#Mydei HSR | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

devdozes · 1 day ago

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♠ Double package of tits and wits

i swear tge title is a joke okaya 💔anwyays, maybe innacurate medical knowledge and reader yaps about spiderverse theories tw- description of surgeries, gore (not much), surgeon mydei and reader.

The first time you met Mydei, he was standing in the middle of the ER, clipboard in hand, reading over a patient file with the expression of someone who had just been assigned to clean a crime scene with a toothbrush. He was new, fresh from a high-end medical program, and carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that made nurses whisper and interns both respect and fear him. He had an air of efficiency, crisp in both movement and demeanor, like a man who had everything under control.

Naturally, you had to mess with him.

"Oh no, another serious one," you fake gasped, leaning against the nurses' station, balancing a cup of coffee precariously on a stack of patient charts. "You look like you're contemplating life choices. Did you lose a bet to end up here?"

Mydei slowly looked up from his clipboard, unimpressed. "No. But I assume you did, given your current posture and general air of irresponsibility."

Your smirk widened, tapping your fingers against the cup. "Ah, he's got claws. Good. You'll need them here."

Before he could reply with what you were sure would be a clinical-level roast, a nurse rushed over. "Dr. [L/N], emergency surgery. Chest trauma. OR 2. Now."

Your entire demeanor shifted in an instant. Gone was the playful teasing and casual posture. The coffee was discarded onto the counter, forgotten. You pushed off, face tightening with focus as you nodded. "On it. Let's move."

Mydei watched as you strode off, barking orders at the surgical team like a general leading an army. The contrast was stark—one moment, you were a chaotic sister figure of the hospital, the next, a razor-sharp surgeon whose presence commanded the room with no room for erorr. The ease with which you transitioned between those two states intrigued him. It was impressive.

It became a running joke in the hospital that you never walked—only sprinted. Due to the absurd number of trauma cases flooding the ER, you had been dubbed the "Marathon Runner" by the staff because you were always dashing to the emergency room or the OR, barely catching your breath between surgeries.

One particularly chaotic evening, yet another murder victim was rushed into the ER, the fifth in five days. You were already running before the announcement had finished crackling over the speakers. "Where's Mydei?! I need extra hands!" you yelled over your shoulder.

You caught sight of him further down the hall, walking at his usual composed pace. Not fast enough. In one swift motion, you grabbed his ear and yanked him along, continuing your sprint toward the ER.

"Move it, newbie! We don't have all day!" you barked, barely sparing him a glance as you dragged him with you.

Mydei stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, shooting you an exasperated glare. "Is this how you usually recruit your surgical team? Physical assault?"

"If it works, it works! Now stop whining and keep up!"

By the time you burst through the ER doors, Mydei’s expression was a mix of mild irritation and resigned acceptance. The staff barely batted an eye at the scene—just another day in the war zone, and just another mad sprint for the infamous "Marathon Runner." ♥♥♥

The patient was already prepped by the time you and Mydei scrubbed in. Gunshot wound to the underside of the thoracic region, severe internal bleeding, possible liver damage. Time was not on your side.

"Scalpel," you said sharply, hand outstretched as the instrument was placed into your palm.

The moment you made the incision, the world outside the operating table ceased to exist. The chaotic, joking version of you disappeared, replaced by a laser-focused surgeon with only one objective: saving this patient’s life.

"Retractor," Mydei instructed, his voice calm but firm, matching your energy perfectly. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, he worked with the same level of intensity, sharp eyes scanning for complications before they could escalate. "The bullet's lodged near the hepatic vein. High risk of rupture."

You nodded, steady hands navigating the delicate area. "We'll need to remove it without causing further damage. Hold traction here."

He complied without hesitation, and for the next hour, the two of you worked seamlessly, the tension in the room thick as you maneuvered through the critical steps. Nurses exchanged glances—rarely did a new surgeon adapt so well to your pace, but Mydei was holding his ground.

Finally, with careful precision, you made the incision, gently extracting the bullet with forceps. Mydei immediately clamped down on the bleed as you worked to close the wound. "Hemostasis achieved," he confirmed, voice still level despite the high-stakes procedure.

You exhaled sharply, finally allowing yourself to acknowledge the strain in your muscles. "Good work, newbie. Maybe I won't have to drag you by the ear next time."

His mask couldn't hide the slight quirk of his lips. "A relief, truly."

The nurses stifled laughter as the tension broke, and you smirked beneath your mask. Just another day in the war zone cod mentioned

Over the following weeks, the emergency murder victims didn’t stop. If anything, they became more frequent. More victims, more emergency calls, more all-nighters in the OR. You barely had time to breathe between surgeries. The staff was growing anxious—talks of a serial killer floated through the hospital halls, whispers of patterns, speculation about who the next victim would be.

One night, after finishing another back-to-back surgery, you leaned against the break room counter, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes. Mydei sat across from you, arms crossed, his usual composed expression marred by something contemplative.

"You notice it too, don’t you?" you muttered, cracking open a cold energy drink. Mydei inhaled slowly, "Mhm. Yeah, I did, it is truly concerning. Who could be doing all this? and why are these happening to only those who are connected to the hospital in some way or the other?" "As much as I would like to say that it's a conspiracy theory although this seems too..well planned," You reply before taking a huge gulp of your energy drink, and cringing out as the brain freeze kicks in "OH FUCK BRAIN FREEZE!!" "Good lord"

Surgery after surgery. Shift after shift. Barely enough time to breathe.

You were used to this—the endless flood of trauma cases, the sleepless nights, the way your body screamed for rest but never quite got it. The hospital never slowed down, and neither did you. And with the murders increasing, the ER had become more of a war zone than ever.

But if there was one silver lining in this chaotic, bloodstained mess, it was that you had a new plaything—Mydei.

He had only been here for a couple of months, but the poor bastard had already been roped into your whirlwind pace. Every time another trauma case came barreling through those ER doors, it was like clockwork—you and Mydei, sprinting through the halls, elbow-deep in someone's guts five minutes later.

And to your shock? The guy was handling your bullshit.

Mostly.

♥♥♥

Surgery #1 “Another one?” Mydei muttered as he scrubbed in, glancing at the case file.

You huffed, aggressively tying your mask. “Yup. Because life is fair and normal and totally not a complete joke.”

“It is, in fact, not fair or normal,” Mydei agreed dryly, stepping into the OR beside you. “We just had back-to-back stab wounds two hours ago.”

“Welcome to the life of an average surgeon,” you shot back, holding out your hand. “Scalpel.”

The instrument was placed in your palm, and you immediately got to work, making the first incision. The moment the skin parted, blood surged up like a dark tide, and you barely resisted the urge to curse.

“Gunshot went clean through the left lung,” Mydei noted, his hands already moving to assist. “We need to clear the hemorrhaging before we can close it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Look at you, newbie. Talking like a real trauma surgeon.”

“Unlike you, I actually paid attention in medical school.”

“Unlike you, I actually know how to function on three hours of sleep and an energy drink,” you retorted, maneuvering the forceps with ease.

He didn’t even dignify that with a response, focusing instead on securing the ruptured artery. The monitors beeped wildly as the patient’s vitals dipped, and for the next hour, it was a brutal game of tug-of-war with death.

But eventually, after what felt like forever, the bleeding was controlled, the lung repaired, and the incision closed.

Another one survived. Another round of exhaustion settling deep into your bones.

As you peeled off your gloves, you nudged Mydei with your elbow. “Good work, newbie. You only looked mildly horrified this time.”

“I was not horrified.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you said, smirking behind your mask.

♥♥♥ Surgery #5

Mydei had just sat down in the break room, a cup of coffee in one hand and his sanity barely intact, when you kicked the door open, with the most tired, zombie-like eyes ever, but your energy said otherwsie.

“We have another stab wound victim,” you announced dramatically, pointing at him like you were accusing him of a crime.

He stared at you for exactly three seconds. Then, without breaking eye contact, he calmly put down his coffee, stood up, and walked past you.

