This is where Phainon shines. Mornings on Amphoreus are cold—that thin, pale light of a world touched by strife—but the bed is warm. He's warm. And neither of you have anywhere to be.
He stirs first. He always does. Old habits from years of vigilance. But he doesn't get up. Instead, he turns toward you, propping himself on one elbow, just... watching. The way the morning light catches your skin. The way your lashes rest against your cheeks. The way your breathing is still slow and even.
He brushes a strand of hair from your face. Feather-light. Barely there. But it wakes you anyway—or maybe it's the weight of his gaze, the quiet intensity of being looked at like that.
"Morning." His voice is rough with sleep. He smiles when you blink up at him. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"You were staring."
"I was admiring. There's a difference."
He kisses your forehead. Then your nose. Then your lips—just a soft, dry press that lingers. -Nothing is rushed. That's the rule of lazy mornings. The sun can climb the sky at its own pace. So can you.
His hands wander. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just... exploring. Palms sliding over your shoulders, your ribs, the curve of your hip. Like he's memorizing you all over again. Like it's the first time and the thousandth time simultaneously.
"You're so warm." He says it against your collarbone, lips brushing skin. "I dreamed about you."
"What kind of dream?"
He huffs a quiet laugh. "A good one. But this is better."
His thigh slips between yours. Not insistently. Just there. An invitation. Your hips rock against it on instinct, still hazy with sleep, and he hums approval against your throat. "There you go. Take your time."
When he finally slides inside you, it's with the kind of slow, deliberate care that makes your toes curl. Side-lying, your back against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist. The angle is shallow, lazy, perfect.
His hips move in a slow, rolling rhythm. No urgency. No goal. Just the feeling of being connected, being close, being together in the quiet of the morning.
His mouth is at your ear. Whispering things. Sweet things. "Love you. Love this. Love waking up with you." He's more unguarded in the morning. The walls aren't up yet. The weight of the world hasn't settled back onto his shoulders.
His hand drifts down your stomach. Lower. Fingers finding your clit with practiced ease, drawing slow circles that match the rhythm of his hips. "Let go. I've got you. Just let go."
When you come, it's a slow, rolling wave. Not sharp or sudden. A long, lazy crest that leaves you boneless and trembling in his arms. He follows you over the edge a moment later, groaning your name against your shoulder, his grip on your waist tightening briefly before relaxing.
He doesn't pull out right away. He stays inside you, softening, both of you catching your breath. His nose nuzzles against your hair. His hand rubs slow circles on your stomach.
"We should get up." He says it without conviction.
"We should." You don't move either.
A long pause. He laughs quietly—a low, warm sound that vibrates through his chest against your back. "Five more minutes."
Five minutes turns into ten. Then twenty. Eventually he does get up—there's training to do, responsibilities to attend to, a world that needs saving—but not before he kisses you one last time. Not before he tucks the blankets back around your shoulders and murmurs, "Sleep a little longer. I'll bring you breakfast."
2: Cowgirl
He loves you on top. Not because he wants to surrender control—though he does, sometimes, in ways that surprise him—but because the view is spectacular.
He lies back against the pillows, hands resting on your thighs, thumbs stroking lazy patterns. His hair is spread out against the pillow. His eyes are soft and warm. Full of something that looks a lot like awe.
"Look at you." He says it like a prayer. "Gods, you're beautiful. Come here." He reaches up, one hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss even as you're moving above him.
He lets you set the pace. He's patient. He's generous. He'll let you use him however you need, take what you need, chase your pleasure on his body. "That's it. Take it. It's yours."
But when he sees you getting tired—your rhythm faltering, your thighs shaking—he takes over. Hands gripping your hips, feet planted on the mattress, thrusting up into you with a strength that makes you gasp. He can go for ages like this. He'll get you there first, always. Then he'll let himself follow.
3: Face-sitting
For Phainon, this is an act of worship. Flat out.
He's the one who initiates it. Pulling you up his body. Settling you over his face. His hands spread flat on your thighs, reverent and steady. "Please. Let me. I want to taste you." His voice is already wrecked, and he hasn't even started.
He takes his time. Slow, broad licks. Gentle suction. He's not trying to make you come quickly. He's savoring you. Learning you. He wants to know exactly what makes you gasp, exactly what makes you pull his hair, exactly what makes your thighs tremble around his ears.
He doesn't stop after one. He works you through the first orgasm and starts building the second before you've even caught your breath. "One more. Please. Give me one more. I need to feel you come again."
Phainon is very attentive after sex and will check on you to see how you’re feeling. He hopes the experience was just as good for you as it was for him. If you need anything to eat or drink, he’ll volunteer to get it for you and then will lay in bed while cuddling you. Phainon is very affectionate during this period, showering you in kisses all over your face, hands, and neck. He also rubs a hand along your back and thighs to work out any tension and soothe your nerves.
He compliments you a lot afterwards, as well, saying things like how amazing you were, how happy he is to have shared such an intimate experience with you, and cheekily saying he hopes to do it again so he can best his personal record of bringing you to even more orgasms.
Phainon likes to engage in pillow talk in general, be it about the sex you just had or anything else about your lives. He listens to your feedback about what you liked or disliked in the recent session and mentally files that information away before sharing his own thoughts. He believes in open communication and treasures your opinions because he wants to do all he can to ensure your happiness and satisfaction, even outside of the bedroom.
Phainon also shares his favorite moments with you, such as funny memories, interesting stories from his life, or cool facts he learned while appraising artifacts. If you share anything about your life and interests, he listens attentively to your every word, wanting to learn all he can about the woman that has captured his heart so completely. If you get really into talking about something, don’t be surprised if Phainon compliments how beautiful you look. Even with mussed hair and hickeys all over your skin, in his eyes, you radiate beauty when you talk so passionately about something.
He smiles a lot, too. Aside from the satisfaction that comes with sexual release, Phainon loves the emotional intimacy that comes with sex. He feels happy that he got to make you feel good and bond with you on a deeper level.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Phainon doesn’t have any one particular part of himself he takes pride in, but he does like his arms. They help him wield his claymore to protect others against monsters and malicious people. Furthermore, he likes wrapping you up in hugs. It’s both an expression of how much you mean to him and his desire to keep you safe. That, and he just likes how you feel in his arms in general.
As for your body, Phainon says he loves all of you, which is true. He loves every little bit of you, even your flaws and imperfections because they are what make you who you are. If pressed for a more specific answer, Phainon would say he adores your eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul, as the common saying goes, and Phainon can often tell how you feel by the emotions reflected in your eyes. Whenever you look at him with undisguised love, his heart swells with so much joy that he fears it would burst.
Romantic notions aside, Phainon also likes gazing into your eyes while making love to deepen the emotional connection between you. To Phainon, the emotional aspect of sex is just as important a the physical, if not more so. Plus, he just likes seeing your eyes glaze over with desire or roll into the back of your head when he hits a pleasurable spot inside you. Your expressions of bliss arouse him.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Phainon tries to be respectful and not cum on your body aside from your tummy or ass. If he does get it on your skin, he apologizes and helps you clean it off. He feels bad if he gets it on your face, though a part of him secretly likes how you look covered in his seed.
He generally prefers to ejaculate inside because it deepens his connection to you but will respect your wishes if you tell him to do it outside. He also asks for permission to cum inside the first few times you have sex until you tell him he doesn’t need to ask every time.
Loves being covered in your juices, though. Feeling your slick coating his face from eating you out or your juices drenching his dick really gets Phainon going. To him, it’s a testament to how good he’s making you feel.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Back when he was crushing on you, Phainon once had a wet dream about you and him making love and woke up to find his dick pitching a tent in his pajama pants, much to his embarrassment. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy that dream (in fact, he sometimes uses it as masturbation material) but he was also ashamed for having thought of you in an inappropriate manner even if it was unintentional. He struggled to look you in the eye for several days afterwards since the dream remained so vivid in his mind.
Phainon managed to successfully keep the dream a secret from you up until you had sex for the first time. When he finally joined bodies with you and was showering you in reverent praises, he accidentally let slip that the way you felt around him was much better than in his dream. He realized it all too late but handled the situation with grace when you asked him for more detail about it, though his face was tomato-red. Will happily re-enact the dream for you if you ask, though.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Is a virgin. Phainon believes that sex is an act best done with the person you love so he’s been saving himself for that special someone.
He does have a general idea of what to do and where to touch to make his partner feel good (he’s seen his fair share of… literature at the Grove’s library) but he relies mainly on your reactions and feedback to gauge what feels best. Phainon is devoted to your pleasure and diligently studies every inch of your body to find all places and ways you like to be touched that make you keen and turn your mind blank. If you’re more experienced than him, he will carefully listen to your directions and trust you to guide him on how to best please you. Though he knows he’s not perfect, he wants to be the best lover he can be for you because he wants to see you happy with him.
He's also very gentle with his feedback, giving you lots of praise when you do things that make him feel good and lightly guiding you to adjust your technique if something wasn’t quite working. He’s very communicative and encourages you to voice your thoughts, as well, because he knows the only way to improve and enjoy good sex is to openly discuss each other’s preferences and give feedback.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Phainon prefers positions where he can see your face, so missionary and lotus tend to be his favorites. He wants to see your face melt with pleasure while he thrusts into you, wants to give you kisses and whisper sweet nothings beside your ear, and above all, he wants to look into your eyes and see the love he feels for you be reflected back at him.
If doing missionary, Phainion hikes one of your legs up onto his shoulder for deeper penetration or wrap his arms around you to hold you close, practically pinning you down with his weight while he covers you in kisses and bites. He also loves it when you lock your legs around his waist to keep him close.
In lotus, Phainon likes to hug you close while thrusting up into you, whispering words of love in your ear and brushing the hair out of your face before capturing your lips in a kiss. He also finds it a great position for holding hands since you can use it as leverage to bounce on his lap easier.
Phainon is also fond of spooning. The skin-to-skin contact of spooning you from behind while leisurely fucking into you is really nice to him. He enjoys experimenting with leg positions by lifting one of your legs in the air at various angles to see which angle makes him hit the best spots inside you. He also takes advantage of this position to gently bite the nape of your neck and nip at your ear or play with your clit. Phainon loves this position in reverse even more because that way he gets to gaze into your eyes and exchange kisses more easily. Face him while laying on your sides with your legs tangled together and your hips grinding against each other.
In the event you’re both too horny to take things slow, Phainon will bend you over a flat surface and take you from behind. He presses his chest against your back so he can whisper filthy things in your ear and reaches between your legs to play with your clit. He’s also fond of cowgirl because he likes seeing you take pleasure from his body. The sight of your body bouncing on his lap is very erotic to Phainon and he’ll be positively mesmerized by it. Will encourage you to ride him harder by guiding your hips and thrusting up into you.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
While Phainon doesn’t joke around much during intercourse, he does try to keep the mood lighthearted and romantic by showering you in lots of praise, heartfelt confessions of his love, and kissing your hands and face. He wants you to feel safe being this vulnerable with him. He never brings negative emotions into the bedroom because he wants both of you to enjoy such an intimate experience.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Has a tuft of thick, white hair that he lets grow out and trims when necessary to keep it tidy.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Phainon treats sex as something more than just a means to a pleasurable end. To him, it’s one of the most intimate experiences one can have with their partner. It’s a time to bond on a level that goes beyond the physical. As such, he often makes love instead of fucking. Even rough coupling is still imbued with his love for you through eye contact or affectionate words and touches.
He’s also passionate. Phainon is already very affectionate outside of the bedroom, but he pours out all his love for you during intercourse. You’ll be kissed senseless, praised like a goddess, touched with the utmost reverence and possession. You will feel loved, desired, and cherished—Phainon will make sure of it.
He is also a romantic. As mentioned previously, Phainon likes maintaining eye contact with you to make the sex more intimate and emotional, and to use it as a way of communicating the unspoken feelings between you. Even if you don’t believe his sweet words of love, he hopes you will understand just how deeply he loves you by looking into his eyes. He also likes holding hands and intwining your fingers together and pressing his body flush against yours. Phainon just really likes physical contact, he finds it more intimate when he can feel your skin against his. Additionally, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear when the mood is romantic.
Is the type to sprinkle rose petals and light candles when he wants to set a romantic atmosphere, usually for anniversaries or other special occasions to make the session feel extra special.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Phainon masturbates a few times a week to blow off steam. Being a Chrysos Heir is tough work, especially when he has other people’s expectations and hopes riding on his shoulders. Phainon may face every challenge with determination and a smile but he’s still subject to feeling stress. Masturbation is one of the most effective methods for helping him relieve it.
