a guide to being in a relationship with your local chrysos heir, phainon | established relationship, fluff, boyfriend headcanons, phainon is the sweetest ever, this is my coping mechanism after all that angst | wc: 1.2k
note from me — tweaking so bad i wrote this in an hour while waiting for maintenance
Give it up for the world’s greenest flag ever, even the most lustrous and beautiful of grass would be put to shame in front of him. No one will ever be the nameless hero, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
You never have to beg nor plead in front of him, he’ll let the world roll on your feet if it needs to. He’ll give you anything that you ask for or even mention in passing; that one vase you think is cool even though it won’t match your furniture? Bought and delivered to your door by yours truly. How about that dumb painting that looks funny but is too expensive? Yeah, he bargained like a professional. You want his door? Sure, go ahead, he doesn’t need that—oh, you were joking?
Sometimes it becomes too much that you have to tell him, “…And no, I don’t need it. I just like seeing it.” Or whatever you could come up with just to stop the gears of his mind from turning.
IS GOOD WITH KIDS !! He’s so well-known in the small community of children for how understanding and amazing he is, how he’s able to easily get along with them (even the grumpest ones), as he is able to catch up with their tricks and games. Other than that, they also know how he’s so in love with you. Like deeply in love with you even the children know it—some of them are disgusted (because cringe, ew, what is love?) and some listen to him talk about you with a sparkle in their eyes.
You didn’t even have to introduce yourself to them, they already know who you are. They know you before you know them, they have seen you despite never having met you. “Mister Phainon said that you have stars in your eyes and that not even the greatest of bards can compare to the melodies of your voice! He also said your hair is—“ The little girl is stopped by the snow-haired man beside you, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips. Are you embarrassed, ashamed, angry, or none of those things? Nevertheless, he gets a pinch on his cheek as he surrenders, both hands up in the air. Apologies slipped past his lips, compliments smoothly mixed into it: “I’m so sorry, you’re just so lov—OW!”
HORRENDOUS FASHION TASTE, however. You are not Lady Aglaea, but you have the eyes to see and judge the atrocity of combination presented and worn by your lovely boyfriend. “Take it off.” You say, and he blushes like a virgin who’s finally getting it: “W-Wait, we possibly can’t do it, not when there’s people around.” NOT LIKE THAT!! The redness of your face covered by your palms is all he sees. Oh dear, you know he wishes to simply wear all his favorite colors at once, but at this rate, he’ll look like a walking decorative pine tree meant to represent the spirit of holidays.
On the topic of clothes, the two of you match often. Colors, patterns, and everything that you can, and sometimes, it’s not limited to clothes. Bracelets, necklaces that spell out each other’s initials, teleslate charms, wallpapers, and everything. You and him are like pieces of puzzles that are meant to complete each other, because it really is like that. You and Phainon are the embodiment of one another, tangled in the strings, destinies carved by the sun to be together, hearts burned to beat into one.
SPARRING MATCHES AND FRIENDLY COMPETITIONS which always end up giggles and fits of laughter. In play-wrestling, he often lets you win, allowing you to to tackle him to the ground while you grin above him, teasing him of his title and his strength. “Oh, yeah?” Is all he says before your world spins and your positions are now reversed.
Beyond those things, he is the type to serenade you in the kitchen while humming or under the moonlight when the stars are watching. The type to have your date already planned to every detail and only tells you that you just have to show up (he’ll pick you up even). The type to give you your favorite flowers even though you never told him. The type to leave notes all over your home, letting you play into some scavenger hunt game until you end up in his arms, right where you belong. The type to be overly worried and anxious whenever he has to leave, knowing that it could take a long time and he might not see you for days, so he entrusts you into the hands of his trusted friends—“Phainon had asked me to bring this to you, he mentioned you were craving for it.” ; “Snowy asked us to ensure that you’re eating well!” ; “Here, it will help you fall asleep and he says you will need it the most.”
It’s stupid, and it makes you more fearful, and he has to reassure and comfort you through tears when he has come home because it felt like he wasn’t going to. “You made it feel like you’re going to die!” You sob, smacking his chest and he accepts it—your pain, anger, sadness, everything, he’ll take it.
Kisses? Showering you with it always, especially when the both of you are alone. He loves it when you do the same for him too—stain him with the marks of your affection, won’t you? Additionally, he likes to kiss you and interrupt each of your every word until it dissolves on his tongue and you give in to his warmth.