“You coming?” he said flatly.

You grinned and followed after him, practically skipping.

By the time you were both in the OR again, hands scrubbed, gloved, and ready to operate, you could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. But at this point, exhaustion was just another permanent state of being.

“Another day, another stab victim,” you muttered, making the first incision. “I should start keeping a tally at this point.”

“I assume you already do,” Mydei said without looking up, using a retractor to hold the muscle layers apart.

“I do, actually. I carved it into the back of the break room door.”

He blinked. “You did what?”

“I’m kidding.”

“… Are you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath about unprofessionalism and ‘why do I work with you’, but his hands never faltered.

And as always, you and Mydei worked seamlessly, patching up yet another poor soul and dragging them back from the brink of death.

♥♥♥

Surgery #9

It had been twenty hours since either of you had properly rested, and you were running on nothing but spite, lemon-flavored energy drinks, and questionable life choices.

“Did you seriously just chew a lemon before scrubbing in?” Mydei asked, his voice filled with both disbelief and vague disappointment.

“Yup,” you said cheerfully, barely suppressing a yawn.

“Unbelievable.”

“You say that like this isn’t my standard operating procedure.”

“… That is the problem.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before shaking his head and focusing on the patient before you. It was a nasty case—multiple knife wounds across the abdomen and thigh, excessive blood loss, risk of sepsis.

The moment you started cutting, it was pure chaos. Blood loss was extreme, the heart monitor was fluctuating wildly, and the nurses were scrambling to keep up with the damage.

Through it all, you and Mydei moved in perfect sync—suctioning, stitching, clamping arteries before they could burst.

“Patient’s BP is dropping,” a nurse warned.

“We need to move faster,” Mydei said, his voice sharp.

You didn’t hesitate, maneuvering the forceps with expert precision, your breathing controlled even as tension mounted. The OR was filled with nothing but the sounds of beeping monitors and the relentless rhythm of your hands moving against time itself.

And then—

Stabilization.

The vitals steadied. The bleeding stopped. The worst was over.

You let out a long, exhausted breath, finally stepping back. “Oh my fucking god. That was hell.”

Mydei, equally exhausted, glanced at you. “At least we’re still alive.”

“For now,” you muttered, tossing your gloves into the bin.

♥♥♥

After nine surgeries in less than two days, the exhaustion finally hit you like a truck.

As you walked into the break room, Mydei following behind, you dramatically collapsed onto the couch, draping yourself over the armrest. “I am dying. This is it. Tell my story.”

Mydei raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “No.”

“Rude.”

He ignored you, instead pouring himself another cup of coffee with all the grace of a man barely holding himself together.

You peeked at him from the couch. “You know, newbie, for someone who acts all serious, you’re weirdly good at keeping up with my insanity.”

He took a slow sip of his coffee, meeting your gaze with a look of complete indifference. “Because someone has to make sure you don’t actually die from your own bad habits.”

You grinned. “Aww. You care.”

“I don’t.”

“You totally do.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re looking out for me. Admit it.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I regret working here.”

“No, you don’t.”

He took another long sip of coffee, not answering.

And despite how exhausted you both were—despite the blood, the chaos, and the looming shadow of the unbelievably many cases—you couldn’t help but laugh. You then stand up, stretching your arms upwards and bending down until you feel a sense of relief. "Alright, I'm going to go in the dorm to rest now, call me if anything happens" You sluggishly say while walking outside the door, not giving Mydei a single look as you slam the door shut.

The hospital was never quiet.

Machines beeped, nurses murmured in hushed voices, and somewhere down the hall, the steady rhythm of footsteps echoed against the tiled floors. It was a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and urgency.

But for once, you weren’t in the middle of the chaos.

You had crashed in the break room after nine surgeries back-to-back, running on caffeine and pure adrenaline. The moment your body hit the couch, you were out—four hours of deep, dreamless sleep. It wasn’t enough, not even close, but at least you could function again.

You groggily blinked awake, stretching slightly as your stiff muscles protested. Something felt different.

Lifting your head, you noticed the dimmed lights and the faint chill of the air conditioning. And then—your gaze landed on the figure at the desk.

Mydei.

Fast asleep.

His arms were folded on the surface, head resting on them, his usual sharp posture completely gone. His strawberry-blonde hair, with its signature faded red tips, was a little messier than usual—strands falling over his forehead, some brushing against his closed eyes. Even the normally well-hidden red tattoos that curled faintly along his collarbone and neck were just barely visible beneath the slightly loosened collar of his uniform.

You stared.

It wasn’t like you’d never seen Mydei exhausted before—you practically lived in the trenches together, spending ungodly hours in the operating room, barely catching breaks between emergencies. But this?

You’d never seen him this unguarded.

His sharp golden eyes—usually keen, unwavering, always calculating—were closed, his breathing deep and steady. Without that intense gaze, the usual tension in his expression had softened, leaving behind something… calmer.

… Honestly? He kinda looked like a big, overworked tiger curled up for a nap.

Which made the urge to mess with him even stronger.

Still groggy, you dragged yourself off the couch and plopped down beside him. Instead of waking him up, you mirrored his position—arms folded, head resting on them.

And then—you just watched him.

Not in a creepy way, of course. 🤨

You were just… admiring.

The way his hair fell over his face, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, the faintest crease in his brow like even in sleep, his mind was still running through checklists and surgical procedures.

It was rare to see Mydei so… still.

You exhaled softly, tilting your head slightly, and without really thinking, you reached forward—lightly brushing a stray strand of his hair out of his face.

His hair was softer than you expected.

Not fair.

“… Damn,” you whispered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know you could actually look peaceful.”

No response.

“… Or that you had a soft side. Thought you just ran on stress and stubbornness.”

Still nothing.

You chuckled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. Maybe you’d just sit here for a while.

The break room was quiet—a rare thing in a hospital where chaos never took a break. The distant hum of machines and the occasional muffled voice from the hallway were the only reminders that the world outside was still moving.

But here, at this moment, it felt like time had slowed down.

You had only meant to sit beside Mydei for a little while—maybe tease him when he woke up, maybe just steal a moment of peace. But the exhaustion that had been dragging at your bones for hours finally caught up to you.

Your breathing evened out, your eyelids grew heavier, and before you even realized it… you were out.

Your head tilted slightly, resting against your folded arms—barely a few inches away from Mydei’s.

For a while, the two of you just slept there.

The break room remained undisturbed, the dim lighting casting soft shadows over the both of you. The warmth of exhaustion settled in, and despite the hard surface of the desk, despite the stress of the hospital, you slept soundly.

It wasn’t long before Mydei stirred.

His sharp golden eyes fluttered open, blinking away the haze of sleep. It took him a moment to register where he was—the familiar scent of antiseptic, the low hum of hospital equipment, the faint chill of the AC brushing against his skin.

And then—he noticed you.

Still fast asleep.

Mydei froze.

You were so close.

Your head was resting on your arms, your breathing slow and even. Your hair was slightly messy from the way you had collapsed against the desk, a few strands falling over your face. Your usual smirk and teasing remarks were absent, leaving behind a rare, peaceful expression.

For the first time since he had met you, you looked completely relaxed.

His gaze lingered.

Longer than necessary.

The way your eyelashes rested lightly against your skin. The way your lips were slightly parted in sleep. The way your entire presence, which was usually so chaotic, loud, and restless, was now quiet and soft.

Mydei’s fingers twitched slightly—as if resisting the urge to reach forward.

He swallowed, looking away for a brief moment, but his eyes inevitably found their way back to you.

Why did you always manage to surprise him?

Every day in this hospital, you ran on energy that should’ve been impossible, pushing through sleepless nights, impossible surgeries, and the constant storm of emergencies with a smirk and a sharp remark.

But now?

Now you were just a person. A tired, overworked person who had finally given in to exhaustion.

Mydei exhaled slowly, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“… Idiot.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no bite in it.

Just something quiet.

Something unspoken.