He uses his imagination a lot while touching himself, usually thinking about erotic scenes he’s read in books and imagining it were you and him in those roles or thinking back to his wet dream of you. While stroking himself, he imagines what it would feel like to kiss your skin and caress your curves. How his real name would sound on your lips as you moaned it. He imagines what it would feel like to have your mouth on his cock and how you would feel wrapped around him when he finally joins your bodies together. How you would writhe and move against him, consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. How your expression would melt, and your eyes would glaze over with lust as you looked at him.
Phainon can easily get lost in thought and picture very vivid scenarios in his head that get him off better than any piece of erotic literature ever could, though after orgasm, he always feels guilty for thinking of you in such lewd ways.
Once you enter a relationship, he will masturbate less since he now has you to help him relieve his pent-up urges. Plus, he finds it more fun to get off with a partner than do it alone with his hand. In the event you’re not available, Phainon will use your lewd texts or recall all your past sexual encounters and use those memories as fap material, though he’ll wish you were around to help because doing it alone really isn’t the same anymore.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Phainon is a switch but leans more dominant. He’s perfectly happy to let you take the lead and call the shots since it absolves him of some responsibility and it ensures he’s doing things that make you feel good. Plus, he just wants you to be happy, and if taking charge is what you want, then he’ll eagerly comply. Blindfold him, pin him down, order him around—he’ll find your confidence and commanding presence a turn-on.
When dominating, Phainon likes to employ gentle dominance. He won’t degrade you, hit you, or yank you by the hair and force you to comply. Instead, he gives sweetly worded suggestions to coax you to obey. For instance: “Darling, could you please come here and sit on my lap? I want to hold you close and feel your warmth against me.” or “You’re doing great, my love. Your mouth feels so good around me, it’s hard to hold back. Relax your jaw and take a little bit more. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” He also rewards your obedience with kisses, caresses, and praises, “You did so well, darling. Thank you for being so good to me” and “You look absolutely stunning like that, my love. Your beauty takes my breath away.”
Aside from praising you, Phainion also loves receiving praise. Tell him how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you, how attractive he looks, or even how safe and desired he makes you feel. Though Phainon knows he’s making you feel good, it still does a lot for his confidence and ego to hear you say it out loud. Being praised on his looks is also nice ego boost since he likes hearing you find him desirable.
Phainon is also into body worship. He mainly prefers to give, but he’s fine with receiving too. He worships your body with reverent caresses, loving kisses, and sweet compliments, letting you know just how beautiful and sexy he finds you. If there are aspects of your body that you feel insecure about, Phainon will compliment them to reassure you that these traits don’t make you any less attractive in his eyes and he hopes you can grow to love these parts of you, too.
Another one of his kinks is lingerie. Dress up in lacy lingerie with frills and cute bows that flatters your figure and show off for Phainon. It will instantly arouse him to see you looking so delectable and dressed up all pretty just for him. Forgive him if he stares at you for too long, he simply can’t get enough of how good you look in lacy undergarments.
Face-sitting is another one of his kinks. Take charge and sit on his face. Phainon will eagerly lap at your pussy and relish the feeling of you grinding against his face. He may struggle to breathe but fuck if it isn’t hot to see you taking your pleasure from him and smearing his face in your juices.
Finally, Phainon enjoys a bit of light bondage to spice things up. It can be you or him who’s tied up, it doesn’t matter much to him, though he takes extra care to be gentle on your skin if you’re the one being tied. He prefers to use ribbon, string, or leather belts to tie you up, but if nothing is available then he’ll pin your wrists down with his hands.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Phainon prefers privacy when making love, so his main choice will always be your home. He’s fine with having sex in pretty much every room in the house, but the bed is his favorite since it’s comfortable and makes it easy to cuddle afterwards. A private bathing pool is his second favorite since there’s something intimate about bathing and making love in the bath.
If you play your cards right, Phainon can be convinced to go for a romp in the Chrysos Heirs baths when no one is around. However, Aglaea will know (her golden threads are everywhere, in case you forgot) and she’ll make you and Phainon clean the baths as punishment.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Aside from dressing in lingerie, Phainon gets turned on when you touch him with the intention to seduce. Kiss his neck through the gap in his choker, trace your tongue over his sun tattoo and feel him shiver as a wave of desire washes over him. Press yourself against him. Let him feel your soft curves against his body or grind against his leg and whisper that you want him. It’ll drive Phainon absolutely crazy with desire to know you crave him.
Another thing that can get Phainon going is playful teasing and banter. Engage in some lighthearted and sexual back-and-forth with him, say some innuendos, or make a bet where the reward is something pleasurable you can both enjoy. Phainon will find your wit and ability to give as good as you got incredibly sexy.
Finally, a good date can also get him in the mood. If you had a romantic evening with Phainon where you had a lot of fun and connected on a deeper level, he won’t be ready to let the date end. Phainon will touch you (respectfully) and try to convince you to spend more time together to exchange more words and affections that will naturally lead to something more carnal. It’s not so much a planned event as it is a result of one thing leading to another and the mood being just right.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Phainon is open to trying many things, but nonconsensual acts and physical abuse are where he draws the line. He doesn’t want to do anything that doesn’t have your explicit consent, and even roleplaying non-con scenarios makes him uneasy and turns him off. He also refuses to hit or choke you. He can lightly spank you if you’d like but anything more than that will get a hard no from him. As such, whips, paddles, and the like are not his thing.
Phainon also doesn’t like sharing as he’ll get jealous and insecure and start questioning whether your relationship means as much to you as it does to him. He struggles with self-doubt and thinks he’s undeserving of you sometimes, so you wanting another partner in the bedroom will make him think he’s not satisfying you enough. He gives his entire self to his romantic relationship with you, baring his very heart and soul, so you giving yourself to another will hurt him.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Phainon loves giving and will even get pussy drunk. He’s devoted to your pleasure and gets off on making you feel good. He’ll bury his face between your legs and suck on your clit, lap at your folds, and fuck you with his tongue until you’re tugging on his hair and begging him to stop because you’re overstimulated.
While eating you out, Phainon keeps his eyes on your face. He likes watching your expression turn blissful from him flicking your clit or fingering your G-spot and will even tell you to keep your eyes on him when your gaze grows unfocused. If you look closely, you’ll see his own eyes glaze over with arousal because pleasing you turns him on. Hearing your moans, praises, or bucking your hips against his face gets him hard, and it’s not uncommon for him to cum in his pants when he finally sends you careening over the edge.
He also gets painfully hard when you sit on his face and grind against it. Cover his chin and cheeks in your slick, grind your clit against his nose—he’ll eagerly welcome it.
While Phainon prefers giving, he won’t say no to receiving oral sex. When you take him into your mouth, he gets vocal, murmuring praises about how good your mouth feels around him and gently guides your head to take more of him. While he tries to remain still for you, sometimes his control falters and he starts to shallowly thrust into your mouth to chase his pleasure. He tries to be careful to not choke you. If you manage to deepthroat him, you will successfully render Phainon speechless and his mind blank.
When he comes, Phainon’s entire body shudders and he tosses his head back with a choked cry of your name. While he doesn’t expect you to swallow, he’ll feel an immense sense of satisfaction if you do.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Phainon is pretty flexible. He can go slow and sweet during lovemaking to make the moment more tender, or he can go fast and hard for a more passionate fuck. It all depends on the mood. He prefers to take things slow when making love, purposefully rolling his hips in such a way as to hit your sweet spots and watch your eyes roll back in bliss. It also gives him an opportunity to give you slow and deep kisses and whisper words of love in your ear.
However, he can also go rougher if it’s what you’re in the mood for. He himself sometimes has a lot of pent-up lust and craves a faster pace. At times like these, Phainon will fuck you with quick and hard, yet still purposeful, thrusts. They’re not hard enough to hurt but you’ll feel them in your core. He keeps a tight grip on your hips to keep you in place and angles them for a deeper penetration.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Phainon rarely goes for quickies. He prefers to take his time exploring and worshipping your body, to show you the appreciation and reverence he believes you deserve. He doesn’t want to fuck you like some horny animal, though he recognizes that sometimes quickies are necessary to blow off some steam. If you’re both needy but don’t have time for a proper session (especially for several days), Phainon will opt for a quickie.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Phainon is willing to take a healthy amount of risk in the bedroom. He’s eager to make you happy, and if experimenting with kinks and dynamics is what you want to do, then he’ll go along as long as it’s consensual and doesn’t put either of you at risk of harm.
He himself is interested in trying light bondage (giving and receiving) and experimenting with things like oil massages or food play to spice things up.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Has really good stamina from training so he can last a long time, but Phainon is mindful to not push you past your limits. Sessions with him last a while since he likes taking his time with foreplay, so he usually goes for 1-2 rounds, but he’s willing to go as many times as you want until you’re satisfied.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Doesn’t own any toys but is open to experimenting with them if you bring up that idea. Most toys are a bit much for Phainon, though he does have fun trying out a few to see what you both like. His favorites to use on you are vibrators to stimulate your erogenous zones, though it’s just as fun when you use them on him.
Phainon doesn’t mind if you use toys to satisfy your urges when he’s not around to help, but he makes sure to thoroughly remind you later that the touch of a lover is far more satisfying than some plastic.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Phainon likes playful banter, so he tends to verbally tease you about small things such as dressing up specially for him or being so eager for his touch that you’d make the first move. His teasing is always light-hearted, though he can sometimes unintentionally say something a tad mean and profusely apologizes if you get offended.
Otherwise, Phainon doesn’t tease you much. At most, he’ll toy with your nipples or play with your pussy by lightly touching your clit or skimming a finger through your folds to gauge your state of arousal but won’t edge you. Phainon’s mission is to make you orgasm as many times as possible until you’re thoroughly sated, so he’ll hardly ever deny you that pleasure. The only time he would is as revenge for edging him first.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Phainon is very vocal during sex. One could even say the man hardly shuts up. He moans, groans, and gasps, voice pitching lower from arousal. He also talks a lot, sometimes devolving into senseless babbling when he nears orgasm, usually when you’re the one in control. You will hear him say a litany of praises, compliments, heartfelt confessions of love, and if the mood is right, some romantic dirty talk.
For example, he might say things like “I love you. I love you so much. You feel so perfect against me, as if we were meant to fit together. I’m the luckiest man to call you mine.”
“You’re so beautiful. You have no idea how much the sight of you turns me on. I want to kiss every part of your body until you’re lost in the sensation of my touch.”
“You’re squeezing so tightly around me, my love, it feels amazing. Does this spot feel good? Do you want me to hit it again?”
He talks less when you’re having a more intense coupling since he’s too busy working both of you towards climax to think straight, but in exchange he gasps and moans more, in particular your name.
Loves hearing your moans and sounds of pleasure. Tell him what he’s doing feels good and Phainon will swell with pride and be even more eager to keep going. Moan his name, as well. He likes hearing you call out his name in bliss, it gets him going. He also frequently wonders how his real name would sound on your lips if you were to moan it.
Phainon positively melts when you say you love him. His heart swells with so much love that he fears it will burst, and he’ll hotly whisper that he loves you too before kissing you deeply. He adores exchanging words of affection and love during intercourse, it makes him feel cherished and he hopes to make you feel the same way.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Have an assortment of random headcanons.
- Phainon gets competitive even in the bedroom and sometimes has little competitions with you to see who can make the other orgasm first (usually in the 69 position to keep things fair) or who can refrain from climaxing the longest. One of his favorite competitions is seeing who can give the other the most orgasms since he usually ends up winning.
- He’s amused by your insistence for him to keep his choker on during sex. You claim it makes him look hot, so who is he to deny you? Though expect him to tease you about it.
- Aglaea may have burned his atrocious ochre-yellow shirt and dromas-purple pants, but she did not get her hands on Phainon’s collection of lame underwear. He thinks the dromas and Kephale patterned boxers with gaudy colors look cool and doesn’t understand why you find his choice of underwear funny.