Hands? All over you already. It is for sure that physical touch along with acts of service ranks the highest on his love language chart. Your hands are always intertwined with his, he would always give you pats or ruffle your hair into a mess because he likes to tease you, and he lingers so close to you that your shadows might as well fuse.
On the mention of acts of service, he’s always at the beck and call for you. Think like Ken’s Barbie senses except it’s Phainon (and his ahoge is his antenna). He senses a disturbance in the air? He’s there already; pure exaggeration, but it feels like that often. “I know you can do it but allow me to help you because I want to,” he’ll say to you, a gentle reassurance, after you insisted that you don’t need his assistance and you don’t want to burden him. He likes it when you rely on him but he will still adore you the same if you wish not to.
Jealousy? Who even dares to mess with you, or him?
Nicknames? There’s a lot. Endearing ones, especially. His partner, his lovely sun, his dearest buddy, his comrade, his, his, and only his. Always dear to him.
It’s not hard to find comfort in him, even the mere presence and thought that he’s here, that you’re here, that you have him is enough to ease the tension on your shoulders. He is warm, you are warm in his arms, enveloping yours as if he’s shielding you from all the harm this world will bring to you. It feels as if knowing you is something easy and small for him—understanding the cracks of your skin, mended together by softness, tracing them like constellations, cradling you all the same because it is yours.
He simply adores the smile he gets to put on your face or the laughter that bubbles from your throat. It’s something he’ll never forget, deeply engraved into the corners of his mind, the essence of yourself tainting the edges as if you’ve become a part of his soul.
Perhaps Mydei hurt/comfort with afab spouse reader who they are expecting their first child with but reader has had a miscarriage before (not with Mydei) and is terrified of it happening again even though they really want to be a parent. Reader hides their fear from their husband but Mydei is observant.
a/n: okey 😁🫰
butt grammar guys okay 🥺 lwk butt but i had fun writing it!
Mydei x pregnant! fem reader
tw: miscarriage and prolly ooc mydei? (havent finished amphorus too busy gooning in other games)
--
You look over at the palace gardens as you sit perched upon the balcony, as you watch over the children giggle and run along the path. The maids trailing not far behind.
You smile to yourself as you gently rub the small bump along your abdomen, ‘still early’.
You thought looking off into the distance, but early enough to still miscarry.
You called it the bean, well because it was small and it has no gender yet. But so you couldn't get attached to it anymore than you could
It was your biggest fear since it happened last, it left you devastated and paranoid. Hesitating telling even Mydei in case you lost the bean.
It scared you, panicking when he bought something for the bean or took you to the boutique.
Why would you waste time if the baby wasn’t even 100% it would survive, if it’s the aeons wish then the baby will survive but if it isn’t-
It’s those thoughts that plagued you, as you looked around the nursery. Not yet fully furnished, but had a crib Mydei commissioned and few blankets and toys.
Lost in thought you didn’t feel the rough hands around your midsection.
“You seem to be lost in space”
He mumbles softly, gently swaying.
“Do I? Just thinking”
"About?"
"you know" you pout poking his cheek.
"the "bean" you call them" he replied cocking his head.
"...perhaps"
"You've been lost in space since we found out you know."
"Have I? And I thought you were off busy being a prince hm?"
"Yes but is it such a crime to worry over you?"
"....no" you replied avoiding his gaze and gently pushing yourself away from his embrace.
"Whats wrong my love" he asked gently taking your wrist.
Silence fell upon the pastel room, as you hesitate. It brought you shame that you had a miscarriage, especially with another man. It was the one thing you couldn't admit to him, the one thing burned into your mind and heart.
"I'm afraid the bean, might miscarry...." You begin avoiding his gaze and looking at the marbled floor. "...because I have experienced it once..."
"..."
"...You've never told me you were expecting before this one-"
"it wasn't with you" you correct him. "it was long before you, with another.. I didn't tell him either"
You teared up at the memories, the sight of the blood as you curled up on the floor with quiet sobs.
"I'm sorry" a sob apology left your lips as you felt him embrace you.
"Why are you apologizing like its your fault?" he asked in a softened tone, bringing your gaze to meet his. He worried for you, keeping this from him yes- he was disappointed you didn't bring it up. But he understood why.
"my love?" he asked wiping a away a stray tear from you cheek.
"..you should wear a shirt its distracting seeing you like this" you reply with a small giggle and sniffle.