Something fond.

His golden eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes again.

♥♥♥

Not even after a few minutes, his sharp golden eyes fluttered open again. And Mydei remained still, his sharp golden eyes lingering on you as you slept—your breath slow and even, lips slightly parted, exhaustion weighing heavily on your features.

It was rare to see you like this.

Usually, you were everywhere—a constant storm of motion, teasing remarks, and sharp wit. You sprinted through hallways, laughed in the face of pressure, and dragged him into surgeries without so much as a warning.

But now?

Now you looked… adorable.

A rare sight. One that made something tighten in Mydei’s chest.

Without fully thinking, his hand moved on its own.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, featherlight—hesitant, almost uncertain.

His touch was gentle, warm despite the callouses from years of steady-handed practice in surgery. He traced the faint warmth of your skin, watching the slow rise and fall of your breathing, the way your eyelashes barely fluttered in sleep.

Soft.

You always carried yourself with a reckless energy, a chaotic presence that burned like an uncontrollable fire. And yet, here you were, fragile in a way he’d never seen before.

Mydei swallowed, pulling his hand away reluctantly.

You needed rest.

And if he knew you at all, the moment you woke up, you'd be right back to running through the hospital like a madwoman.

With careful movements, he shifted forward, sliding his arms beneath you.

His hands settled under your back and legs as he lifted you effortlessly—your body light in his grasp, head naturally falling against his shoulder.

You stirred slightly.

A soft murmur left your lips, barely coherent, but you didn't wake.

Mydei stiffened, pausing for a second as his heart gave a single, unexpectedly loud thud.

Then, when he was sure you wouldn’t suddenly snap awake and make some kind of smug remark, he continued moving.

Crossing the break room in a few quiet steps, he carefully lowered you onto the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly beneath your weight, and Mydei took his time ensuring you were comfortable. He adjusted your arm so it wasn’t awkwardly twisted, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before pulling the blanket over you.

He watched for a moment.

The way your lips parted slightly in your sleep. The way you instinctively curled into the warmth of the blanket.

Then, finally, he exhaled—stepping back.

His gaze lingered.

Just a little longer.

The next day, the emergency room was in chaos again.

Another murder victim had arrived—stabbed five times across the torso. But this time, it was different. The victim was one of the kidney donors for an upcoming transplant surgery.

"Damn it," you hissed under your breath, already sprinting down the hallway. "Where’s Mydei?!"

Just like before, you spotted him walking toward the ER. Without hesitation, you grabbed his arm, dragging him along at full speed.

"Another one?" he asked, voice edged with something colder this time.

"Yeah, and it’s bad. Let’s go."

You burst into the OR, scrubbing in faster than you ever had. As you pulled on your gloves, the sight before you made your stomach drop. The victim was barely hanging on, the stab wounds deep, organs likely compromised. fuckfuckfuckfuck.

♥♥♥

The operating room was already a bloody fucking battlefield by the time you and Mydei scrubbed in, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood. Nurses moved with trained precision, hooking up transfusions, adjusting monitors, and preparing for what would undoubtedly be a long, grueling surgery. The overhead surgical lights cast harsh illumination over the patient’s torso—five deep stab wounds, oozing dark crimson with every weakening pulse.

Heart rate: dangerously unstable. Blood pressure: crashing.

Your jaw tightened as you surveyed the damage. Stabs this deep weren’t meant to be survived. Whoever did this had aimed to kill.

“Damn it,” you muttered, snapping on your gloves. “If we don’t stop the bleeding now, he’s going into irreversible shock.”

Mydei, standing opposite you, let out a slow breath, already tying his mask over his face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—scanned the wounds just as fast as yours. “Five stab wounds. Two to the upper left quadrant, three to the lower right. If the knife went deep enough, we could be looking at a perforated intestine or a renal artery injury.”

Your pulse spiked. A renal artery injury was a death sentence without immediate intervention.

“Massive transfusion protocol,” you snapped. A nurse responded instantly, prepping units of blood and plasma. “We need volume replacement now.”

Mydei nodded. “We’ll clamp first, repair later. If we go straight to suturing with this much blood loss, he’ll code on the table.”

No arguments. No wasted time. You were already reaching out.

“Scalpel.”

The cold metal handle was placed into your palm within seconds. You made your incision with expert precision, cutting through damaged tissue with just enough force to expose the internal injury without worsening it. Blood immediately welled up, pooling at the edges, but you ignored it.

“Suction,” Mydei instructed. A nurse responded instantly, clearing your field of vision.

You leaned in, eyes narrowing as you inspected the worst of the damage. “Wound number three tore straight through the abdominal muscles—there’s internal bleeding near the right kidney, but no penetration to the organ itself. Wound number five is the real problem.”

Mydei adjusted his grip on the retractor, carefully exposing the area. “It’s deep. Arterial involvement is definite.”

You exhaled sharply. “We need to clamp the renal artery now. If we don’t stop this bleed, the kidney’s gone.”

Without hesitation, he reached for the vascular clamp and maneuvered it into place, securing the artery just enough to slow the hemorrhaging without cutting off circulation completely. The heart monitor beeped erratically, a sharp, nerve-wracking rhythm reminding you both that time was running out.

Your mind worked at lightning speed. A clean suture wouldn’t be enough. The artery needed reinforcement.

“Vascular shunt,” you ordered.

The nurse handed it over, and Mydei carefully inserted the temporary tubing into the laceration, allowing blood to continue flowing while preventing further hemorrhage. It was a calculated move—buying you time to stabilize the patient before a definitive repair.

The surgery stretched into hours. Each stab wound presented a new set of complications—layers of muscle damage, ruptured capillaries, tissue trauma that required intricate repair. At one point, the patient’s vitals dipped dangerously low, sending a wave of tension through the OR.

“Heart rate’s dropping,” a nurse announced, voice tight.

You snapped your fingers, already moving. “Increase fluids, push epinephrine if needed.”

Mydei’s voice remained steady despite the pressure. “The renal artery’s secured. Moving on to muscle closure.”

You nodded, exhaling sharply as you reinforced the sutures around the artery and checked for residual bleeding. “Alright. That’s the worst of it. We’ll leave the abdomen open with a temporary closure—he’s too unstable for a full close-up now.”

The next steps were grueling. Stitching up torn muscle, ensuring no internal bleeding remained, placing protective barriers to prevent sepsis. The process required patience and absolute focus.

By the time you secured the final surgical dressing, the monitors had stabilized. The heart rate was still weak, but steady. The kidney function was preserved. Against the odds, the patient had survived.

The room was silent for a moment—no words, just the heavy weight of exhaustion and relief pressing down on you.

Then, finally, you leaned back, stretching out your stiff shoulders. “Well,” you said, voice hoarse, “that was an absolute nightmare.”

Mydei removed his gloves with that same composed expression, though there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—something unreadable. “But he lived.”

You huffed out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. He did.

The second you stepped out of the OR, the weight of the past few hours slammed into you all at once.

Your legs felt like lead, exhaustion pressing into every joint and muscle. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway blurred at the edges of your vision, and your pulse drummed sluggishly in your ears.

The moment you made it past the door, your knees buckled.

You barely had the energy to curse before your back hit the wall, and you slumped down onto the cold tile floor. Your head lolled back against the surface, eyes fluttering shut as you exhaled sharply.

“Shit.” The word came out as more of a breath than a complaint.

The sheer amount of adrenaline, focus, and precision that the surgery had required had drained you completely. Even though you’d done longer procedures before, something about this one had left you bone-tired.

Maybe it was because the patient shouldn’t have made it. Maybe it was because you’d spent every second fighting against the inevitable.

Maybe it was just the way your body was finally giving out.

A pair of footsteps stopped beside you.

You barely cracked an eye open before a shadow loomed over you.

Mydei.

Still in his surgical gown, mask pulled down, golden eyes sharp and alert. He stood over you, arms crossed, brows pinched slightly—though whether in concern or exasperation, you couldn’t tell.

