coralearei

[coralearei]

Fantasie-Impromptu -- Sunday/Dreamweaver!Reader

summary: your client gets you to stay with him for a while longer... wc: 2.7k author's notes: there isn't any deeper reason beyond the title other than that it sounds cool and it's what sunday played in his trailer. this was supposed to be a winter holiday fic that i initially wrote a month ago and dropped and picked up again, so there might be references to baby it's cold outside and other media content: mdni -- somewhat yandere tendencies and whatever that implies: dubcon/noncon, no explicit sex but it gets pretty touchy throughout, a bit of a power imbalance, potentially ooc, gender neutral reader, implied drugging

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Although the Family Head has been your client for many months now, you've never completely accustomed yourself to the nerve-wracking kindness that has only grown increasingly more evident with every commission he's given you. Sunday's 'acts of kindness' are almost too subtle for you to call attention to; a luxurious trinket every now and then might just be a token of goodwill, and the occasional gloved hand lingering on your shoulder too long could simply be unintentional. 

Still, being the keen Dreamweaver you are, you pick up acts like these nevertheless. They're more than just coincidences— but Sunday seems like a man higher than mere accidents. Everything he does is indeed very carefully and meticulously planned, and the way he corners you in his office at this current moment is no exception.

 "Stay a while longer." he says to you now as you prepare to leave his office. Today's session has been rather short, much to your relief— consisting of You inadvertently freeze in your motions as he speaks, standing still with your palms pressed to the desk below you. Your head is kept steady in its bowed position, not noticing the way that Sunday marvels at your refusal to return his warmhearted gaze.

 The offer is somewhat arbitrary, almost out of the blue, but it adds to the pattern of similar gestures from before. At first, he was cordial enough, but still formal— he remains both of those things towards you, but a few almost-invisible actions make you shudder. Over time, you start to give him excuses to stay at his mansion for gradually shorter amounts of time, and tell him that you have a good idea of what he wants out of whatever you're working on. You don't want to waste any more of his time, you’ve told him once, and you promise to give him articulate, expedient designs before you bashfully scurry out of his office as fast as possible.

Unfortunately, you haven’t mustered up the courage to politely decline him today. Instead, you take a look at his office, and how its clean luxury only helps to perpetuate Sunday’s tendencies towards stateliness and decorum. There doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust in the room, and the only semblance of a mess lies in the sketches you’ve brought. The papers are strewn about his desk; you continue to gingerly pick them up as you begin your reply.

“I couldn’t possibly, sir. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the rest of your evening, and-”

“Not at all, not at all,” you bite your lip as he raises a hand to cut you off. “I enjoy listening to you speak.” he admits, giving a nearly demeaning smile. Sunday’s halo innocently gleams a glowing gold in contrast to the faint lamp of his office, as if he really is after a simple chat and nothing else.

“I’m honored, sir.” You concentrate on carefully guiding your various plans and sketches into a thick manila folder while you stare down the oak table below— hoping to avoid the way the eyes of the Halovian in front of you linger on your more… flattering parts. “B-But I really don’t want to bother you, you’re a very busy man- ah!”

Your hand barely brushes against a foreign, unfamiliar piece of silk, causing your folder to make a thumping noise as it hits the floor. In nervous shock, you turn around and see Sunday standing less than a step behind you, his lips almost perking up. You jolt back frantically, but lose your balance and fall on your bottom ungraciously. You feel your papers press against your behind.

“Clumsy little thing…” you think you hear him say to himself before he lets out a barely-present laugh. In one birdlike swoop, you’re on your feet again, your folder reconciled with its contents and safely returned to your bag. Your cheeks begin to grow hot as you feel Sunday’s sturdy hands stabilize you, gently gripping your shoulders before he gives you a soft head pat. He leans in closer, letting his lips graze your ear’s helix. You find yourself staying still as Sunday starts to murmur in your ear.

“Did you say something, sir?” you ask, trying to reclaim the professionalism in this moment that is all but gone.

“I haven’t… try to relax for me, alright?” Sunday hums in your ear, quiet but reassuring. The buzz he leaves behind sends jolts of worry throughout your body. “

Your hands are quite icy, you know that? And do be careful with yourself next time… I really wouldn’t want you to harm yourself on purpose, dear.”

You press your palms to your warming face in response, your fingers just short of clawing out your widened eyes. You’re too flustered to not remember the name that he had just used— it makes you lightheaded just to think about it. You would have fell over a second time if Sunday hadn’t grabbed you by the waist and held onto you with his strong, slender fingers.

“What’s your hurry?” Sunday hums, taking his index finger to put under your chin and point towards his beaming face, more playful than what it once was before. You hold your breath for a moment when he forces you to look up at him, hesitantly meeting the angelic amber that looks upon your face with a mysterious, ambiguous glint. 

