments of care.
✧ when he does these little things for you, it’s clear that he’s not doing them out of obligation, but because it genuinely brings him joy to see you happy, even in the smallest ways.
✧ girl do NOT get me started on "oh i'm too big for you" you are NEVER too big 😒 😒 matter of fact if boothill ever hear those words slip out of your mouth you best believe he won't be tolerating it (and hunting down whoever said that)
✧ if you ever tell boothill that you’re too big for him to carry, he won’t hesitate for a second to shut you down. “don’t even start,” he’ll warn you with a smirk, and before you can protest further, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips, leaving you momentarily breathless.
✧ before you can even process what just happened, he’s already lifting you into his arms, effortlessly cradling you like you’re the lightest thing in the world. “see? not too big at all,” he says with a playful grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you get when he carries you, no questions asked.
✧ despite your attempts to argue, he’s not hearing any of it. “I’m carrying you whether you like it or not,” he adds with a wink, and when you roll your eyes or try to squirm out of his grasp, he just holds you tighter.
✧ his love for you is so overwhelming that he doesn’t care if you’re tired, big, or anything else—if you need to be carried, he’s more than happy to do it, and nothing will stop him from showing you just how much he cares.
✧ honestly, seeing you trying to act tough or insisting you’re fine just makes him more determined to spoil you even more, and he won’t back down until he’s made you comfortable.
cthe look on your face when you realize you’re in his arms is priceless, and he can't help but tease you a little more, enjoying every moment of your adorably flustered reaction.
dr. ratio
✧ he’s cocky as always, but so in love. if anyone dares to say anything about your size, he smirks and goes, “they’re carrying the most important person in the universe. of course, they’re radiant.”
✧ he’s fascinated by the baby’s development and reads every medical book on pregnancy, making sure you get the best care possible.
✧ he massages your feet with so much care, just pure, devoted attention.
✧ if you ever feel insecure, he immediately shuts it down with the most poetic, heartfelt words. “there is no beauty greater than you right now, my love.”
✧ dr. ratio is a caring but incredibly meticulous partner, and when you’re pregnant, that side of him intensifies even more. he’s deeply invested in making sure everything is perfect for you, often researching new ways to ease your discomfort, asking you how you feel every few hours, and keeping track of your health and well-being like he’s running a scientific experiment.
✧ his medical knowledge, which is already impressive, becomes even more focused on pregnancy, and he treats every small change in your body like vital data.
✧ he always has a plan, and that plan often revolves around making sure you’re as comfortable and well taken care of as possible. if you mention even the slightest symptom or discomfort, he’s already reading through notes or pulling out his tablet to find solutions. while it can feel like being under constant observation, you can’t help but appreciate how much he genuinely cares about making sure you’re healthy and happy.
✧ when it comes to cravings, he’s often a step ahead. if you mention wanting a specific snack, he already knows where to get it, and if it’s something unusual or rare, he’s willing to go to great lengths to satisfy it. he finds it endearing, but you can also see his scientific curiosity come into play as he observes how your body reacts to certain cravings or foods.
✧ at this point you're convinced he's some sort of magical being.
✧ in moments of stress or discomfort, he’s your rock. he has a calming presence, always knowing just what to say to put you at ease. if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the changes your body is going through or the looming responsibilities of parenthood, he’ll gently remind you that you don’t have to do this alone. his reassuring words have a way of grounding you, and the love he shows through his actions makes you feel like everything will be okay.
✧ his gestures of affection are quieter but deeply meaningful. he’s not as overt with PDA as others might be, but when you’re not looking, you’ll catch him gently rubbing your back or offering you a hand when you need to stand. when you’re tired, he insists on carrying your things or opening doors for you, always thinking about the little things that make your day easier.
✧ even in moments of humour, dr. ratio’s playful side comes through. if you’re grumpy because of a pregnancy-related mood swing, he might joke about the scientific nature of your hormonal fluctuations, but it’s all in good fun and meant to make you laugh.
✧ he knows exactly when to lighten the mood with a well-timed quip, which helps take the edge off when things feel heavy.
✧ though he’s not as expressive with physical affection as others might be, his love is shown in the constant attention he gives you and the thoughtfulness behind every action. when you’re feeling down, he’s there with a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and a comforting smile.
✧ dr. ratio also gets very protective when it comes to your health. if you’ve been overdoing it, he’ll gently scold you, reminding you that you need to take care of yourself. when he catches you ignoring his advice, he might get a little frustrated, but he’s quick to calm down, making sure to reassure you that he’s just concerned for both you and the baby.
✧ you can always feel the intensity of his care, and while it might feel a bit overbearing at times, you know it comes from a place of deep love.
✧ when it comes to the baby, he’s already making plans for the future, trying to ensure everything will be in place. he’ll bring up practical things like cribs, baby monitors, and even names, all while jotting down notes.
✧ he’s already mentally preparing for the next phase of your life together, and though it might seem like he's focusing on the logistics, it’s clear that he’s doing it all because he wants to make sure your little family is as secure and happy as possible.
✧dr. ratio’s care for you and your pregnancy is absolute, while his approach might seem a bit clinical at times, it’s easy to see that everything he does is out of love, ensuring both you and the baby are taken care of in every way.
✧ dr. ratio’s students are surprisingly invested in your pregnancy, much to his exasperation. at first, he tries to keep things professional, but it’s impossible when they bombard him with questions. “sir, is it true your wife’s craving the weirdest foods? can she still beat you in an argument with pregnancy hormones? is the baby gonna be as smart as you?!” the sheer enthusiasm wears him down, and despite his usual cool demeanor, he eventually (and very reluctantly) brings you along one day to satisfy their curiosity.
✧ the moment you step into the room, his students light up like it’s their favorite lecture of the year. they’re practically buzzing with excitement, treating you like an honored guest. some of them even bring small gifts—cute little trinkets, baby books, and even a stuffed animal or two—much to ratio’s dismay.
✧ he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, but there’s a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, betraying the fondness he has for them (not that he’ll ever admit it).
✧ and of course, the moment everyone settles down, they start betting on the baby’s gender. someone pulls out a makeshift betting board with tally marks, arguments breaking out as they debate whether you’re carrying a boy or a girl.
✧ “based on my calculations, professor ratio will absolutely have a daughter—” “nah, the baby’s definitely gonna be a mini him.” you’re laughing at the chaos while ratio sighs dramatically, muttering about the intellectual downfall of his students.
✧ what really makes you melt, though, is how gentle and considerate his students are toward you. they ask how you’re feeling, if you need anything, if you have any weird cravings (which, of course, leads to them trying to outdo each other with the weirdest food combinations to test your reaction). ratio, meanwhile, is standing beside you with his arms crossed, watching his classroom turn into a circus with a half-annoyed, half-amused look.
✧ “if you all put this much effort into your studies, perhaps your grades wouldn’t be so pitiful,” he finally deadpans, earning groans and protests from the students.
✧ but despite his sarcastic remarks and eye-rolls, he’s oddly protective over the whole situation. if any of the students even joke about you overexerting yourself or getting too tired, he shuts them down immediately. “don’t encourage bad habits,” he scolds. “she needs to be resting.” and then he’s ushering you to sit down, subtly adjusting a pillow behind your back like the doting husband he is.
✧ he pretends to be indifferent, but when he catches one of his students quietly mentioning how cute you two are together, he doesn’t correct them. if anything, he just glances at you, and for a brief moment, the smallest, softest smile crosses his lips before he composes himself again.
✧ when you finally leave, he huffs as if he’s endured the most exhausting day of his life, but the way he holds your hand just a little tighter tells you otherwise. despite all his grumbling, he secretly doesn’t mind how much his students adore you, and maybe—just maybe—he even enjoys it.
✧ DON'T POINT IT OUT THOUGH
✧ dr. ratio will never outright admit it, but deep down, he doesn’t care whether the baby is a boy or a girl. all that truly matters to him is that the baby is healthy and, if he’s being honest, hopefully inherits some intelligence.
✧ “no child of mine will be foolish,” he says with a smirk. Still, the underlying meaning is clear—he wants the baby to thrive, to have every opportunity to succeed. He’s already mentally drafting an entire syllabus on how to make that happen.
✧ however, if he had to pick something personal, something that isn’t dictated by logic or science, he’d want the baby to look like you. he won’t outright say it, but there are little moments where it slips out.
✧ like when he’s absentmindedly staring at you with a thoughtful expression, then mutters under his breath, “it would be preferable if they took after you.” when you catch him saying it and ask what he means, he simply waves it off with a “don’t worry about it.”
✧ the truth is, he thinks you’re beautiful, and the idea of a child with your features makes something warm settle in his chest. he pictures small hands, bright eyes, a little face that mirrors yours—and the thought alone is enough to make him pause.
✧ when he sees you asleep, one hand resting on your stomach, he wonders if the baby will have your smile, your expressions, your way of looking at the world.
✧ and maybe the idea of a mini-you running around makes his heart clench in a way he isn’t quite ready to admit.
gepard
✧ overprotective knight mode: ACTIVATED. he refuses to let you do anything remotely strenuous.
✧ literally the type of pick you up effortlessly and throw you (gently) on his shoulder when he sees you doing something you shouldn't be doing.
✧ he wakes up early to make sure you have everything you need—food, comfort, warmth. you’re never lacking anything.
✧ every night, he reads to your belly, his deep, soothing voice telling fairy tales as if he’s already preparing your baby to sleep peacefully.
✧ you catch him practising how to hold a baby with stuffed animals, and he gets so flustered when you tease him about it. (oml you're gonna overload him with kisses at this point!!!)
✧ gepard tries—he really, really tries—to be there for you as much as possible, but being a knight, let alone the captain of the silvermane guards, means he’s constantly being pulled away for duty. he feels horrible about it.
✧ every time he has to leave you alone at home, every time he misses one of your check-ups, every time he’s not there to comfort you when you’re feeling exhausted, it gnaws at him. he’ll come home late, tired and covered in the dust of another long patrol, only to see you already asleep, curled up in bed with your hands resting on your belly. it makes his heart ache.
✧ he tries to make up for it whenever he can. he’ll bring home small gifts—a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a dessert from that bakery you love, anything to make you smile. when he does have a free moment, he dedicates it all to you, making sure you’re comfortable, massaging your sore feet, listening intently to you talk about your day because he wants to be involved in every way he can.
✧ “i’m sorry i haven’t been around much,” he murmurs against your hair one night, voice heavy with guilt. “i should be here with you more.”
✧ and you understand—you always have. you know his duty to belobog is important, that he’s responsible for so many people. so you reassure him, tell him it’s okay, that you’re not upset because you know he’s doing his best. but no matter how much you insist, he still feels guilty, still thinks he should be doing more.
✧ it’s sweet, really, how much he wants to be present, but you wish he’d stop beating himself up over something he can’t control.
✧ sometimes, though, frustration does creep in—not at him, but at the sheer unfairness of it all. one particularly bad day, when you’re feeling extra emotional, you storm into the silvermane guards' headquarters, demanding to speak to the general.
✧ the poor guards are stunned, unsure how to handle their captain’s very pregnant wife glaring daggers at them. when you finally get an audience with the general, you don’t hold back. “my husband is working himself to the bone while i’m carrying his child, and you can’t even spare him a little time off?!”
✧ the general tries to placate you, explaining that gepard is needed, but you cross your arms, huffing, “well, i need him too.”
✧ word of your little outburst spreads quickly, and when gepard hears about it, he’s equal parts embarrassed and touched. “you... actually scolded the general?” he asks, eyes wide. when you nod, still grumpy about it, he lets out a chuckle before pulling you into his arms.
✧ “i appreciate it, but you don’t have to fight my battles for me.” but you just pout, mumbling, “if they won’t give you a break, then i will.”
✧ and despite everything, despite the exhaustion and the never-ending duty, gepard swears to himself that no matter how busy he gets, he’ll always find a way to be there for you and your child. because at the end of the day, you’re the most important thing in his world.
✧ despite his constant guilt, gepard does everything in his power to make things easier for you when he is around. he wakes up extra early to prepare breakfast before heading out for duty, making sure to leave little notes beside your plate if he has to leave before you wake up.
✧ “good morning, my love. make sure to eat well today, and don’t forget to drink plenty of water. i’ll be home as soon as i can.” sometimes, he even sneaks in a silly doodle of a chubby little knight standing guard over a tiny baby, which never fails to make you smile.
✧ when he finally does have time off, he dedicates every second to you. he follows you around like a loyal knight, carrying anything remotely heavy before you can even try to lift it.
✧ he’s constantly fluffing your pillows, adjusting your blanket, and making sure you’re not overexerting yourself. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately asking, “are you okay? do you need anything?” you start to joke that having him home is almost more exhausting than when he’s away because he fusses over you like a mother hen.
✧ sometimes, the exhaustion from work catches up to him, and you find him nodding off while sitting beside you, his head drooping onto your shoulder. you know he should be resting, but there’s something endearing about how he fights off sleep just so he can be near you.
✧ “gepard, go to bed,” you whisper, brushing a hand through his hair. he grumbles something incoherent before shifting to hold you close, murmuring, “just a little longer…” and really, how can you say no to that?
✧ his fellow silvermane guards are incredibly supportive, though they also love teasing him about how smitten he is. “captain, you should see yourself when you talk about your wife. it’s like watching a lovesick puppy,” they joke, and while he tries to maintain his usual composure, the tips of his ears turn red every single time. but he doesn’t deny it—he is completely and utterly devoted to you.
✧ if he ever gets called in for an emergency while he’s finally spending time with you, he gets so frustrated. “i just got home,” he mutters under his breath, clearly torn between duty and being with you.
✧ you give him a small smile, placing your hands on his cheeks and gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. “it’s okay, love. go, do what you need to do. i’ll be right here when you get back.” and he sighs, pressing his forehead against yours before reluctantly heading out.
✧ but the moment he returns, he makes up for it tenfold. he brings back your favourite snacks, runs a warm bath for you, and massages your feet until you’re practically melting into the couch. and when you’re in bed, he places a hand on your belly, speaking softly to the baby as if making up for lost time.
✧ “i’ll be around more soon, i promise,” he murmurs, his voice filled with love and determination.
✧ and no matter how much his duty calls him away, you know one thing for certain—gepard will always come home to you.
✧ serval is your biggest supporter and, quite frankly, your partner-in-crime when it comes to dealing with gepard’s overwhelming guilt. she checks in on you constantly—not just for you, but because she knows her brother would want her to.
✧ “if gepard had it his way, he’d probably never leave your side,” she jokes, plopping down next to you and handing you some of your favorite snacks. “but since he’s stuck being captain serious all the time, you’ve got me.”
✧ she’s a lifesaver when gepard is too busy with work, stopping by with homemade meals, comfortable clothes, and the occasional silly gift to make you smile.
✧ she even offers to help you with stretches and light exercises, claiming that a rockstar like her knows all about keeping the body in top condition. sometimes, she’ll strum a gentle melody on her guitar while chatting with you, creating a warm and relaxing atmosphere that makes the time pass a little easier.