"...only if you cheer up and start speaking to me about these things properly." he replied tugging you cheek, "besides if you cry too much then so will the baby"
...
oh yeah, the baby.
...
"okay, you worry me you brush things off too quickly" he adds kissing your hair.
"I know, I don't like thinking about it-"
"well if you keep thinking you'll miscarry you won't enjoy carrying our bundle of joy"
he let you snuggle him, pouting as he rested his chin on your head.
"are you okay then? nod if you are"
you comply and nod, not wanting to speak of it after hiding it for so long.
"...I just want to enjoy it now, I promise I'll be happier" you say kissing his jaw.
"...hm, alright"
--
You eventually told him of the incident not without loud sobs and crying into his bare chest, since then you got it off your chest. He promised to never bring it up or mention it to anyone.
--
Now you spend your days folding the tiny clothes and placing final touches on the nursery, now that your far past the stage of loss. Anticipating the arrival of your child and admiring the other mothers chasing after their own young, with a small smile on your face.
--
okay next fic idea mydei pregnant say yes if yes say no if no
SEX POSITIONS ft AVENTURINE, DR. RATIO, LUOCHA, SUNDAY.
╰┈➤AVENTURINE to me is someone who'll appreciate the view of you on top of him, thus his favourite would be cowgirl/cowboy, why? Because then AVENTURINE gets to see you...all of you as you slide yourself up and down his throbbing cock, watching the details of your face as your eyes squint and your lips part - drool slithering down them.
AVENTURINE would definitely let you determine the pace of course, anything to relieve your aching core and need for him. The feeling is mutual, of course. Though, AVENTURINE would prefer it slow...to feel you grip him and edge him to ecstasy as your fingers would slide into his hair, bringing his face to your chest.
Oh he'd definitely be sucking those nipples of yours, swirling his tongue around them like one needs air to breathe.
This may be a gamble, but AVENTURINE always gets something in return. Besides, he always wins, doesn't he?
╰┈➤ RATIO is a man who depends on the ability to degrade others, to have him above others due to his intellectual mind and great achievements. After all, RATIO is one of the teachers and scholars of the Guild, isn't he? So, by all means he'd have you bent over the side of his bathtub when RATIO is in a gruff mood due to the incompetence his students. Water splashing as his little duck struggles to stay afloat.
Call him DOCTOR RATIO when he has his dick balls deep inside you, his chest against your back and his hands on your hip. You know his bath is always filled to the brim in bubbles, yet from all the pivots of his hips and your squirms, most of them have popped.
Just like his frustration - and RATIO is taking it out on you alright, and in doggy style.
The aftercare though? That's definitely present.
╰┈➤ LUOCHA is hands down a classic missionary man, he's so gentle about it too...the way he would slide his hands down your sides towards your hips left you gasping for air as your skin would prickle from the softness of his calloused fingertips.
LUOCHA is the type of man who'd gently raise your leg by spreading his fingers out on your thigh before trailing it down towards the back of your knee so he could slowly bend it to deepen his shaft inside your pulsing walls. Your back could only arch from the pleasure that came from his touch alone.
You know LUOCHA is a man of romance and elegance in a way that reminded you of the calmness of the Xianzhou waters. And just hearing his name from your lips along with every deep, slow thrust of his hips against your own was enough to have him relishing in your love.
╰┈➤ SUNDAY is a man that screams both missionary AND 69. Missionary for the view of your eyes fluttering shut while your lips would part with every whimper of his hard, deep and slow thrust. SUNDAY is a man who would take his time with you...letting you be so in the mood that when you're so fucked out from the overstimulation, you wouldn't even be able to comprehend how SUNDAY begins to rut himself into you.
To release spurts and spurts of cum along your walls - and you wouldn't even know it.
To have you so weak beneath him...so fucked out is a need for him. A desire to have complete dominance over you. While SUNDAY empathises with your state...it's not enough to make you full of him.
Perhaps to even breed you.
Now for 69, the answer is simple: to have your quivering hole right before his eyes as you pleasure him so well...taking in all his cock and swallowing every drop of cum that floods into your parting lips - all while he swirls that finger along your walls, curling it devilishly into the wetness as his tongue slowly lapped away at the juices that poured from you.
It's his need to have complete control over you, for every unannounced thrust of his finger and tongue - he'd hear you gag on his cock from the unexpected touch.