- Phainon enjoys sexting. He’s very good at coming up with erotic yet tasteful messages that get you going and can sometimes get too absorbed in describing all the delicious things he wants to do to you in great detail. He sometimes uses your responses and pictures as masturbation material.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
(A reminder than girth is circumference and not diameter)
Length is 13 cm (5.1 inches) and girth is 10 cm (3.9 inches). Has a pink tip and one vein running along the length of his shaft.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Has a healthy sexual appetite. About 3-4 times a week is the sweet spot for Phainon but depending on how busy both of you are, he will suffice with once per week. To make up for fewer sessions, Phainon will try to make that one session count by making it extra passionate since he’s missed being intimate with you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
You tend to fall asleep before Phainon since he tires you out, but he doesn’t mind. He just wraps his arms around you and holds you close. He kisses your forehead and murmurs for you to get some rest and that he’ll be with you while you sleep.
Phainon doesn’t fall asleep quickly unless he’s really tired, so he spends that extra time admiring your sleeping features with a soft smile on his face. He gently brushes away a few strands of hair out of your face and ensures you’re properly tucked under the covers so you won’t get cold.
If you don’t fall asleep quickly, Phainon will cuddle with you and talk about random things or male plans for tomorrow until you both get sleepy. He chats about what you should have for breakfast, where you should go for your next date, and invites you to appraise a relic with him.
prone bone with phainon early early in the morning, just waking up and processing the early light. the weight of him pinning you to the sheets, he's heavy and warm and his mouth won't leave the curve of your shoulder and neck, biting down when his hips rut up into your ass, grunting when that sleepy soft whimper leaves your lips. he loves having you like this, early before the rest of okhema wakes up. the times it feels like only the two of you are awake, so only he can hear how your breathing strains underneath him, the way you gasp when he wraps a bicep under your chin and just barely squeezes, how your hands tremble as he pins them to the sheets, how you keen backwards into him, seeking more even though you're mumbling about it being too early, how he's too heavy. if you didn't want it as bad as he did, you wouldn't be coating his cock with so much slick, now would you?
. . . the sun sets another day, but your love prevails through the night.
WARNINGS ── fem!reader 、established relationship 、(it’s their wedding night) 、phainon whimpers & whines 、literally nothing else i wrote this off vibes 、MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
SUPERNOTE ── finals are taking me out and i just. Phainon i wish u were real to fuck my brains out. i’m so tired of thinking. (nonsense drabble just to feed the dash - might delete/private later)
WORD COUNT ── 948
BACK ARCHED INTO THE curve of a sinking sun, limbs taut like soaring stars, mouth hooting a broken chorus of pleased oh’s: the fruits of a steep, uphill battle laboring sweetly around your peak, promising the kiss of release so divinely, you weep beneath its embrace. At the behest of a scarred challenger, your pleasure is pieced like a puzzle, with analytical precision pushing you to the sweet, sunny peak — he’s been climbing, and climbing, and climbing, his hands now finally finding purchase on pebbled bosoms, exalting him to his divine right at the summit of chronicled games.
And it is he, only he, who can enjoy those fruits to their fullest potential. Pulling the skin from the flesh with a guttural groan, head sinking back on his shoulders, eyes rolling shakily. The taste of Heaven lingers over his tongue as he spits it unto you: tangy with sweat, sweet with ardor, heavy with passion. A mix of flavors only Phainon, the master climber, can achieve.
The moon pulls to cast over you, a lunar chill running over you in place of his solar warmth. Your bed, carved in pure, Kremnoan gold, roped in tendrils of leafy vines, creaks and rocks under you. Its squeals mirror yours, fleeting yet persistent, music to wake the night.
Phainon, the divine ruler of the heavens and hells, and all the mountains in between, trembles above you. He needs not say a word to tell you the truth, that crystalline glare has the words written in it. You push at the back of his neck, urging him closer, just to hug him, to feel the quakes in his muscles and the beat of his heart. Feeling it just to know that it’s because of you, and giving him the confirmation that it’s settled deep within you, too.
Those knitted brows and agape mouth are the only things you can make out through teary, starry eyes. It tells you why he’s stopped thrusting and just grinds on top of you, rutting deeply, roughly against you. Why it feels like your stomach is full of fireworks and their fuses are slowly kindling, and the smoke is slowly snuffing out your breath. You can't breathe, only gasp, clutching so tightly that your nails are rehoming in his shoulders.
You're speechless. Your eyes are blank; you can only see on the blacks of your heavy eyes. Fleeting glimpses of your day, of the last few years of your life, of what waits to come flicker in your head. You're grinning, so sickly and sloppily. There's nowhere else you'd rather be.
The two of you hold each other so closely, so tightly. There must be bits of your skin that are fusing by your sweat. Everything sticky, warm, wet, like a rebirth clogging your lungs and slithering through and out of you. You press your foreheads together, exhale and inhale each other so close.
Phainon’s voice cracks the second he tries to speak. “I'm so in love with you—” he squeaks, “I want to love you forever..”
You hold him tighter. Your legs are jelly around his waist but they keep him flush to you. Friction rubs at your clit, just the slightest tingling that births lightning bolts under your skin.
Your throat is so dry and tight but you huff anyway, “Don’t stop, Phai,” all groggily and hoarse.
He holds you down as his hips just grind against you. The movements are stuttery and slow, in tandem with the long drawn groan that surfs out. It decrescendoes into a feeble whine, and he buries his head into the crook of your neck, murmuring and whimpering against your damp skin. His messy head of hair rubs against your chin, like a dog nuzzling into you.
His sounds dance around in your stomach; your walls contract to the beat. “Oh, fuck,” he whines, muffled, “I'm gonna cum—my love, fuck—”
He seizes in your arms, his cock twitching inside of you. He breathes so gruffly and heavily against you as his arms jelly and he just lies on top of you, sandwiching you between him and the mattress. He's so heavy—you can feel the air pressing out of you.
Your eyes roll and your mouth hangs open. Your hips jump and your limbs vibrate. It feels like death is taking you; this must be Heaven.
You orgasm seconds after Phainon, a wisp of bated breath separating you. He hisses and winces and whimpers all at once, all directly to your core, all a show of vulnerability and transparency. A man so precious—sculpted like a god yet pliable like putty—is all yours, until death do you part, and then some.
Even as your brains slither out of your head and you're too far on cloud nine to think, he whispers to you. The vows you heard only a few hours ago; the promises to split the sky and pull the stars down for you, to carry your troubles for you and shoulder the weight of the world, just to keep you smiling forever. And if there ever came a time where you couldn't stand him, he'd do what he must, because your pain hurts him more than your absence.
How lucky he is to have a wife, who only looks better and better as the seconds pass, who cares for him at his rawest. You died and came back to life in your pleasure; he would kill and resurrect you again and again if you kept looking at him like that.
If he could be the center of your universe, and you his, you’d birth a new world together, where love is the only language spoken. He's fluent in you.
I don’t think Phainon would dedicate a special moment or make some sort of dramatic show out of telling you his true name. Rather, I think it would just slip out during a heated moment…
Because he doesn't care much for the praises sung to him by the people of Okhema — there, he's Phainon day in and day out. Phainon, the Chrysos Heir. Phainon, the Deliverer. Lord Phainon. Even in the sanctum of the bedroom, as his tongue laps through your slit, you call out to Phainon, the Nameless Hero. Your Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
"Khaslana," he murmurs, his mouth still against your folds. "My name is Khaslana," he repeats, reminding himself that he, too, has a name.
His voice reverberates deep into your core, and you grind into him, as if your hips had moved on his command. Khaslana, he had said. His name is Khaslana (though you make a note to question him about that later). How beautiful, you think...
"..Khaslana..." Especially as it rolls past your lips in a pitched moan — soft and quivering, as if you were still testing the waters to gauge a response.
His grip tightens, his fingers replying with a promise to bruise the supple skin beneath his hands as he proceeds to hold your legs still. You would think him a man starved, the way it seems to invigorate him as he drives himself further into you — nose bumping against your clit, tongue prodding into your warmth. Your voice breaks in a trail of whimpers, and he thinks perhaps he does have a selfish wish of his own.
"Again," he groans between a particularly assertive run of his tongue. "Say it again."
He eats you out idk I have Phainon brainworm. Did not proofread pls do not grill me.
“Phainon…” You couldn’t help but gasp as he kisses down your collarbone, his lips burying into your cleavage and latching onto the skin there. Your fingers find his silvery hair — they needed something to grip onto. He looks up at you with pleading eyes, his innocent expression out of place for what you’re certain is going through his mind.
“Can I..?”
You press your lips together at the question. How can you possibly say no to that face?
His expression crumbles into something pitiful, like a puppy denied what he wants, as he watches you hesitate.
“Please?" His voice is soft. "I'll be good."
The moment you nod, Phainon pulls down the low collar of your shirt, his lips latching back onto your skin without missing a beat. He kisses slowly, deliberately, and your breath catches as your body grows hot with anticipation.
He undoes the buttons of your shirt one by one, until there is nothing left holding it together. His mouth trails lower, past your stomach, until his lips meet the hem of your pants. Something in you twists every time he does that, every time he turns those pretty, pleading blue eyes up at you.
“…okay”
He grins almost a little too excitedly at your response. You could swear you see his non-existent tail wagging behind him, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he undoes your belt, then your buttons, then slides your bottoms off.
He pauses for a moment and looks at you. His hands rest warm against your hips as he leans in, pressing a single, unhurried kiss to your stomach.
"You're so pretty," he murmurs against your skin, almost to himself.
Then he continues kissing down, your left thigh and then your right, seeming to purposely ignore your throbbing core. Instead of his lips, you feel him his thumbs peel your swollen pussy open, making you gasps. He hums, seemingly happy with how wet you’ve gotten.
“P-Phai—! Don’t tease.” You gasps and reflexively try to close your legs but he made sure your efforts were for naught.
“Just admiring you, love.” His eyes shift briefly to your face then down again, “It's pretty when you get all flustered... and wet.”then he dips down and presses a soft kiss onto your wetness, in a way that feels almost like an apology.
“Don’t tease.” Your words came out more like a whine. You wanted no more than his sweet face in your cunt right now.
“…I’ll make it good. Promise” He mumbles before licking up your wet slit, his tongue poking at your clit, making you jolt. His tongue teased gently, almost reverent as he tasted your arousal. His hands gripped at your hips, keeping you pinned right where he wanted you as his mouth worked over every inch of your insides, sucking, licking, devouring. "Mmh... so good for me," came the muffled praise between the lewd sounds of his tongue inside your pussy.
You tremble at his touch, arching into him as your hand tangle in his silvery locks, pushing him flat against you. Each sweet sound that left your lips pushes him to do more. His tongue trace your outer lips, before flicking at your clit. You let out a particularly embarrassing sound.
“…there?”
He says it like he doesn’t already know what ticks you. He sucks at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. He feels you tremble under his grasps, arousal gushing out of your core. You almost screamed when he slips two fingers inside you, not stopping the abuse on your clit.
“P-Phai.. wait wa—“ You attempt to stop him, but your body is more honest. Phainon feels your insides clenching around his fingers. Despite your pleads, he knows to keep going. His fingers thrusts and curls, going at a relentless pace as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. It was only a matter of minutes before you were cumming all over his face, his fingers stilling for just a fraction of a second as he watched in awe at the sight.
But then his grip tightened again, holding you firmly in place as he curled his fingers, coaxing out even more with slow, deliberate thrusts. "…look at that," he groaned, voice rough as if he was on the edge himself. "You're so perfect like this… giving me everything." He continues to abuse your pussy, even when you tried to pull back. He didn't stop until you were trembling too much to take anymore.
You gasps as you try to catch your breath. He climbs to face you, looking oddly happy despite his face soaked wet with your release. He leans in to press a soft kiss at the corner or your lips, “…Was that good?”
You can only look at him, in a daze and nod slightly. He wraps his arms around you as he kisses the shell of your ear, the hot air blown into your ear making you shiver. You gulp, suddenly realizing the apparent hardness pressing against your stomach. He is definitely trying to get you riled up again.
“…Phainon.”
“Please? I kept my promise, right?”
You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, weighing your choices. Then you realize. You don’t have much of a choice.
“Phainon!” You moan as he was already grinding his cock against your overstimulated pussy.
╰┈➤ summary ; You didn't expect it to be like this. It feels so overwhelming, having these big hybrids lick and roam around your body while they knot you—it all feels surreal. But you aren't complaining anymore. The air in the dimly lit room hangs thick with the scent of musk and sweat, your instincts firing wildly as the three dog hybrids surround you, their eyes gleaming with raw obsession.