“You look pathetic,” he noted, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

You gave him a half-hearted smirk. “Flatter me more, tiger.”

His expression barely flickered, though the faint twitch in his jaw told you he was holding back a sigh. Instead of responding, he simply crouched down beside you.

“You should get up.”

“I literally can’t feel my legs.”

“Tch.” A beat passed before Mydei exhaled through his nose. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and—

Grasped your wrist.

His fingers curled around your pulse point, firm and steady, grounding you to reality.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you didn’t have the energy to react beyond that.

“Pulse is weak,” he murmured.

“No shit,” you mumbled, head lolling slightly to the side as you closed your eyes again. “It’s almost like I just performed a life-saving operation or something.”

There was a long pause.

Then—before you could fully process it—you felt warmth press against your forehead.

Mydei’s hand.

His palm was broad and slightly cool, pressing against your damp skin in a way that was almost soothing. And his scent—you may have just come out of a 12-hour surgery with him but god he smelled good, a hint of raspberry, vanilla, and pomegranate? You almost leaned into his touch before stopping yourself and tightening your body.

Checking your temperature. That’s all it was. Just routine.

Still, your stomach did a strange little flip.

“You’re burning up,” he muttered. His voice was quieter now, softer, but still carrying that same weight of irritated concern.

“I’ll live,” you said, though your body very much disagreed.

He didn’t move his hand away immediately. He stayed there for a second longer, studying you. Then, finally, he pulled back, exhaling sharply.

“Come on.” He pushed himself up to his feet, then—without warning—reached down again and grasped you by the forearm.

“Wait—”

He hauled you up.

Too fast. Your body protested instantly, knees nearly buckling again.

Without thinking, you grabbed onto his coat for support.

For a moment, the two of you were far too close.

Your forehead nearly brushed against his collarbone, and in that brief second, you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the slight heat radiating off of him, the faintest scent of disinfectant and something vaguely warm—like ginger and cloves.

Your fingers tightened on his coat for just a second.

His grip on your arm lingered.

Then—Mydei cleared his throat.

“You’re impossible.” His voice was gruff as he steadied you properly, making sure you could stand on your own. “I swear, if you collapse again, I’m dragging you to a bed myself.”

You forced out a weak, tired smirk. “That a promise, doc?”

He stared at you for a second. Then, with a huff, he turned on his heel.

“Break room. Now,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Before you actually pass out.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck.

With how heavy your limbs felt, you had no choice but to obey.

The break room was dimly lit, the overhead lights turned down low to keep the atmosphere calm. A faint hum from the vending machine filled the space, along with the occasional soft beep from someone’s pager in the distance.

You were lying on the couch, one arm lazily draped over your stomach, feeling much better after your forced rest. Mydei, on the other hand, sat on a chair nearby, long legs stretched out, one arm resting against the table.

He had forced you to rest. You had technically obeyed. You closed your eyes. You stayed still. You didn't pass out from exhaustion. Success.

…But now you were bored out of your goddamn mind.

Which led you to this.

“So technically, in ‘Across the Spider-Verse,’ Miguel’s entire logic about ‘canon events’ is flawed because the entire idea of a multiverse means infinite possibilities. You can’t have a strict set of events that must happen in every universe, because that would contradict the whole ‘infinite variation’ thing—”

Mydei was actually listening.

Despite his usual deadpan demeanor, he hadn’t told you to shut up or leave him alone yet. Instead, his sharp golden eyes were fixed on you, brows slightly furrowed as he processed your rant.

“…That’s assuming the multiverse follows a quantum branching system,” he said, voice calm and thoughtful. “But if we apply a more structured framework—like the Many Worlds Interpretation—then it’s possible that only specific variations of events can exist while still allowing divergence.”

You blinked. “You’re actually engaging in this conversation.”

He gave you a look. “You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. I expected you to roll your eyes and tell me to sleep.”

Mydei shrugged. “I don’t mind listening.”

You stared at him for a second, then grinned. “Damn. You’re a nerd.”

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips.

Undeterred, you continued.

“But Miguel is literally contradicting himself,” you argued, shifting slightly on the couch. “He says Miles wasn’t supposed to be Spider-Man, meaning he technically never had a ‘canon’ to begin with. So why would the universe force him into one now?”

Mydei tapped his fingers idly against the table. “It could be that the multiverse adapts, forming new constants based on anomalies.”

“But that would mean anyone could be Spider-Man.”

“Perhaps.” He tilted his head slightly. “Or perhaps Miguel’s mistake was believing he could control a system that was never meant to be controlled in the first place.”

You stared at him.

“…I’m actually impressed.”

He raised a brow. “You thought I wasn’t capable of holding a conversation?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to willingly entertain my Spider-Verse nonsense.”

Mydei let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly.

“…You like talking about it,” he murmured. “So I don’t mind.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart do a weird little flip.

You quickly covered it with a smirk. “Careful, doc. You’re gonna make me think you enjoy my company.”

He simply looked at you.

A pause.

Then—

“Go to sleep.”

You groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over your face. “You were doing so well, and then you just had to ruin it.”

Mydei huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re exhausting.”

Mydei sat at the table, flipping through a patient file, but you knew he wasn’t really reading it. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, had that half-lidded, exhausted look—the kind that screamed I have five minutes before my brain shuts down.

You weren’t much better.

Despite your fake nap, sleep still refused to claim you, leaving you restless and annoyingly aware of how much your body ached from standing in surgery for hours. Your stomach twisted—not in pain, but in that weird way that told you hey, dumbass, maybe eat something before you actually collapse.

But…you’d ignored hunger before.

It’d pass.

Probably.

Then, Mydei spoke.

“Change your clothes.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze. “Huh?”

He barely looked up. “We’re going out.”

You raised a brow. “Since when do you voluntarily leave the hospital?”

“Since I realized you’re just as bad as me when it comes to taking care of yourself.” He finally met your gaze, golden eyes unwavering. “Neither of us has eaten anything real in over twelve hours. If we don’t fix that now, we’ll both be too dead to function tomorrow.”

You wanted to argue. Really, you did.

But he wasn’t wrong.

You had both been running on caffeine, adrenaline, and sheer spite for the past…God, you didn’t even know how many hours.

“…Fair point.” You let out a slow breath, pushing yourself up from the couch with a groan. Holy shit, your muscles were stiff.

Mydei had already stood, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the last few hours. His hair—normally somewhat neat—was slightly disheveled, the faded red tips a little more pronounced under the dim lighting. You caught a glimpse of the faint tattoos along his neck when he stretched, but—as usual—he made sure not to expose too much.

He didn’t like drawing attention to them.

Not that you’d ever ask why.

“Alright, doc,” you sighed, stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go eat before we actually drop dead.”

Mydei simply nodded, grabbing his coat.

And just like that, the two of you left the hospital behind—two overworked, half-dead surgeons, finally taking care of themselves for once.

♥♥♥

The rumble of Mydei’s bike beneath you was oddly soothing, the crisp night air rushing past as the two of you sped down the empty streets. The hospital was long behind you, and for once, you weren’t drowning in the stench of antiseptic and blood—just fresh air, neon-lit roads, and the low hum of the engine.

You leaned back slightly, arms wrapped around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket. He was solid. Reliable. Steady.

Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“You always drive this fast?” you teased over the wind.

“Faster, usually.”

You snorted. “Damn. And here I thought you were the responsible one.”

Mydei didn’t respond, you roll your eyes and then you suddenly a hear a slow, deep amused chuckle from his side. Fake ass scary wannabe

The place Mydei picked was a small, cozy restaurant—dim lighting, warm colors, and the scent of something freshly baked lingering in the air. Definitely not the high-energy bar you half-expected him to take you to.

You slid into the booth across from him, propping your chin on your hand as you lazily glanced over the menu.

“So,” you mused, “what’s the Mydei Special?”

He barely hesitated. “Strawberry ice cream shake.”

You blinked. Paused.