Imagine stirring awake in your sleep as you slowly register the heat of the morning sun entering the room. Brows frowning, you open your eyes gently, being mindful of the sun, only to be greeted by a hand shielding you away from the sun. "Good morning sleeping head." It was your lover in his deep, husky morning voice. Squinting and staring at him, you move only to get close and snuggle close to him earning a huff and a laugh. "Alright, let's sleep some more."
Imagine slapping him by his arm when he wouldn't stay still as you dress him. "Darling! Stay still!" At this point, you might end up poking him by his accessories. "But dearest, I don't want to go" He whine like a child causing you to slap his arms once again in disapproval, also earning a groan from your lover as well as a pout.
Imagine standing there behind him, hands crossed on your chest as you look down at the car snuggling into your legs. Smiling at the little guy, you turn your attention back on your lover as he water the plants. And suddenly, he was looking at you. "Hello dearest." He smiles gently at you in which you return. "Hello darling. How's your day going?"
Imagine visiting during your free time, taking your sweet time before dropping of into his office. Greetings the people as you went on, you finally arrived at his office. Knocking three times, you open the door only to find your lover silently dozing off. There he was living up to his title as the dozing general. Looking around, you silently made your way beside him before sitting down.
Imagine the way you reach out a hand to brush away his hair away from his face when he lean in into your touch. Upon doing so, you had the urge to pinch his cheeks if it was not for your self control. Sighing to yourself, you gently withdraw away from him and quickly scan the paper works left on his desk when the door opened and "gene!-ral?" The man halted upon setting his eyes upon you. Is it urgent? You signed to the man only for him to shake his head, waving the papers in hand. Come here. You signed.
Imagine Jing Yuan finding himself on a rather comfortable position, his head lay down on a rather comfortable and familiar lap causing him to get up if it was not for you caressing his cheek all the way up into his hair. "Good evening sleepy head. Did you have a nice nap?" "You should have awaken me, dearest." "I figure out that letting you take a nap would be a much better choice darling." You smile down at him.
Imagine being Jing Yuan may not be as adventurous and active as you two were once was. Those were, another stories of your youth that has now passed by and carved into ever lasting memories. What's important is that, the two of you were still here, still by each other side. Still in each other’s arm.
⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you get sick and blade is wondering how the hell he got stuck having to take care of you.
⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: sickfic, fluff, swearing, gn!reader, stellaron hunter!reader, reader doesn’t like room temp water LMAO only ice cold, blade’s kinda mean but a softie trust me u.u
⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.8k+
⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: i haven’t written for blade in ages so i am very rusty but i hope u enjoy <3 this is a self-indulgent fic i wrote while sick and bed-ridden yesterday :c if any of y’all got the summer cold/flu too i hope u feel better !! :>
You felt like shit and the last thing you needed was someone threatening you to get better.
It would have been one thing if those threats worked in scaring your illness away. But you were certain that it did the opposite of help— It simply gave you an unwanted headache instead.
“Can you stop glaring at me whenever I blow my nose?” you demanded with a sniffle, tossing your tissue into the trashcan Blade so graciously placed next to your head.
“Can you stop blowing your nose so loudly?”
You glared at him, responding by grabbing another tissue and blowing your nose even louder. You winced at the force, feeling a slight throb in your head from the overexertion.
With an ever-present scowl on his annoyingly handsome face, Blade shook his head at you. You could practically sense the disappointment and annoyance radiating from him. “Don’t make yourself feel worse.”
“I’m not trying to,” you said, choosing to lay back down on your bed rather than arguing with him.
Your throat was sore, your nose was both runny and stuffy with no in-between, your muscles were achy, and your body was tired. There wasn’t much fighting spirit left for you to spare in your current state. Hence, the reason the Stellaron Hunters had Blade stay behind on the mission until you recovered enough to join everyone. Why they didn’t leave someone more personable and caring like Sam behind was beyond you. But you supposed you should be grateful Elio let anyone stay behind instead of having you recover alone.
Coughing, you reached for a glass of water to moisten your throat only to find it already empty. You groaned to yourself, the thought of having to get up from your warm and cozy bed to fill up your water in the cold, cold kitchen made you shiver.
With a sigh, Blade exited your room while muttering a quick, “Stay put.”
You blinked blearily, eyes barely able to follow his quick-moving figure out the door.
In a flash, Blade returned with two separate cups—one filled with clear water, and the other with warm tea. He set them both down on your nightshade, collecting your empty glass to clean in the sink.