( !!!! ) Phainon + Flame reaver + Khaslana x gn! Reader , Hybrid AU , cat hybrid Reader , Dog hybrid phailings , reader's nickname is kitty , sub reader , Yandere/obsessive behavior from phailings, heat cycles , consensual sex , marking and scratching , rough sex , knotting , cum eating/swallowing dirty talk , kissing , breeding , foursome , Double penetration in one hole , double knotting , blowjob , handjob , marathon sex , overstimulation , tail pulling , Khaslana is rough , Reaver comforts you through it , Phai is whiny , aftercare is important!! , reader produces slick , probably ooc phailings , I do suggest reading the series firs , porn with little/no plot? , pure smut/filth
SERIES MASTERLISTS
( ✎ ) ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE let me know if I have any grammar errors. Hi guys, this is my first time writing foursome so feel free to give me advice, suggestions and criticism! Expect it to be edited multiple times even after I post it, I'm just that anxious about my grammar HSHHD
You didn't expect your heat to unravel everything like this. Waves of scorching need crashing through your body, making your skin flush and your core clench with desperate hunger.
Slick dripped down your thighs, your tail lashing wildly as instincts overrode reason. The three men had been circling you for hours, their possessive scents mingling with yours in the dimly lit room, where shadows clung to the walls and the air grew heavy with musk and anticipation.
No more holding back.
They surrounded you now, eyes locked on your form with an obsession that made your pulse race and body shiver.
Phainon hovered closest, his white hair tousled and falling over those piercing blue eyes, his frame trembling with barely restrained need. He whined softly, a sound that vibrated through his chest as he leaned in, his hands gentle yet desperate on your shoulders.
Reaver stood at the edge, his eyes burning with silent hunger. His fists clenched, but he didn't speak—actions were his language, and right now, they screamed possession.
And Khaslana huffed from his spot nearby, his scarred frame tense and ready. “You're ours, kitty,” he growled, voice rough as gravel. “No escaping this heat.”
It started with their tongues. Their tongues hot, wet laps against your skin that ignited every nerve. Phainon nuzzled your neck first, licking a stripe up to your ear while his whimpers grew louder, his cock already throbbing hard against your thigh. “Please, [name]... need you so bad,” he breathed, theres cracks in his voice as his tail wagged furiously.
Reaver joined silently, large hands spreading your thighs as he licked a slow path up your slick hole, tasting your heat with deliberate strokes that made you arch. Khaslana gripped your tail base, yanking it to expose you more, then buried his face between your legs, licking and biting your inner thighs.
Your claws extended instinctively, raking down Phainon's arms in sharp drags that left welts, drawing a high-pitched whine from him. “Ah—! [name]—scratch me, make me yours,” he gasped, but the others snarled possessively, drawing you into their midst.
Reaver paused his licking to press a grounding kiss to your thigh, his gaze steadying you amid the surge. Clothes tore away in the frenzy, their thick lengths springing free, veins pulsing and knots promising to lock you in place and claim you as theirs.
The heat surged hotter, demanding they claim you fully. Phainon guided your head down first, his blue eyes wide and pleading as he nudged the leaking tip of his cock against your trembling lips. “Take me in your mouth, p-please?... wanna knot in your mouth, feel you swallow me,” he whimpered, voice breaking with desperation. You parted your lips, tongue flicking out to taste the salty pre-cum beading at his slit before he pushed forward.
His shaft stretched your jaw, thick and hot as it slid over your tongue, filling your mouth until the swollen knot bumped your lips. You sucked greedily, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the veined underside, drawing broken whines from his throat. His hips jerked shallowly, fucking your mouth with increasing urgency, hands trembling in your hair.
At the same time, Reaver and Khaslana maneuvered you between them, sandwiching your body in their muscular frames. Reaver positioned himself in front, his scarred chest pressing against yours as he lifted one of your legs to hook over his hip. His dull eyes locked on yours, silent intensity radiating from him as he aligned his cock with your slick entrance.
Khaslana crowded in from behind, his rough hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, yanking your tail again to tilt your ass up. “Both of us are gonna take this tight hole. Gonna stretch you wide for our knots,” he stated, rubbing his thick length, nudging it at your dripping hole.
They didn't hold back—Khaslana thrust forward roughly, his blonde hair falling into his face as he snarled, “Fuck, so wet for us. This heat's made you perfect” Reaver followed his rhythm, silent but forceful, his eyes fixed on your face to gauge every reaction. Inch by inch, they buried themselves deeper, the burn of the stretch blending with the overwhelming fullness that had your heat-flushed body quivering.
You sobbed around Phainon's cock, the stretch burning fiercely as their heads breached you inch by inch.
“S-so full…” your muffled voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overwhelming invasion. Slick gushed out, easing their slide, but the fullness made your walls clench erratically.
Your claws scratched at the blankets, then reached back to rake across Reaver's arm. Reaver groaned and continued to thrust steadily, his free hand cupping your face to wipe your tears, then leaning in your shoulder blades, pressing soft and comforting kisses to your shoulder, his lips lingering to soothe the intensity without a word.
Khaslana snarled behind you, slamming deeper with rough snaps of his hips. “Fuuuck— look at you taking us both—such a good kitty” Their cocks rubbed against each other inside you, veins dragging along your sensitive walls, knots swelling and grinding at your entrance.
The pace built quickly, their cocks sliding in and out in tandem, knots swelling and grinding against your rim with each plunge. Slick coated their shafts, easing the friction as they double-penetrated your hole, the sensation of being so utterly claimed sending sparks through your nerves.
Phainon's whines escalated, his thrusts erratic as your mouth worked him relentlessly. "Gonna knot... oh—! [name], your throat— fuck—swallow my cum, pleasepleaseplease—" he begged, sobbing, mixing with his moans. With a final buck, his knot popped past your lips, locking in your mouth as hot spurts flooded your throat. You gulped it down, some overflowing to dribble down your chin, your claws digging into his thighs in response, scratching red welts that made him shudder and whine higher. He stayed tied, hips twitching as he rode out the waves, blue eyes glassy with tears.
Reaver and Khaslana didn't slow, pounding your stuffed hole in tandem—Reaver's steady rhythm contrasting Khaslana's brutal force. Their knots inflated fully, catching at your rim before forcing in together with wet pops, sealing them deep. Cum erupted in thick ropes, mixing with your slick and overflowing around the ties.
Khaslana bit your shoulder hard, leaving a mating mark that broke skin. “Feel us breeding you? No one else gets this.” Reaver's arms banded around your waist, pulling you flush as he spilled silently, his lips trailing soothing kisses along your jaw, a quiet anchor amid the intensity. Your body trembled, claws raking down both Reaver's and Khaslana's arms, making them groan in pain and pleasure.
The knots held for long minutes, their bodies pressed tight around you, tails entwining with yours in possessive curls. Phainon finally softened enough to pull free, licking the cum from your lips with a whimper. “Taste so good mixed with you, [name]... wanna cum in your hole now...” As Reaver and Khaslana withdrew with slick, obscene sounds—leaving your hole gaping and leaking, Phainon flipped you onto your back gently, sliding his cock into the messy heat, desperate to finally be inside you.
“Phai—! w-wait too full—!” The glide was effortless, your walls fluttering around him as he thrust deep, tears streaking his face.
“So perfect... filling you up, kitty. Bite me—mark your mate.” He leaned down, nuzzling your neck before sinking his teeth into your collarbone, a claiming bite that made you arch and bite his shoulders.
Your hands found Khaslana and Reaver on either side, fingers wrapping around their slick cocks. You stroked them firmly, twisting at the heads and pumping from base to tip, thumbs smearing the leaking cum.
Khaslana grunted roughly, thrusting into your fist. “Yeah, jerk us off like that—keep those hands on your mates.” Reaver captured your gaze, leaning in for a deep kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in silent comfort as you worked him, his scarred hand covering yours to guide the pace.
All three growled and whined with desperation, their bodies leaning into your touch, tails wagging as they begged for more of your heat, your skin, your everything.
The marathon sex stretched on without mercy, the room echoing with wet slaps, growls, and your mingled cries.
Phainon fucked you with fervent, whimpering strokes, his knot swelling again to lock inside, cum painting your walls as he praised you, "You're ours forever, [name]— ah!" He pulled out eventually, only for Khaslana to take his place, yanking your tail to flip you onto all fours and slamming in roughly.
“Gonna cum in you raw, [name]—no leaving after this.” His thrusts were punishing, claws scratching your hips in return for your earlier marks, knot tying quick as he flooded you, forcing you to lick the excess from his fingers.
Reaver followed, laying you against his chest for a slower, deeper pounding, his eyes watching intently as he kissed away your overwhelmed sobs. “Stay with us,” he murmured, words rough but tender, before knotting and spilling with a silent groan.
They rotated endlessly—double penetrating you once more with Phainon and Reaver stuffing your hole while Khaslana bites your shoulders and neck, leaving deep red marks.
And then Khalsana and Phainon sandwiching you again, both cocks forcing into your hole from front and back, knots locking in as Reaver fed you his release from his tip. You scratched their chests and backs, drawing thin lines of blood, and then biting your neck and thighs to leave mating marks sealing the bond.
Finally, as your heat recede into exhausted satisfaction, they slowed.
Reaver lifted you gently into his lap, his large hands cleaning the slick and cum from your thighs with a soft warm cloth from nearby, his lips pressing kisses to your temple.
Phainon curled against your side, whimpering softly as he licked and kissed the bites littered on your tenderly. “We love you so much, [name]. Don't ever leave—stay here, with us, forever.” Khaslana joined, rough hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped your core, golden eyes warm.
They showered you with kisses.
Soft kisses on your lips, neck, and marks, each of them praising you for taking them like a good mate. Reaver's arms wrapped around your frame, a silent promise of protection, as the room's musk faded into peaceful warmth.
SEPERATE ENDINGS — PHAINON | REAVER | KHASLANA
( ✎ ) I would like to take everyone for supporting me and waiting patiently for the chapters. I had so much fun writing these series and all of you made me really confident about my writing <3 <3 I might do a similar series soon, right after I finish all the remaining asks about the series. Once again thank you all and I love you all so much <333 Take care everyone!!!!
phainon x femreader in the bath chambers smut pls :333
phainon x fem!reader. smut. cunnilingus. praise.
pussy eater phainon strikes again.
a satisfied groan vibrates on your sensitive cunt. phainon has you on the ledge of his private bath chambers, one arm braced underneath your hips, holding your pussy to his mouth. his tongue greedily laps between your folds, drawing a strangled moan from you as you lie back on your elbows.
your moan echoes through his bath chamber, and another deep groan vibrates on your clit. he flicks his tongue around the throbbing nub, making your fingers scratch against the ledge of the tub as you rock your hips up to grind on his tongue.
phainon scoops your clit into his mouth to suck on, slurping sloppily as he sucks. your hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a louder moan tears from you.
chuckling, he releases your clit with a pop. "don't stifle your moans, my daybreak," phainon loves hearing your moans echo in his bath chamber. it lets him know he is pleasing you to the best of his ability. the louder you are for him, the better you are feeling. "let me hear how beautiful you sound."
he could get off on that alone.
among his list of relaxing things to do in the bath, eating you out is at the very top.
the warm steamy water works through the soreness in his muscles from hours of training. he could plunge his tongue inside your cunt, feel every tremble, and jolt run through your body.
he has the perfect view between your glorious thighs, bearing witness to your twitches as he tongue fucks your orgasm into building. taste the sweet of your slick saturating his tongue as you desperately grind on his mouth. his arm braced cleverly underneath you, making it easy for you to indulge yourself in fucking your cunt on his tongue.
your hand drops from your mouth in favor of the back of his head. your stroke his soft, white hair before pushing his mouth down onto your cunt. phainon's cock strains hard between his legs. he swears he could die a happy man right then every time you whenever you push his mouth down like that.
phainon moans, sloppily licking and sucking your puffy pussy, face shiny with your slick. he prods his tongue around your clit, flicking and probing. a sob of pleasure tears from your throat as your body is suddenly reduced to being utterly boneless.
"phainon, i'm gonna cum," you whimper, your hands falling from his head, "i'm gonna cum," you barely manage to finish, tears gathering in your eyes as warmth snaps tight in your core.
he lets out a long moan into your cunt. your whimper sounds so, so sweet. "you look so cute, going dumb on my tongue," he coos, kissing your clit before scooping it into his mouth again.
a prod of his tongue makes you see stars as your orgasm suddenly hits you. your cries echo through phainon's bath chamber freely. "hmm, the sweetest tasting ambrosia," he greedily laps at your release, "the water hasn't started getting cold yet," he pulls away to admire the sight of your messy cunt before helping himself again.