✧ and of course, she’s the first to tease gepard whenever he finally has time to come home. “wow, look who finally decided to show up! i was starting to think you’d abandoned your poor wife.” she grins as gepard groans, running a hand through his hair.
✧ “i didn’t—i was just busy—” but serval only laughs, nudging him toward you. “relax, i’m just messing with you. now go dote on your wife before she decides i’m her favorite landau instead.”
✧ she’s also not afraid to scold him when he’s being too hard on himself. “gepard, you’re doing the best you can,” she tells him one evening when he’s sitting on the couch, guilt heavy in his expression. “she understands, you know? stop acting like you’re failing when you’re clearly not.” and though gepard still struggles with his guilt, serval’s words always stick with him, reminding him that he’s doing enough.
✧ but perhaps the funniest part of all is how she sometimes acts as an undercover spy, gathering intel on your moods and cravings to report back to gepard.
✧ “hey, just so you know, she’s been craving those honey pastries from that bakery again. if you don’t bring some home tomorrow, you might be sleeping on the couch,” she whispers conspiratorially to him one night, and gepard immediately makes a mental note to buy them on his next break.
✧ at the end of the day, serval is always there—not just for you, but for gepard, too. she makes sure both of you are taken care of, keeping an eye on her little brother when he gets too caught up in his responsibilities and making sure you never feel lonely. and when the baby finally arrives, you already know serval is going to be the coolest aunt in all of belobog.
sunday
✧ he’s the most excited husband ever. every day, he’s kissing your belly, murmuring sweet promises to your unborn child.
✧ he calls you “sunshine” even more, saying you’re literally glowing with life.
✧ if you so much as sigh tiredly, he immediately rushes over, rubbing your shoulders and making sure you’re comfortable.
✧ he’s already planning family outings, even though the baby isn’t born yet. “oh, i can’t wait to take them to see the stars. you think they’ll like astronomy?”
✧ "honey i think they'll just be obsessed with your cute fluffy wings like me!!"
✧ but lets be real...sunday is, without a doubt, the most dramatic and doting husband in existence. from the moment you wake up to the second you go to sleep, he is right there, acting as if you are the most delicate, precious treasure in the entire universe.
✧ “ah, my love, are you comfortable? do you need anything? shall i fetch you the moon? pluck the stars from the sky?” you’re used to his flowery words, but pregnancy has made him even more extra, if that was even possible.
✧ he spoils you absolutely rotten. he treats you like royalty, making sure every possible luxury is at your fingertips. you so much as glance at something while out shopping? it's already paid for. your back aches? he's on his knees, massaging you with a level of devotion that could make poets weep. the moment you sigh even a little, he's dramatically lamenting,
✧ “alas, this cruel world dares to bring discomfort to my beloved! how dare it!” you roll your eyes, but the way he kisses your hands so reverently makes your heart flutter every time.
✧ when you’re out together, he is practically glued to your side, one arm always wrapped protectively around you. if it’s too sunny, his coat is suddenly draped over your head to shield you.
✧ if you so much as stumble, he’s catching you before you can even process it, scolding the ground for daring to trip you. he doesn’t care who’s watching—his priority is you, always.
✧ sometimes, his dramatics get absolutely ridiculous. one time, you had a small craving for a very specific dish from a very specific place, and before you could even tell him it wasn’t a big deal, he was already on a mission. “fear not, my love! i shall return with your heart’s desire!” he declared, disappearing into the night like some kind of hero embarking on an epic quest.
✧ when he finally returned, victorious, with the food in hand, he dramatically collapsed into your lap. “it was a perilous journey… but for you, I would traverse the ends of the world.” you simply kissed his forehead and enjoyed your meal.
✧ he is obsessed with talking to your belly. no matter where you are, no matter who’s around, he kneels down, placing his hands gently on your stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your unborn child.
✧ “ah, little one, do you hear me? it is i, your devoted father, who eagerly awaits your arrival.” if he feels a kick, he gasps like he just witnessed a divine miracle, his eyes practically sparkling. “they kicked! they love me, my love!”
✧ sunday does everything in his power to make sure you never feel lonely, even when he’s busy. he writes letters to you if he has to be away, each one filled with poetic declarations of love and exaggerated longing, as if he’s been separated from you for years rather than a few hours. when he finally returns, he rushes to embrace you like a man starved, spinning you carefully in his arms (if you let him).
✧ and when he thinks you’re asleep, he gazes at you with so much adoration it’s almost overwhelming. he runs his fingers gently through your hair, his voice soft as he murmurs, “you and our child… my greatest treasures. i will cherish you both for all eternity.” even in slumber, you can feel his warmth, his love wrapping around you like a promise—one that you know he’ll keep forever.
✧ sunday has always been a man of grand gestures, poetic words, and boundless devotion—but this, this is his dream made real. to love and to be loved, to have a family with you, to witness the very embodiment of your love growing within you… it is almost too perfect, too beautiful. sometimes, when he watches you rest, his hand gently cradling your belly, he wonders if he is merely lost in a dream.
✧ he never thought he would find something—someone—that truly anchored him. he always spoke of eternity, of the stars and the endless sky, but nothing in the cosmos compares to you. and now, with your child on the way, that love has expanded into something even greater, something he didn’t know was possible.
✧ late at night, when the world is quiet and you’re curled up against him, he traces slow circles over your stomach and whispers, “this is my dream… and you’ve made it come true.” his voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual theatrics, filled only with raw, unfiltered love. and even though you’re half-asleep, you squeeze his hand in response, as if to say, i know. me too.
✧ sunday absolutely refuses to leave you unguarded when he’s away for business or handling matters of the reverie. even though you insist it’s unnecessary, that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, he simply will not take the risk. the moment he steps away, you have a team of skilled agents discreetly watching over you. “indulge me, my love,” he pleads with that charming smile of his. “i would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you or our precious little one.” and really, how can you argue with that?
✧ when he returns, however, it’s as if he’s been deprived of air itself. the second he sees you, he sweeps you into his arms, pressing lingering kisses to your temple, your hands, your stomach—anywhere he can reach. “ah, my beloved, i have been lost without you,” he murmurs dramatically, holding you as if you might disappear. and though you roll your eyes at his theatrics, you let him cling, because you know he truly means it.
✧ public appearances with sunday are nothing short of dazzling. he insists that the two of you look absolutely impeccable whenever you step out together—not because of status, but because he sees you as his perfect match, his divine counterpart. “you always look breathtaking,” he muses, adjusting your accessories with delicate fingers. “i must simply strive to be worthy of standing beside you.”
✧ when you’re out together, he is attached to your side, his arm securely around your waist, hip to hip, refusing to let an inch of space come between you. he whispers sweet things in your ear, makes you laugh with his endless romantic declarations, and shoots sharp glares at anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.
✧ if the sun is too bright, his coat is draped over your shoulders in an instant. literally the definition of "is the sun bothering you, queen?"
✧ iykyk
✧ if the crowd gets overwhelming, he subtly maneuvers you to a quieter space, all while keeping his usual suave demeanor. if you even look the slightest bit tired, he’s already preparing to whisk you away somewhere more comfortable.
✧ and when the night finally winds down and it’s just the two of you again, he presses a kiss to your hand and murmurs, “no matter where we go, no matter who is watching… my love for you remains the most magnificent thing in this world.”
✧ sunday takes so much pride in being your husband that it’s almost ridiculous. the way he says "my wife" is always so smooth, so deliberate, like he’s showing off a rare treasure. even in the most casual conversations, he will find a way to bring you up.
✧ “ah, yes, that reminds me of something my wife said the other day—brilliant, truly.”
✧ “oh, you need advice? well, my wife is an expert in these matters, allow me to consult her.”
✧ even when it’s unnecessary, he finds a way to slip it in. someone asks him how his day is going? “Better now that I’ve spoken to my wife.” A meeting about logistics? “Oh, my wife would find this terribly boring, but let me humor you all.”
✧ it gets to the point where even his closest advisors and subordinates are just nodding along, fully expecting him to mention you in every conversation. you overheard one of them sigh, “yes, yes, we know your wife is the most wonderful being in existence, my lord.” sunday only grinned and said, “it’s good that you understand.”
✧ and of course, he boasts about you endlessly. your intelligence, your beauty, your kindness—every little thing about you is worthy of praise in his eyes. “have i mentioned how radiant my wife looks today? oh, but she always does, so I suppose that goes without saying.”
✧ sometimes, he’ll purposely say it just to fluster you. if you’re walking together and he spots someone eyeing you for too long, he’ll lean in, voice full of smug adoration, “ah, my wife, the most stunning woman in the room. it’s only natural they’d stare, but truly, they stand no chance.”
✧ even when you roll your eyes or playfully smack his arm, he just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “what can I say? I’m simply a man who adores his wife.”
✧ the second you even mention a craving, sunday is already making arrangements to have it delivered to you. it doesn’t matter how strange, complicated, or impossible it seems—he will find a way.
✧ “you want watermelon dipped in honey at three in the morning? say no more, my love.” within minutes, he’s either personally retrieving it or sending someone out on an urgent mission.
✧ once, you offhandedly mumbled, “i kinda want ice cream… but with pickles.” sunday, ever the devoted husband, merely nodded and said, “consider it done.” you expected him to hesitate or at least question your taste buds, but instead, he had it in front of you within the hour, presented on a fancy plate as if it were some gourmet dish.
✧ he has absolutely no shame in going out himself to fetch your cravings. the sight of sunday, regal and refined, walking into a market and asking for the most bizarre food combinations with a perfectly serious face is something to behold.
✧ one time, a vendor tried to stifle a laugh when he requested “mango slices with chili powder and a side of marshmallows” and he just smirked, “ah, you must not be married. love requires dedication, my friend.”
✧ if your cravings happen while you’re out in public, he wastes zero time in getting it. you once sighed, “i really want those fried dumplings from that one place…” and before you could even finish your sentence, sunday was already steering you toward the restaurant, ordering extra just in case you wanted more later.
✧ on the rare occasion that something isn’t immediately available, sunday turns it into an entire event. “so, my beloved desires an elusive dish? very well. give me a moment.” cue him charming his way into exclusive restaurants, pulling strings with high-profile chefs, or even attempting to make it himself (which… well, let’s just say his skills lie outside the kitchen).
✧ no matter what, he refuses to let you go without the things you crave. “nothing is too extravagant for my wife,” he insists. “if she wants it, she shall have it.”
sampo
✧ sampo is the type to absolutely spoil you when you're craving something, even if it's something a little... unusual. he loves seeing you happy, and the thought of you having that big smile on your face when you get what you want? priceless.
✧ the minute you mention a craving, he's already brainstorming how to get it, and he won't take no for an answer. if it's something he doesn't have access to, well... prepare for a wild goose chase. he'll sweet-talk vendors, bribe people, or pull off the most ridiculous stunts just to get his hands on that weird combination of foods you’re desperate for.
✧ one time, you casually mentioned wanting a mix of sweet and salty—like peanut butter on pretzels with chocolate chips—and the next thing you knew, he had a whole banquet of different combinations lined up. there were different dips, chocolates, chips, nuts, and a few other things he thought you might like. it’s over-the-top, but it’s his way of making sure you feel cared for and, well, indulged.
✧ sometimes he’ll get the most outlandish things, especially if he finds out you want something quirky. “you want... a spicy banana with a side of vanilla ice cream?” he'd ask, grinning mischievously, clearly excited for the challenge. even if he finds it a little odd, he's all in for making sure your cravings are satisfied.
✧ when you're pregnant, sampo loves the idea of you being pampered and treated like royalty. he buys you all sorts of snacks, drinks, and little comforts to make sure you're always content. when he's busy, he'll bring you a stash of your favorite treats or send someone to deliver it, ensuring you never go without.
✧ though he's a bit playful and mischievous, when it comes to your cravings, he’s incredibly attentive. if you need him to grab something in the middle of the night, he’ll pull on his jacket without a second thought and head out, even if it’s something bizarre like kimchi-flavored cupcakes or a weirdly specific kind of sushi.
✧ sampo is honestly obsessed with making sure you’re taken care of, especially when it comes to cravings. as soon as you mention something—even if it’s just in passing—he’s on it. like, the minute the words leave your mouth, he’s already thinking of how he’s going to get it for you.
✧ one time, you half-jokingly mentioned wanting pineapple pizza with extra olives, and sampo didn’t even hesitate. you thought he was just humoring you at first, but nope, by the time you blinked, he was on his way out the door, calling a bunch of places to find one that would make that monstrosity of a pizza.
✧ he’s ridiculously resourceful, so if the craving is something that seems impossible, he’s more than willing to go to extreme lengths. you want blueberry-flavored potato chips? he’s already calling his contacts in different cities or bartering for them. at one point, you had a small shipment of weird snacks from different parts of the world just for you. it was honestly a lot, but the joy it brought you made it all worth it for him.
✧ despite his usually carefree, mischievous attitude, when it comes to satisfying your cravings, sampo becomes the most serious person. nothing else matters—nothing. it’s almost like a personal mission for him.
✧ and don’t get him started on your late-night cravings. there was one instance where you groggily mentioned wanting chocolate-covered pretzels with marshmallow fluff and coconut water (a combo you swore sounded amazing) at 2 AM. most people would groan at this, but not sampo. he simply flashed you a grin, grabbed his jacket, and was out the door, whispering, “leave it to me, darling. i’ll have it before you know it.”
✧ when he comes back, it’s always with a dramatic flair. whether it’s him showing up with a big bag of snacks or an entire custom-made meal just for you, he’ll present it like it’s the most important thing in the world. “look what i’ve brought you, my love,” he’ll say, “your cravings are my top priority.”
✧ he loves watching you enjoy whatever it is you’re craving. he’s that guy who will sit beside you, watching you devour your food, completely delighted. when you make a happy sound after taking a bite, he’ll do a little victory dance in his head. “it’s always worth it,” he’ll think, watching you savor the food.
✧ sometimes, when he’s really feeling it, he’ll even surprise you with a whole set of snacks or meals. if you mention anything at all—whether it’s flavored milk or a certain kind of fruit—you better believe sampo will get it, and he’ll make it fun.
✧ and don’t even get started on the weird cravings. when you randomly crave something odd like caviar and ice cream, he’ll be the one to ask, “is that really what you want?” but then, of course, he’ll follow through and go out and find it, all while making jokes about how only you could crave something so bizarre. “but you’re worth it, darling,” he’ll say with a wink, even if he thinks it's totally ridiculous.
✧ when you’re pregnant, sampo gets extra excited. there’s something about the idea of making sure you’re always happy and comfortable that makes him go all-in on the care and attention. you mention wanting a certain kind of food? he’s already planning his next move to make sure it gets to you—whether it’s food from a restaurant, a local shop, or a weird internet order.
✧ the best part? he’s not even embarrassed about the effort. he’s proud of it. he’ll happily boast about how he’s the one who got you exactly what you wanted, often bragging about how efficient he is at taking care of you. “no one does it like i do, darling.”
✧ sampo loves to live life on the edge, and that often leads him into all sorts of trouble. whether it’s a cheeky scheme gone wrong or him getting caught up in some questionable business deals, he’s not exactly a stranger to trouble. but when you scold him—especially with that concerned look on your face—it hits him harder than anything else.