“Thank you,” you murmured, touched that he brought you drinks without you having to ask. You grabbed the glass of water first, letting out a giggle when you saw the single ice cube floating on the top. With a smile, you questioned, “One ice cube?”
Blade shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face that one could easily mistake as uncaring. “You don’t like room temperature water. If I brought warm water to you, you would rather die of dehydration than drink it.”
A nodded sheepishly, unable to deny what came out of his mouth.
“Still, you need fluids to feel better. I figured one ice cube might be enough to satiate you.”
Staring at the melting ice cube, you assumed it didn’t do much to help the temperature of the drink, but the thoughtfulness of your fellow Stellaron Hunter was enough to coax you into drinking it regardless.
“That’s…surprisingly sweet of you,” you said, taking a sip of water. It was, in fact, not cold enough for you, but you still pushed onwards. “Thanks, Bladie.”
The scowl on his face deepended. “Don’t call me that. And drink the tea. I put honey in it since its anti-inflammatory.”
“Your frown lines are forming prematurely,” you jested, setting the glass of water aside to pick up the steaming cup of tea. The warm mug felt hot against your skin and you felt a droplet of sweat forming on the side of your head. In the blink of an eye, you threw the blankets off your body and fanned yourself dramatically with one hand. You shared a look with Blade. “It’s too hot for tea.”
“It’s not too hot, you just have a fever,” he said with annoyance, walking over to the thermostat and turning down the temperature regardless of his words. “But you can wait for it to cool down then—”
Before he finished his sentence, you had already taken a sip of the drink. Immediately, you felt a burning sensation on the tip of your tongue and jumped. “Ow!” you yelped, placing the mug down and glaring at it. “That’s hot!”
Blade glared at you. “Tea is typically made from hot water. I just told you to wait for it to cool down.”
“But you said that after you told me to drink it!” you sniffed, nursing your tongue by dipping it into the lukewarm glass of water. “You can’t give a sick person mixed signals like that.”
“You’re sick, not incompetent.” He paused. “Not more than normal, at least.”
“Hey!” you protested. At the sudden overuse of your voice, you felt your throat growing more irritated. You coughed and coughed, taking in deep breaths of air to stop yourself.
He folded his arms as he scolded you, “Don’t overexert yourself. Get some rest.”
With tears forming around your eyes from coughing, you matched his haughty expression. You croaked out, “You’re naggy. Did you know that?”
“Only to those who don’t listen.”
“You tell me like a million different instructions! How can I listen?” you retorted, your headache coming back as your shoulders tensed in irritation.
When he noticed your slight wince of pain, Blade sighed and relented. He walked over to the side of your bed and picked up the cup of hot tea. With a blank expression, he blew the surface of the drink, cooling it down until the steam went away.
“Here,” he said as he held out the cup to you. “Now drink.”
Your stared open-mouthed at the drink. You felt as if he was giving you whiplash with his crass words and caring actions. You didn’t quite know how to feel, but you knew you were at least a bit grateful.
Carefully, you sipped the cup of tea Blade gently (and begrudgingly) placed in your hands. This time, you did not feel the scalding heat burn your tongue.
“Thank you,” you said, chugging as much of the tea as you could. “It wasn’t hot that time.”
He nodded in response, stepping away from the side of your bed once he confirmed you finished your drink. Blade studied you as you laid back in bed, closing your eyes to try to soothe all your ailments. It didn’t work, but you would certainly keep trying.
Without the blankets covering you, you felt cold again despite the sweat you felt gathering on your forehead. You heard rustling and the clanging of glasses next to you.
When you opened your eyes, you saw Blade walking away with the dirty cups in hand, muttering something about how he wasn’t your maid. You smiled weakly, knowing he was doing his best to take care of you regardless of his bitching and moaning.
Blade returned with a slightly damp washcloth in hand, folded perfectly into a compact rectangle. You sniffled through your stuffy nose, watching as he held out the washcloth to you, before taking it back last minute. Confused, you pulled your hand back as well.
“I’ll just do it. Before you mess up somehow,” he said, leaning down by your side and placing the damp washcloth on your forehead.
The instant he placed the towel on you, cool relief coursed through your body. You shivered at the sensation, letting out a noise of satisfaction.
You peeked one eye open, looking at Blade with another sheepish expression. “Thank you. Again…”
“You don’t need to keep thanking me.”