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DO NOT plagiarize/translate/repost on tumblr or any other site without my permission.
all shy.
۶۟ৎ phainon still gets shy. even when he wants you.
— around 2.2k words, nsfw! ageless blogs and minors will be blocked. established relationship, fem!reader, phainon is whiny, shy, desperate, and an eater, fem!receiving oral, praise, penetrative vaginal sex, a little breast play, marking, just two mfs in love, unprotected sex (don't). if i'm missing anything, please tell me
Phainon still gets shy around you sometimes, after all this time.
He loves your attention, the way your gaze rakes over him and how often you study his features (and your excuse of “having to commit such a pretty face into memory!”), but he still shies away from the explicit expression of your love and affection. He wants it, don’t get him wrong — he just gets overwhelmed from it, that someone he likes so much reciprocates, and actively wants him.
And wants him for him, rather than anything he could provide or any responsibility he could shoulder. Just an interest in him at his barest and most vulnerable.
“Phainon,” you croon, tracing a slow finger over the contours of his face. He shudders when you swipe your thumb over his jaw and up to his bottom lip, tugging the plush skin down slightly. “What are you thinking about?”
“Just that I’m lucky,” he manages, voice a little raspy and sleepy, and he smiles lazily at you. You smile and tilt your head when he gently squeezes the flesh of your thigh in his hand, tracing higher to just below the hem of your shorts. “That’s all.”
“Lucky?” You press a kiss to the freckles that dot along his cheekbones, and he giggles at the ticklish sensation, long lashes fluttering and brushing your cheeks as you get closer, breathing in and reveling in his proximity. “I’m luckier, pretty boy like you under me…”
He flushes red, squeezing your thigh a little harder before his hand slides upwards. You encourage him with a roll of your hips against his thigh, lowering your weight against him more, settling comfortably and bracketing him better with your legs.
Phainon thinks you don’t understand luck — when he has someone as wonderful as you, flush against him, all warm and real, arching and shivering when his callused fingers trace your spine — how could you possibly be luckier than him? How could anything best the way you melt for him?
Your focus on his face is steady, unflinching, and he can feel the heat of his shyness creeping up his neck, so he drops his head into the crook of your neck and gently presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, sliding your too-big sweater away so he can reach the soft skin, perfumed with your favorite lotion and a mix of you that always makes him a little hazy. You sigh happily, fingers tangling in his hair and he smiles against you at that, sucks a small mark right on the collarbone.
He wants you. He always does — wants your attention, even when it flusters him, wants your affection because it energizes him. Phainon groans softly when you roll your hips, in that small, distracted way you do when you don’t mean to, not yet, but when your body meets his instinctively. His hand dips back by your thighs, toying with the waistband of your clothes as his kisses search for the spot below your ear that always makes you shiver.
“Phai,” you breathe and he hums, letting the waistband of your panties snap back against your hip bone. Your wiggle encourages him, so he slides his hands upwards and casts your sweater overhead and aside. There’s goosebumps dotting your skin, and he quietly brings his kisses to your breasts. You shiver and he groans softly, licking and nipping at the sensitive nub of your nipple as his hand palms the other, and he’s pleased when you arch against him to get more. “See,” you gasp out a little shakily as he switches his attention to the other nipple, leaving slick marks across your chest that feel like a promise of how much more he wants and how lost in his want he already is, “lucky. You spoil me.”
He chuckles softly, more an amused exhale than anything, and when he pulls his head back, his eyes are fully dilated with his need. He can feel his cock throbbing in his sweatpants, but it’s far more rewarding to see and feel your desire blooming underneath his touch. “Maybe,” he agrees distractedly, helping you shift against him to yank your shorts off. “I have no complaints.”
“No?” you laugh, shifting eagerly as he pulls his shirt off and pulls you flat against his chest. The brush of his skin against yours and the slow, messy way he kisses you is so good, the way he breathes you in and dives back in with reignited vigor, making soft, needy noises low in the back of his throat as you keep pressing closer. “Not—hah—worried I’ll be too demanding?”
Phainon shakes his head and pulls back reluctantly, guiding you to lower against the mattress. You look at him, unguarded and heavy-lidded with desire, and a mix of want and embarrassment surges through him as your eyes devour him. “Like it,” he admits, slowly lowering between your thighs and slowly tugging your panties down, kissing the skin in a slow path back to the apex of your thighs once he settles. “Want you to want me” — his hands grasp your hips firmly, one arm wrapping around to keep you spread open, thighs bracketing his head. The brush of his hair against the skin makes you shiver, and you squirm as he presses a kiss over your clit — “demand away. Only I can meet them.”
You want to tease, but he stops kissing the skin of your pelvis and finally, slowly licks into you — slow and broad and flattened just right, and the retort dies as a sweet, weak whine on your tongue.
This is always Phainon’s favorite. You’re not good at holding eye contact here, so he can admire every pulse of pleasure that screws your expression tightly, every twitch of muscle, and the wetness of your cunt without getting in his head about how shy he is. He settles into his rhythm easily, alternating slow, flattened stripes of his tongue and focused suckles of your clit that make you whimper against him — and every time your clit pulses on his tongue, he groans softly, fingers flexing against you with his want.
He slips a hand free and up to hold yours, and is rewarded by an interlocking of fingers and an eager, helpless roll of your hips to press closer to his face. Phainon obliges, inhaling deeply as he presses closer and your thighs bracket his head more tightly. “Taste so good,” he groans softly, turning his head to kiss your now slick thigh and catch his breath. You look down at him now, whining and squirming as the building pressure in your stomach dies a little. “So pretty.”
And then he goes back in and moves his hand from your hip to slide down and tease the promise of his fingers — you grip his hair with your free hand when he does this, without fail, and drag him close against you, forcing his tongue to flick against your clit as you tilt your hips until he sinks a finger in down to the first knuckle. Your pleased groan makes him hum against you, grind his hips helplessly against the mattress. God, he wants you.
It doesn’t take long then, his focus lasering on the slick sound of cunt gushing around him and the soft, breathless gasps that sync with the clench of your walls around him as a second finger slides in and he thrusts them to curl against your g-spot, with the twitches of your thighs and bucking of your hips that make it so he really can’t breathe — all he can do is moan helplessly against you and let you ride through the waves of pleasure.
Phainon always knows when the dam of pressure cracks because you squeeze his hand so hard he thinks you might break it, and then you slacken against him, whining soft pleas and contradicting words until you push him off you, chest heaving and your pretty pussy puffy and oversensitive.
Your breath is always shaky as you recover, and Phainon keeps his head resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing soothing shapes on the back of your hand. He can feel that his face is glistening with your slick still, spoils of his efforts, and he licks the wetness off his fingers with a pleased hum, throbbing as the taste continues to coat his tongue.
“C’mere,” you tug him upwards and kiss him messily, sucking your own wetness off his tongue. Dirty girl, he thinks, grinding his hips forward mindlessly, desperate for friction, my dirty girl. And the possessiveness sears through him as you snap his waistband against him and smile cheekily at him, payback for his behavior earlier. He deserves it.
You never minded the mess, and he knew you intended to make one of him, too, from the way you drag wet kisses and bites down his neck and chest and grin salaciously as he shivers and moans out a soft, needy “baby…”
“Yeah, Phai?” The teasing lilt to your voice makes him want to kiss you, to bicker, but he can’t manage anything intelligent when you reach your hand in under the fabric and palm him. He’s so hard that he can feel it aching, and he knows he won’t last long, breathing already shaky as he imagines how wet and warm you’ll be around him. He twitches when you rub your thumb along the veins, smearing pre-cum down his shaft in a slick, teasing preview of what’s to come — and it’s a whole body twitch, a shiver running down his spine and his abs tensing as he aches. “You want something?”
“Baby, please,” he pouts, jaw dropping as the sensation suddenly stops, leaving him even more desperate, eyes heavy-lidded and dark as he watches you tug his clothing off. “I was nice.”
“You’re always nice,” you laugh, and when you pull him down by the shoulders and rub him against you, he whimpers. “Couldn’t help it. You’re too pretty like this.”
He whines, gasps — some mix of breathless, needy sound as you tilt your hips up and he slides in, and he can feel himself blushing everywhere, a mix of his desire and his shyness as you call him pretty. Phainon likes being pretty for you. Handsome, pretty, cute, sexy — almost anything you call him is good, and normally enough to make him look away, cheeks warm as he smiles, soft and pleased. But he can’t look away, not when your walls pulse around him, all wet and warm, and he feels your heartbeat and sees you arch against him. And that makes him shier, dropping his head down to your neck again as he slowly draws back, and the glide against his veins makes him feel weak.
You’re pliant as he drives forward into you, hand tangling back in his hair and when you whisper “good boy”, he fears that it might do him in. Every thrust has him softly gasping or whining, and you like it. You always do, tensing on purpose when his cock twitches deep in you to hear his breath shake and make the sounds escaping him get all warbly and weak as he tries to keep his rhythm steady.
“Angel,” Phainon shivers when the silken glide catches against him just right, and he dips his hand between the two of you to rub your clit. “I don’t know if I—”
You silence him with a kiss, smiling into it and pressing your forehead against his. It’s dizzy and heady, the way your breaths mingle, the way each thrust gets deeper and smoother as you start to tense and buck against him again, as both of you sweat and everything gets wetter.
“Ah—” he chokes out when one roll of your hips upwards grinds just right, and his rhythm falters into a desperate, mindless rut forward. “‘M gonna cum.”
When you keen weakly and tug on his hair enough it stings, he at least knows you’re at the edge with him, and that lets him thrust forward with abandon, panting and whining into your mouth as he tries to kiss you. The sensation is too much though, especially when you nibble his lower lip and clench at a precise roll forward. His hips stutter and he hisses, pulsing into you as your walls flutter.
But Phainon keeps rocking forward weakly, even as the sensitivity sparks down his spine and it stings, rubbing your clit with more pressure until you crescendo into a second orgasm, all pretty gasps and shaky thighs — and he keeps going until you slacken, spent, and he finally stills too, weak as he catches his breath and inhales shakily.
When he finally settles next to you, slowly and gingerly, finishes catching his breath, you curl against his side and rub your thumb over his puffy, bruised lower lip — much like you did before all this, like you’re studying the way your shared desires made it rosy and tender.
“I love you,” Phainon says softly, and, finally, he doesn’t feel shy. This is always when he is best at handling your affections and attention, when he has felt the silken grasp of your pussy and lost himself in you. When you’ve seen and felt him bare. You can’t get much closer to him than that.
“I love you too, Phainon,” you coo, kissing him slowly. “Very much.”
۶۟ৎ nyx's notes: if this gets deleted.. don't worry about it. more the writing doesn't feel satisfactory than me not wanting to fuck phainon. i love whiny man.
╰┈➤ summary ; Phainon doing his absolute best to make you feel better, even if it means looking desperate and whimpering like a mutt.
( ! ) Sub-ish phainon + dog hybrid, gn! reader + cat hybrid , heat cycles , knotting , breeding , mating press , doggy style , riding , marking , yandere behavior , reader gets called kitty , reader produces slick , dubcon , somnophilia , thigh humping , dirty talk , cockwarming , stockholm syndrome? , phainon is horny and needy as fuck , phainon is kinda feral in this , porn with little plot? , gender neutral reader , hybrid au , nasty dogs series , timeskip of your heat cycle , khaslana mentioned once
SERIES MASTERLISTS
( ✎ ) ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE so please expect some grammar mistakes. hi guys let me know if I did the warnings correctly so I can change it. Also let me know in the comments if you like this fic! (also can take opinions/criticism hehe).
“[Name]...ah—!”
Your body stirs faintly under the weight of Phainon's trembling form, but sleep clings to you like a heavy fog, your heat-scented skin radiating waves of intoxicating warmth that drive him deeper into madness. His fluffy ears twitch with every ragged breath you take, his tail thumping erratically against the bed as he presses his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
The scent.
Your scent.
it floods his senses, sweet and musky, pulling at the primal instincts buried in his hybrid blood. He's supposed to wait, supposed to respect the boundaries Khaslana drilled into him, but how can he when you're like this? So vulnerable, so his to claim.
"P-please... wake up," Phainon whimpers again, his voice cracking with desperate need as his hips grind harder against your thigh. The fabric of your pants bunches under the friction, his hardening cock straining against his own shorts, leaking precum that soaks through and smears wetly onto you. He nuzzles closer, his sharp canines grazing your collarbone in a mix of apology and possession, a low growl mixed with a whimper rumbling in his chest—not aggressive, but possessive.