✧ you’re his weakness, and the thought of his reckless actions affecting your baby’s future stings. when you point out how he’s putting the family in danger, he can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. you’ve got that motherly tone, and even though he’s used to being the troublemaker, something about you scolding him like that makes him pause.
✧ sampo never expected to feel this way. before, he was all about living in the moment, but now, with you carrying his child, things are different. he realizes that his impulsiveness can affect more than just him—it could affect your life, the baby’s life, and even the future you two are building. it’s a huge wake-up call for him.
✧ though he tries to laugh it off and shrug off your scolding, he can’t deny that it bothers him. he wants to be the best for you, to provide and protect, but sometimes his overconfidence and mischievous nature put him in situations he shouldn’t be in.
✧ after you scold him, he’s quiet for a while, just processing everything you said. he doesn’t like seeing you upset, and he definitely doesn’t like the idea of his actions potentially affecting the baby. so he really takes it to heart.
✧ eventually, he’ll come to you, genuinely apologizing. it’s not like him to be serious about these things, but the thought of his baby’s future shifts something in him. he’ll say something like, “you’re right. i can’t keep being reckless. i’ll tone it down, i promise. for you... and for the little one.”
✧ from then on, you’ll notice a shift. he’ll still be his playful, mischievous self, but there’s a little less of the risk-taking, and a bit more thought behind his actions. sampo may not be perfect, but he really wants to be better for the sake of his growing family.
✧ even though he might still slip up occasionally—because it’s just who he is—he tries harder, always making sure to check in with you and reassess how his choices could impact you both. and when you see him being more cautious, you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s trying his best.
✧ and of course, he’ll make it up to you in the sweetest way possible: with more gifts, more little surprises, and tons of affection. he might be reckless sometimes, but when it comes to you and your baby, he knows he has to change, even if it takes a bit of effort.
moze
✧ moze, being the quiet and secretive type, is surprisingly very attentive when it comes to your cravings. he’s not the type to joke around about it or make a big deal, but rest assured, he listens intently and takes note of every single thing you say.
✧ the second you mention a craving, even if it's something a little weird, he silently goes into action. if he doesn’t have it on hand, he will immediately find a way to acquire it, no matter how obscure or hard to find it is.
✧ when you crave something specific, he won’t make a show of it, but he will go out of his way to make sure you get it—whether it’s a rare ingredient or a dish from a different part of the world, moze finds it without fail. if you want a specific kind of fruit, he’ll find the best one, even if it means going to multiple stores or making a special trip somewhere.
✧ he enjoys seeing the soft smile on your face when you get what you’ve been wanting, and while he may not say much about it, there's this quiet satisfaction in his eyes.
✧ moze is also keenly aware of when you’re craving something. sometimes, he picks up on your hints without you even saying anything, noticing a small change in your mood, or when you absentmindedly mention wanting a snack, he’ll be right there to offer it to you.
✧ although he’s a man of few words, there’s a certain gentleness to the way he cares for you. when you’re restless and craving something comforting, he’ll get it, set it down beside you, and quietly say, “this should help.” he’ll never ask for recognition, but the satisfaction he gets from seeing you happy is more than enough for him.
✧ when it comes to very odd cravings, he’ll just give you a knowing look, grab his coat, and leave to get it—sometimes even with a hint of a chuckle, as if he secretly finds your requests amusing. but in his heart, he enjoys making you happy more than anything else.
✧ moze’s stealth skills are incredible. he’s so good at sneaking up on you that it’s become almost a reflex for him to appear out of nowhere, especially when he’s busy with his work. but when you’re pregnant and a little more sensitive, the sudden pop-up can be a bit much. he doesn’t mean to scare you—he really doesn’t—but sometimes, he forgets just how silent he is. ✧ the first time it happens, you let out a startled gasp, and moze immediately freezes, guilt washing over him. he’s used to appearing out of thin air and being the silent observer, but the thought of scaring you, especially with the baby on the way, sends a pang of worry through his chest. ✧ his usual nonchalant demeanor falters. "i'm sorry," he says, his voice almost too soft, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "i didn’t mean to startle you." there’s something in his tone that sounds almost apologetic, more so than usual. ✧ you laugh it off, brushing it off as an accident, but moze is still visibly uneasy. later, when he’s alone, he keeps thinking about it—wondering if his unexpected entrances could potentially stress you out or, worse, harm the baby. he’s never been particularly affectionate in the traditional sense, but with you pregnant, he’s suddenly a lot more aware of everything. ✧ after that, every time he needs to come in or check on you, he makes it a point to announce his presence. it’s not like moze to do that—he’s always preferred moving in the shadows—but for you and the baby, he decides it’s best to make his approach a little less jarring. ✧ when you’re just relaxing, maybe reading or resting, you’ll hear him say something like, “it’s me, moze. i’m here.” he’ll even knock on the door sometimes before entering, something he’s never done before. it’s funny at first, but also endearing to see him adjust his behavior for you. ✧ moze starts being extra cautious, constantly checking on you but in a much gentler, less intrusive way. the last thing he wants is for you to feel uneasy because of him. he’ll still show up in his usual manner—quiet, reserved, but now with the added softness of his voice when he speaks to you. ✧ when you ask him if he’s okay, he’ll quietly admit that he’s worried about scaring you again, and maybe even causing some harm to the baby. you can see the genuine concern in his eyes, something he rarely lets slip. it’s strange for him to care this much, but when you’re carrying his child, his protective instincts are starting to kick in. ✧ when you reassure him, telling him that you’re okay, he seems to relax a little. but don’t be surprised if you catch him giving you a small smile in his usual quiet way, his fingers lightly brushing against yours in a rare display of affection. it’s subtle, but for moze, it’s a huge step forward.
✧ and the next time he appears out of nowhere? he’ll make sure to be extra careful, just to make sure you don’t get a shock again. it might not be his usual way of doing things, but with you, he’s willing to change—even in the smallest ways.
✧ moze's protectiveness reaches a whole new level once he finds out you’re pregnant. while he’s always been a careful and observant person, this new development has him acting in ways he never expected. the thought of you and his child growing inside you ignites a fierce, almost primal instinct to keep both of you safe at all costs.
✧ he becomes hyper-aware of your surroundings, always analyzing every situation to ensure there’s no danger nearby. if someone even looks at you wrong, he’s already on high alert. he’s never been one for confrontation, but when it comes to you and the baby, any potential threat—no matter how small—will make him react swiftly and decisively.
✧ if anyone dares to make a comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s an unintentional insult or even a curious question about your condition—moze is there, stepping in before you can even respond.
✧ he’ll be quick to intervene, his voice cold and firm. “is there a problem?” he’ll ask, his tone leaving no room for argument. he doesn’t care if it’s a stranger or a close friend, he’ll defend you without hesitation.
✧ sometimes, though, his protectiveness comes off as a bit much. when you’re out and about, he’s constantly by your side, his eyes scanning the area. if there’s a slight shift in the atmosphere, if someone moves too fast or too close to you, he’s immediately on guard, subtly stepping in front of you to shield you from whatever danger his sharp instincts are sensing.
✧ even in private, when you’re just relaxing or resting, he’s often hovering nearby, keeping a watchful eye. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that his protective nature has escalated to the point where he feels he can’t leave your side for too long. it’s almost as if being near you makes him feel like he has more control over your safety, as irrational as it may be.
✧ there are moments when you notice him getting anxious if you’re out of his sight for too long. whether you’re running errands or simply walking in another room, moze’s mind starts racing with worries about what could go wrong. he’ll quickly excuse himself from whatever he’s doing to make sure you’re okay, often without telling you beforehand.
✧ when you call him out on his behaviour—teasing him about how overprotective he’s become—he’ll brush it off, his usual calm demeanour faltering for just a moment. deep down, he knows he’s being a little too much, but he can’t help it. the thought of anything happening to you or the baby is unbearable to him. “I’m just making sure you’re safe,” he’ll say, his voice almost apologetic, but there’s an undeniable seriousness in his words.
✧ the most intense expression of his protectiveness comes when you’re asleep. when he knows you’re resting, moze will often sit beside you, his eyes flicking to the door, the window, anything that could pose a threat. it’s not out of a lack of trust in the people around you—it’s just that he can’t help but imagine all the worst-case scenarios.
✧ when he’s out on missions, he’ll always leave something behind for you: a note, a small gift, or even a piece of clothing with his scent on it. it’s his way of reassuring you that he’s thinking of you, even when he’s not physically present. but it’s also his way of ensuring you feel protected, even when he’s far away.
✧ he’s so protective that even the slightest health concern about you makes him panic. if you’re feeling a little tired or have a headache, he’s there, checking your temperature, demanding you rest, and refusing to leave until you’re fully recovered.
✧ moze’s protectiveness isn’t just physical; it’s emotional, too. when you’re dealing with the stress or uncertainty of pregnancy, he’s your steady rock. he’ll listen to every concern, soothe every worry, and make sure you know that you’re not alone. he’s already planning for the future, researching everything he can about raising a child, so he can be the best father possible.
✧ in quiet moments, when he’s just holding you or resting beside you, he might admit his fears. “i’m scared,” he’ll say softly, his usual stoic expression softening. “i don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.” his vulnerability is rare, but it’s a testament to just how much he loves you both.
✧ his protectiveness never fades—it only grows stronger the closer you get to your due date. he’s constantly by your side, offering comfort, reassurance, and unspoken protection in every gesture, every word, and every action.
✧ moze is already extremely attentive to your cravings, and when you start to ask for something a bit more specific or unusual, he’s not one to shy away. but there's a catch—he’s not exactly a culinary expert. while he’s incredibly skilled in other areas, cooking is not his strong suit. so, naturally, when you have a craving, he’s quick to ask jiaoqiu to cook for you.
✧ at first, moze might be a bit embarrassed, but he genuinely wants you to feel comfortable and satisfied with whatever you’re craving. he might come to jiaoqiu with a sheepish smile, saying something along the lines of, "i’m afraid I’m not very good in the kitchen... could you help me?" his usual composed demeanor is a little shaken because he knows that jiaoqiu is probably a much better cook than he could ever hope to be.
✧ jiaoqiu, ever the understanding friend, is happy to oblige. he can’t resist helping out when moze comes to him with that rare moment of vulnerability. but knowing that moze is trying to be thoughtful and learn, jiaoqiu has a bit of fun with it. he doesn’t just cook the food—he starts teaching moze along the way, much to moze’s discomfort.
✧ “You need to do this carefully... and don’t forget the seasoning,” jiaoqiu will say, demonstrating how to chop ingredients just right or stir the pot at the perfect pace. moze, on the other hand, looks a bit lost, trying his best to follow along but occasionally making a mess. it’s clear he’s not exactly a natural, and jiaoqiu’s teasing makes it even more amusing. “i thought you were good at everything, moze? this looks like a disaster in the making.”
✧ moze, determined not to fail you, listens closely, even though he might grumble under his breath when jiaoqiu critiques his knife skills or the way he’s holding the pan. he’s doing it all to make sure you’re satisfied and happy, even if it means a little bit of embarrassment along the way.
✧ meanwhile, he’s still keeping a protective eye on you from the kitchen, glancing over to make sure you’re resting and not pushing yourself. “you’re doing okay?” he’ll ask, even if it’s just a quick glance. he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of you as well as he does, and he’s constantly checking in.
✧ when jiaoqiu hands over the finished dish, moze’s face lights up, but there's still a hint of guilt for not being able to do it himself. he insists on thanking jiaoqiu profusely, though deep down, he’s already planning his next attempt at cooking so he can surprise you one day.
✧ “i’ll get better at this... for you.” he’ll say to you later that evening, offering you a gentle smile. “next time, i’ll cook it myself.” and while jiaoqiu might snicker at his attempts, moze’s resolve is firm. after all, he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, even if it means learning how to cook your cravings—even if it takes more than a few lessons from jiaoqiu.
note: i'm obsessed with anaxa n mydei
taglist 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..
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ICHIGO KUROSAKI — the man who carries the weight of multiple worlds and still manages to be the most awkwardly sexy, selfless, protective golden retriever you’ll ever fall in love with.
ALL VIBES, ALL SWOON, ALL ZANGETSU ENERGY.
Let’s do this.
𝖥𝖨𝖱𝖲𝖳 𝖳𝖨𝖬𝖤 𝖬𝖤𝖤𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦
He’s got that accidental heartthrob energy.
You first see him from a distance—tall, orange-haired, casually saving someone’s life like it’s his part-time job. Bleeding slightly. Shirt torn. Mood: annoyed but heroic.
When you lock eyes?
He freezes. Doesn’t say anything for like three seconds.
Then he blurts out:
❝You okay? You’re not hurt, right?❞
Cue the overprotective eye scan + awkward cough combo.
Meanwhile, you’re just standing there, thinking:
“Did the grumpy sun just speak to me???”
𝖵𝖨𝖡𝖤𝖲 & 𝖠𝖤𝖲𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖳𝖨𝖢
Visual Aesthetic:
Autumn warmth. City nights under soft streetlights. That “don’t touch her, she’s with me” energy.
Color Palette: Orange, navy, black, and soft white.
Scent: Warm cedarwood, citrus, and faint smoke from being too close to battle.
Music Vibe:
“Hero” by Enrique Iglesias (ironically fitting)
“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” – secretly his soul anthem for you
“Love You Like That” by Dagny – your theme for him.
𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸 & 𝖧𝖠𝖡𝖨𝖳𝖲
Stoic + awkward = dangerously endearing
Protects first, processes emotions later.
Sleeps late, overthinks too much, but would drop everything if you said “I need you.”
Constantly runs his hand through his hair when stressed.
Bites his lip when you flirt—doesn’t know what to do with affection.
Overpacks snacks if he knows you’re gonna train.
Worries too much, but doesn’t know how to say “I love you” unless it’s whispered after a battle while you’re falling asleep in his arms.
𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖠𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱
You:
❝You ever smile or is your soul permanently grumpy?❞
Ichigo:
❝You ever stop talking or is your mouth permanently annoying?❞
…And then he covers his smirk with his sleeve.
He teases back, but gently.
Loves when you roll your eyes at him.
If you’re witty, he’s lowkey impressed.
He’ll play it cool, but if you call him “hero” sarcastically, he gets flustered.
Once you’re close, he starts throwing in little jabs like: ❝Don’t trip again. I’m not catching you every time.❞
(He absolutely is.)
𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖧𝖤𝖬𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖸
It’s in the little things:
The way he looks at you when you’re not watching.
The way your fingers brush when you walk.
The moment he grabs your wrist mid-fight and you both pause, hearts racing, breathing heavy.
When you challenge his decisions and he just stares at you, jaw tight, like he’s trying not to kiss you.
It builds slow.
Then when it hits? It hits HARD.
𝖱𝖮𝖬𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤 & 𝖥𝖨𝖱𝖲𝖳 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲
The first kiss is hesitant, gentle—but intense.
You probably initiate it.
He’s mid-sentence, rambling about how he’ll keep you safe, that he’s not good at this but he cares, and then—you kiss him.
He freezes.
Then his hand slides to your jaw and he pulls you in harder, deeper, like he’s starving for you.