As your eyes make contact with Sunday, his features soften once more, accompanied by a reassuring smile. When you start to sputter out a response, he takes his index finger once more and presses it against your lips, making a low shushing noise. Both of you fall silent, leaving only the roaring crackle of the fireplace to be heard.

“Please don’t hurry,” he muses, wrapping his surprisingly strong arm around waist. “I wouldn’t want to leave you all alone… Why don’t you join me for a drink? I’ll call for some wine.”

You give a meek nod and Sunday slightly pulls on your wrist in approval. Soon, Sunday and you are now both situated in the parlor of his manor. You gradually shift farther away from him towards the other end of the couch… when did Sunday get this close to you, anyway? You look down at your drink. The contents of your glass slosh inside, and the stem of the glass you hold remains unsteady in your trembling grip. You set the glass down with a sigh— good thing you haven’t dropped it yet.

You’ve now been at Dewlight for far more than the half hour you’ve agreed to out of respect— more than a half hour too long. You’re pretty sure that you’re only on your second drink now, but the number of drinks you’ve had has slipped your mind. If you correctly recall what Sunday had said about ten minutes ago, you two are currently sharing a bottle of Amontillado, a decadent sherry from the vineyards of a lush, distant planet whose name you’ve forgotten. You don’t drink much— which you’re too nervous to admit, given that you’re a recent resident of the Planet of Festivities— but the taste of this particular wine feels quite suited to your taste buds. Sunday is being more than generous with the bottle as well, taking small, graceful sips from his own glass, which still remains half full. 

On the other hand, you’ve had quite a few drinks, which have gotten you to talk much more than you would’ve liked. So far, Sunday now knows that you don’t have anywhere to be after this meeting, and that your earnings allow you a small apartment in Reality. Not wanting to say anything else that could compromise you, you eagerly gulp down the remainder of your drink, savoring the last few drops of goodness, and make your way towards the parlor’s exit.

“Where are you going now?” you hear a voice behind you, stopping you in your tracks just as you reach the doorway. You feel a weighty palm start to hold down your shoulder, making you cringe. 

This time, though, you don’t turn around, even though you can feel Sunday again with his soft lips on you, pressing to your nape. He traps your body within his unexpectedly tight grasp, smugly laughing at the way you fail to shy away from his bruising grip. His other hand gives your inner thigh a pinch as you unsuccessfully thrash against him and  try to free your helpless body.

“I don’t believe I feel very well, sir…” you groan weakly. Sunday’s grin suddenly becomes significantly less restricting, but the air that you breathe only serves to pull you into a soothing daze. “Mr. Sunday, apologies… but I don’t think I recall you making any comments about the potency of Amontillado…”

“Mind if I move in closer?” Sunday remarks, closing the distance that lies between his chest and your back. He grips your face, slowly turning you around so that you’re looking straight into his striking golden irises. 

“Don't be sorry, my dear… you’ll be fine— as long as you realize that you need to be taken care of.”

The door in front of you starts to grow farther in distance, its edges also becoming more hazy. Your vision begins to blur no matter how much you try to stand up and blink, and you let your body succumb to Sunday’s now-gentle clutches, falling into them before as he slowly drags you back towards himself. Sunday leads you through the parlor door again, and your drowsy legs give up after only a few steps. Your body, which has become almost immovable, collapses onto the couch and meets the cushions with a muffled crash. Lying on your side with your eyes half-lidded, you hear the sound of the door softly shutting and a click locking you inside.

“I don’t think you’re well enough to get home,” Sunday chides. You open your eyes to see him again at your side, sitting upright above you with his typical stately, regal air. He runs his thumb across your cheek in a smooth, calculated sweep before leaning intently over you, which allows his halo to cast a shadow of thorns that covers your exhausted form. His other hand keeps your head still while he tries to rhythmically give you headpats, which you aren’t taking too well. 

“Poor thing, you couldn’t handle the contents of your drink well enough,” he says, thinking more to himself than to you. “But now, it seems that you really do have a reason to stay here tonight…”

Half an hour earlier, you wondered if he had planned this in advance, but the answer now seems to be obvious. You clumsily attempt to sit up as you speak, grasping the armrests for support. 

“Mr. Sunday, you’re being very pushy, you know…” you trail off, using the last of what remains of your little energy to make a truthful retort. 

He only responds with a chuckle as genuine as your confession— what you can only assume is a rare show of honesty. 

“That’s… quite a blunt thing to say—” Sunday’s expression looks more taken aback than he’d like it to, though he recollects himself in a matter of seconds. “—though I'd like to think of it as being opportunistic.” 