No one else gets to smell you like this.
No one else gets to touch you.
You're his precious kitty. His everything, and this heat of yours is a siren call he can't ignore.
His hands, rough from woodwork, clutch at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to leave faint marks—marks that scream 'mine mine mine' even if you don't see them yet. He shifts, straddling your leg more firmly, his body heat mingling with yours in the dim intimacy of the room. The air is thick, charged with the slick sounds of his humping, each thrust forward making his balls tighten with aching want.
"I-I can't stop... it hurts so bad without you," he confesses in a broken sob, his tongue lolling out to lap at your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat mixed with that irresistible heat pheromones. Saliva trails down your neck as he licks broader strokes, cleaning and marking you all at once, his obsession bubbling up in the way he whispers against your ear.
"You're mine, right? Only mine... no one else can have you like this." His voice drops to a possessive hiss, even as his body submits to the rhythm, hips bucking faster, chasing friction that does nothing to sate the fire raging inside him. He wants to bury himself in you, to knot and fill you until you're bloated with his cum, until the everyone knows you belong to him.
But he waits—barely—for your eyes to flutter open, for you to acknowledge him, to let him help like he so desperately needs to. His free hand slips under your shirt, claws retracted but pads pressing warmly against your stomach, inching upward as if seeking permission in your awakening.
When your lashes finally part, hazy with sleep and the haze of heat, Phainon's pretty blue eyes lock onto yours, wide and pleading, pupils blown with lust and unhinged devotion.
"[Name]... you're awake. Let me— ahn!—let me make it better for you. P-please.." He doesn't stop his movements. He can't. His cock throbbing visibly through the damp fabric as he ruts against you, breath hot and panting over your lips. In this moment, submissive as he is, his heart coils tighter around you—refusing to let go, refusing to share.
Your eyes meet his, and in that hazy instant, the heat surging through your veins overrides any lingering drowsiness. You watch as phainon desperately rut into you, as lust began to cloud your mind.
Phainon's plea hangs in the air, his body trembling atop yours, cock twitching against your thigh with urgent need. You nod faintly and it's all the permission he needs. His ears perk up, tail wagging furiously as a broken whine spills from his throat.
"YES! Yes yes yes—thank yooouuu—!" he sobs, voice thick with relief and hunger. In a frenzy of motion, his hands fumble at your clothes, claws snagging fabric as he yanks your pants down your hips, exposing your slick hole to the cool air. The scent hits him harder now, unfiltered, and he groans, shoving his own shorts aside to free his throbbing cock. It's thick, veined, the tip already glistening with precum, knot swelling at the base in anticipation of locking inside you.
He doesn't waste time. Phainon grabs your thighs, spreading them wide as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock nudging against your hole. "Gonna fill you up... make you mine forever," he pants, eyes glazed with devotion, before thrusting forward in one desperate shove. His length sinks deep into your heat, stretching you around him, the slick sounds of entry filling the room as your walls clench instinctively.
"F-fuck... so tight," he whimpers, hips snapping immediately into a brutal rhythm. He's submissive in his begging, but the way he fucks you is pure possession—each plunge burying him to the hilt, balls slapping against your ass with wet smacks.
“Phai— wait!—” Your breath was taken away from you as you feel every ridge, every pulse of his cock as he grinds against that spot inside you, his knot bumping your entrance but not yet forcing in. His hands pin your hips down, keeping you open and vulnerable beneath him in this raw missionary hold, his chest pressing to yours as he licks and nips at your neck, marking you with saliva and light bites.
The pace builds fast, his whines turning to growls of obsession. "No one else... only me breeding you," he hisses between thrusts, cock pistoning relentlessly, churning your insides with slick friction. Precum mixes with your arousal, leaking out around his shaft as he chases release, but he holds back, wanting to drag this out, to claim every inch. Your body arches into him, heat demanding more, and he obliges, angling his hips to hit deeper, the tip kissing your g-spot with each forceful drive.
But Phainon isn't done with just this. His mind races with visions of locking you in place, ensuring his seed takes root. "Need... hahh—need to knot you properly," he gasps, pulling out suddenly with an obscene pop, your hole clenching around nothing. Before you can protest the emptiness, he flips you onto your stomach, hands gripping your waist to yank your ass up high. Doggy style suits him perfectly—his hybrid instincts kicking in as he mounts you from behind, tail curling over your own possessively.
"Like this... gonna breed you like this," he breathes hot against your ear, slamming back inside with a single, brutal thrust. The new angle lets him go even deeper, cock spearing you open as his hips piston wildly. His balls swing forward, smacking your inner thigh with every pound, while one hand reaches at the flat of your stomach to press on the bulge, heightening the burn. He leans over you, weight pinning you to the mattress, teeth grazing your shoulder as he bites down—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to stake his claim. "Gonna pump you full... watch it drip out, then plug you up again. You're staying bred, kitty. Mine."
The room echoes with the filthy symphony.
Skin slapping skin, your moans mingling with his desperate whines, the squelch of his cock plunging into your hole. Sweat slicks your bodies, his skin brushing your back as he ruts like a beast, knot swelling thicker now, teasing your hole with each withdrawal. He grinds it against you, stretching your rim wider, but pulls back just shy of locking, prolonging the torment. His free hand claws lightly at your sides, leaving red marks that scream ownership.
Not satisfied yet, Phainon's instinct demands more variety, more ways to bury himself and ensure you're overflowing. He withdraws again, cock bobbing slick and angry, strings of arousal connecting you. "Hold on... gotta make sure it sticks," he murmurs, voice laced with unhinged devotion. He rolls you onto your back once more, but this time hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half—the mating press, intimate and inescapable. Your knees nearly touch your chest, ass lifted off the bed as he looms over you, blue eyes boring into yours with manic intensity.
It feels so hot.
"Look at me... see how I claim you," he demands softly, submissive plea twisted with command, before driving back in. The position crushes you beneath him, his cock hitting impossibly deep, bullying your walls as gravity aids each downward thrust. His knot finally presses insistent now, the bulbous base grinding against your stretched entrance, demanding entry. You feel it pop past the ring with a lewd stretch on one particularly hard slam, locking him inside as his hips stutter.
"Ah—! Yes yes yesss—! More!—" he cries, though it's you he's begging through, body shuddering as his orgasm crashes. Hot ropes of cum flood your insides, pulsing thick and endless, his cock twitching with each spurt. He doesn't stop moving even knotted—shallow grinds, rocking to push it deeper, ensuring every drop coats your insides. His tongue lolls out, lapping at your face in sloppy affection, hands cradling your head as if you're precious, breakable—his to protect and possess.
But Phainon's fire isn't quenched. As the knot holds, he shifts you both, rolling so you're straddling his lap in a twisted reverse, his cock still buried deep. "Ride it... milk me more," he whines, hands on your hips guiding you up and down the locked length, the pressure building another load already. Cum squelches out around the seal, dripping down his balls, but he ignores it, focused on the nasty intimacy—your body impaled on him, forced to take every inch in this breeding perch.
He maneuvers again, easing you onto all fours while knotted, the tug pulling a gasp from both of you, then mounts you sideways, spooning tight as he resumes shallow thrusts. Each position milks him further, his seed overflowing, marking you inside and out. "All mine...," he whispers obsessively, nuzzling your hair, even as exhaustion tugs at him.
Finally, spent and locked, he collapses around you, cock still pulsing faintly, ensuring his claim lingers long after the heat fades.
╰┈➤ summary ; You wake up exhausted, your body aching with the relentless fire of your heat. The sheets cling to your sweat-dampened skin, and every muscle feels heavy, like you've run for miles without rest. Blinking groggily, you spot Reaver sitting beside the bed, his muscular form hunched slightly, those sharp ears perked toward you.
( ! ) Flame reaver + dog hybrid , Gender neutral! reader + cat hybrid , heat cycles , soft sex , slight angst , knotting , breeding , lots of kissing like A LOT , comfort , marking/hickeys , aftercare , slight yandere behavior from reaver but it's not really seen , reader produces slick , reaver barely talks
SERIES MASTERLISTS
( ✎ ) ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE so please expect some grammar mistakes. hi guys let me know if I did the warnings incorrectly so I can change it (also can take opinions/criticism hehe). This one is very soft hehe, I just love making reaver very soft and gentle.
You wake up exhausted, your body aching with the relentless fire of your heat.
The sheets cling to your sweat-dampened skin, and every muscle feels heavy, like you've run for miles without rest. Blinking groggily, you spot Reaver sitting beside the bed, his muscular form hunched slightly, those sharp ears perked toward you. His tail sways slowly, a quiet sign of his concern. He reaches out, his rough and scarred hand gently brushing your sensitive cat ears, the touch sending a shiver through you—part comfort, part spark to the embers already burning inside.
Reaver's dull eyes lock onto yours, intense and unblinking, as if he's been watching over you for hours.
He doesn't say a word. He never does when words feel too heavy.
Instead, his thumb traces the edge of your ear, slow and deliberate, easing the tension that knots your shoulders. The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lantern on the nightstand, casting shadows over his broad chest and the faint scars that map his wolfdog heritage. His fur, a mix of gray and black, bristles slightly as he leans closer, his scent—colds, sharp and familiar—washing over you like a balm.
A low whine escapes your throat as another wave of heat cramps through your core. Your body arches instinctively, claws digging into the mattress. Reaver's hand stills, his gaze sharpening with that adoring focus he reserves only for you.
He shifts onto the bed, the frame creaking under his weight, and pulls you into his lap without hesitation. His arms wrap around your waist, firm yet gentle, holding you against the solid warmth of his torso. He nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin, and presses a soft kiss there—light at first, then deeper, his lips lingering as if he could imprint himself into you.
The ache doesn't fade, but his presence dulls it, turning sharp pain into a throbbing need. You lean into him, your forehead resting against his collarbone, and he responds by tilting your chin up with a finger. His mouth finds yours in a slow, reassuring kiss, tongues brushing lazily, tasting the salt of your exhaustion. He kisses you like he's memorizing every curve of your lips, every hitch in your breath, his obsession pouring out in the way he devours you without rush. One hand slides up your back, fingers threading through your soft tail, while the other cups your hip, grounding you.
Minutes stretch as he kisses you endlessly—soft pecks along your jaw, deeper ones that make your head spin, nips at your lower lip that draw faint whimpers from you. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own filled with a quiet storm of worry and desire. The slight angst lingers in the furrow of his brow; he hates seeing you like this, vulnerable and spent from the heat that's ravaged you for days. But he won't leave your side, won't let you face it alone.
His tail curls around your own, a possessive loop, as he murmurs the first words he's spoken all night, voice rough like gravel but comforting,
"I've got you."
Those three words are enough to crack the dam inside you. You cling to him, burying your face in his neck, and he holds you tighter, rocking you gently. His hands roam, not demanding but soothing, massaging the knots in your shoulders, tracing the line of your spine. The heat builds again, insistent, and you shift in his lap, feeling the growing hardness of his cock pressing against you through the thin fabric separating you. Reaver growls low in his throat, a sound that's more comfort than threat, and he kisses your temple, then your cheek, guiding you down onto the bed with infinite care.
He hovers over you, his massive frame caging you protectively, but his touches remain feather-light. He peels away the sweat-soaked sheets, exposing your trembling body to the cool air, and immediately covers you with his own warmth. His mouth trails kisses down your neck, sucking gently at the skin until a faint hickey blooms under his lips—a mark of his claim, soft and blooming like a bruise from love. He moves lower, lips brushing your collarbone, then your chest, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses that make your skin tingle. Each one is deliberate, a silent promise that you're his to cherish, to protect.
Your hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer, and he obliges, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt on your skin. He sucks another mark just below your ribs, the pressure firm enough to sting sweetly, then soothes it with a swirl of his tongue. The obsession in his eyes never wavers as he watches your reactions, adjusting his pace to match your breaths.
When you arch into him, he presses his hips down, grinding slowly, letting you feel the thick length of his cock straining against you. No words, just actions—his body speaking volumes as he kisses his way back up, capturing your mouth in a deep, languid kiss that swallows your moans.
The heat demands more, and Reaver smells it, his hands sliding to your thighs, parting them with gentle insistence. He positions himself between your legs, his scarred fingers kneading the muscles there, easing the ache. He kisses you again, endlessly, his lips swollen from the contact, as he aligns his throbbing cock with your entrance. The first push is slow, careful, stretching you inch by inch until he's fully seated inside. You gasp into his mouth, and he stills, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. His tail thumps against the bed, a rhythmic beat of restraint.