When it ends, he stays forehead-to-forehead with you and whispers:
❝You sure about this? 'Cause if I kiss you again… I’m not stopping.❞
𝖣𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖲
Late night ramen runs
Stargazing from his roof
Wandering aimlessly through the city with your hands locked
Taking you to meet his family (Yuzu packs snacks, Karin teases)
Library study sessions where he’s trying to focus but you're in his hoodie and his brain short circuits
Sitting on a park bench in the cold, your hands in his pockets
Best part?
He listens. Remembers. The smallest thing you say = engraved in his heart.
𝖢𝖴𝖣𝖣𝖫𝖤𝖲
Cuddling with Ichigo is safe. Warm. Protective.
You’re always the little spoon at first.
He wraps around you like armor.
He kisses the top of your head when he thinks you’re asleep.
Soft humming? Yes. He hums a melody from his mom’s records.
Will fall asleep with your hand on his chest.
If you pull away during the night? He instinctively reaches for you and mumbles your name.
𝖭𝖨𝖢𝖪𝖭𝖠𝖬𝖤𝖲 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖤𝖠𝖢𝖧 𝖮𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
From You to Ichigo:
“Ichi” – Soft, familiar, breaks him every time.
“Strawberry” – Used jokingly at first, until he starts blushing when you say it.
“Hero” – Sometimes teasing, sometimes whispered with love.
“Sunshine” – When he’s in a bad mood and you’re trying to drag him into a good one.
“Grumpasaur” – For peak sass mode.
“Baby” – You whisper it during forehead kisses. He melts.
From Ichigo to You:
“Dumbass” – With love. Absolute love.
“Princess” / “Boss” / “My girl” – Depending on your mood.
“Baka” – Japanese for idiot. Said fondly. Often with a smile and a kiss.
“Angel” – Rare. Said only in your most vulnerable moments.
Your name, whispered like it’s sacred. Especially when he’s holding you tight.
𝖣𝖮𝖬𝖤𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖫𝖨𝖥𝖤
Living with Ichigo is like having a storm inside a warm house.
Mornings:
He’s quiet, groggy, hair a mess, t-shirt half on.
You hand him coffee, he kisses your cheek with a grunt that means “thanks, I love you, don’t leave me.”
Chores:
He does the heavy lifting.
You cook. He does dishes.
Laundry turns into pillow fights. You lose. Every time.
Evenings:
He sits on the couch with your feet in his lap, watching TV.
If you fall asleep, he carries you to bed—even if you weigh more than you think he can handle.
Sleep Habits:
Sleeps curled around you, hand on your waist.
Mumbles in his sleep sometimes: “Don’t go…”
Bonus?
Yuzu and Karin call you “big sister” even if you’re not married yet.
Isshin makes it his personal mission to embarrass his son. You? You just enjoy the chaos.
𝖧𝖨𝖣𝖣𝖤𝖭 𝖣𝖤𝖯𝖳𝖧𝖲
Ichigo is a deep sea of repressed emotion.
He doesn’t cry often. But when he does? It’s silent. Broken. Honest.
Carries guilt like it's part of his soul. Guilt over not saving people fast enough. Guilt over dragging you into his dangerous world.
Puts everyone else first—you’re the one who reminds him he deserves love too.
If you tell him: ❝You don’t have to save the world alone. You’ve got me now.❞
…he will look away. Jaw tight. Eyes red.
He's more emotionally intelligent than he lets on.
Reads your energy before you even speak.
Senses when you need silence or touch.
Will hold you all night without saying a word if you’re hurting.
He’ll never admit it, but he wants forever with you.
He’s just terrified to ask for it in case he loses it.
𝖣𝖤𝖵𝖮𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭?
Unshakable. Pure. Relentless.
He doesn’t fall easily. But when he does?
You become his person. His purpose. His soft place to land.
He’ll go to hell and back for you.
He might not say “I love you” every day, but:
He checks your injuries first after every battle.
He memorizes your coffee order.
He always walks on the side of the street closest to traffic.
Devotion looks like:
Wrapping a scarf around your neck without a word.
Patching your wounds before his own.
Letting you sleep on his chest when he’s too emotionally drained to speak.
❝I don’t know how to do this love stuff right… but I swear I’m trying. For you. Only you.❞
𝖶𝖧𝖸 𝖶𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖤𝖠𝖢𝖧 𝖮𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖲𝖮 𝖬𝖴𝖢𝖧?
Why he loves you:
You see through his armor.
You don’t treat him like a weapon—you treat him like a man.
You call him out when he shuts down, but you stay when he breaks open.
You don’t just love his strength. You love his silence. His fear. His fire.
You kiss his scars like they’re holy.
❝You never flinch when I’m angry. You never pity me when I’m broken. You just… stay. That’s everything.❞
Why you love him:
He’d rather get hurt than let you cry.
He listens without judgment.
He makes you feel safe, even when the world’s ending.
He respects you as a warrior, and cherishes you like a poem.
His love isn’t loud—it’s steady, grounding, real.
𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖲𝖤𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖭𝖤𝖲𝖲? 𝖮𝖡𝖲𝖤𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖮𝖭?
Ichigo’s possessiveness is quiet—but volatile.
He’s not gonna bark like Grimmjow or throw punches first.
But if someone touches you without your consent? Reiatsu spikes. Jaw clenches. Voice drops.
❝Take your hand off her. Now.❞
One warning. That’s it.
He will stand behind you at all times when there are threats around. Hand on the small of your back. Calm. Focused. Lethal.
Obsession?
He memorizes everything.
Where you like to be kissed.
How your heartbeat shifts when you lie.
Which hair product you use.
What your voice sounds like when you say his name half-asleep.
❝I don’t care if it’s obsessive. You’re everything I don’t want to lose.❞
Take a fatal blow in your place with zero hesitation.
Heal your wounds before his own—always.
Sacrifice sleep, peace, comfort, sanity to keep you smiling.
Let you scream at him when you’re scared or overwhelmed, just to let you release it.
Bring you your favorite snack even if he’s bleeding.
Pull you into a hug and just stand there for ten whole minutes if you’re crying.
❝I don’t need peace. I need you safe. That’s enough for me.❞
𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳
Ichigo is your unmoving pillar. Your wall. Your sword and shield.
If you're doubting yourself, he won’t give you a pretty speech.
He’ll just look at you and say: ❝You're strong. I’ve seen it. I’ll remind you every time until you believe it.❞
Holds your hand during nightmares. Stays silent. Kisses your fingers.
Carries you when you’re weak, emotionally or physically.
Even if you say you’re fine—he knows.
If anyone doubts your strength? ❝Say it again. I dare you.❞
He’s protective like a volcano that hasn’t erupted yet. Always ready to blow.
𝖳𝖤𝖷𝖳 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖵𝖨𝖡𝖤𝖲
Ichigo on text is awkward but adorable.
He’s not a texter. He’s a worrier with a smartphone.
— Usernames:
You: Sunbug☀️ / PrincessOfTrouble / SleepyQueen
Ichigo: orangestorm / youridiot🧡 / ZangetsuJunior (Karin made it)
— Vibe:
Capitalization? None. Grammar? Depends on his mood.
Spams “are you okay?” if you don’t reply in 3 mins.
Sends memes Yuzu shows him and pretends he found them.
💬 Sample Texts:
Ichigo:
u home yet?
eat something. seriously.
im at your door. open it.
you fell asleep on call again, idiot. still cute.
if u smile at that guy again im breaking his jaw.
goodnight. love you. don’t dream about anyone else.
You:
Grumpy 🧡
Miss you. You should be here.
Don’t get stabbed today, please.
I’m in your hoodie. Come get it. Or don’t.
You said “tch” out loud 9 times today. Everything okay? 😂
𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖮𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖬𝖮𝖬𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖲
You try to surprise kiss him in public.
He turns red. Yells. Knocks over a table.
Still kisses you back with way too much tongue.
Pretends it didn’t happen. Everyone knows it did.
He gets jealous of a literal waiter.
Glares. Growls. Pulls you into his lap.
Later apologizes while still grinding on you against the wall.
“He looked at you like he knew something that was mine.”
You get injured during battle.
Ichigo enters full-black-out-mode.
Protects you like a raging god.
Carries you home. Yells at everyone, cries in the bathroom, holds you all night.
You steal his Shihakushō to sleep in.
He finds you in it. Stares. Says nothing.
Just walks over, lifts you up bridal style and says: ❝You wanna wear my clothes? Fine. But next time, you’re naked underneath.❞
He blurts “I love you” during a heated argument.
You both go silent.
Then he backs into a wall and mutters: ❝...Shit. I wasn’t ready to say that. But I meant it. Every word.❞
You try to surprise kiss him in public.
He turns red. Yells. Knocks over a table.
Still kisses you back with way too much tongue.
Pretends it didn’t happen. Everyone knows it did.
He gets jealous of a literal waiter.
Glares. Growls. Pulls you into his lap.
Later apologizes while still grinding on you against the wall.
“He looked at you like he knew something that was mine.”
You get injured during battle.
Ichigo enters full-black-out-mode.
Protects you like a raging god.
Carries you home. Yells at everyone, cries in the bathroom, holds you all night.
You steal his Shihakushō to sleep in.
He finds you in it. Stares. Says nothing.
Just walks over, lifts you up bridal style and says: ❝You wanna wear my clothes? Fine. But next time, you’re naked underneath.❞
He blurts “I love you” during a heated argument.
You both go silent.
Then he backs into a wall and mutters: ❝...Shit. I wasn’t ready to say that. But I meant it. Every word.❞
Oh honey. Buckle up.
This is Ichigo Kurosaki in the sheets: The Holy Sin Edition
𝖧𝖮𝖶 𝖣𝖮𝖤𝖲 𝖧𝖤 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲
Slow.
Careful.
Then devastating.
Ichigo kisses like a man with a million thoughts and no words—he puts it all into that moment.
At first, it’s gentle. His hand slides to your jaw. His brows furrow slightly. He wants to make sure this is okay.
Once your lips part?
His tongue slides in—slow, warm, deep—and he groans like he’s waited years for this.
Neck kisses = his weakness. Your scent, your pulse, your little sighs?
He kisses your throat like it’s holy.
Kisses between thrusts, kisses on your hand, kisses to say “I’m still here.”
𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖭𝖲 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖬 𝖮𝖭 𝖨𝖬𝖬𝖤𝖣𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖸
You in his clothes.
Hoodie. T-shirt. Just his scarf? He’s rock hard in 3 seconds.
When you challenge him.
You straddle him and say: “Come on, hero. Do something.”
His whole body tenses.
Kisses to his chest or shoulder.
He doesn’t expect affection—and it melts him.
If you cry or moan his name softly during foreplay?
He loses all control.
You calling him "Ichigo" in that soft, broken voice.
He’ll grab your hips like instinct and whisper: ❝Say it again. Please.❞
𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖯𝖲
Ichigo doesn’t know how to say it.
So he shows it.
Traces your stretch marks, scars, and thighs like scripture.
Kisses your stomach like it holds galaxies.
Mutters soft, breathless things: ❝I’ve never seen anyone like you… ever.❞
❝I’d die for this. For you. Every time.❞
He’s not experienced in “dirty worship” like some.
But his reverence is raw. Honest. All-consuming.
You are his god, his altar, his only home.
𝖥𝖨𝖱𝖲𝖳 𝖳𝖨𝖬𝖤
It’s emotional. Hot. Slow-burn perfection.
He’s careful. Quiet. Wants you to be sure.
You kiss first. Clothes come off slowly.
He stares at your body like he’s never seen something so beautiful.
Before he enters you, he pauses. Forehead to yours. ❝I’ve never wanted anything more. You okay? Still want this?**
You say yes.
He groans and slides in slow, deep, shaking with restraint.
The first time ends with him holding you, hand cradling your back, his breath stuttering into your neck.
❝You ruined me. I’ll never want anyone else.❞
𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤 𝖬𝖠𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖦
This is where Ichigo shines.
He doesn’t f*ck. He feels. Every inch of you.
Eye contact. He needs to see you come undone.
Moves slow. Deep. Consistent.
You clutch his arms? He leans in and whispers: ❝I got you. Let go. Just feel me.❞
Loves when you kiss his shoulder or bury your face in his neck.
Tells you: ❝You’re mine. Always mine.❞
while he rocks into you like you’re his forever.
He’ll hold your hand the entire time.
Stroke your face. Groan your name.
And collapse on top of you, forehead on your collarbone, whispering how much he loves you.
𝖨𝖭 𝖡𝖤𝖣
Ichigo is a switch with soft dom tendencies.
Gentle hands, but strong hips.
Loves slow grinding with deep penetration.
Whispering “good girl” while absolutely destroying your insides respectfully.
Favorite position?
Missionary (because EYE CONTACT)
You riding him while holding his wrists
Spooning when he’s vulnerable
He doesn’t talk a lot.
But when he moans, groans, pants your name?
You will clench so hard he nearly finishes right then.
𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖲𝖨𝖹𝖤
Let’s be honest.
9.3 – 9.6 inches
Thick enough to make your legs shake
Slight curve upward, hits the g-spot without even trying
Not cocky about it. But when he sees your reaction? ❝Too much? No? Good. I want you to remember this.❞
He’ll start slow, stretch you out, and murmur into your neck:
❝You’re so tight, f*ck… you feel unreal…❞
𝖡𝖮𝖣𝖸 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖲
Let’s get into the physical sin:
Arms: Strong. Defined. Forearms to cry over. Holds you like a prayer.
Back: Muscled and warm. Great for scratching.
Hands: Big, calloused. Perfect for choking and tenderness.
Chest: Firm, lightly scarred, smells like clean cotton and rain.
Abs: Lean but not showy. Flex when he’s on top.
Thighs: Thick. Power. Stable. Perfect grip.
Voice: DEEP when turned on.
Low moans. Breathless whispers.
If he’s close, he might mutter: ❝Don’t stop. You feel too good. I can’t hold back.❞
𝖥𝖠𝖵𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖤 𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖨𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲
Missionary (but INTENSE):
Deep strokes. Eye contact. Hand on your cheek.
Says “I love you” as he thrusts deeper.
Forehead against yours, breathless.
You on top (cowgirl / reverse):
Watches you bounce like he’s witnessing a miracle.
Hands gripping your thighs, trying not to finish too fast.
Loses his mind if you lean forward and whisper his name.
Spooning (slow burn):
Deep, lazy thrusts. Arm wrapped around your chest.
Kisses your neck while whispering praise.
Perfect for post-confession “I need to feel you everywhere” sex.
Bent over the sink / counter (quiet aggression):
Happens when he’s jealous.
Grabs your hips and takes you from behind, face in the mirror.
Grunts and bites your shoulder mid-thrust.
𝖯𝖠𝖢𝖤 & 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧
Default Pace: Slow, deep, hypnotic. He makes love like he wants to memorize your body.
When emotional or desperate? Hard and fast.
Like he’s trying to bury himself inside your soul.
Strength? Baby…
He can hold you up mid-air, one hand under your thigh, other on your ass—thrusting without pause.
Slams hips into you so deep the whole damn bed creaks.