Smugly smiling to himself, Sunday takes the opportunity to take off your hat, only slightly wrinkled. He plants his fingers within the strands of your hair, giving it a harsh pull that catches you off-guard. You clench your teeth and let out a minuscule whine in protest.

With that, he whispers something to himself, which you make the mistake of paying no mind to.

Sunday remains unspeaking for the next few moments, and your quivering lips unwillingly seal themselves shut for the time being. You let your many worries be lulled away by the following silence that is only interrupted by Sunday softly singing a lullaby, an unknown tune that seems to sedate you, quite inexplicably. The new baritone hum engulfs you and blissfully drowns out any concerns that you have. You don’t bother to question where this newfound state of bliss has come from— or why the warm rays of light emanating from Sunday’s halo are making you woozy. 

“C-cold…” you cry out as Sunday pushes against your neck’s pulse point with his covered index finger. He makes routine shushing noises while moving his index finger towards your mouth once more, which he simply rests on top of your lips. You tremble against the frigid chill that seeps through the gentle hands that gingerly caress your chin, out of the glove’s intricate cross. 

Reveling in your shaking nervousness, Sunday attentively studies every other part of you. He takes in all of it with unbridled excitement in his eager, starlit eyes. Fortunately, he lets you look away when he suddenly pulls your hand close to his cheek— instead of your face, all of Sunday’s focus is now on tenderly caring for your hand. With his own two hands, he moves the back of yours to touch his lips, planting kisses all the way up to your knuckles. 

Sunday keeps at this for a while before moving you to be on top of his lap, which he does with ease. As you open your mouth to speak, however, you feel your whines being muffled by the very hands that have gotten too close to you. 

“Not many have a level of skill that matches yours. I would be very disappointed in you if tonight were to be the end of our professional relationship.” Sunday states earnestly, pulling you closer to him so you can see his seemingly innocent smile. 

You try to pull at the arm covering your nose and mouth, but before you can he has both your hands pinned behind your back. He sighs, disappointed at your attempts to fight him. 

“However, I’m not willing to work with someone so uncooperative. I’d much rather have someone more amenable, more compliant. You can be both of those things, can’t you?” 

You squirm from within Sunday’s tight hold on you, unable to get away from his whispers flowing directly into your ears and his warm breath on your skin. Soon, he finally removes his hand from your mouth, leaving a thin thread of drool that eventually breaks. Your sharp, erratic breaths turn into more consistent ones, and you begin to form hazy thoughts.

The terms of your contract for this current project weren’t set that long ago, and he had signed it. But what did a simple contract signify to a man who had already forgone professional protocol just hours ago? However, even though the contract was broken, you couldn’t just lose one of your most generous, eminent clients…

“Now, I’ll ask you once again: are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” Sunday asks with noticeable reverence in his voice. He shifts his position to kneel next to your limp body, lethargically laying on the plush cushions of the couch once again.

"No- I’ll stay..." After a hesitant pause, you finally acquiesce with a stutter that makes the winged man looking down at you lovingly bring his forehead to touch yours. A few of his lustrous silver locks touch your clenched jaw. 

Accepting Sunday’s request is all you can do in this situation— the choice was never yours to make. 

"Very good, very good…” he says with another laugh. A satisfied grin continues to widen on Sunday’s face, looking perfectly in place. You flinch and back away when he brings a hand closer to you.

“You needn’t be so panicked, dear… after all, there won’t be anyone else here to hear you.” He stretches his wings to cover his victorious, anticipating smile, which only leaves his eyes for you to see. Sunday peels away the silk of his gloves from his untouched hands, leaving fingers that have yet to explore you. He doesn’t say anything as he comfortably lets himself rest on top of you, putting each of his thighs on either side of you. Sunday’s knees start to squeeze your hips, still clothed— but not for long given the desperate way his fists form balls from the fabric that will not cling to you for much longer. His lips plant another firm kiss against your neck once again— but this time, it is in victory.

“That took a lot of convincing.” 

---

Thanks for reading! Reblogs > likes but both are much appreciated 💜

[coralearei]

Honkai: Star Rail CN | New Year Movie Recommendation: Moebius

*Rough translation Original name: 星旅小记 | 贺岁档电影推荐《莫比乌斯》 Artist: 道歌波特有取名困难症

(More info about the animation under break)

Starring: Aventurine, Acheron

Genre: Action, Thriller, Drama

Length: 120 minutes

Release date: January 31, 2025

The content of the movie does not represent the actual plot and settings of the game.

A/N: This poster is a part of the "Lunar New Year Movie Recommendation" parody series on Pom-Pom's official CN accounts and is not an actual production.