Then you burst out laughing.

Mydei just stared, unimpressed. “What?”

You tried—tried—to hold back your laughter, but the mental image of this tall, buff, scary-looking man sipping on a strawberry-flavored ice cream shake like it was the most normal thing in the world was sending you.

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “you have the biggest sweet tooth, don’t you?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t deny it either.

“…It’s good,” was all he said, as if that was enough of an explanation. And you swear you see a small pout on his stern face along with a slight blush on his cheeks.

You grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you’re telling me, out of all the drinks on this menu, you saw ‘strawberry ice cream shake’ and went yep, that’s the one?”

“Yes.”

Your grin widened. “No regrets?”

“None.”

You shook your head, still grinning, before waving the waitress over. “Alright, alright, respect. I’ll take a limoncello.”

Mydei nodded at her. “And I’ll have the strawberry ice cream shake.”

The waitress smiled politely before walking off with your order.

You still hadn’t stopped snickering when she came back a few minutes later—with your drinks.

Only…

She placed the limoncello in front of Mydei and the strawberry shake in front of you.

Because, of course, everyone assumed the big, brooding man with golden tiger-like eyes was the one ordering alcohol, and the chaotic, snarky, sweet you was the one drinking something soft and sweet.

There was a beat of silence.

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh again.

Mydei just stared at the drink in front of him.

Slowly, he looked back up at you. “Switch.”

“Wait, no, this is hilarious.”

“Switch.”

“I should take a picture first—”

“Switch.”

Now you were full-on laughing. “Oh my god, you’re actually embarrassed.”

He wasn’t. Not really. But the flat stare he gave you made it so much funnier.

Eventually, you relented, swapping the drinks properly. But as Mydei sipped his strawberry shake—totally unfazed—you couldn’t help but admire just how effortlessly him he was.

Big, intimidating, and secretly soft as hell.

Yeah. You were keeping this information for blackmail later.

The ride back to the hospital was uneventful, but there was a strange sense of dread lingering in your chest. Maybe it was the way Mydei’s grip on the handlebars felt a little tense, or maybe it was the way the city lights seemed too quiet for this time of night.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was intuition.

When you stepped off the bike and walked back inside, the sterile white halls of the hospital were as cold as ever, humming under dim fluorescent lights.

But then—

You saw her.

Standing in front of the breakroom. Arms crossed, expression unreadable, piercing blue eyes locked directly onto the both of you.

Aglaea.

The hospital director.

Your stomach plummeted.

“Oh. Shit.”

You felt Mydei stiffen beside you. Not visibly—but you knew him well enough to notice.

Aglaea wasn’t like the other directors you’d met in your life. She was meticulous. Calculated. Sharp as a scalpel and just as dangerous when she wanted to be.

And right now, she was staring directly at you both like a mother catching her kids sneaking in past curfew.

“…You’re back,” she said smoothly, voice as cool as ever.

You cleared your throat, nudging Mydei slightly. Say something, idiot.

“…Yes,” Mydei said simply.

Silence.

Aglaea’s gaze slowly flickered between you and Mydei.

Then, she sighed. “Do I want to know where you two have been?”

“…Cafeteria,” you blurted.

She raised a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. “The hospital cafeteria closes at 8 PM.”

“We took the long route.”

Mydei shot you a look. The ‘seriously?’ look.

Aglaea, to your absolute horror, looked vaguely amused.

“You took the long route,” she repeated, clearly not buying a damn word of it.

“…Yes,” you said again, just to commit to the lie.

For a long moment, Aglaea said nothing. Just stared at the both of you with that air of quiet superiority, as if she already knew exactly what happened and was merely giving you a chance to embarrass yourselves.

Then, finally, she sighed.

“I assume you both at least ate something?”

“…Yes,” Mydei answered.

“And slept?”

You and Mydei hesitated.

Aglaea closed her eyes briefly, as if resisting the urge to scold you both like children. Then, after a moment, she just exhaled slowly and rubbed her temple.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she muttered to herself.

You exchanged a glance with Mydei.

Then, cautiously, you asked, “Are we… in trouble?”

Aglaea opened her eyes again, looking utterly unimpressed.

“No, but you will be if you keep this up.” She gave you both a look. “Surgeons are only as good as the state they keep themselves in. If you start making a habit of neglecting your own health, I will personally ensure you take forced leave.”

You grimaced. Forced leave meant staying at home, doing nothing. Which was actual hell.

“Noted,” Mydei murmured.

“Good.” Aglaea turned, stepping aside. “Get some rest. I expect you both back on duty in four hours.”

Four hours. That was generous.

You exhaled in relief, muttering, “Understood.”

Aglaea shot one last glance with her sharp yet cool cyan-green eyes at the both of you before walking away, leaving you slumping against the breakroom door.

“…That was terrifying,” you muttered.

Mydei hummed. “She went easy on us.”

“That was her going easy?”

He didn’t answer, just pushed open the door to the breakroom. You followed him inside, stretching out with a long, tired sigh.

“Well,” you huffed, flopping onto the couch. “That went better than expected.”

Mydei didn’t respond—he was already shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto a chair before sitting down beside you.

For a long, comfortable silence, you both just sat there, the exhaustion slowly catching up.

Then, finally, you nudged him with your foot.

“…Strawberry shake,” you murmured with a teasing grin.

Mydei didn’t open his eyes. “Sleep.”

“You like cute things—”

“Sleep.”

You snickered. Maybe you’d get some rest. But only after you finished teasing him about this for another ten minutes.

♥♥♥

You didn’t even bother changing into something more comfortable before dragging yourself to the breakroom. If Aglaea was going to forcefully make you rest, you might as well do it on your own terms.

And by ‘rest,’ you meant laying on the small bed with your phone, zoning out.

Mydei followed in after you, shrugging off his coat before sitting down near the sink, his sharp golden eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

The restroom was dimly lit, the overhead fluorescent lights buzzing faintly, mixing with the hum of the hospital beyond these walls. It was quiet here. Too quiet.

You sighed, taking out your phone, plugging in your earphones, and scrolling through your playlists before finally settling on something slow, dreamy, and detached.

The soft, melancholic strum of the guitar filled your ears as you leaned back, closing your eyes. The aching tiredness in your bones was undeniable, but sleep wouldn’t come that easily.

And then—

A warm hand suddenly plucked an earbud out of your ear.

You opened one eye just in time to see Mydei casually pop it into his ear, settling beside you like he owned the place.

Your brain lagged.

“…Did you just—”

“Yes.” His voice was smooth, as unreadable as ever. He leaned back slightly, his expression neutral as if he didn’t just steal your music.

You blinked at him.

Then, without thinking, you muttered, “…Double package of tits and wits.”

Silence.

Mydei slowly turned his head to look at you. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to determine whether he actually heard that right or if he was simply too tired to process it.

“Excuse me what the fuck?” "Erm.. that was a compliment"

anwyays hi i have math exam next killl me credits to my sister to helping me with all the medical knowledge 💔

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insaneption · 2 days ago

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amphoreus rockstar

#my art #hsr art #honkai star rail #mydei hsr #anime fanart #artists on tumblr #sketch #mydei #digital fanart

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vino-shumuye · 1 day ago

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rockstar and idol

#my art #honkai star rail #hsr #phainon #phainon hsr #amphoreus #mydei #mydei hsr #myphai #phaidei

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kisakis-boyfriend · 9 hours ago

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A Taste of Pleasure

Author's Note: Mydei…Mydeimos, my darling — he deserves to have his holes wrecked and a belly full of cum~ I finished this just in time for his banner, good luck to everyone pulling for our pretty prince 👍

Pairings: Mydei x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Mydei, anal, rough sex, (self) cum eating, semi public sex

Once — that was enough to change the course for the rest of the night.

He teased you once, in the middle of the bathhouse, and you took that personally. Mydei's teasing sounded more like a provocation than playful banter, anyways, but when you knew him so intimately, nothing could fly over your head.