❝Hold on to me. I got you. I got you.❞
𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖡 & 𝖲𝖰𝖴𝖤𝖤𝖹𝖤
Ichigo grabs like you’re his lifeline.
Waist? Constant. Pulls you back onto him, fingers bruising.
Thighs? Obsessed. Grips. Spreads. Anchors.
Neck? Gentle thumbs under your jaw, kisses to your throat.
Ass? Full handfuls. Especially during oral.
Hips? Death grip.
If you ride him? One hand on your back, the other wrapped around your waist, guiding every grind.
𝖧𝖮𝖶 𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖣 𝖢𝖠𝖭 𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖤
Volume Scale: 7/10
But when he’s close? 10/10.
Moans your name like he’s been starving for it.
Low groans that melt your bones.
Breathless whispers. Mouth to your skin: ❝F-fuck… you feel so good. So tight. So warm...❞
If you cry a little from overstimulation?
He breaks. Gets louder. More desperate.
Hushed curses. Wet kisses. Deep gasps.
That final grunt when he finishes? You’ll hear it in your dreams.
𝖣𝖨𝖱𝖳𝖸 𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖪
Shy at first. But once he starts? HE’S A MENACE.
Soft dom energy. Says it low, rough, breathy: ❝Look at me while I fuck you. You’re mine. Only mine.❞
❝You’re taking me so good… you were made for this.❞
❝Say my name. Come on—say it. Let them hear.❞
If you whimper “please”—he short circuits.
If you tease him with: “You gonna break me, hero?”
He’ll pin you down and growl: ❝That a challenge? ‘Cause I don’t plan on stopping tonight.❞
𝖮𝖱𝖠𝖫 / 𝖥𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖤𝖱𝖲 / 𝖲𝖤𝖫𝖥-𝖯𝖫𝖠𝖸
Oral (Giving):
Absolute king.
Spreads your thighs, face buried like he’s starving.
Licks slow and deep, holds your hips down when you squirm.
Uses fingers + tongue combo that’ll have you sobbing.
❝Let me take my time, yeah? You taste too fuckin’ good to rush.❞
Fingers:
Skilled. Curled just right.
Two at once minimum—works you open slowly.
Watches your face while fingering you, whispering: ❝There it is. Right there. I got you, angel.❞
Self-Play:
Rare—but when you catch him?
One hand wrapped around his cock, groaning your name.
He stops and smirks: ❝Well? You just gonna watch? Or help me finish?❞
𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖪𝖲
His favorites?
Praise kink (YOU praising him? He’ll lose it.)
Possession kink (neck kisses, marks, finishing inside you always)
Oral fixation (he loves going down on you. Can’t get enough.)
Overstimulation (he’ll edge you until you're crying and shaking)
Aftercare kink (holds you, feeds you, kisses your forehead like a good husband)
Slow sex as dominance. Not every dom is rough—he breaks you slowly.
𝖨𝖥 𝖧𝖤 𝖫𝖮𝖲𝖤𝖲 𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖳𝖱𝖮𝖫
You want to see what happens when Ichigo stops holding back?
It happens rarely—only when he’s overwhelmed:
After nearly losing you
After holding back for too long
When you say “I need you. All of you.” and look him in the eyes
His spiritual pressure gets HEAVY. The air feels electric.
He kisses you like he’s starving, pants unzipped, dragging you into the nearest room—or wall.
❝Don’t care. I need you now.❞
❝Not gonna be gentle this time. You want this? You better take it.❞
He doesn’t ask anymore. He shows.
Hands everywhere. Thrusts deep, fast, relentless.
Grunts your name like a broken prayer.
You’ll be crying, overstimmed, wrecked—and he still won’t stop.
(Until you’re full of him. Shaking. Barely breathing.)
𝖰𝖴𝖨𝖢𝖪𝖨𝖤𝖲?
YESSS.
This man is repressed—when he wants you, he needs you immediately.
Locations?
Alleyway
Back of Urahara’s shop
Behind a building during patrol
Literally against a tree in Soul Society
❝We don’t have time. Just lift your leg. I’ll be quick. Promise.❞
Minimal prep (but enough because he’s obsessed with your comfort)
One hand on your mouth to muffle the moans
Finishes inside, breathing heavy against your neck, still trembling
𝖥𝖠𝖵𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖤 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳𝖲 𝖮𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖨𝖱 𝖡𝖮𝖣𝖸
Thighs: He worships them. Kisses, grips, fucks them if he's teasing.
Neck/Shoulders: Where he leaves marks—bite or suck, always hidden under your clothes.
Back: Scratches, watching your body arch under him drives him mad.
Mouth: Watching it moan his name? Favorite sight.
Lower stomach: Loves touching it after finishing inside you. Obsessive.
❝All of this? Mine. Every inch. Especially here.❞ [hand resting just below your bellybutton]
𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
Ichigo has PROTAGONIST LEVEL STAMINA.
One round? Laughable.
Two? Minimum.
Three? On a good day.
He can go until you tap out.
Pace control god. Can go slow to edge you or fast enough to break you.
You moaning his name only makes him go harder.
Especially if you say:
❝Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop.❞
He’ll kiss your tears away and ruin you again.
𝖮𝖱𝖦𝖠𝖲𝖬?
HIS:
Deep groan. Voice breaks.
Buries his cock inside you, deeper than ever, hands gripping your hips like he might die.
When you clench around him as he finishes? ❝FUCK—don’t do that or I’m gonna—shit—❞
Sometimes pants your name. Sometimes whispers “I love you” into your neck right at the peak.
YOURS:
He watches. Watches every second.
If your thighs shake, he smirks.
Overstimulation king. Will finger you after, whispering: ❝You got one more in you? Just one more. For me.❞
𝖥𝖨𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖤𝖲?
Inside. Always. He loves knowing it’s his.
If you ask him to pull out? He’ll listen—but groan about it the whole time.
Stares at the mess he left in you.
Wipes it up gently. Then kisses your thighs like a reward.
Sometimes whispers: ❝Looks better dripping out of you.❞
𝖠𝖥𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖢𝖠𝖱𝖤
Top-tier husband aftercare energy.
Immediately checks if you’re okay. Wipes you down, brings water, tucks you under the covers.
Kisses your forehead while breathing still slows.
Hums quietly while stroking your back.
Wraps arms around you and whispers: ❝I didn’t mean to get rough… you okay? I love you. You’re everything.❞
Pulls you into his chest, even if he’s sweaty and tired.
If you fall asleep first?
He stays awake. Just watches you. Stupid in love.
𝖧𝖮𝖶 𝖣𝖮 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖲𝖫𝖤𝖤𝖯?
Wrapped around you like a second blanket.
Arm around your waist, hand over your heart.
Legs tangled.
Whispers “I love you” in your hair before sleep.
Occasionally mumbles in dreams—your name, small curses, half-apologies.
If you move away? He pulls you back instantly, mumbling: ❝No… stay. Just… stay.❞
He sleeps best when you’re in his arms.
You are his peace. His everything.
You were busy reading a message on your phone to fully hear Ichigo's question, after hitting send, you gave him your full attention. “Is that a new perfume?” He repeated himself. “Oh,” you smiled, already crawling towards him as you both sat on the couch. “Yeah-” you began to straddle him, with your arms resting on his shoulders and his big hands gripping your waist.
You leaned down to kiss the side of his neck — one of his many weak spots. Talking to him softly and seductively. “You like it?” Ichigo was already forming a hard on when you began to crawl towards him, your question barely made it to his ears. He hummed shortly, his hands already groping your ass.
“Very much.” He growled, before shoving you down into the couch.
───
You felt like a scientist. Albeit, you did feel a little guilty having Ichigo be your clueless genie pig. You just didn’t expect it to truly work, but then again.. your husband is a bit of an.. airhead. It started off slow, you’d wear a certain perfume, make sure he smells it and you give him some form of pleasure.
It started off with hand jobs, then blow jobs. Then he wanted to eat you out, and then finally sex. Even you begin to forget what the certain perfume would give him such a reaction, sometimes wearing it by accident and questioning how on earth Ichigo got a hard on in less than a second.
Most times however, you remembered. And when you want him, a small spritz and he’s in a trance. His hands are all over you, his lips can't get enough of yours, or your skin. His dick is rubbing against the curve of your ass or it’s getting pushed deep inside your throat making you teary eyed. You also make sure you spray it on the spots you sweat the most during all of it, or where he places his nose. And it works, every, single, time.
It’s been years and he hasn’t noticed. Yes, sometimes, when he’s really thinking about it, he puzzles himself as to how hard he gets when he smells you. But he thinks it’s because he’s so obsessed with how good you smell that it’s just his body’s way of saying how much he loves you. In a perverted way.
On this occasion however, you putting on the perfume was completely accidental.
Ichigo's office building was having a small reunion party. A little, end of the year and ‘ look you made it!’. He didn’t need to change, his uniform was a suit and tie. So all he had to do was pick you up and drive back to work, it sounded easy. But when you stepped into the car and he inhaled the familiar scent, his body tingled and he just had to kiss you passionately for five minutes before going back.
He didn’t get it, every time he stood near you, he needed to get his hands on you. He thought he could tame it by resting them on your waist but then they traveled to your hips. And then, he had to resist the urge of grabbing your ass.
At first, you were even confused. You didn’t understand why Ichigo was all of a sudden so needy. It wasn’t until you both were resting against a wall, him behind you with his hands on your waist. He sniffed your nape and you felt it, his hard on pressing against your ass.
“Fuck.” He whispered, pulling you closer. Practically pressing himself into you just to hide it. “I’m sorry baby, I have no idea what’s going on with me.” You did, but you weren’t going to tell him. Where’s the fun in that? “It’s okay.” you reassured him softly, smiling. “It’ll go away.” Ichigo said it so confidently.
But it’s two hours in now and he still had his stupid hard on. He thinks it goes away once he’s away from you and talking to his peers, but once he’s back in your presence. He un-noticeably gets a whiff of your perfume and his dick hardens again. It’s getting painful at this point, uncomfortable. He's stealing kisses onto your neck, kissing your sensitive spots just to subtly convince you.
It doesn’t take long for both of you to shut yourselves into one of the singular bathrooms. Locking it.
He has you bent over the sink, your boobs out of your dress and the skirt of it bunched up to your hips. One hand is strongly holding you in place by your hips and the other is groping your boob and playing with your nipple. And he can’t at all help the loud groan he makes when he slowly pushes his dick into your wet, tight, cunt.
You’re walls are practically hugging him, kissing his dick so fucking well that he’s about to loose it. Both his hands hold your hips and he’s hissing every time he pulls out and pushes back into your gushing walls. You, on the other hand, are struggling. Your hands are balled up to a fist and you’re holding your breath just to keep quiet.
“Fuck!” Ichigo hushly growls, his eyes focused on your cunt stretching open every time he pushes in and how it closes when he pulls out. “I’m sorry,” he hisses, “I know I should’ve waited till we got home.” “But fuck,” he grunts, picking up the harsh pace. “I just need you so bad.”
His hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up, your back arched. His other hand grabs your jaw, making you look at yourself in the mirror. “God damn,” Ichigo huffs out, looking at your struggling expression. “Do you hear how wet you are for me? I’m practically slipping in so easily.”
He was being rough, shoving himself in at the pace he needed. His hands were groping every inch of your body, and he kept sniffing you. Inhaling the scent that was causing this problem and he simply didn’t know.
“Ichigo-” you gasped. Your hands gripped the edge of the glossy sink, your knuckles turning white. “Please, god!” You shrieked, your hips moved on their own. Matching the rhythm of Ichigo's hips. “God, right there!” You whispered, closing your eyes shut.
“Yeah? That feels good to you princess? Like my dick being shoved in?” His heavy breathing was ticking the back of your ear. You couldn’t help but whine, nodding at his words.
He didn’t realize how pathetically needy he was for you until he was letting out broken whines. All those dirty words he whispered in your ears kept getting interrupted by broken whines of pleasure. Whimpers.
“Fuck, what if I cum in you?” His voice broke. . “Wanna get filled up?” You nodded your head, licking your lips before you breathlessly pleaded with him. “Yes, please, I want it.”
Your cunt was filled with his seed. His hips stuttered and stayed frozen in spot as it spewed out and into you.
“It’s..” you panted, resting your body on the sink. “It’s the perfume.” You confessed, laughing a little. “What?” Ichigo asked in pants, looking at you through the mirror.
“I’ve been doing an experiment on you.” You explained. “I made you get a hard on every time I wear this perfume. I didn’t mean to wear it on purpose tonight, it was accidental.”
Ichigo blinked at you, not at all believing you. He can’t be that naive can he?
“You literally sniffed me and look where we are currently at.” You responded to him. “Oh.” Ichigo replied, so he is that naive and clueless.
ichigo had you pinned flat on his bed, the sheets rough under your back, his orange hair messy and damp from sweat. his grin was sharp, cocky, like he knew every inch of you already belonged to him. his cock slid heavy and hot against your folds, teasing, dragging along your slit until the fat head pressed right where you didn’t want it.
you squealed, high-pitched, panicked. “n-no—ichigo, not there, wrong hole!” your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as he nudged your tight rim, rubbing it slow, obscene.
he chuckled low in his chest, voice dripping arrogance. “you hear yourself? fuckin’ squealin’ like a scared little bunny. thought you wanted my cock so bad, but now you’re running?” his hips shifted, the blunt tip circling your asshole, pressing just enough to make your whole body jerk.
“please, i can’t—i can’t take it there,” you whined, thighs trembling. the heat in your stomach knotted into panic and desire all tangled up, making your voice crack.
he licked his teeth, eyes glinting. “can’t? or won’t?” he pushed harder, just barely breaching that ring, not even inside yet, just stretching you with pressure that had your body arching off the mattress. “fuck, you’re clenching already. like your ass is begging for me.”
your cry broke into a squeal so sharp it scraped your throat. “ichigo! not there, please!”
he caught your wrists, slammed them down beside your head, his whole weight bearing you down so you couldn’t wriggle away. the smirk on his face was ruthless. “don’t ‘please’ me. you knew what kind of bastard i was when you spread your legs.” he ground forward again, letting the thick head drag back and forth across both holes, smearing precome until you were slick with it, every rub making you shudder.
each time he teased your ass, you let out that helpless, high-pitched squeak, the sound only feeding his ego. “fuck, you sound so cute when you’re scared,” he said, voice rough, cock twitching. “makes me wanna shove it in just to hear you scream louder.”
your body burned, torn between dread and aching want, clit throbbing even as you shook your head, babbling protests. he bent down, lips at your ear, hot breath making you quiver. “wrong hole, right hole—doesn’t matter. it’s mine to fuck however i want.”
Ichigo rolled his eyes. This all help Y/N choose a guy to date was pissing him off. Orihime had the brilliant idea to help each other date because with all the problems caused by the Soul Society, none of them had a proper dating life. It wasn't a really horrible idea in the end if not for the fact that they started with you. All grouped in Ichigo's room and looking at different photos of guys from highschool, or friends of a friend. Why did he agree to this? He couldn't remember.
"Orihime, that guy is not Y/N's style." Rukia chimed in with a smug smile on her face.