“I do!” you insisted, staying as still as a board despite the passion in your voice. “I know you would rather be out on a mission right now, following Elio’s script with the others. But instead you got stuck here taking care of me.”
He folded his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s not your fault. Kafka forcibly volunteered me.”
You chuckled lightly at that. It certainly seemed like something Kafka would do. Either to annoy Blade, tease you, or irritate the both of you just for fun.
“You just need to get better soon,” he said as if it were that simple. “Then we can both get back on the field.”
“Is that why you’ve been such a good little nurse, Bladie?” you teased, touching your fingertips to the cool washcloth on your forehead.
He glared at you, but there was no anger behind the expression. “Call me that one more time and you will see what happens.”
“Will you bring me more hot tea to burn my tongue on?” you asked in mock horror. Despite his menacing-sounding threats, you knew Blade would never hurt you.
“I’ll bring you room temperature water with no ice,” he promised blankly.
Your mouth dropped in surprise and you shook your head fervently, the small towel falling off your face. “No, please! I won’t call you Bladie again.”
Blade rolled his eyes at your dramatics but immediately went to pick up the fallen washcloth. “Stop moving around like that. You’re going to make your headache worse.”
“Sorry, mother.”
He scowled and plopped the washcloth back on your forehead, less gently this time than the first. You stuck your tongue out at him in response before feeling another fit of coughs come your way.
Once you managed to soothe your throat and gather your breath, you sighed. “I hate being sick.”
“Then drink more fluids and go to sleep.” Blade grabbed the glass of water from your nightstand and began to walk out with it. “I’ll get you some more before you try to rest.”
Closing your eyes shut, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself despite your discomfort. He had a rough exterior, but he surprised you with how much effort he put into helping your sick self out.
His hidden thoughtfulness was enough to stir something in your stomach—butterflies, you hoped, and not an unwanted stomach bug to add to your list of ailments. It was unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome.
Blade entered your room one last time for the night, bringing you a new glass of water with a single ice cube, and a fresh new washcloth folded to perfection.
You giggled, noticing his attentiveness to detail. “Thank you, Bladie. I really appreciate all of this.”
He sighed but didn’t argue when he heard that nickname. Thankfully, he did not take the ice cube out of your water and hand the glass to you lukewarm.
“You are so… You’re welcome,” he relented, replacing the damp towel on your forehead with a fresh and cold one. “Now, hurry up and recover.”
“I’m trying,” you laughed, no longer annoyed by his impatience. “I’m sure I will, with you doting on me like this.”
“I don’t dote.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bladie,” you sang softly, your eyes finally feeling heavy after drinking more water and relaxing your muscles with the help of the cool washcloth. “I’m finally getting sleepy…”
He nodded. “That’s good.”
“Mhm,” you murmured, your voice drifting into a sleepy mumble. “‘M tired. Goodnight… Blade.”
There was a long pause before you heard Blade’s response while you drifted off into a deep slumber. “Get well soon, Y/N.”
Imagine down bad yandere! idol adventurine really wanted to be treated like this by his manager Reader.
He has dreamed all night and all day daydreaming about being under you, and he is soooo down bad.
He doesn't care if he would be the top or the bottom in the relationship at all.
all he cares about is you and him together, being intimate, being lovely dovely with each other being able to love and be loved back, that's all inside his mind.
Imagine just how yandere! Adventurine would go down on his knees and begs you to just fuck him, even better if you made him pussy drunk at all. he will be ecstatic and even incoherently thank you non-stop
"ThaThank you~ ahhh~~ mmmnn~ ahh~ Thankyou~thank-thank you baby~ agghbabyy~ "
He will never let go of your leg unless you give him all he wants, and he will even shamelessly make a bet with your dignity on the line so if you either lose or win he will have an advantage one way or the other.
After all, he doesn't want to lose this chance to be able to fuck his sexy and lovely manager~
just push more against his d!ck he loves the feeling of your heels just pushing against his member and looking at you with his love-sick eyes. Don't ever lose eye contact with this man because he will grip harder on your leg if you look away even for a second.
"Look at me~ please just look at me~ "
He loves how soft your thighs are and how plush it is against his face, and even snuggles his cheeks against your thigh while keeping eye contact, he can smell your arousal because of how close he is to your private and he is just as turned on as you.
he will tease You about it but he is no better since you can clearly see his packing under your heels and even with your heels on you can feel how he is getting bigger than before which is not normal at all.