The calm surface of the water was interrupted by ripples as you and Mydei stood up, dripping water onto the bathhouse tiles as you walked down the hallway towards your private bath chamber. The halls are bathed in a mellow orange glow, creating a comfortably warm atmosphere for the guests. Flames dance every time you pass them by, flickering against the cream coloured walls.

The door opens smoothly, and you step inside, with Mydei following suit. The complementary bathrobes that the bathhouse provides still drip with water, though, at this point, it's much cooler than the lukewarm bath that's a part of your room. Mydei has stepped farther into the room than you have, and his muscles flex from the stretches he's doing, showcasing his back muscles beautifully.

“Here, let's get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold, hm?” you say with a smile, prompting your lover to turn around and eyeball you curiously. He likes to say that you dote on him too much — that he doesn't need someone to baby him, or invest so much time and effort into doing anything for him — but Mydei makes no effort of his own to truly stop it. He may grumble like a cheeky lion cub, but your lover allows you to undress him in that same careful manner that you always do.

And when your hands linger on his arms, tracing the veins and curves of Mydei's muscles, his expression softens just the slightest bit. Relaxing into your warm touch, Mydei hums, almost silently, as his bathrobe drops to the floor below. The, rather loud, wet plap it makes as it hits the tile certainly doesn't fit the mood…but you don't let that throw the moment off track.

“Much, much better~” you comment. Letting your eyes drift wherever they so please on your lover's body. Small water droplets slide down Mydei's solid abs, enchantingly working their way towards his–

“My eyes are up here.” His words draw your attention up to his face, where Mydei has narrowed his golden eyes in mild annoyance. “Watch it.” he warns — though you easily deduce that there isn't an ounce of malice, nor true anger in those two words.

You gingerly place your hands on his cheeks, squishing them ever so slightly. “What? Am I not allowed to admire my prince's handsomeness?” You tilt your head, brushing the pads of your thumbs along Mydei's soft cheeks. “Don't tell me you're getting shy now…?”

Mydei scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Whatever. Shouldn't you take your clothes off too? Or do you want to be the one who gets sick?”

“Then…” his breath hitches as you move one of your hands to the nape of his neck, scratching the smaller hairs that grow at the hairline. You lean in a bit, whispering a simple; “will you take them off for me?”

At this, Mydei gulps, searching your features for anything: a sign of trickery, a hint of playfulness, a little bit of bashfulness, even. He finds none of this, and concludes that your request is sincere. So, your lover uncrosses his arms, and hooks a finger underneath the thin sleeve on your shoulder, helping you pull your arm through the hole until it's free. Then, he mirrors the way you undressed him earlier; sliding the wet garment down your torso and hips, and letting it (once again…loudly) drop to the floor.

His gaze drifts down, taking note of how the sunlight reveals the light sheen of water still clinging to your stomach from the wet clothing. Drifting down further, Mydei's gaze lands on your–

“Hey, my eyes are up here.” Mydei quickly snaps his attention towards your face, his lips parted in disbelief. He frowns, huffing as his usual expression returns. “Not so easy to keep your eyes off of someone you really love, is it, De?” you wink at him, smiling so smugly it makes Mydei sick. No matter how much he hardens his demeanor, or creates a barrier between himself and everything and everyone else, you find a way to see through it, and tease him for his true feelings any chance you get.

“We should dry off now, love.” you say, leaning in for a kiss before you search for some dry towels. ......Except that one kiss turns into a couple kisses, then a couple more… and another one for good luck… and another kiss because Mydei's hands are guiding you closer… and just one more kiss, because his lips taste so damn good.

“Ah… mmm… y/n–” your beloved softly moans every time your lips part ways. He's almost breathless, getting a bit dizzy as your mouth sneaks away to leave a few kisses on his jawline and neck, before slinking back up to devour his lips once more. Mydei's attention shifts fully towards you, heightening his senses so that the slightest touch sends a tingle down the back of his neck.

You're not too different right now either — the only thing that your eyes are able to focus on is your darling, Mydei, blushing like a beautiful rose petal, and one well-timed, precise touch away from letting you have your way with him. And, right on cue, you trace Mydei's v-line, dragging your finger down lower, but stopping just at the base of his cock. You repeat this a couple more times, and that's all you needed to do to break through that final barrier of his.

“Enough– just…touch it already!” He barks, gripping your hips a little more desperately than he'd admit. You oblige him, and finally wrap your fingers around your beloved's cock; now standing fully erect and ready to be used. Although, he's in for a surprise, if he expects to find relief so easily.

Using that sweet tone that your darling secretly adores, you ask Mydeimos to turn around for you, and he complies like it's nothing. With his back now resting against your chest, your equally-as-erect dick brushes against Mydei's hole, rubbing in between his cheeks while you subtly hold his pecs. “Is this ok?” you confirm. And Mydei answers with a pitiful strain in his voice — evidence of how much you've made your lover crave this spontaneous fun. It's all too easy to knead his chest whilst sucking on his neck, earning the prettiest noises from your muscular boyfriend.

Your hands soon work their way downward, holding Mydei's hips while you pull back so that you can work your cock inside of him. Mydei groans as you push inside, acutely aware of how his body has a tight grip around your length. Still, even the shallow thrusting, and the head of your cock brushing against his walls gets your darling's heart rate up. He reaches up, behind his arm, grabbing at your bicep as he pleads; “Don't go easy on me, y/n — not after you wound me up so much–”

“nngh! Mm yeah… that's it…” Mydei drawls, tilting his head back while your hips move at a more fulfilling pace. Those firm, yet squishy pecs draw you in again, enticing you to squeeze Mydei's chest and play with his nipples until he's bucking his hips — chasing a touch that isn't there because his cock is the only thing not being stimulated.

So, you take that as a cue to give little Mydei some much needed attention. Stroking his length at a painfully slow pace, all while your own cock feels like it's about to explode. A single string of translucent fluid drips from your beloved's slit, dangling there while you jerk him off until you're creating squishy wet sounds with every stroke. But, you refuse to let him cum.

At this, Mydeimos growls, gritting his teeth as he attempts to hold in his release obediently. A task that's not exactly easy when his lover is pounding into him with great strength, at the moment. “Haah… harder! Harder! ah-aAAHH!!” With a moan so loud it almost hurts your ears, Mydei shivers as a warm stream of cum flows into his ass.

Panting is all that he can muster at the moment, seeing as his dick is now red and throbbing wildly in your grasp. You're still denying his orgasm, yet you won't stop stroking his length–

After what feels like an eternity of standing here while you tease his cock, Mydei's thighs begin to shake, and standing upright becomes harder and harder to do. You can see your beloved leaning forward, gradually buckling under your excruciating, torturous touch, until he's sunk to his knees, taking you down with him. Though, you can work with this just fine too~

“Fffuck! You're…relentless– gnngh!” He rasps, biting his bottom lip when you push right back inside, and begin slamming into him once more. His nails scrape against the tile while his entire body jerks forward with your every move, and Mydei can't even form a full sentence with you fucking into him so hungrily. Sweat begins to gather on Mydei's forehead, causing his bangs to cling to his skin, while the rest of his hair covers the lewd expression painted onto his face — features twisted into a picture perfect image of what pleasure must feel like.

Your expression isn't too different either, as you find yourself lost in the moment, connected to your lover in the most intimate, and literal, sense. His body is almost hypnotic in the ways it responds to your actions: Bouncing back on your cock even though Mydei's thighs wiggle like jelly. Back muscles flexing as his body arches whenever you hit that special button inside of him. Shoulders hunching when you lean over to kiss Mydei's pretty neck or back. Your darling's head flying back when you cum once again, hissing at the feeling of your warmth coating his insides — all as Mydei's cock weeps from the lack of attention and release.

As breathless and pliant as your beloved is at the moment, you're easily able to flip him onto his back, taking note of how his chest rises and falls with every deep breath. You swipe some wet hair away from his mouth, and cup his reddened cheek as you say; “How are you holdin' up, De?”