"Oh yeah, and what's her style? Right, Y/N what boys do you like? More handsome or less handsome? Tall or short or...?" Orihime started her list while you were deep in thought.
Ichigo wanted so badly to have a piece of your mind. He noticed you spaced out about ten minutes ago, 'bout the time Orihime scattered the guys photos on the floor.
"I think she likes strong guys, maybe a bit old like Urahara or Ukitake" Yoruichi just wanted to mess with Ichigo, she's seen the way he looked at her, the way she always was his priority in all events and circumstances.
Ichigo choked on his water. "I don't remember inviting you over, Yoruichi". His tone was almost menacing, so she was definitely rilling him up. "I don't need to be invited, as it is about Y/N, our beloved, very, much adored by both Kisuke and Ukitake who entrusted me to protect her. Am I wrong or you also asked me to keep an eye on her?"
"That's just because..." Ichigo mumbled some words, awkwardly scratching his cheek. "Listen, I don't need to explain my reasons to you!"
"Rukia, if I remember correctly, didn't your brother also tell you to take care of her?" Chad asked.
"Now that you mentioned it, him and Renji, both told me to keep an eye on her."
Ichigo put his hands into his hair, pulling at it. Urahara, Ukitake, Renji and now even Byakuya?? How was he supposed to compete with them? Then what about the guy you'll choose to go on a date with? He spared you a glance and somehow you were still blissfully unaware of the commotion going on around yourself. His lips curled into a smile. You didn't seem very interested in all this dating thing and for some reason he felt relieved. He liked you and wanted just the best for you. He... He liked you. It downed on him as he saw you smiling to yourself while looking at the framed picture of your group that he had on his nightstand. He wanted to keep that smile on your lips forever. Ichigo realized that all this was bothering him because of his own feelings. His ears started to become red as he was getting flustered by all the feelings that were pouring out of his heart towards his mind.
"Guys, why don't we ask Y/N about who she would like to go on a date with, hm?" As usual, Ishida was the most rational person in that room. They all turned around to face you, but you were too deep in thought to realize, until Rukya's voice reached you.
"Hmm?" You turn your head towards her.
"I asked you who you'd like to go on a date with?"
"Ichigo, obviously, what a dumb question Rukya."
You answered nonchalantly like it was the most normal thing in the world. Until you came to your senses and started to perceive all eyes in the room fixated on you. Then you remembered where you were and what was the purpose of your reunion. Your eyes met Ichigo's wide eyes and red face while you gasped audibly.
ichigo had you pinned flat on his bed, the sheets rough under your back, his orange hair messy and damp from sweat. his grin was sharp, cocky, like he knew every inch of you already belonged to him. his cock slid heavy and hot against your folds, teasing, dragging along your slit until the fat head pressed right where you didn’t want it.
you squealed, high-pitched, panicked. “n-no—ichigo, not there, wrong hole!” your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as he nudged your tight rim, rubbing it slow, obscene.
he chuckled low in his chest, voice dripping arrogance. “you hear yourself? fuckin’ squealin’ like a scared little bunny. thought you wanted my cock so bad, but now you’re running?” his hips shifted, the blunt tip circling your asshole, pressing just enough to make your whole body jerk.
“please, i can’t—i can’t take it there,” you whined, thighs trembling. the heat in your stomach knotted into panic and desire all tangled up, making your voice crack.
he licked his teeth, eyes glinting. “can’t? or won’t?” he pushed harder, just barely breaching that ring, not even inside yet, just stretching you with pressure that had your body arching off the mattress. “fuck, you’re clenching already. like your ass is begging for me.”
your cry broke into a squeal so sharp it scraped your throat. “ichigo! not there, please!”
he caught your wrists, slammed them down beside your head, his whole weight bearing you down so you couldn’t wriggle away. the smirk on his face was ruthless. “don’t ‘please’ me. you knew what kind of bastard i was when you spread your legs.” he ground forward again, letting the thick head drag back and forth across both holes, smearing precome until you were slick with it, every rub making you shudder.
each time he teased your ass, you let out that helpless, high-pitched squeak, the sound only feeding his ego. “fuck, you sound so cute when you’re scared,” he said, voice rough, cock twitching. “makes me wanna shove it in just to hear you scream louder.”
your body burned, torn between dread and aching want, clit throbbing even as you shook your head, babbling protests. he bent down, lips at your ear, hot breath making you quiver. “wrong hole, right hole—doesn’t matter. it’s mine to fuck however i want.”
You were busy reading a message on your phone to fully hear Ichigo's question, after hitting send, you gave him your full attention. “Is that a new perfume?” He repeated himself. “Oh,” you smiled, already crawling towards him as you both sat on the couch. “Yeah-” you began to straddle him, with your arms resting on his shoulders and his big hands gripping your waist.
You leaned down to kiss the side of his neck — one of his many weak spots. Talking to him softly and seductively. “You like it?” Ichigo was already forming a hard on when you began to crawl towards him, your question barely made it to his ears. He hummed shortly, his hands already groping your ass.
“Very much.” He growled, before shoving you down into the couch.
───
You felt like a scientist. Albeit, you did feel a little guilty having Ichigo be your clueless genie pig. You just didn’t expect it to truly work, but then again.. your husband is a bit of an.. airhead. It started off slow, you’d wear a certain perfume, make sure he smells it and you give him some form of pleasure.
It started off with hand jobs, then blow jobs. Then he wanted to eat you out, and then finally sex. Even you begin to forget what the certain perfume would give him such a reaction, sometimes wearing it by accident and questioning how on earth Ichigo got a hard on in less than a second.
Most times however, you remembered. And when you want him, a small spritz and he’s in a trance. His hands are all over you, his lips can't get enough of yours, or your skin. His dick is rubbing against the curve of your ass or it’s getting pushed deep inside your throat making you teary eyed. You also make sure you spray it on the spots you sweat the most during all of it, or where he places his nose. And it works, every, single, time.
It’s been years and he hasn’t noticed. Yes, sometimes, when he’s really thinking about it, he puzzles himself as to how hard he gets when he smells you. But he thinks it’s because he’s so obsessed with how good you smell that it’s just his body’s way of saying how much he loves you. In a perverted way.
On this occasion however, you putting on the perfume was completely accidental.
Ichigo's office building was having a small reunion party. A little, end of the year and ‘ look you made it!’. He didn’t need to change, his uniform was a suit and tie. So all he had to do was pick you up and drive back to work, it sounded easy. But when you stepped into the car and he inhaled the familiar scent, his body tingled and he just had to kiss you passionately for five minutes before going back.
He didn’t get it, every time he stood near you, he needed to get his hands on you. He thought he could tame it by resting them on your waist but then they traveled to your hips. And then, he had to resist the urge of grabbing your ass.
At first, you were even confused. You didn’t understand why Ichigo was all of a sudden so needy. It wasn’t until you both were resting against a wall, him behind you with his hands on your waist. He sniffed your nape and you felt it, his hard on pressing against your ass.
“Fuck.” He whispered, pulling you closer. Practically pressing himself into you just to hide it. “I’m sorry baby, I have no idea what’s going on with me.” You did, but you weren’t going to tell him. Where’s the fun in that? “It’s okay.” you reassured him softly, smiling. “It’ll go away.” Ichigo said it so confidently.
But it’s two hours in now and he still had his stupid hard on. He thinks it goes away once he’s away from you and talking to his peers, but once he’s back in your presence. He un-noticeably gets a whiff of your perfume and his dick hardens again. It’s getting painful at this point, uncomfortable. He's stealing kisses onto your neck, kissing your sensitive spots just to subtly convince you.
It doesn’t take long for both of you to shut yourselves into one of the singular bathrooms. Locking it.
He has you bent over the sink, your boobs out of your dress and the skirt of it bunched up to your hips. One hand is strongly holding you in place by your hips and the other is groping your boob and playing with your nipple. And he can’t at all help the loud groan he makes when he slowly pushes his dick into your wet, tight, cunt.
You’re walls are practically hugging him, kissing his dick so fucking well that he’s about to loose it. Both his hands hold your hips and he’s hissing every time he pulls out and pushes back into your gushing walls. You, on the other hand, are struggling. Your hands are balled up to a fist and you’re holding your breath just to keep quiet.
“Fuck!” Ichigo hushly growls, his eyes focused on your cunt stretching open every time he pushes in and how it closes when he pulls out. “I’m sorry,” he hisses, “I know I should’ve waited till we got home.” “But fuck,” he grunts, picking up the harsh pace. “I just need you so bad.”
His hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up, your back arched. His other hand grabs your jaw, making you look at yourself in the mirror. “God damn,” Ichigo huffs out, looking at your struggling expression. “Do you hear how wet you are for me? I’m practically slipping in so easily.”
He was being rough, shoving himself in at the pace he needed. His hands were groping every inch of your body, and he kept sniffing you. Inhaling the scent that was causing this problem and he simply didn’t know.
“Ichigo-” you gasped. Your hands gripped the edge of the glossy sink, your knuckles turning white. “Please, god!” You shrieked, your hips moved on their own. Matching the rhythm of Ichigo's hips. “God, right there!” You whispered, closing your eyes shut.
“Yeah? That feels good to you princess? Like my dick being shoved in?” His heavy breathing was ticking the back of your ear. You couldn’t help but whine, nodding at his words.
He didn’t realize how pathetically needy he was for you until he was letting out broken whines. All those dirty words he whispered in your ears kept getting interrupted by broken whines of pleasure. Whimpers.
“Fuck, what if I cum in you?” His voice broke. . “Wanna get filled up?” You nodded your head, licking your lips before you breathlessly pleaded with him. “Yes, please, I want it.”
Your cunt was filled with his seed. His hips stuttered and stayed frozen in spot as it spewed out and into you.
“It’s..” you panted, resting your body on the sink. “It’s the perfume.” You confessed, laughing a little. “What?” Ichigo asked in pants, looking at you through the mirror.
“I’ve been doing an experiment on you.” You explained. “I made you get a hard on every time I wear this perfume. I didn’t mean to wear it on purpose tonight, it was accidental.”
Ichigo blinked at you, not at all believing you. He can’t be that naive can he?
“You literally sniffed me and look where we are currently at.” You responded to him. “Oh.” Ichigo replied, so he is that naive and clueless.
You were busy reading a message on your phone to fully hear Ichigo's question, after hitting send, you gave him your full attention. “Is that a new perfume?” He repeated himself. “Oh,” you smiled, already crawling towards him as you both sat on the couch. “Yeah-” you began to straddle him, with your arms resting on his shoulders and his big hands gripping your waist.
You leaned down to kiss the side of his neck — one of his many weak spots. Talking to him softly and seductively. “You like it?” Ichigo was already forming a hard on when you began to crawl towards him, your question barely made it to his ears. He hummed shortly, his hands already groping your ass.
“Very much.” He growled, before shoving you down into the couch.
───
You felt like a scientist. Albeit, you did feel a little guilty having Ichigo be your clueless genie pig. You just didn’t expect it to truly work, but then again.. your husband is a bit of an.. airhead. It started off slow, you’d wear a certain perfume, make sure he smells it and you give him some form of pleasure.
It started off with hand jobs, then blow jobs. Then he wanted to eat you out, and then finally sex. Even you begin to forget what the certain perfume would give him such a reaction, sometimes wearing it by accident and questioning how on earth Ichigo got a hard on in less than a second.
Most times however, you remembered. And when you want him, a small spritz and he’s in a trance. His hands are all over you, his lips can't get enough of yours, or your skin. His dick is rubbing against the curve of your ass or it’s getting pushed deep inside your throat making you teary eyed. You also make sure you spray it on the spots you sweat the most during all of it, or where he places his nose. And it works, every, single, time.
It’s been years and he hasn’t noticed. Yes, sometimes, when he’s really thinking about it, he puzzles himself as to how hard he gets when he smells you. But he thinks it’s because he’s so obsessed with how good you smell that it’s just his body’s way of saying how much he loves you. In a perverted way.
On this occasion however, you putting on the perfume was completely accidental.
Ichigo's office building was having a small reunion party. A little, end of the year and ‘ look you made it!’. He didn’t need to change, his uniform was a suit and tie. So all he had to do was pick you up and drive back to work, it sounded easy. But when you stepped into the car and he inhaled the familiar scent, his body tingled and he just had to kiss you passionately for five minutes before going back.
He didn’t get it, every time he stood near you, he needed to get his hands on you. He thought he could tame it by resting them on your waist but then they traveled to your hips. And then, he had to resist the urge of grabbing your ass.
At first, you were even confused. You didn’t understand why Ichigo was all of a sudden so needy. It wasn’t until you both were resting against a wall, him behind you with his hands on your waist. He sniffed your nape and you felt it, his hard on pressing against your ass.
“Fuck.” He whispered, pulling you closer. Practically pressing himself into you just to hide it. “I’m sorry baby, I have no idea what’s going on with me.” You did, but you weren’t going to tell him. Where’s the fun in that? “It’s okay.” you reassured him softly, smiling. “It’ll go away.” Ichigo said it so confidently.
But it’s two hours in now and he still had his stupid hard on. He thinks it goes away once he’s away from you and talking to his peers, but once he’s back in your presence. He un-noticeably gets a whiff of your perfume and his dick hardens again. It’s getting painful at this point, uncomfortable. He's stealing kisses onto your neck, kissing your sensitive spots just to subtly convince you.
It doesn’t take long for both of you to shut yourselves into one of the singular bathrooms. Locking it.
He has you bent over the sink, your boobs out of your dress and the skirt of it bunched up to your hips. One hand is strongly holding you in place by your hips and the other is groping your boob and playing with your nipple. And he can’t at all help the loud groan he makes when he slowly pushes his dick into your wet, tight, cunt.
You’re walls are practically hugging him, kissing his dick so fucking well that he’s about to loose it. Both his hands hold your hips and he’s hissing every time he pulls out and pushes back into your gushing walls. You, on the other hand, are struggling. Your hands are balled up to a fist and you’re holding your breath just to keep quiet.
“Fuck!” Ichigo hushly growls, his eyes focused on your cunt stretching open every time he pushes in and how it closes when he pulls out. “I’m sorry,” he hisses, “I know I should’ve waited till we got home.” “But fuck,” he grunts, picking up the harsh pace. “I just need you so bad.”
His hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up, your back arched. His other hand grabs your jaw, making you look at yourself in the mirror. “God damn,” Ichigo huffs out, looking at your struggling expression. “Do you hear how wet you are for me? I’m practically slipping in so easily.”
He was being rough, shoving himself in at the pace he needed. His hands were groping every inch of your body, and he kept sniffing you. Inhaling the scent that was causing this problem and he simply didn’t know.
“Ichigo-” you gasped. Your hands gripped the edge of the glossy sink, your knuckles turning white. “Please, god!” You shrieked, your hips moved on their own. Matching the rhythm of Ichigo's hips. “God, right there!” You whispered, closing your eyes shut.
“Yeah? That feels good to you princess? Like my dick being shoved in?” His heavy breathing was ticking the back of your ear. You couldn’t help but whine, nodding at his words.
He didn’t realize how pathetically needy he was for you until he was letting out broken whines. All those dirty words he whispered in your ears kept getting interrupted by broken whines of pleasure. Whimpers.