[coralearei]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: Now that he finally has you alone in his office, Sunday decides to further his goals of dominion. wc: 2.3k - this is nsfw! cw for dubcon! sexual fantasy, piv penetration, office sex, desk sex, softdom!sunday, huge massive misogynistic hypocrite sunday a/n: The guillemets «» are used to indicate Sunday's Harmony powers this time!

part 6 (nsfw) / part 7 (nsfw)

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You've broken out your old typeboard to compensate for having to sit in an office all day. Most people don't bother with typeboards anymore. Not when phones can record speech or pull up a keyboard on the screen, and not when typeboards are so.. noisy. The flurry of smooth metal buttons clacking like cold rain on a tin roof is a sound that makes the younger Oak Family interns anxious, but you enjoy the sound. When you can't hear the clicking of your shoes against the floor as you walk around, the sound of the typeboard is a decent enough substitute. 

Sunday has been watching you from his desk, reading over grievances relating to The Family's congregation. He couldn't care less about the complaints of some of these corrupt, selfish reprobates. Not when watching you cross your legs and stare harder into the screen of your typeboard is more entertaining. 

He wonders to himself: Do you even notice the way his eyes linger? How his watchful gaze sticks to you like dew on a fresh blade of grass? How the slightest smile forms at the corners of his lips from the way your trousers are just short enough to show a sliver of ankle, soft and bared? 

Should you have no reason or means to protest, Sunday would sit in front of you and remove your shoe himself, gloved hands starting at your short sock, ascending to cradle your ankle, then disappearing up and underneath the leg of your pants to stroke your calf, fingers running calmly over your flesh as the outline of his hands stretches the fabric of your trousers. He smiles as he ponders if that, too, is something you would never even consider from him. 

Sunday leans back in his chair, his legs spread slightly open. There’s no reason for him to be ashamed of anything, he surmises to himself. His handling of you has been modest, after all, compared to the filth of Penacony. He’s seen what avaricious, lustful men do when they feel they can exercise their will, and he hasn’t done anything of the sort. None of those men enact their will for the sake of responsibility. 

Sunday gets up from his chair, which only draws his attention to how tight his pants have become. Still, he’s sure you won’t notice when he asks you: “Dear, I’ve been looking for something Madam Ellis sent me, but I’m afraid it got itself lost in my desk. While I fetch myself some water, can you look for me?” As you get up to do so, Sunday goes to fill a small paper cup of water from the dispenser near the door. He takes a single sip, glances to see if you’re watching him, and quickly disposes of it, locking the door to his office and gripping the handle. 

« Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, may your hands seal this entrance and isolate this space, so not a sound may pass through. »

You bend at the hips to search through the drawers of Sunday’s desk. It’s a learned habit: Even with how long your pencil skirts often are, crouching while wearing one has always felt way too risky, especially for the secretary of a Family Head. Whether this was Sunday’s intention or not when he put them in the dress code, you suppose you can never be sure. 

There’s this dull throbbing you feel as you scan over every paper and file, felt in tandem with your heartbeat, that settles itself in your core. Even as you try to take your mind off of those odd moments with Sunday, the knowledge you gained from them is something you can’t shake, tucked snugly within your body with no plans of extricating itself. It’s… not exactly lust, you reason, but more so an anticipation or a dread. You can feel the anxiety pool between your thighs as your eyes scan blankly over words you’re no longer reading; Whatever you want to tell yourself the feeling is, it’s potent and it clouds your mind.

By the time Sunday is back and pinning you against his desk, you've forgotten why he told you to look through it entirely. —In all fairness, it was meant to be a trap.

"I don't think I thank you enough, [Y/N].” His voice is soft and gentle as he keeps one hand resting on your hip, the other snaking around to find the button of your pants. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you in my life, dear. I’m a much more fragile man than I present myself to be.” His eyes lock on the door at the end of the room. It would be entirely irresponsible to have left the door unlocked or even open, and Sunday wouldn’t dare take such a risk when a man like him had too much at stake. Still, his nostrils flare as he pictures what it would be like to fuck you in front of an audience. That Avgin scum especially. Perhaps the gambler deserved a demonstration of Sunday’s claim over you, both to send a message and to humble him. Damned wretch. 

You can feel his clothed cock poking against your backside even better now that Sunday has let your pants fall to your ankles. You stay put, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you switch between looking at the desk you’re pressed up against and the door in front of you. It would only be sensible to at least raise your concerns (even if making a scene was something you couldn’t bring yourself to do), but… that sense of anticipation building inside of you wants to be sated, even for a little bit. Even if your conscience disagrees.