With your dirty mind, you start to imagine just how hard he can get and just how good he would feel inside you.
with lust-filled eyes, you just can't look away from his obsessed and lustful gaze.
Imagine after all this is happening it will end up from just pushing his member down by your heels to literally sitting on his face shamelessly putting more strength and griping on your sides to not lose the sensation of drowning in your juices and being faced against your pussy~
"Stay~ hmmm~ you taste so goood~ ahh~ mmm~"
Praises you just how you make him feel and loves how your juices never end.
He loves how it moves so fast from him begging to now eating you out was a dream for him. grips his hair please he loves how tight and sends electrics on his body. the pain is reminding him that this is real and not a dream.
That you are in front of his face eating you out and hearing your godly lovely moans and whimpers. He will forever cherish this moment and nonstop imagine this every moment of his life.
he is in your mercy so please give him more~
"Ahhh~ hmm~ more~ just mo-more~ stay like this ~ forever ahh~ you taste sofckingGoood~ahggghhh~~"
Its even better if not just this position you know~ he can do all and if possible he will do ALL with you~ He means it~
E.V.E.R.Y. S.I.N.G.L.E. P.O.S.I.T.I.O.N.
Until you pass out~ and even if you do pass out, don't really expect he will just stop ~ no honey~ he will continue even after that~
"you need something baby?"
don't really worry he does take good after care for you. you cant walk? he will serve you breakfast in bed
You want to go to the restroom, he will take you there
He will be at your beck and call. just call him anywhere, everytime, and anything he dont really care he will ditch everything in a matter if seconds. FOR. YOU.~
— author's note: my entry to the sunday brainrot, aka me manifesting for playable sunday.
sunday was the most desired man in all of penacony, and for a good reason too.
head of the oak family; the most handsome bachelor on the planet; a preacher of harmony that wanted the best for his home; what was there to not like about him? you were no stranger to the way he stared at gatherings hosted by the family, his gaze lingered too much on you; happened too many times to count as a mere coincidence. it sent your heart into a blazing beat, one that made your cheeks flush whenever he stood anywhere near you. just hearing his voice – the awkward laugh that rang like wedding bells when mr. gopher wood joked about the two of you being a match made in heaven – it became your favorite thing in the world.
the idea of marrying sunday has always been on the table ever since you were children. one playdate after the other – most of which were spent on the beach – where you, sunday, and his darling little sister robin would create sandcastles for miles. role playing as the kingdom’s regency while robin sang you songs until she fell asleep. such fond memories manifested itself to a lightcone that now sat in your bedroom. mr. wood was not blind with the way sunday looked at you – neither were you – and ever since then, he’d consistently bug you to marry his adoptive son who hid behind his wings to save his face.
and so you did. you married the man of your dreams and relished in being loved like a saint.
every waking hour with sunday was spent with him worshiping the very ground you set foot on. slipping his hand under the table in meetings to fit yours because you were his rock, making sure he never strayed too far from you because to him, being away from you was the deadliest sin of them all. he loved you like the sun; burning brightly and warming your coldest days with only a whisper of sweet nothings in your ear as you let his touch scorch your skin in a way that made you wince but love him all the same. basking in the way his lips carved his name in your own with such passion you would close your eyes to everything else - he was the only view you would ever look at.
sunday burned brightly, but he burnt too quickly. just like how the sun could never stay in the sky forever, his revelry in you also faded like the waking night when the moon and stars started to replace him. sunday became too consumed in his goals of harmony, so much so that he lost his way that not even you, his darling, couldn’t save him from.
even if his hands still gravitated towards yours, they no longer had the same warmth that you savored in his presence. he confessed his deadliest sins – the sin of being away from you – every night under the night sky’s judgment, only to commit them again the following morning.
such was the cycle of sunday’s habit when he obtained his favorite toy.
he drowned himself in the great pleasures of finally having his hands on the toy he’s been pining over for years. indulging himself in the adoration he had for you even if sometimes, it flickered with something more sinister, something much darker than the adoration he bathed and convinced you in. you let him suffocate in this false devotion until he started to pull back in boredom. until his favorite toy - you - was no longer his favorite.
you would pull away, starting to realize how this was not right, only for him to come sweep you of your feet – the same awkward laughter that once rang like wedding bells now sounded like red sirens, warning you of the danger you’d always ignore – and your falling back into the same maze that was your husband.