“Fuck, what if I cum in you?” His voice broke. . “Wanna get filled up?” You nodded your head, licking your lips before you breathlessly pleaded with him. “Yes, please, I want it.”
Your cunt was filled with his seed. His hips stuttered and stayed frozen in spot as it spewed out and into you.
“It’s..” you panted, resting your body on the sink. “It’s the perfume.” You confessed, laughing a little. “What?” Ichigo asked in pants, looking at you through the mirror.
“I’ve been doing an experiment on you.” You explained. “I made you get a hard on every time I wear this perfume. I didn’t mean to wear it on purpose tonight, it was accidental.”
Ichigo blinked at you, not at all believing you. He can’t be that naive can he?
“You literally sniffed me and look where we are currently at.” You responded to him. “Oh.” Ichigo replied, so he is that naive and clueless.
Comparing Phaidei and Other Hoyo MLM Ships (Part 2)
<- Part 1 is back that way.
In the first part of this, I laid out some of the ways Phaidei fits within Hoyo's normal pattern for queer-coded MLM ships: They're equals but opposites, perfectly matched; they've ostensibly got a "rivalry" as a cover for their laser focus on each other; their models are deliberately placed closer together in cutscenes than other characters' are, and they're intentionally paralleled to a heterosexual married couple. All of these are traits that other Hoyo MLM pairs also show, a sort of foundational standard for Hoyo's queer-coded MLM ships.
But then Phaidei just took a huge side-step around all of them, and started doing things that Hoyo hasn't done in any of their other recent games. (Tiny aside here: HI3 does wildly different things with its characters; I think that being first published when Hoyo was a more obscure company allowed them to get away with things--like the Bronya/Seele kiss and Welt and Co.'s cross-dressing, for example--that "modern" Hoyo games cannot get away with due to greater levels of public scrutiny.)
I said it in the other post, but it bears repeating:
You really aren't imagining things--Phaidei is actually different.
So I wanted to take a closer look at what was making it feel so unique, by comparing its differences to other popular Hoyo MLM ships.
Here we go:
1. The Feeling's Mutual
There was no heterosexual explanation for this framing.
In Part 1 of this post, I noted that Hoyo has a typical personality pattern they follow when queer-coding their male characters, particularly in using "difficult" personalities to create an artificial sense of distance between the characters. If one character is angry all the time, or tsundere, or using sarcasm to cover for their fear of getting close to others, Hoyo can mobilize that personality gap as a shield to give anti-LGBT+ players plausible deniability. Hell, there are people still out there genuinely convinced that Alhaitham and Kaveh have a toxic relationship. There are people out there saying Ratio despises Aventurine because he was mean to him one (1) time while undercover. That's how effective injecting a little bit of bickering into a queer-coded relationship is.
Hoyoverse is very, very familiar with creating this delicate balance of teasing the ship while feeding anti-LGBT+ players and censors just enough "Look, they don't like each other; they're arguing!" contrary material to avoid setting anyone off.
Which... makes it absolutely bizarre that they made almost no effort to do this with Phainon and Mydei.
Sure, on paper we're told that Phainon and Mydei are rivals. Phainon describes it as "He's both my friend and my foe." And yes, they have their quips (Phainon's "It's exhausting talking to you sometimes" comes to mind).
But animosity--the genuine desire to one-up each other--is completely missing from Mydei and Phainon's "rivalry." They aren't Sasuke and Naruto. They aren't Izuku and Bakugou. They don't actually even want to beat each other--they want to be equals. If you defeat Mydei in the 3.0 competition, Phainon immediately folds and calls the contest off. If you let Mydei win, Mydei immediately folds and declares no contest.
Although Aglaea notes they compete because they're "impulsive youths," what she was actually missing is that Mydei only let himself be goaded into Phainon's hot bath competition because he was worried about Phainon and wanted to take Phainon's mind off the failed trial. Then, immediately after beating Phainon in the hot bath challenge, he lets Phainon win the "take more people home" challenge, to tie up their score again.
In fact, Mydei and Phainon's relationship is so devoid of the actual back-and-forth typical of other Hoyoverse MLM ships that at one point, Phainon even asks for it:
(Though he's equally quick to demand compliments from Mydei too.)
Instead, virtually every line from Phainon and Mydei through both 3.0 and 3.1 reiterates that they care deeply about each other, and are concerned for not only each other's physical well-being but also each other's mental and emotional health. They freely and consistently support each other both on the battlefield and off, confessing their struggles and relying on each other for advice. Whenever they're separated, the game intentionally hammers home how worried they are without the other around.
Over and over and over again, the devs tell you how well Mydei and Phainon know each other and how much effort they're putting in to take care of each other:
The game doesn't let us forget that they are one another's
"closest person," and that the respect they have for each other is mutual. Although I wouldn't go so far as to speculate they actually recognize romantic feelings, canon makes it clear that they are aware their emotional connection goes both ways. They don't just value each other's battle prowess, intelligence, or usefulness--they value each other's feelings explicitly, every single time emotions are expressed between them in the game's text.
In fact, Mydei even scolds Phainon for approaching their goodbye with a straight face; he knows that Phainon is hurt by their parting, and he wants Phainon to be honest, as Mydei is being honest in turn:
The rainbows in the background really sold the scene, ngl.
This isn't Renheng, where resentment has taken away any glimmer of joy. This isn't Ratiorine, where even if Aventurine were in a more stable mindset, Ratio's inability to spit out his feelings might keep them from going anywhere. Even with Haikaveh, the Hoyo ship known for Alhaitham's devotion, Kaveh's own struggles and refusal to accept Alhaitham's kindness are an active plot point keeping them from progressing. Maybe you could draw a parallel between Phaidei and Cyno/Tighnari for levels of "mutual," but even then, Cynari interactions are often left off-screen or in the background, for the players to fill in the blanks. On the contrary, Phainon and Mydei's fondness for each other is constantly in our faces.
The devs wanted players to know Phainon and Mydei are invested. We're supposed to see how much they want to be near each other.
More than that, we're supposed to understand just how deeply they trust each other.
Okay, okay, yes, I know this is massive foreshadowing to the inevitable betrayal and tragedy impending (come on, Amphoreus wouldn't qualify as an ancient Greek drama without it!), but I think that a lot of people are missing the key here: By this point in the story, Mydei already knows how he's going to die. He knows someone is going to stab him in the back and finally end his immortal life. When he entrusts Phainon with this secret, he's not trusting Phainon to keep him safe. He's trusting Phainon to do the opposite.
He's telling Phainon: "I want it to be you."
If the prophecy can't be changed and fate is set in stone, then Mydei wants Phainon to be with him in his final moments, to be the one to finally set him free from the "curse" he perceives his own immortality to be. Of course it would be Hoyo who makes "I want to die by your hands" into a declaration of ultimate trust, but it is an explicit statement of trust, in a way that very few--if any--other modern Hoyoverse MLM ships get to show each other on screen.
Phew, that was a lot!
But I think this is one of the clearest and most defining differences between Phainon and Mydei and other Hoyo MLM ships--the devs took away players' ability to claim they don't get along. You might still be able to call them "just friends" or "brothers in arms," but unlike Alhaitham and Kaveh who fight, Ratiorine who scheme, or Renheng who are actual enemies, Mydei and Phainon explicitly like each other. They trust each other. They seek one another out.
It might seem like a small thing on paper, but this is actually a big thing in practice. Hoyo is pushing the boundary here, reducing the avenues for deniability. It is harder for anti-LGBT+ fans to claim that Phainon and Mydei don't have obvious in-game ship-tease than for virtually any other modern Hoyoverse MLM ship. (By the way, this is why people have resorted to calling Phaidei "industry plant yaoi;" because they can't deny the queer-coding is actually there this time, they instead have to try to de-legitimize the ship in other ways, such as dismissing it as nothing more than bait.)
This also means Hoyo has less of an "out" if people start to really question. It would be harder to explain away Phainon and Mydei's relationship than it would be to explain away even Alhaitham and Kaveh's. Alhaitham and Kaveh have "They're always arguing" and "Their friendship was ruined by their fight" or "They're just roommates," etc. to lean back on. Phainon and Mydei... are really bad at even pretending to be rivals...
All of this to say: Hoyo made a bold and deliberate choice allowing two of their mainstream male characters to be so emotionally close and attentive to each other on screen. They went outside their own current comfort zone for this one, guys.
2. We're Conspicuously Missing a Twink
Moving on from Phaidei's emotional differences, I wanted to talk specifically about Hoyoverse's perspectives on gay men, and how easy it is for companies to slip into not only stereotypes for gay characters, but also extremely heteronormative portrayals of gay relationships. As sad as it is, it is easier to market queer-coded male characters to yaoi fans (who are often--although obviously not always--heterosexual women) if they fit into the expected pattern for heterosexual relationships: a highly masculine man to "wear the pants" in the relationship, paired with a delicate, effeminate man to obviously be the bottom.
Now, don't get me wrong: Gay relationships come in all varieties; people have different preferences, and categorical groups like "twinks" and "bears" exist so people who have those preferences can find each other. Obviously plenty of hyper-masculine (and just masculine-leaning) gay men do want more effeminate partners. Plenty of real guys consider themselves twinks and have great relationships with men ranging all the way up the most masculine dudes you've ever seen. But "masculine man with feminine man" isn't the only kind of gay relationship around, despite the fact that that's what Hoyo's yaoi shiptease might lead you to believe.
(Edit: I can't believe I have to say this, but it seems some portion the HSR fandom cannot read, so apparently I do: Stop using my post in your hunk/twink or hunk/hunk discourse; if you didn't bother to read the paragraph above this in which I word-for-word point out that real gay relationships come in all varieties, including lots of relationships between masculine men and more effeminate men, then that is on you--this post isn't about how "hunk/hunk" is more "real gay" material or "hurr durr twinks bad;" it's about how Hoyo has served up a hunk/twink ship 20 times in a row, with their constant modus operandi being yaoi genre staple tropes in which one character is essentially designated as the bottom and the other as the top specifically using masculine versus feminine coding, because that is what sells to the yaoi fan demographic they are targeting, particularly to heterosexual female yaoi fans, who are predisposed toward heteronormative relationship patterns even in the gay media they consume. The only situation in which hunk/hunk is "more progressive" than hunk/twink is for Hoyo, who clearly have hunk/twink as their comfort zone and only very, very rarely step out of that established pattern. This entire post is about Hoyo's patterns for creating their mlm ships, not about gay rights activism--read the essay in the context of Hoyo's design philosophy or just stop reading here, please.)
I don't want to say that Hoyo's track record on this front is bad, because honestly it's not. Their male characters often have surprisingly complex expressions of gender identity, with interesting blends of masculine and feminine traits. But... Hoyo does have a pattern. Plenty of their queer-coded MLM ships fall into this same general (and kind of stereotypical) profile: Alhaitham is inexplicably ripped and represents calm rationality, while Kaveh is "the spitting image of his mother," has to wring out his wrists when he uses his own weapon, and represents passion and romanticism. Ayato is the head of his clan; Thoma holds housekeeping classes for Inazuma's other housewives. Xingqiu is the "refined" rich boy in ruffles; Chongyun is the down-to-earth working lad. Wriothesley is the most masculine man in Genshin Impact; Neuvillette mothers the entire race of Melusines. Over in Star Rail, Aventurine covets pink diamonds, bathes himself in sparkling perfume, and is so tiny Ratio's hands can encircle his waist. (I don't actually think Aventurine is as feminine as some other people read him, but trying to pretend that he isn't designed to evoke queer tropes is just silly.) Moze is as ripped as Alhaitham, while the game itself mocks Jiaoqiu for being a pink-haired male character. I'm going to talk more about Renheng in a sec, but Renheng is also this way, with the more "delicate"-looking Imbibitor Lunae to Yingxing/Blade's solid frame.
Mydei and Phainon don't fit this pattern at all. Both of them are as tall as Star Rail models come, and while Mydei's build has an impressive degree of bulk, Phainon is no slouch either:
Neither one of them is visually effeminate in any manner, and they're also not stereotypically effeminate in their roles in the story. Neither of them is a housekeeper or a home-maker; (again, poor Aventurine catching strays, but:) neither of them is in the business of blinding people into deals with their good-looks or careful facade of helplessness.
Theoretically we could say the devs tried to squish Mydei into a more heteronormative role by giving him traits traditionally perceived as "feminine": he cooks, he plays house with children, he puts milk in his juice and turns it pink, he's paralleled almost exclusively to his own mother... But his role in the plot is such a quintessentially masculine story (son of a self-fulfilling prophecy, father-killer, god-slaying warrior, king to his people, aura-farming champion of the Amphoreus battle cutscenes, etc.) that clearly we are not meant to perceive him as a solely effeminate figure. The whole "malewife Mydei" thing comes across as so comedic because the game itself continually insists on asserting his masculinity.
Conversely, Phainon, despite being the "gentler" of the two characters, the one who is described as having a soft heart and being outgoing and kind, is even less suited to being called feminine. His "Messiah"-esque role in the story, literally being the "prodigal son" of Amphoreus, paints him as the very picture of a classical male hero. Even more so than Mydei, he is a private and closed off person who hides his heart--and his own identity--from those around him, traits more often stereotypically associated with emotionally-closed-off men than female characters.
Up to this point, Hoyoverse had a relatively stable pattern in the MLM ships they baited in their recent games. They primarily played it safe, sticking to queer-coding relationships that both visually and narratively reflect heteronormative relationships.
But Phaidei once again broke the mold.
This time, Hoyo chose to queer-code not the more delicate-looking man (although I guess there's still plenty of time for Anaxa, I shouldn't sell him shorter than he already is lol), but two overtly masculine male characters, who can't be readily projected on to a stereotypical heterosexual relationship by a heterosexual audience. This was a big departure from Hoyo's norm, and I think this actually deserves a lot more respect than people are giving it. Hoyo didn't have to pick their two muscle-bound warrior male leads and make them close and caring. They didn't have to expose themselves to the obvious question: "Why are two 'manly' characters being so soft on each other?" It is harder to pass off Phainon and Mydei's queer-coding as accidental, or suggest the fans are just reading too much into it, when nothing about them can be mistaken for a "traditional" heteronormative relationship that heterosexual yaoi fans are familiar with. For a game produced in China, where standards for depicting men and masculinity in media are so high, making the choice to bait two masculine men together (let alone this expansion's "hero," who is an expy of a beloved former character), was a very bold and risky choice on Hoyo's part.
Companies don't make bold and risky choices on accident.
Finally, I wanted to make one more point about why I appreciate Phaidei's emotionally attentive depiction--it's because there's a whole other realm they could have taken the "could end up a villain" queer-coded main character. As I mentioned in the first part of this post, queer-coding villains is a trope as old as dirt. When you queer-code a male villain particularly, you add an extra layer to the danger: Now the male villain is not just a physical threat, but a sexual one. Adding queer-coding to the male villain has often, in past media, been used to conflate homosexuality with deviance or perversion and suggests sexual violence even if nothing ever truly occurs.
Maybe the real Hoyoverse queer-coding was the red flower petals we threw along the way.