Two of Sunday’s fingers breach you, and you flinch as they begin to move, stroking you from the inside. Just like before, Sunday lets out a groan, albeit softer and more controlled. You can’t see his face, but his eyes are now focused on where his knuckle ends and you begin, fluid dripping into his palm. Sunday is moved by the sight of it—by its beauty, and by the equal beauty of your mewling noises as he continues to finger you. As he moves closer to you, hips flush against his hand flush against your cunt, Sunday lets his other hand explore your bare legs, gloved fingers running over the soft flesh of your thigh.

“You don’t need to keep quiet, my love,” he reassures you, quickening the pace of his fingers. “I promise you, nobody can hear us right now. It’s just us.” Sunday takes a breath, and as he grazes your g-spot you nearly gasp with him. “I don’t ever mean to frighten you, you know. Sometimes, we simply have to be more forward when it comes to what is ours and what isn’t, yes?” Your brows furrow. What the fuck is he talking about? It would probably be easier to process his words if he hadn’t just slipped a third finger into your cunt, though, so all you can respond with to voice your confusion is a low moan.

“More than anything, I want you to be willing,” Sunday continues, maybe for no better reason than to hear the sound of his own voice over your cries of pleasure. “I want you to want this as much as I do, as often as I do. Only then can I be truly happy with myself. Do you understand that, my love?” You nod out of instinct, and Sunday takes it as his cue to finally free his erection. After cleaning the juices from his hand off on it, Sunday removes your panties, steadies your hips with his hand, and then penetrates.

Another mess of unintelligible noises leave your mouth from the feeling of him inside you. You’re too far gone to have reservations, so all you do is push your hips back into the feeling and grip the ledge of the desk. Your hair must be a mess by now, your face flushed and tear-pricked, your clothes wrinkled and wholly unpresentable—After all this work to get to the top through work alone, you should probably feel like this is an insult. Still, Sunday begins to thrust, and you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“[Y/N]! Mmh, Aeon— You’re divine,” Sunday gasps, his grip on your hips only tightening. “Oh, was this worth every minute of waiting! I’ve been so patient, darling, so incredibly patient.” As Sunday finds his pace, his hands begin to wander, the smooth cotton on his gloves running up and down your naked thighs and hips, gently kneading your flesh. In the safety of the closed-off room, he lets himself moan freely, gasping and crying out every time he feels himself bottom out inside you. Sunday flexes his abdominals to keep himself standing lest he falls over on top of you and loses himself in his own pleasure, the muscles in his stomach quivering and twisting. You’re sure that if you could see it, the sight wouldn’t be awful—Sunday has always been a very attractive man. Maybe his gaze softening into a semi-pained expression of ecstasy would enhance his beauty, if he didn’t have a pattern of fucking you from angles where you couldn’t see it.

Sunday reasons to himself that this instance is merely a fluke—An instance of your union (and of his rightful assumption of responsibility) that shall be the exception and not the norm. It’s the sin of haste that has him fucking you like a common whore, your cyprine rolling down your thighs and reaching your knees as his hips rhythmically collide with your ass. Regardless, it’s a sin that does not define him, and one he will not let define him: Any further instance will take the proper course and order, no doubt occurring in his room, on his bed, in the appropriate romantic fashion. 

Still, he finds he's getting close—In no doubt due to how perfect you are, how wonderful you feel around him. So, his thinking shifts: Who could blame him? Who could find this worth scorn? As you continue to suck him in further, further, greedily, he surmises that perhaps this act is no transgression. It is only the just thing to do, to give you what you so clearly and desperately need.

You hear Sunday ask you something, or maybe warn you, but you're too far gone to understand his words. The way his hands continue to run up and down your slick-soaked thighs has you paralyzed, and if you had any room to think between his thrusts your first thought would be to worry about whether the puddle of drool you've left on his desk has leaked onto any of his papers. You just let out another moan in response, another weak and mumbled "Sunday", and his own response is to start fucking you harder, effectively shutting out any chance of processing it. 

You can only make out bits of what he starts to whimper and mewl as his nails dig into your hips: "union", "perfect", "meant to be". A string of noises sounding awfully close to "I love you", too, amidst babblings sounding like your name. Sunday leans over, and you can feel his stomach press up against your back, his fingers prying your legs further apart. 

"The power you have over me is unthinkable, [Y/N]," he whispers in your ear. "You alone dominate every thought, every waking moment of mine." Sunday whimpers some more, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as it drowns out the squelching noises. "Please, you must understand. I need you as much as you need me. Nothing else can take precedence."

"Mmh, Aeons," you cry out, not really in response to his words more than in response to the way he's drilling into you. "Sunday, I'm-"

"Yes, yes I know," he coos back. "Don't hold back, please. You deserve this."