Mydei groans, arms going limp against the floor and retorting, “Haaah…just warmin' up…haha.” His body folds over with ease, feeling like a featherlight doll that you can maneuver however you so wish. In this new position, Mydei's knees are tucked right next to his head, and his cock hovers over his open mouth. The reddened tip of his length brushes against his reddened lips as you once again roll your hips into him, hitting his sweet spot each time.

With what little strength your beloved has left, he braces his hands against the ground, keeping himself planted in this spot and allowing his head to remain in place. Your grip on his legs tightens, and Mydei can tell that you're about to cum again.

You notice the glimmer in his eyes when he realizes that, and decide to give him what you know he craves the most in this moment. “Stick your tongue out for me?” you ask sweetly. Mydei obliges instantly, resembling a dog in the summer heat as he exhales visibly hot puffs of air. You push down on the back of his legs, and Mydei's wet tip brushes along his tongue, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut momentarily as the salty notes of his precum cover his tongue.

“Fuck! Cum for me, m-my love…” You blurt out. Mydeimos sucks on his own tip mindlessly, taking every deep thrust of your cock until you spill inside of him one last time. His mouth immediately floods with every drop of pent up lust that had been building inside. Eventually, his dick pops out, and Mydei continues cumming on his own face and cum-covered tongue. It's possibly the most obscene thing you've ever gotten your partner to do — and neither one of you wants this special moment to end.

Unfortunately, you don't have unlimited stamina, and it would seem that you reached your limit for today. As has Mydei, judging by his glassy, unfocused eyes. You gently unfurl his body, allowing him to lie there and gather his surroundings. Mydei had swallowed his cum almost immediately, but the rest of it remained on his pretty face, sticking to his cheeks, lips, eyelashes, and even in his bangs. You can't help thinking that this is the prettiest sight you've ever laid your eyes upon. It's definitely something you'd like to see again in the future, if your darling is up for it, of course.

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eliseliedl · 14 hours ago

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flirting in broad daylight 🤭

#honkai star rail #gamingedit #phaidei #mydei hsr #myphai #phainon hsr #hsredit #honkaiedit #honkai #medeasgifs #giving mydei a little blush cause mihoyo is allergic to blushing apparently

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geuvreq · 2 days ago

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Mydei with braided hair (+ with some flowers)

(or maybe two braids?)

#mydeimos #mydei hsr #mydei honkai star rail #mydei #hsr #honkai star rail #artists on tumblr

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torus-wife · 2 days ago

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TAMING OF THE OBSTINATE MAIDEN OF LAW.

Author's note: The Mydei brain rot has gotten into me, I have fully eaten the 'Mydei x reader' tag and I'm still hungry, so I took matters into my own hands and wrote something out of pure need. This was also inspired by this one Mydei bot that brought me to tears. SFW! I hope y'all don't mind that I made the reader a girl boss! Credits to @toastray for the banner below!

Mydeimos, the Last Prince, King of Castrum Kremnos, is known for his brutality of both character and his stance in battle. Known as Mydei by both Aglaea and Phainon, and De by Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon.

Never did the son of Gorgo think of the possibility of becoming a lover to a woman as stubborn as you.

You were a demigod, much like himself, immortal. Yet, you were known for 2 things through the whole Amphoreus. One, as a woman who had Talanton's, the Titan of Law's blood in her veins in 40% of the blood within you. A feat that allowed you to have a sharp mind, and unerring precision behind everything.

And two, as a stubborn woman who had many suitors, but still refused to marry, since she hated the idea of losing her current freedom just for a man, of all things. Trading her liberty for a man's needs seemed absurd to her.

Yet despite her stubbornness, Mydei felt attracted by her. Intrigued by the enigma currently in front of him.

From your point of view, Mydei was just another stubborn suitor who wanted your hand in marriage for vague and baseless reasons.

The catch here is, that this stubborn man, challenged Talanton, the Titan of Law to keep The Undying Mydeimos, away from you, to keep him from seeing you, the maiden of Talanton.

This was so determined to win you over that he kept following you around like a lost puppy, pestering you to the point where you started to talk with him out of annoyance even though you planned to ignore him.

One such day where you knew he'd come and pester you to court you in his own weird Kremnoan way, you had hid yourself under the Grove of Epiphany, silently asking Cerces, the Titan of Reason, to protect you from that nuisance.

You really should've known better than to think you could hide from him.

One moment, you were reading in silence, feeling as lazy and comfortable as a cat sunbathing under the soft rays of the early morning sun. In the next second, you could distinctly hear the familiar small clangs of metal of his jewelry against each other, gradually approaching you from behind, cautiously you peek behind yourself, now not so comfortable and lazy as a cat.

Strange, you thought, since no one was behind you, but the moment you moved your muscles to face your book again, a flash of red and blonde came tackling your form from the front.

You yelp, "Mydeimos! Get off me!" in a hissing motion, hands pushing against his broad shoulders. The man in question, held you to the ground, nosing on your neck affectionately, but you were having none of it, having the audacity to even giggle about your startled reaction. Still not apologizing nor making a move on getting up from the position where he pinned you down like a lion would a small bunny.

"Found you, little cat." He said smugly, still calling you the nickname he came up with just because you reminded him of a stubborn feline who would scratch at everybody out of pettiness.

"I told you to not call me that," You hiss in indignation, wrestling with him for torturous moments before finally getting away from him, scampering away like a cat several feet away from him to keep yourself safe from his grasp.

Mydeimos, known for always being stiff and aloof to everyone else, was always found to be more relaxed, more caring, more soft, definitely more playful, and expressing his emotions without restraint more when around you.

"That's boring." He replied, voice almost whiny.

"No its not." You counter, already feeling the cringe in your mind from his whiny voice, "I hate you." you add, just to spite him.

"No, you don't, if you did, you wouldn't be talking to me now." He says wittily.

"Shut up." You snap at him belligerently, your ears flushing from being cornered by his apparently true statement. You turn around on your heels, taking multiple swift steps forward before Mydei pulls on your ankle and makes you trip backward.

You yelp again and fall in between his legs perfectly, both of you now sit on the ground.

His arms, thick and veiny, wrap around your whole body like tight binds, and he pulls you closer to him, placing his chin in the crook of your neck from behind you victoriously.

"You're going nowhere, little cat." He said in a deep timbre that made your spine tingle with discomfort and another feeling you didn't want to name nor acknowledge.

Welp, you're stuck in a sticky situation with a sleepy and clingy Mydei, your only option is just to sit and abide by the time and wait for him to fall asleep so you can sneak away from him.

Let's just hope he isn't the person who hugs his comfort thing tighter when asleep.

How did I do for my first post? I think I made my Mydei a bit ooc butt! We all love men in love! Should I make a part 2?

#mydei x reader #mydei x you #mydei hsr #mydeimos #honkai star rail x female reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai posting #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader

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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 12 hours ago

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⋆࿐໋ STRUNG TIGHT !

　ུᩧ　tws : rockstar mydei x fem!reader. nsfw/smut, creampie, bondage, dirty talk & teasing, sub & dom dynamics, clit play, dumbification, multiple of rounds, dirty talk & teasing, mild degradation, and slight restraint play. (Modern au)

　ུᩧ　synopsis : After a killer performance, Mydei’s still riding the high, strumming out lazy tunes in the back room like he’s got all the time in the world. You call him out—on the way he plays, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He just smirks, all cocky and unbothered, until you push him too far. One second, you’re teasing him, the next, you’re pinned to the couch, wrists bound with his guitar strap, legs spread as he plays you like his favorite song—slow, deep, and all fucking night.

The sound of a guitar hummed through the empty dressing room, lazy and sweet, like a song played in bed at sunrise. Mydei sat on the couch, long legs spread, fingers plucking at the strings without much thought. His golden eyes flicked up when you walked in, but he didn’t say anything—just kept playing, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

“That was some performance,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. “Didn’t know you could play like that.”