I said I was going to bring up Renheng, and here it is: Unfortunately, Blade and Dan Heng fall into this latter pattern a bit. Although he has his reasons, the game's portrayal of Blade's "pursuit," especially in the early portion of their story, casts Dan Heng into the role of the victim, a young man being hounded by a crazed stalker who refuses to let him go. Their cutscenes, including Dan Heng's nightmares, paint Blade as an overwhelming presence who invades both Dan Heng's physical space but also his mental space, making it impossible for Dan Heng to escape his clutches. This "We must pay the price together" absolutely reads, out of content anyway, as some sort of yandere death pact. Their lightcone is literally called "Nowhere to Run."
Even though Blade is not deliberately engaging in any form of sexual behavior, his obsession with Dan Heng in their early scenes can give players the impression of a cliched "depraved homosexual," and the implication that sexual violence could occur is present through their early interactions. This isn't on accident; Hoyo was playing with the yandere trope on purpose! I'm not going to lie, part of Renheng's early appeal for many players was how scary and dominating Blade came across as. The subtle sexual implications of pursuit are the point, and if you think Hoyo wasn't capitalizing on the intersection of "sexy" and "dangerous" with Renheng's early interactions, then you're probably a little too pure for this world.
As things progress, of course, we see this dynamic between Renheng dissipate, shifting his narrative from "crazed pursuer for unknown reasons" to "potentially the victim" of their past scenario, an effect which they achieved through the slow drip feed of Yingxing and Dan Feng's backstories. This, I think, speaks to not only a shift in the devs' intentions for Blade and Dan Heng's relationship (there's more to be said here about the Yingxing-Baiheng-Dan Feng mess that is the cut lore, etc.), but also to a shift in the way the devs wanted Blade to be perceived by fans, from a potentially predatory figure to a much less toxic potential love interest.
Anyway, back to Phaidei: We know that Phainon is headed for a downfall. It's been so obviously foreshadowed at this point that there's really nothing much more to say than that--however, even though he may also have a brush with villainy, like Blade, and even though we know Flame Reaver's very likely going to kill Mydei... I don't think that the devs will use Phainon's queer-coding as part of his villainous/Lord Ravager identity. I don't get any sense that the dev team has any intentions of conflating Phainon's potential homosexuality with depravity, or using it as a motive for his descent into destruction (he might be gay and potentially end up on Nanook's side, but he won't be a villain because he is gay). I definitely don't think we will see the kind of sexually-threatening physicality between Flame Reaver and Mydei that the devs did earlier with Blade and Dan Heng, even if "stabbing someone from behind" does have an inherent sort of sexual symbolism.
I appreciate that even in a story headed for the obvious "stabbed in the back by the villain form of the man I loved," the devs seem like they have moved on from falling into the pitfall (accidentally or intentionally, to sell yandere tropes) of portraying of gay men as predatory.
3. Leave Room for the Trailblazer
In part 1 of this post, I mentioned that Hoyo uses the placements of characters in scenes to indicate closeness, and I already pointed out that Mydei and Phainon stand really... really... close together, much closer than they stand to other characters.
However, it's not just that their models are literally positioned closer together in cutscenes--it's that their body language explicitly closes other characters out. Plenty of Hoyoverse MLM ships are ship-baited by moving the models of the male characters closer together, but very, very few of them are positioned to so consistently exclude even the player.
For comparison, consider the well-known scene where Alhaitham brings the Traveler and Paimon to his and Kaveh's house, which was framed with both domesticity and intimacy:
Although Alhaitham and Kaveh are also prone to the "stand shoulder-to-shoulder" thing that Hoyo does when they want to imply closeness between characters, the framing of their scenes nevertheless leave enough space for the Traveler and Paimon to be active participants in the conversation, enough space between Alhaitham and Kaveh for Traveler to not look blocked out.
For example, despite standing next to each other in that moment above, the camera deliberately cuts Alhaitham out, so that only Kaveh and the Traveler duo occupy the shot. Later on, Alhaitham bridges the divide between the Traveler and Kaveh, turning away from Kaveh toward the Traveler--once again, the conversation and scene are open to the Traveler, and thus, to the player.
Here's a live demonstration of my earlier point: Alhaitham and Kaveh stand closer together than the player and Candace, indicating their closer connection.
Other scenes play out similarly--although Alhaitham and Kaveh are close, their body language doesn't actively exclude other characters or the player from feeling like part of their conversations.
Over in Star Rail, we see the same general situation. We know that Aventurine rarely stands close to other characters, with Ratio being the one relatively consistent exception, but even so, the camera will usually give them some breathing room, making it feel like there's enough space for the player on the other side of the screen to be part of the moment:
Meanwhile Blade excludes both Dan Heng and the player, putting us on equal footing to Dan Heng and giving the impression that the player and Dan Heng are standing against Blade together. There is still room for "us" in this scene.
However, once again, Phaidei proves the exception. Mydei and Phainon don't just stand close--they don't even want to share air with anyone but each other.
A very normal way to have a group conversation. Definitely.
Consistently when standing side-by-side, they turn inward to face each other, rather than facing other characters in the conversation, literally forming a closed unit despite the fact that they're supposed to be in a group scene:
The thirdest third wheel to ever third wheel.
If it wasn't enough for the devs to just imply that the Trailblazer isn't able to break through Mydei and Phainon's circle, they decided to call it out in the text itself, echoing the player's own thoughts: "What about me?"
As I mentioned in the first part of the post, the devs also consistently use specific camera angles to capture both Mydei and Phainon in the frame together, at the same time, further emphasizing the closed nature of their conversations.
You will never see so many over-the-shoulder shots again in your life. You are the outsider looking in on their private moments!
Perhaps most telling about the devs' intention to create an intimate air for Phainon and Mydei's conversations is that literally everyone else disappears when they speak to each other. For example, Phainon and Mydei's first goodbye takes place in the Garden of Life, which is actually a pretty bustling plaza with numerous NPCs. But every single NPC was deliberately removed by the dev team for Mydei and Phainon's scene there, to allow them a private moment:
Even in their final farewell, where Mydei was seen off by a literal bustling crowd of NPCs, not a single person is visible during their goodbyes--until the exact moment Mydei reminds Phainon that the whole rest of the world is waiting for him. The whole rest of the world didn't even exist for Phainon until Mydei forced him to remember.
It's not just the Trailblazer (and us, the player) who is third wheeling Mydei and Phainon's relationship. They literally exist in a world of their own when they speak to each other. No other modern Hoyoverse ship is on this level of excluding even the player--excluding even the damn NPCs!--to make a point about their closeness.
I thought I was going crazy the first time I was watching these scenes, thinking "It can't be that the devs actually went that far in framing Mydei and Phainon as a pair." But they did. They actually did.
The envelope has been pushed off a mountain, my guys.
But that still wasn't enough for the devs. They needed to go further.
4. Deploy Shoujo Manga Trope #57
I know I just said that Phainon and Mydei's relationship doesn't map well a typical heteronormative male/female relationship, but that doesn't mean the devs gave up on any and all attempts to apply typical romantic cliches to Phaidei. On the contrary, the dev team's thought process seems to have been "Hey, we're doubling-down on our queer-coding for Phainon and Mydei. How can we make it really, really, really obvious they're a ship?" And then they literally spun a roulette wheel of romantic tropes and threw every single one of them at patch 3.1 at the same time.
We have the "romantic lead beautifully framed by red rose petals blood glitter":
The "You used my love to manipulate me" subplot:
Phainon begs for compliments, and Mydei's reaction is to look away demurely and call him a scoundrel?? Am I seeing things?!
This is where he'd be blushing like a tomato if he was a female character.
The "please look after my dear husband when I'm gone" tragedy trope:
THE RING???
"LET'S MEET AGAIN IN THE NEXT LIFE"?!!
What do I even say about all... this...? Do I even need to say anything at all? Has any MLM ship in a recent Hoyoverse game gotten remotely as many romance flags? Alhaitham, where is Kaveh's ring?!
What I actually want to say isn't a specific breakdown of any of these moments, but what they mean in totality. Remember that Hoyo made every one of these choices with deliberate intent. They knew what the picture would add up to. These are explicitly romantic tropes that are extremely difficult to interpret in other lights.
You are supposed to read "If there's a chance in the next life" as "I want to be reincarnated with you; I want to meet you again; I want to be with you in a softer world."
You're supposed to think of the ring as a wedding ring. For one, Gorgo would only have gotten it through her marriage to Eurypon, but even more so--there was no reason this item needed to be a ring in the first place except to evoke images of wedding rings. We already knew from 3.0 that Castrum Kremnos used crests and seals for identification. Why make it a ring and not just the crest of Castrum Kremnos? Furthermore, why involve Phainon at all? The audience would never have known any different if Chartonus just said "Found this I did, have it you should, Mydei." It's a ring and it's a ring deliberately from Phainon because the devs want you to see it as a wedding ring.
What an incredibly bold move on Hoyo's part, and I don't even really mean just in the context of being a Chinese company, but even in the context of being a global company. Hoyo lives and dies by the revenue of their character banners, and choosing to explicitly and (nearly) exclusively apply romantic tropes to their male lead and deuteragonist in a brand-new patch cycle was a legitimately daring choice. Their deliberate application of romantic staples to an MLM ship, in a way that is difficult even for anti-LGBT+ fans to write off, was a very, very calculated decision. I genuinely hope it pays off for them. I hope Mydei and Phainon's banners both sell well, so the devs' receive a clear message in turn that fans appreciated their boldness and their commitment to creating queer content for these two characters.
I'm just going to end on one final note, about a scene that you may have noticed I conveniently skipped. Yes, the most conspicuous scene of them all:
5. A+ Censor Dodging
By some miracle of obliviousness, some Olympic-level mental gymnastics, or by sheer force of will, I think some people might still have made it to this point thinking that Phaidei was not being deliberately baited by the devs. You could maybe, somehow, convince yourself that the blood glitter rose petals and the shoulder-to-shoulder emotional conversations were just coincidences, that the tsundere "I'm not worried about him" was just dudes being tough guys, that the Trailblazer was a third wheel because Phainon and Mydei are "just good friends."
But then devs said "No, we need to be unmistakable. We need to make ourselves 1000% clear. We are baiting the yaoi fangirls, guys; please stop ignoring our hard work."
If going further than they've ever gone with Mydei and Phainon's body language wasn't enough, if Phainon's being willing to kill a god to save his man wasn't enough, if implying a wedding ring wasn't enough, what else could the devs possibly do to remove all plausible deniability and make it undeniably clear that Mydei and Phainon are queer characters (even if it is only for the benefit of yaoi fangirls)?
They can do something they've never done in their recent games before: Imply actual sex between male characters.
(Side note, Hoyo lesbians have had this implied sexual content pass from the beginning. You will always be famous, Beiguang. It's only the male characters that can't even have implied sex. 😂)
Obviously Phainon and Mydei are not having sex in the game. The dialogue even goes out of its way afterward to remind us that they remained fully clothed in that bath, thank you. But the refusal to show what was actually happening--censorship used as a tool to imply--the cut to the black screen, the narration of one animal pursuing another, the discretionary water droplets between the moaning... (And another little edit because @mynabirb made such a good point in the tags: The fact that they chose to "censor" this with a butterfly, the literal symbol of romance in Amphoreus, is almost too much. The devs really did say "Time to silence all doubts.")
From the player's perspective--and examining this as a choice on the dev team's part--there is no way to read this scene other than "sexually suggestive." You're supposed to think "This sounds incredibly sus." Because it is sus. Because the devs added this scene knowing that it would intentionally make people think about the idea of Phainon and Mydei having sex.
Sure, this scene is really funny in context. You're supposed to come out of it laughing, going "Wow, they're idiots." But you will also, whether you like it or not, come out of this thinking "Damn, Hoyo really went all in on the yaoi bait, didn't they?"
You can't "Devs didn't mean it" out of this one.
Which is brave as hell on Hoyo's part, to be honest! Even if this is nothing but queer-baiting, they saw that sick yaoi fan money and decided to go all in on it.
Say it with me: A dev team from a country with notoriously strict rules against depictions of homosexuality in media, from a company with a huge global fanbase including many conservative and religious countries, and with a majority male target audience, went out of their way to undeniably include sexually suggestive gay content in their game.
Whatever their motivation--be it simply money or from a genuine desire to tell gay stories--this wasn't a casual decision. This took commitment. This decision almost certainly went all the way to the top brass of the team for clearance. Someone probably had to fight to get this added.
But they did it, and not with Kaveh and Alhaitham (the previously undisputed kings of current Hoyoverse queer-coding) but with two brand-new (to Star Rail at least) characters who have extremely important roles in the game's on-going narrative--major characters who can't be overlooked.
Phaidei is literally built different.
But I'm still left with one lingering question:
Is Hoyo queer-coding or just queer-baiting?
Even though I played 3.1 in a sort of stupefied haze because I actually couldn't believe what I was seeing in Phainon and Mydei's scenes, I also ended it with a pretty bittersweet feeling.
How amazing that Hoyo pushed the envelope so far with Phaidei... But at what cost?
Did Mydei really have to leave Okhema never to return? Or is he being banished from the plot because his relationship with Phainon was too intense?
Isn't this just the "bury your gays" trope, in essence?
Lore-wise, there isn't any reason Mydei actually has to leave Okhema forever. Sure, he presumably is going to fight the Black Tide where it manifests across Amphoreus, but what about that requires him to "never return"? Demigods aren't geographically bound to the locations their Titans blessed, or Aglaea and Anaxa wouldn't be able to leave the Grove. There shouldn't be any reason Mydei can't visit Okhema when he wants.
The more you think about it, the worse it looks that the dev team implied Phaidei harder than they've ever implied an MLM ship before, only to immediately turn around and go "And then Mydei left forever." As if the only way it's okay to make characters that gay is if you then get rid of at least one of them. (Speaking humorously, at the rate Phainon and Mydei were going, if the devs didn't get rid of Mydei, he and Phainon probably would have been making out on-screen by 3.2, but you know what I mean.)
Sure Phaidei can be the MLM Star Rail ship with the most support in canon--but only at the cost of never being seen together again, apparently.
I'm not sure I like this trade off.
However, I am telling myself to remain cautiously optimistic. We know that Mydei's role in the story is not done, and that he and Phainon are destined for at least one more reunion, even if it won't be a happy one. We've been told that Amphoreus's story will be "heart-warming." I choose to believe that the devs will try to scrabble some sort of positive ending out of all this. At the very least, perhaps we'll end with a "in another life montage," and get to see Phainon and Mydei finally meeting in that library.
So is Hoyo queer-coding from a genuine desire to include gay characters or just baiting hard to sell Mydei to fangirls?
I'd say let's wait and see. Amphoreus has barely started cooking.
In the meantime, I think it is worth examining (and appreciating) Hoyo's willingness to mix up their own patterns, break their own trends, and to try something truly new and different with Phaidei. Even if this is all the content we ever get, Hoyoverse did things they haven't done before in any of their recent games, and showed that they're willing to push the limits for queer content in order to tell the stories they really want to tell.
I am a served fan, Hoyo. Well played, well played.
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