Sunday is barely able to even snake a hand down to attend to your clit before he feels you clench hard around him, your head thumping against the desk as the high of your orgasm overwhelms you. His hips start to move erratically, attempting to help you ride out that high, but soon it proves even too much for him to last through. Of course, you had given him permission to not 'pull out', so what issue could there be?

A wave of fatigue falls over you as reality sets back in, like a cold sobering splash of water to quell the summer heat. Your hair is a mess, you don't have anything on hand to fix your makeup, and your pants and underwear are likely ruined. As you shift in place, you can feel strewn papers underneath your stomach, all of them likely crumpled. You're not sure how much time was spent doing this that you could've spent working on sending emails or looking over reports. 

The anticipation has been satiated, and all that remains is an awful sense of dread.

Sunday plants a kiss on the shell of your ear and finally pulls himself out of you, even more cum and cyprine rolling down your legs. You're too exhausted to shut them to try and stop it. Sunday, too, is exhausted, given the fact that you feel him bend over to rest on top of you, his stomach once again flush with your back. 

"What excellent judgement I had in choosing you," he sighs dreamily. "You fit me like a glove—Quite literally, I've found." Sunday chuckles, and you feel his hands worm around your sides to wrap around you. "Thank you, [Y/N]. Geniunely."

The moment is interrupted by a phone call. Sunday gets off of you to pick it up, almost immediately discounting you. 

"Sister?" he asks, phone pressed up against his ear as he starts to redress himself. He fumbles through redoing his belt with one hand as he adds "No, I'm not busy at all. -Uhm, mind the noise, we're trying to rearrange my office. No, no, you're not bothering me at all, dear sister..."

Your head falls to meet the edge of the desk again. It will be at least half an hour before you get the motivation to move and look at yourself again.

---

a/n: someone teach this fuckass kfc bucket the concept of aftercare tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d @ruruize @herrscherofprocrastination @ikevampharem @hirwishin @jill7848 @breadlmao @belovedoftheanemoarchon @moongirl-1 @qualitysaladfarmstatesman @cupcake54492

[coralearei]

...is this mydei-coded or something idk

—"You think you can buy the loyalty of the God of War with something as fickle as affection? Don't be foolish." —"As the aforementioned God of War, she's wrong. You can absolutely do that. I'm basically a cat; pat my head and I'll be your loyal servant for… five minutes, give or take?"

[coralearei]

WAHHHH I LOVE YOU ALREADY😭🫶

Thank you 💕

[coralearei]

Hi! I read your Mydei headcanons about him being Yandere type and I think you wrote them really well, I’m also all for people being able to write their own characterizations and versions of characters. But it’s just that, I still feel as if his character was turned to be someone Mydei might not be entirely? Was he meant to be somewhat OOC or do you think he was in character?

I know yandere versions amplify character’s negative sides, but Mydei never felt like he’d by sadistic, entirely selfish or violent for no reason like in these hdcs. Yes, he is violent, but it’s more for a sake of protecting his people and solving the problem, not enjoying hurting innocent people like with reader. Yes, he is not the kindest person, but I’m not sure if he’d want to kidnap someone just to use them, knowing they didn’t deserve it, when he seems to care about others enough. He has a lot of humanity left, he feels a lot, especially after everything he went through like losing his people and mother, so I thought people would see him more as overprotective and overbearing type. I really can’t see him being all cruel and treating reader like a toy to beat up or fuck, with no ounce of care for reader’s feelings.

Once again, I don’t want to offend, I’m just trying to understand how you view his character.

Thank you!

Thanks for the feedback! To answer your first question, I think that what I wrote ended up being pretty OOC (unintentionally). Looking back, I shouldn't have written Mydei to act as... physical as he did. I might have overly emphasized my thoughts about him not being able to connect with someone quite easily, which I'll keep in mind when writing him next time. Thanks for reading!

[coralearei]

That Yan Mydei MBTI was really good! If it doesn't bother you, Could you perhaps make one for Phainon or Anaxa? We barely any get any content for those two.. heavy on Anaxa. I'd definitely love to read it if you do. Take you're time, no rush ^⁠_⁠^

Thank you so much! I'm actually planning to make this a series and am planning to write for both Phainon and Anaxa very soon. I would like Anaxa to appear in the game first before I start writing about him though 💕

[coralearei]

a heart that burns for desire

synopsis - how mydei loves

includes - mydei

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, very much will be ooc, slight angst, wc - 512

a/n: this was actually a warm up i did before continuing the secret santa fic- anyway mainly for @bladism !! to tide you over until i finish the main mydei work and the anaxa one-

mydei's love always felt like a kindling fire.

at first it was a few sparks.

those few rare moments of warmth and comfort that eventually ended up in slight pain - but not the kind that was enough to deter you or harm you.