He scoffed. “You say that every time.”

“And every time, you act like you don’t eat up the attention.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head, but his fingers never stopped moving. The melody was slower now, more careful—something soft, something intimate. You recognized it, a song you’d caught him playing before, always when he thought no one was listening.

“Another love song?” you teased, stepping closer.

His eyes darkened. “You tell me.”

You swore he did this on purpose—the way he played, the way he looked at you under his lashes, the way his voice dripped low when he spoke. You could feel the bass of the guitar vibrating in your chest, or maybe that was just your pulse, quick and eager.

“You play like you’re trying to get someone in bed,�� you mused, standing between his legs.

He leaned back, fingers slowing as he studied you. “And?”

And. Fuck. You weren’t supposed to get caught up in him like this, but it was hard not to when he looked at you like that—half-lidded, lazy, waiting. You bit your lip, watching his hands.

“You play with your fingers more than a pick,” you murmured.

Mydei raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

You hummed, dragging your nails lightly down his arm. “I like that.”

The guitar was gone before you could blink, placed somewhere out of the way, and then his hands were on you—calloused, warm, pulling you onto his lap. His mouth found your throat, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss that made you shiver.

“Say it again,” he muttered against your skin.

“You’re good with your fingers,” you breathed, and his hands tightened around your waist.

His lips curled into a smirk as he slid his hand beneath your shirt, fingers tracing your ribs before palming your tits, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The roughness of his skin against the sensitive bud sent a shiver straight down to your clit.

He chuckled when he felt you squirm. “Sensitive.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You kissed him, hard, swallowing the smugness right out of his mouth. He groaned, hands gripping your hips, rocking you against him. You could feel him, hot and thick beneath his jeans, and your head spun at the thought of him inside you.

One of his hands left your waist, reaching for his guitar strap that had been tossed onto the couch. Before you could question him, he had your wrists bound together, your arms pinned above your head as he laid you back against the couch.

“What—”

His teeth scraped over your collarbone. “You like my fingers, right?”

You moaned when two of them slid down, past the waistband of your shorts, teasing at your pussy. He groaned at how wet you were, spreading you open with ease.

“I bet,” he murmured, dragging his fingers over your clit in slow, teasing circles, “I could make you sing sweeter than any song I’ve ever played.”

His fingers slipped inside you, stretching you just right, curling against that perfect spot. The guitar strap dug into your wrists as you pulled against it, hips bucking against his touch. He watched you, golden eyes dark with hunger, his cock pressing against his jeans.

“You sound so pretty,” he murmured, pumping his fingers in and out. “Bet my cock would feel even better, huh?”

You whimpered, nodding frantically, but he tsked. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you gasped. “Fuck me.”

He grinned, undoing his belt with one hand, still lazily stroking your clit with the other. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Mydei took his time, just because he could. His fingers stayed buried inside you, lazily curling with each thrust, dragging slick noises out of your pussy like he was playing some slow, teasing melody. His other hand gripped the strap around your wrists, keeping you pinned against the couch as he leaned down, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your tits.

“You’re dripping,” he murmured against your skin, thumb circling your clit in time with the lazy strumming of his fingers inside you. “Maybe I should keep playing you like this all night.”

You whined, tugging against the strap, hips rolling up against his hand. He chuckled, cock heavy against your thigh as he let his teeth graze your nipple. The rough flick of his tongue sent another wave of heat through you, and you clenched around his fingers, making him groan.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.”

He pulled his fingers out, sucking them into his mouth like he was savoring the taste of you. The sight alone had you clenching around nothing, desperate for him to fill you up again. But Mydei was in no rush. He tugged his belt free, using it to loop around the guitar strap, anchoring your bound wrists to the couch.

“There,” he smirked, watching you struggle. “No touching.”

You glared at him, but any complaint you had died on your tongue when he shoved his jeans down, cock springing free. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him—long, thick, flushed at the tip. He gave himself a slow stroke, watching you with a smirk.

“Bet you wish you could touch me, huh?”

You whined, trying to reach for him, but the restraint kept you in place. Mydei laughed, leaning down to press a soft, teasing kiss to your lips.

“Guess you’ll just have to take it,” he whispered, lining himself up.

And then he was pushing in, stretching you open inch by inch, his cock sinking deep into your pussy with a slow, agonizing drag. Your back arched, a breathless moan spilling from your lips as he filled you up completely.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips pressed flush against yours. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

He pulled back, almost all the way out, before slamming back in, setting a deep, steady rhythm. The guitar strap creaked as you strained against it, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. Mydei leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear.

“You sound so fucking good,” he panted, dragging his cock along your walls, making sure you felt every inch of him. “Better than any song I’ve ever played.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles that had your thighs shaking. The overstimulation made your head spin, pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core.

“Mydei—”

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed, voice low and rough. “Sing for me.”

The orgasm crashed into you like a wave, pleasure bursting through your body as you clenched around his cock, moaning his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say. Mydei groaned, fucking you through it, his thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy tightened around him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Gonna come inside you—”

You gasped, nodding frantically, and that was all it took. Mydei slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside, filling you up with warmth. He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, before slowly pulling out, watching his cum drip from your pussy with a satisfied smirk.

He reached down, tracing his fingers through the mess he made. “Gotta admit,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your lips, “I think I like playing you better than my guitar.”

Mydei didn’t waste a fucking second. He still had that lazy, cocky smirk on his face, but the way he fucked you? There was nothing lazy about it. Every thrust was deep, slow enough to make you feel every inch of his cock stretching you open, but hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

“Shit—look at you,” he rasped, watching the way your tits bounced with every snap of his hips. “Already fucked stupid, huh? Thought you had so much to say a minute ago.”

You did. You really did. But your brain was a mess, thoughts drowned out by the thick drag of his cock, the tight pull of the guitar strap keeping your wrists bound above your head. The only thing spilling from your lips now were breathy moans and little whimpers, legs twitching around his waist as he bullied his cock even deeper inside you.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight,” Mydei groaned, rolling his hips just right, brushing against that spot that made your vision blur. “You like this, don’t you?”

You nodded, too dumb and desperate to care how pathetic you looked beneath him. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing fast, sloppy circles that made you whine. The pleasure was too much—his cock stretching you open, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into your swollen clit, the heat pooling in your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter until—

“Don’t—don’t stop—”

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” he growled, pace getting rougher, sharper, making your whole body shake beneath him. “Not ‘til I break you.”

And fuck, he did. Your back arched, your mouth falling open on a silent scream as your orgasm slammed into you, making your pussy clamp down around his cock like you never wanted to let him go. Your body was trembling, tears pricking your eyes from how fucking good it felt, and Mydei groaned, grinding against you as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, licking a slow stripe up your throat before pressing a kiss to your jaw. “So fucking pretty when you come on my cock.”

You should’ve been embarrassed by how wrecked you sounded, by the way your body twitched and shook, completely at his mercy—but you weren’t. Not when Mydei was looking at you like this, eyes blown, jaw tight, chasing his own release.

“Fuck—gonna come inside you,” he panted, thrusts getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up real nice—make sure you remember who owns this pretty little pussy.”

Your brain was too melted to do anything but nod, legs tightening around his waist, urging him deeper. He groaned, hips stuttering, and then he was spilling inside you, warmth flooding your insides as he buried himself to the hilt.

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just let himself feel it—your walls fluttering around him, the way your body trembled from the aftershocks. Then, finally, he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum dripping from your pussy, smearing along your thighs.

“Fuck,” he muttered, fingers dipping between your legs, pushing some of his cum back inside. You twitched, overstimulated, and he chuckled.

“So dumb for me now,” he teased, rubbing lazy circles against your clit just to watch you squirm. “Can’t even talk, huh? Bet I fucked all the thoughts outta that cute little head.”

You whimpered, barely able to move, and Mydei just smirked, leaning down to kiss your cheek before finally untying your wrists.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your jaw. “I’ll play with you again real soon.”

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