He starts moving then, thrusts deep and unhurried, each one dragging against your inner walls in a way that builds the pleasure without overwhelming. His mouth never leaves yours; he kisses you through it all—soft, messy kisses that turn desperate as the rhythm picks up. One hand braces beside your head, the other grips your hip, guiding you to meet him. The slight concern flickers in his expression when you wince from a particularly deep ache, and he slows, peppering your face with kisses, whispering, "Easy... I've got you," before resuming with even more tenderness.
Sweat beads on his skin, mixing with yours, as he rocks into you. His cock swells at the base, the knot beginning to form, and he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. He pulls back slightly, eyes locked on yours, obsessive and adoring, as he thrusts harder, chasing the lock.
When the knot catches, tying you together, he shudders, burying his face in your neck. He bites down gently, not breaking skin but marking you with his teeth—a possessive claim amid the comfort. His hips grind in shallow circles, the pressure intense, flooding you with warmth as he breeds deep inside, his seed spilling in hot pulses.
The fullness is overwhelming, a mix of relief and ecstasy that quells the heat's fire. Reaver holds you through it, his body a shield, kissing your shoulders, your ears, anywhere he can reach while locked together. He doesn't pull away; instead, he rolls you both so you're draped over his chest, his arms encircling you like a fortress. The knot throbs, keeping him buried, and he strokes your back in slow circles, his rough hands surprisingly gentle on your sensitive skin.
Time blurs as you wait it out, his lips brushing your forehead in absent kisses. The worry eases from his features, replaced by a soft contentment. When the knot finally deflates, he slips out carefully, a trickle of his release following, but he doesn't let you feel exposed.
He grabs a warm cloth from the bedside basin—prepared in advance, because of course he was—and cleans you with meticulous care, wiping away the sweat and stickiness. His touches are reverent, almost worshipful, as he tends to the hickeys he's left, kissing each one softly.
He draws you into his side, pulling the fresh sheets over you both. His tail wraps around your waist, holding you close, and he nuzzles your hair, inhaling your scent like it's his lifeline. No grand declarations, just the steady rise and fall of his chest under your cheek, the quiet thrum of his heartbeat. He kisses your temple one last time, a final mark of comfort, and you drift toward sleep knowing he's there—obsessed, protective, yours.
But the night isn't over yet.
Even as exhaustion pulls at you, the heat lingers in faint echoes, and Reaver senses it. He shifts, propping himself on an elbow to look down at you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.
You locked eyes with him, “Again…please?”
He obliged, leaning in for another kiss, this one lazy and drawn-out, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that's tempered by care. His hand trails down your side, fingers splaying over your hip, and he pulls you flush against him again.
You're both still slick from before, bodies attuned, and he enters you once more with a smooth slide, no resistance left. This time, the pace is even slower, almost meditative, his thrusts measured to soothe rather than inflame. He kisses your neck, sucking a fresh hickey into the skin just above your pulse, the pull of his mouth sending sparks through your veins. His free hand finds yours, intertwining fingers, a silent anchor as he moves.
The instinct surges again, his knot swelling quicker this time, locking you in place with a shared gasp. He grinds deep, filling you anew, his growls muffled against your shoulder where he marks you with another bite—gentle, claiming. The warmth spreads, easing the last remnants of your heat, and he holds you through the waves, his body trembling with the effort of restraint.
He cleans you again, this time with kisses interspersed, his lips trailing over every inch he touches. He massages your aching limbs, working out the cramps with strong, sure hands, then feeds you sips of cool water from a cup he's kept nearby. When you're settled, he curls around you spoon-style, his chest to your back, one arm draped possessively over your waist. His breath evens out against your ear, but even in near-sleep, his tail twitches, ensuring you're secure.
The worry returns in the quiet hours before dawn.
You stir from a fitful dream, the heat's still affecting you, leaving you whimpering softly. Reaver's eyes snap open instantly, his hold tightening as he nuzzles your neck. He doesn't speak, but his actions flood you with reassurance—kisses peppered along your spine, hands rubbing warmth into your skin. He turns you to face him, capturing your lips in a deep kiss that chases away the shadows.
This time, when he takes you, it's pure comfort, his cock sliding home with familiar ease. The knot forms, breeding you once more, but it's the intimacy that lingers—the way he watches you, obsessed with every flutter of your lashes, every sigh you release. Marks accumulate: hickeys dotting your throat, collarbone, every part of your skin his mouth can reach.
By morning, the heat has finally broken, leaving you boneless and sated. Reaver tends to you with unwavering devotion, bathing you in a tub he's drawn, his hands soaping your hair with gentle strokes. He kisses your closed eyelids as you relax against him, the water lapping softly.
Back in bed, wrapped in his arms, he marks your shoulder with a final hickey, sealing the claim.
He never says much, but in his touches, his kisses, his obsessive but gentle care, you hear it all,
you're his world, and he'll comfort you through every storm.
i can't get the idea of soft dom phainon out of my head. this is inspired from a scene in map of the sounds of tokyo. it's a wonderful movie, i highly recommend it.
phainon's fingers are drop dead gorgeous. elegant in every sense of the word, right down to the bend. they are long. thick.
and capable.
he is in awe of how delicate your wrists look tied above your head. of how submissively helpless you look with his index finger slowly pumping in and out of your mouth, drool trickling cutely from the corner.
his cock pulses feeling your eager mouth sucking wet, and warm as you muffle soft moans. "you know, i quite like you like this," he shoots you his trademark , easy smile.
however, his striking blues are hazy with a heated lust. he taps his middle finger against your lip, silently biting back a groan as your mouth obediently opens. "you are twice as sweet this way," he presses slightly on your tongue, forcing them a little deeper into your mouth.
you gag softly as he gently hits your throat. "that's a good girl, get them nice, and wet for me," he praises as you recover, eagerly sucking. he pulls his fingers out, and blushes as your tongue chases them, lapping in erotic worship.
he rubs them on your tongue, drawing another soft moan from you before taking them out of your mouth. your breath hitches in your throat as he circles your nipple with his finger tip, tracing a line down your chest.
phainon chuckles softly as goosebumps dot your skin. "eager, are we?" he teases, parting the lips of your cunt. you let out a shaky moan as he presses on your clit.
he traces the shape of your hole, making you squirm a little as it quivers. "already clenching," he flicks his finger teasingly at your hole, and your pussy drools slick on it.
your back arches off his bed as he nudges his finger inside. the sudden, burning stretch of your cunt tears a lewd moan from your throat. he slowly bottoms out, intent on stroking and feeling every inch of your walls.
you can't help but whine at the way he slowly hooks his finger into your sweet spot a little at a time. "m-more," you can barely moan the word out as he applies a bit more pressure to his hooks.
"hmm," phainon hums casually, withdrawing his finger, he brings it up to tap your clit. "what do you say if you want a second finger?"
your thighs shake as your hips rock up to grind your clit on the pad. "please, a second finger. please," you look pleadingly at him, and it makes phainon's cock ache harder.
the sudden, delicious stretch of your cunt as it accommodates two of his fingers pools warmth tight in your core. "so good," you moan, your head spinning as he hooks his fingers deep into your sweet spot.
"be still," he commands softly, putting a hand on your hip as you squirm. "i have something i want to see," he swipes his thumb over your throbbing clit, making you melt.
he increases his pace, and suddenly you can barely think. he scissors your walls apart, prodding the knot of your orgasm tighter. you look longingly at his hand between your legs. "th-third, please," you barely manage, trembling.
phainon chuckles again, his smile widening. "you'll have to beg a little better than that, my day break," he slows his pace down, circling your clit with his thumb. "maybe cry a little," he adds.
"phainon, please! please, put a third finger inside me," you plead, tears welling in your eyes. "i can barely stand it," you are dizzy as your cunt clenches tight in wanting.
"that's my good girl," phainon hums in approval, rewarding your pussy with the stretch of a third finger. "i've got you, take all that i give you."
there is no restraint with his pace now. his fingers kiss firm, and deep into your sweet spot. a lewder moan keening from you with every wet pump. it feels like he is trying to push past your sweet spot, seeking something deeper with intent.
a certain pressure builds up behind your orgasm. "p-phainon," you whimper, realizing you can't stop it from building.
"shh, it's okay," he gently kisses your lips, increasing the pressure on your clit. "just let it happen," he can almost taste it you are so close to squirting. he can see it in the way you twitch. you always whimper a certain way.
your pussy squirts spontaneously on his fingers, and you barely have time to feel embarrassed about it before your orgasm roars over you. phainon's cock throbs in satisfaction as he fingers you through your orgasm.
it's impossible for him to ignore the straining ache in his cock. pulling his fingers out of you, he sits up and pumps his cock over your chest. "it's a shame to waste this, but i can't help it," he moans softly as cum spurts warm onto your chest.
three of his fingers, without fail, always make you squirt.
---
DO NOT plagiarize/translate/repost on tumblr or any other site without my permission.
summary: phainon shows off his strength in more ways than one
content: standing sex (against the wall), unprotected sex, fem!reader, established relationship, endearments (sunshine & my dawn), rough sex if you squint, phainon whimpers during sex (because i said so)
note: im back guys. i have too many deadlines but chose to write this instead. as always, not proofread.
phainon is incredibly proud of his arms. he would train hard everyday so that you would be able to use his biceps as you see fit. he just loves to use his strength to carry you around in your shared home. he’d always say that you're light as feather whenever he hoists you up whenever he wanted to.
it seems that this kind of behavior extends to his sexual desires. phainon has this favorite sex position where he can show you how effortless it is for him to carry you: it's your back against the wall, arms around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist, one arm easily carries all of your weight while his free hand is placed at the back of your head — he makes sure you don't hit your head while he roughly thrusts his hips onto your body. the sounds of skin slapping echoing in the room mixed with phainon’s grunts and whimpers and your soft cries.
you sometimes feel that you're too heavy for phainon to support all of you in this position but you're in no room to voice out your insecurities. not when phainon is trying to prove to you that he can, by fucking his cock on your sobbing pussy that clenches around him whenever he hits that spot.
he can't help it. you look so helpless and dependent on him when he fucks you like this. it just fuels his desire of making you feel good all the while making you tremble in his touch.
if phainon wasn't satisfied with that, he'd bring you in the showers and show off his strength while water is running down, making it easier for phainon to slip his cock inside you. at first, he would always say, “let me clean you up, sunshine. don't worry, i'll take care of you” which leads to, “don't worry about slipping, my dawn. i got you. just enjoy my cock pumping in you, yeah?”
your dear lover always has a way with words. he always knows what to say to persuade you and you often fall for those tricks of his. you can't exactly complain though. not when you enjoy how he fucks you senseless.
the back of your head was constantly hitting the edge of the pool, before he gently place his hand, holding it steady as he chokes you out with his thick cock, heavy balls dripping with spit slapping against your chin
"ah please- deeper—"
he pleaded more to himself, his eyes are rolled back as he felt his tip kissing the back of your throat. it felt heavenly, thrusting his hips to your face as he drowns pleasure from your hot mouth
your body felt warm, from the warm temperature of the water, steam, and the way he thrusts into your mouth desperately. You did your best! Sliding your tongue on the underside of his length, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him off nice and good untill he slips out a whimper, spreading his legs wider apart and pushed your head down hard. Your nostrils are invaded by his musky scent, which made you moan on his cock and you couldn't help but inhale it deeply. his hips stuttered
"dont do that- fuck.."
The gesture was incredibly erotic to him. He slammed his length harder once before pulling out with a wet pop, he grabbed his thick wet dick and slapped it agaist your cheek with squelching sounds. The tip erupted with more precum as he slides the length along your face, looking down at you with a fucked out expression
"Do you like it? Being choked by my cock?" He inquired, but not letting you mutter a single word as he gathers his hot spit, dripping down to your tongue, then smacked his throbbing tip against it before pushing back into your mouth
With a loud moan, he instantly exploded in your mouth, his thick, hot seed filling every inch of your small cavern. You gagged and choked, trying to swallow the massive load. He held your head firmly in place, forcing you to take every last drop.
phainon x fem!reader. smut. size kink. praise. creampie. soft!dom phainon.
always remember, communication during fucking is super important. phainon, i feel, would excel at this😌
given how ungodly tall phainon is, it's blatantly obvious he is going to be long, and thick. curved, and able to reach that spot that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head with one languid push of his hips.
you are straddling phainon, his big hands on your hips as he eases you down onto his cock. the tip is barely pushed in past your hole, and already it feels so fucking full. your breath is stolen away as a shaky moan sounds from you.
your pussy practically oozes on his cock as you stretch to accommodate him. one hand comes up to caress your cheek. "are you okay?" he asks, kissing your forehead, "think you can take a little more?"