there would be those rare moments where mydei let you in, dropping formal pretences subconsciously and acted like his proper self. indulging you in his company. seamless banter, that maybe was a tad one sided on your end, friendly pretences that made it feel like you had known each other since day one, and even close story sharing that mydei wouldn't be caught dead telling anyone else.

but somewhere during those moments, he would “catch himself” - immediately resuming a rather standoffish nature without warning. all of a sudden he's urging you away and being blatantly rude to you, talking to you as if you're some incompetent soldier who failed a mission tasked to them, not the close friend he was just treating you as.

it was almost as if he wouldn't allow himself that kind of relationship. no matter how much he craved it, it simply wasn't something he saw himself deserving or even having.

and while most would've been scared away, you were like a moth to a flame.

you didn't care how much you were burnt or how many times those sparks blistered your skin. you were persistent like that, and perhaps that was the quality that drew mydei into finally letting his guard down.

you weren't so easily frightened by a couple bursts of flame, no you embraced them. even at the risk of one day those flames burning your right to your very core.

so now, it was a roaring flame.

the kind that engulfed your whole being and, surprisingly, never hurt you.

when it was just the two of you, he'd let all his walls down. embracing you and your presence as a whole without a constant, paranoid kind of nagging in the back of his mind to stop it and not let you any closer.

and soon enough, here he was.

holding you close, arms wrapped around your frame as he laid his head upon your shoulder. it was comforting, providing both of you a sense of security and affection as an unnatural warmth seeped from his skin. making it feel as though there was a fire dancing along your skin, looking for somewhere to burn, but never did. it only comforted now.

and even when he would start mumbling things along the line of “why do i have to do this?” or “this is a waste of my time”, you knew he didn't mean it.

because you knew very well that mydei would watch the world turn to cinders if it meant he could spend one more moment in your presence.

mydei perhaps wouldn't go that far for a friend, but he would for someone more and he definitely would for you.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[coralearei]

Yandere MBTI: Mydei

Notes:

Based on the Yan!MBTI system made by @/ddarker-dreams

MDNI -- NSFW mentioned (nothing too explicit)

Word Count: 1,032

GN! Reader

Cruel - Aware - Honest - Lenient

Cruel vs. Reverent

Mydei’s cruelty sometimes comes in the form of verbal threats candidly describing what he has planned for you if you don’t acquiesce to his demands. These menacing remarks are clear, concise, and typically quite graphic— often he’ll threaten to fracture your ribs in the composed, casual manner he uses to comment on anything else. Many times, these threats will also accompany a smirk that doesn’t try to hide his exhilaration at the thought of pushing your limits.

That isn’t to say that he isn’t all bark and no bite… Mydei tends to enact physical affliction unexpectedly, without any sort of warning. He revels in your startled movements as he wills scarlet crystals to poke their keen vertices out of the ground, watching you skittishly flinch away just for another to take shape barely centimeters in front of you. He doesn’t particularly like letting the crystals impale you— a jolt or so is reasonable—  but Mydei prefers to do anything more severe with his own two hands. His touch isn’t much worse; his gauntlets feel just as solid against your skin as the crystallized blood you’re subject to on a regular basis.

Unlike the jagged gems, however, Mydei himself is far more rough with you, sadistically poking and prodding your pleading, shaking body. You can’t do much more than beg him to have mercy, to stop, and promise that you won’t make the same mistake twice. Whether or not you learn from situations like this doesn’t matter— whenever Mydei puts his hands on you, it’s not only punishment— you become a rather fine source of entertainment.

Aware vs. Delusional

Mydei doesn’t pay much attention to your own love for him— that isn’t what he wants out of you in this relationship. He also happens to be someone who harbors feelings of hatred deep within himself, and he can’t blame you for doing the same. Nevertheless, Mydei will tear down any sort of defiance on the surface level that you direct at him— that sort of behavior can be quite inconvenient and untoward to deal with. What really matters to him is your ability to follow orders and your willingness to obey.

Not unlike a lot of other people, you’re quite terrified of Mydei. This is something he not only knows, but uses against you. But he doesn’t only rely on intimidation, he’s also prone to enjoying the threats he gives you in order to force you to submit. You always do. That’s Mydei’s favorite part of your personality, or so he claims. The way you never defy him in the end might make him less of a lover and more of a predator— which he indifferently accepts. Mydei is all but used to hatred and strife anyways.

Manipulative vs. Honest

Mydei approaches you head-on, with no hesitation whatsoever. When you first catch his eye, he decides you'll be a pretty thing to keep around-- and he wants to have you. Your willingness to cooperate with Mydei is won over as a result of his adroitness, which you know better as his ability to humiliate you. He isn’t afraid to threaten you in public, and when he does, you never turn down his demands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. When Mydei does win you over, he makes sure to treat you accordingly, like the good little trophy you ought to be.

