More Phai plssss where he can’t stop druggin y/n 😖
TW // NSFW, drugging, gn!reader
Phainon thinks he's found the perfect balance in life.
Oh, what balance, you might ask? Of course he means just the right amount of sleeping draught in your dinner, just enough to make you sleepy and soft and pliant under his hands, just enough so that you'll part your legs for him without a peep and murmur his name in that drowsy, adorable way of yours.
And by the time daytime comes around, you're none the wiser. Sometimes you wake up with him next to you. Sometimes you don't. The soreness between your legs has been so persistent that you've been wanting to have it looked it, but any preliminary investigations would immediately reveal exactly what's been happening to you each night. Phainon's been distracting you from going.
But he just can't stop. Your head lolls against the crook of his neck, and if this was under any other circumstance, it would have been almost romantic. Alas.
Phainon cups your chin, bringing you toward him for a kiss. You acquiesce easily, letting him slip his tongue inside and taste the inside of your mouth. How addictive you tasted. How addictive it felt to delude himself into thinking that you would ever reciprocate his feelings, his gestures.
"Baby," he murmurs against your lips, laying you down on the bed. You blink back heavily at him. Phainon doesn't think you even recognise him in this state. Oh, how he wished you could... but sacrifices had to be made, sometimes. He could live with this much.
He slings one of your legs over his shoulder, brushing his thumb over your slit. You whimper, hips jerking up at the contact.
"You're so sensitive like this," he teases, laughing softly when you turn your face away. "C'mon. Don't hide from me now."
Your pussy is weeping after just a couple of caresses, and Phainon sinks two fingers into you easily. He nearly groans with you, tight, squeezing snugly around him, so warm that Phainon just wants to bury himself into you and die there happily.
"Love you," he mutters, resting his forehead against yours. "Call me Phainon, okay? Phai."
"Phai," you mumble after him. "S'good..."
Phainon strokes your ribbed walls gently, slowly, making sure to follow the veins within you to where you were the most sensitive. You're trembling, already, your arousal leaking out around his fingers, rewarding him with tiny gasps and writhes.
"You can cum for me," Phainon coos. "Come on. Cum for me."
He finds that spongy, soft spot within you, and curls his fingers in a come-hither motion. You cry out instantly, arching into him, kicking out sharply at the suddenness of your orgasm.
Phainon guides you gently onto your knees. You curl up, too buzzed to do anything else but obey. "Relax, okay? It's my turn."
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So, I don't know if it's been asked before or if it's some sort of spoiler, but how would each RO react to the crown receiving the "succession vision" (keeping in mind that this far in the story we still don't know the secret behind it)
This could be a spoiler for a scene that might happen in the game, you know. Nah, just kidding, the Crown obviously isn't going to die in their first year!
Unless? 🤔
I guess it depends on how you play your Crown, so for now I won't answer this particular question 💖
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i feel like a very drunk and/or high (medically-induced or otherwise) ilya rozanov, post-marriage and outtage and shane's transfer to the cens, may again deign to call shane his lover in fits of ecstatic amorous joy. in the dentist's chair hopped up on the good stuff after his wisdom tooth surgery, "MY LOVERRRRR there he is its shane!! shane my lover come hereeeee. i love youuuuu", or at the club nearly blackout drunk yelling over the heads of the other celebrating centaurs, "WHERE IS SHANE. WHERE IS MY HUSBAND. WHERE IS HE. MY LOVER. I NEED HIM". does this fit with what we know about he and shane and their petnaming habits in canon? i dont know but i can hear it in his voice so clearly. truly the only thing stopping me from imagining this AS a truth is that i CANT imagine a scenario where an inebriated post-marriage ilya in any scenario isnt taking advantage of the fact that he can say husband husband husband until he runs the word smooth in his mouth (unless he is so inebriated that he has forgotten shane IS his husband and all he can think/know is 'love', which. yeah).
i DO feel like 'lover' could become a kind of sweet silly inside joke of a petname for hollanov though, where ilya says it sometimes to annoy shane and shane responds with the expected annoyance, because Thats The Game, but. slowly it starts to lose the original context that made him have the "ew no thats gross" response in front of his parents. because. well, then, he was trying to tell his parents he was Gay and he and ilya were In Love and Serious and the connotations ilya missed of "secretive partners who meet up surreptitiously for sex" was REALLY not helping the situation (and also he was so anxious he probably felt like he was about to make like a hamster and drop dead at the slightest provocation)— but now, the word is starting to reshape a little in shane's head to how ILYA sees it. to what he was saying it to mean at first, and IS still saying it to mean, down under his sheer enjoyment of making shane squirm.
word (n.): lover. shane Loves ilya. shane is His Lover, dutifully taking up the task of loving him. they Love Each Other. they are Lovers. the doers of that most important verb-- just like they are hockey players, trailblazers, stanley cup winners. so maybe, under every one of shane's eye-rolled "oh my god, shut up, you asshole"s in response to ilya chirping him with "shane, my lover" during practice or at a barbecue, there's a twitching fond little smile and a feeling of warm cherished-ness blooming away in his chest, and drunk shane celebrating at the club responds to a shout of "MY LOVER WHERE ARE YOU" in a booming russian accent just as well as he'd respond to "husband" or to his name. and it's joking, also, because the old connotation DOESN'T apply to them anymore. they're not secret, they're not hiding, they're not meeting in dark corners only when the world lets them steal one every odd month out of three; they're out and free and wearing each others' rings on their fingers. and they Love Each Other.