Regardless of the torment his behavior causes you, Mydei isn’t guilty in the slightest about what he does to you. Verbally, he isn’t quite upfront with you about it, but Mydei’s actions speak louder than his words. He was born to rule a city-state that glorified battle and bloodshed, which is what led him to brutally murder the former king of Castrum Kremnos. Mydei doesn’t justify the way he treats you, unlike the case in which he killed his father— but he doesn’t need a reason to. His hands have already been stained with so much blood, both literal and figurative, so what’s one more instance of the suffering of another that he causes?

Ultimately, Mydei feels utterly indifferent towards your happiness, though he does tend to take a great amount of pride when your suffering is caused by his own hands. When he’s done with you, he’ll admires the wounds and welts that decorate your pretty skin, knowing that your every imperfection is the product of his handiwork.

Strict vs. Lenient

Though Mydei gives you some semblance of freedom while he’s away, you know that there’s so much more on the line if you do anything that might ignite the spark of his fury’s flames. And although Mydei is easily annoyed, there isn’t a lot you can do to truly anger him.

For the most part, he doesn’t have a problem with leaving you to your own devices. You aren’t plucked apart from your own life when Mydei decides he’s going to make you his; he inconveniently inserts himself into yours instead. In the early stages of your abruptly-begun ‘relationship’ with him, he’s around you as much as possible, which is quite often for someone who spends so much time on the battlefield. Even so, in many cases you don’t exactly see Mydei, but he’s sure to constantly make his presence known. It’s almost like you can almost feel him near you, though you can’t quite place exactly where.

Soon enough, he has to go to war again. You almost feel a sense of relief knowing that you really all alone now— assuming you are, of course. However, it’s not as if you’re completely let off the hook during Mydei’s campaigns, which can span up to several months at a time. He’ll find time to visit you more than a few times, much to your disappointed surprise. Mydei’s sporadic visits do not only serve as a method to keep you in check. They’re also for his benefit; brashly fucking you helps him release some of his pent-up anger. If you happen to be out and about when Mydei returns, he’ll find you regardless— you’re never able to get far. And when he does find you and return to his residence with you in tow, you always know to expect much worse.

[coralearei]

about the blog --

this is a hoyoverse writing blog that contains sfw, nsfw, and occasional dark content (which I also might reblog). i also post my general thoughts and rants here. the majority of posts on this blog will be hoyo-related. some of my posts may contain spoilers.

interaction --

do not interact: basic dni criteria, blogs that resemble bots. mdni with nsfw content, which will be tagged accordingly.

please be generally kind with interacting with me!!

i'm a multishipper. if you don't like ships whose content I reblog (or post) do not send hate.

dark content may be present on this blog.

writing requests --

on this blog i'm pretty open to writing for any piece of media I'm into but that's a lot so i'll only be taking hoyoverse requests for now

feel free to share your thoughts and i'll send you mine! i'm always glad to get some sort of activity on this blog.

i write primarily character x reader, but perhaps i'll post the occasional character x character.

i'm alright with oc x canon or oc x oc, but don't expect me to get too invested into them (no hard feelings!! i might post content of my ocs on here too)

i do not write for underage readers or characters

i don't have a full list of kinks/fetishes that i will not write for yet, but there are certain things I will not write for.

i have the right to refuse any requests. any requests that do not follow the rules will be ignored. even if your request does follow the rules, I can't guarantee that i'll follow it.

[coralearei]

there is nothing like making a man so horny that he acts out of character

[coralearei]

[coralearei]

that smirk. that damned smirk.

[coralearei]

wanna write a fic about taking sunday and mydei at the same time but I need a lore accurate reason

[coralearei]

Most of the guys are imaginary because men aren’t real

amen!

[coralearei]

we need more penacony women in flapper dresses

ring ring

[coralearei]

You asked for a plot summary of Rota fortunae:

Intellitrons/Androids have taken over the world/are fighting humanity basically, humanity is being eradicated and many are either in hiding or trying to resist. Ratio and Aventurine are finding one such shelter underground trying to stay low profile but the streets are still dangerous. They finally make it to the shelter which is Sunday’s shelter, but Sunday is able to use his darn harmony powers to get into Ratio’s head.

Sunday says androids are basically immune to his power and because Aventurine hadn’t reacted to the Harmony, it implies Aventurine is actually an android that just looks realistically human. Sunday then presumably shoots Aventurine to kill him in order to prevent the human shelter from being compromised. And that’s where the video ends.

Please anyone feel free to correct me about anything if I’m wrong! This is just what I gathered from it!

tysm anon!! this cleared it up for me since the video was kinda hard to follow