"mhm, i am okay," you nod, and rock your hips down, giving him permission to proceed. he eases a little more of his length inside of you, going slow so as not to stretch you apart too fast. he is ready to stop the instant you tell him too.
you are quite small compared to him, so naturally, it's going to be a tight fit.
your unwavering determination to prove you could take every inch of him fills him with pride. it's incredibly endearing in a cute way.
phainon strokes his fingers up the dips in your spine soothingly. "that's my good girl," he hums, beginning to ease his cock more inside of you. reaching down, he spreads your folds, "look at how beautiful you look, weeping and stretched for me like this."
his praise sends warm pleasure to gather in your core. you rock your hips down, and the delicious stretch of your cunt tears your loudest moan yet from you. tears gather in your hazy eyes.
your body shakes. as good as it feels, it's still a bit too much. phainon chuckles softly, and kisses the tears from your eyes. he rubs his thumb over your throbbing clit. your walls flutter tight around his cock, and you rest your forehead against his.
"how about if i help you a little more," he gently lifts you off his cock, and you whine at how empty your pussy feels now. he figures putting you on your back would be comfortable for you.
once you are on your back, he spreads your legs, massaging his fingers on your clit. you let out a satisfied moan, rocking your hips up to grind on his fingers. "i'm ready," you reassure, leaning up to give him a deep, lingering kiss.
phainon eases you back down onto the bed, leaving his lips on yours for a moment. "tell me when it's too much," he instructs, bringing his cock head to your quivering hole again.
he groans as he slowly starts to push himself back inside. the tight feeling of your stretching cunt nearly makes him lose it. he has to stop himself from taking you all at once. there would be time for that would take him more easily.
your moans rise in octave the further his cock gets inside of you. the curved tip is absolutely assaulting your walls, stimulating what you swore was every nerve in your cunt.
"ph-phainon," you whimper his name in the sweetest sounding moan, making his cock pulse between your gummy walls, "you can start thrusting. please, i need you completely inside of me."
"hold onto me," he grunts, putting one of your legs over his shoulder for better leverage. he moans shakily as he bottoms out, giving you a few moments to adjust before he starts thrusting.
he knows you are okay now, so he can loosen his restraint.
his fingers never leave your swollen clit as he sets his pace. "good girl," he moans, pushing his cock into your sweet spot and making your back arch off his bed, "so tight, and perfect for me."
your moans border on pornographic as his cock squelches obscenely in your cunt. you barely got one moan out before he drove his cock into your sweet spot again. "phainon, you are so..so big," you babble a little, boneless in his strong grasp.
he chuckles softly, giving a firmer snap of his hips as he increases the pressure on your clit. "you are taking me so well, my daybreak," he squeezes his eyes closed for a moment, "i swear i could cum inside you twice, you are so tight," he groans, drunk of the gummy feeling of your cunt.
"you can," you moan, pleading, clinging to him in a way that makes him feel weaker for you. "please," you add so sweetly, blushing at how intimate him cumming inside of you is.
phainon's head is spinning. getting to fuck himself inside you for the first time, and getting to cum inside of you! "you are too good to me," he moans, the last of composure snapping.
his thrusts turn a little rough, he just can't help himself. the curve of his cock hooks into your sweet spot, making your orgasm suddenly snap apart. he holds himself back from cumming just to feel your cunt spasming so tight that much longer.
whimpers tinge your moans as he fuck you through your orgasm. you shake as he massages your clit, and whimpers tinge your moans. "shh, shh," he soothes, kissing more tears from your eyes. "i'm so close," he groans, your breasts bouncing in time with his rhythm, "i'm so close..so close."
he lets out a long moan as his cock empties inside of you. a soft whimper escapes him, sloppily fucking his cum inside of you. "my good girl, my sweet girl," he quickly kisses you, "let's see if you take a little more."
---
DO NOT steal/repost/translate and repost on tumblr or any other site without my permission.
It's a great joy for Phainon to take care of you after such intimate activities. He may not be aware of it, but he will melt if it’s you who will take care of him. He would be in denial at first and would even insist that he can do it all by himself. Still, he is very happy because of your care. But, before any aftercare, cuddling is necessary!
Body part
Phainon is very proud of his arms; he can’t miss a chance to show off before you, be it his sword training, him undressing (although sometimes it can be more funny than seductive), or him manhandling you.
But if you give some special attention to his tattooed neck or his thighs, Phainon will be a blushing mess, and his moans will be even louder and more shameless.
Cum
Phainon was kind of ashamed of his cum because it’s much warmer than that of the average person. During your first time, it had kind of startled you, and Phainon almost started apologizing for it if not for your reassurance that you’re totally fine with it and even liked such temperature play. One more thing is the sheer amount of his cum. His loads are always so overwhelming; it’s impossible not to feel full when so much cum floods you.
Dirty secret
You know about this secret to some degree. You know that Phainon keeps some of the things from your dates as keepsakes; what you do not know is the darker side of it. Among not-so-innocent things, there are not just your daily things but also a few pieces of clothing (underwear included). Phainon is painfully aware of how ‘stalkerish’ it is but just can’t help himself; it’s his desire to have part of you, your life, that is simply overwhelming.
Experience
Mostly theoretical experience (thanks to smut novels from the Grove that secretly went from hand to hand among students) and wild imagination are sources of Phainon’s experience. He totally isn’t the type to have sex without feelings; that’s why even after your relationship had started, it took some time to be intimate. And not that that is a problem-that kind of flattering to be such a man’s first, and this man literally burns with passion to learn about pleasuring you as soon as possible.
Favorite position
Phainon prefers positions with as much skin contact as possible. He thrives on intimate physical connection, and even when he is literally inside you, he still wants to be closer.
Goofy
Phainon is no stranger to funny situations during sex, especially during your first few times. It was incredibly important for him that you didn’t judge him and just consoled him with a warm and kind smile. Later, Phainon is okay with some jokes to lighten the atmosphere.
Hair
Phainon is trying to look pretty for you; therefore, he takes care of himself. So there is no hair on his intimate parts.
Intimacy
As mentioned above, Phainon is not the one to have sex without feelings; foremost, sex for him is the peak of your shared love. He shows it for you with the sweetest words and the gentlest touches. Even when he is lost in passion and becomes rougher, you still would feel that it is lovemaking. Phainon puts his utmost efforts into making you feel loved.
Jack off
Before your relationship, he sometimes jacked off for stress relief, but with your appearance in his life, he felt a surge in desires. Phainon became lost in his fantasies more than he wanted to admit; he just can’t help but keep on thinking about you. After you have started fucking, he still sometimes masturbates to not overwhelm you with his high libido.
Kink
Praise kink final boss. It’s impossible not to blush from his sweet words. Apparently, his oratorical skills bloom differently in bed. He finds praise words for every part of you. When Phainon is talking, you’re practically drowning in his love. But if you decide to turn the tables? Your praise is truly Deliverer’s Achilles’ heel. He’s so greedy for your love and affection, and he takes all you give him like the good boy he is. Phainon would be turned into a blushing mess, and all his eloquence would be reduced to incoherent moans of your name.
Location
It’s easier to say where you didn’t do it. Even though Phainon is trying to keep everything within the house, sex in Okhema’s bath still happens quite often, and it’s not the only place that isn’t safe from your passionate escapades. Even if you try to be more rational among the two of you, his burning-with-lust gaze becomes the decisive argument that makes you give in.
Motivation
It’s hard to pinpoint one thing, but most often Phainon is turned on by closeness with you because he just wants to be even closer. Another thing is that if you won't see each other all day because of some business or his mission as Chrysos Heir—if that’s the case, Pahinon wants to touch you so that your warmth will be with him all the time for the entire time you are apart.
No
Anything that could make any of you feel unloved. The thought of degrading or hurting you would never even cross Phainon’s mind, and even if you bring up this topic like kink, he will refuse outright and even be somewhat offended, because your closeness is very important for Phainon and he doesn’t want to taint it with something like that.
Another no is sex while one of you is unconscious, no matter if asleep or drunk. Phainon thinks that there is no true closeness in such moments.
Oral
Blushing, needy puppy when receiving. It's Phainon’s weakness when you tease him, alternating between licking and sucking, and if you swallow his cum, he will be hard again in an instant. When giving, Phainon is slightly inexperienced yet eager to please you, gentle yet meticulous in his dedication to getting you off. Also, he would make you feel embarrassed with countless compliments on your taste, and he would shamelessly moan if you grasped his hair. (And, yes, he will ask you to sit on his face.) Both these sides are so adorable and so him.
Pace
Phainon always promises to be gentle and slow. And he even maintains such pace in the first few minutes, but then, then he surrenders to desire, to the feeling of you around him, and his pace becomes faster, desperate, feverish. If he overdoes it, Phainon will apologize profusely for indulging in so much pleasure. He just cannot control his need to be closer, to be deeper inside you, and his pace, how he places your legs on his shoulders, is the greatest display of this need.
Quickie
Once again, it often happens that he can’t keep it in his pants, so quickies are not rare, even though Phainon genuinely prefers proper sensual sex. Quickies are mostly passionate parting before his mission or something semi-public.
Risk
Phainon is much more of a risk-taker than it may seem from his golden boy appearance. It’s he who initiates all your semi-public escapades. And his skills to convince you with his silver tongue and gentle touch… are no less than dangerous, because it’s so hard for you to more or less keep within limits.
Stamina
You always understand that Phainon’s stamina is crazy, but even ‘crazy’ is an understatement. Still, for you it’s something scary but hot at the same time. To be honest, it is highly unlikely that you would ever exhaust his stamina. And Phainon is aware of that too, so he keeps tabs on your state even when he is lost in pleasure. If he thinks that you’re too exhausted, he’ll immediately stop and will take care of you.
Toys
Phainon would be all for giving toys a try. He will definitely take a responsible approach to this, researching different types of toys, pondering what will be the most pleasurable for both of you.
Unfair
Between overstimulation and edging, he prefers overstimulation. Actually, he cannot endure edging at all, and after the first ruined peak, Phainon will become a whiny mess with tears in the corners of his eyes; it does not take much for him to start begging. But when it comes to overstimulation, it's something that Phainon sometimes does unconsciously, because what can be better than pleasure? It's only more pleasure. Phainon is really insatiable; he wants more and more, for you to be able to think only about him. He will be asking for one more round, even when there is so much pleasure that it’s borderline painful.
Volume
Phainon is loud, proudly loud. It’s hard for him to be quiet when he feels so good. He moans, whines, whimpers, and begs. His deep velvet voice sends goosebumps down your spine. And you can’t help yourself but want to hear more of him.
X-ray
Phainon is pretty big; he realized that fact even before your relationship, but this realization hit different after you two started to have sex. His cock is huge and thick, with visible veins. It’s hard for you to take him all without proper prep, but even then the feeling of stretching is borderline painful, but Phainon would always try to give you time to get used to him.
There are moments during sex when Phainon would press to the bottom of your tummy to feel just how deep inside he is.
Yearning
Phainon is insatiable for you. There was one time when he jokingly said that he needs sex at least twice a day, in the morning, for a good day, and in the evening, for a good night's sleep (actually, it isn't a joke at all). Not to mention all these multiple rounds… But he would put in efforts to not make this inconvenient for you and for you to not feel forced to satisfy all his needs. Phainon understands well that he becomes turned on just from being with you, and there was a time when he had even been ashamed of this part of himself before you assured him that it was okay with you.
Zzz
When Phainon is falling asleep after sex, he is trying to stay close to you as long as possible, hugging and clinging to you. He curls his arm around you, and you tuck your head against his chest. His body feels strangely light and cotton-soft and pleasantly in post-nut clarity. What's more, afterward he will be very talkative, talking about everything under the sun, and you will fall asleep to the sound of his voice.
Okhema throws a celebration to commemorate the end of the Month of Cultivation, and as one of Aglaea's primary attendants, you find yourself working nonstop on the night of. Your longtime friend and crush Phainon offers you reprieve, but not before things so slightly sideways.
note: it's long. there's buildup and everything. God I love Phainon, and I hope y'all like this as much as I did writing it.
content: AFAB!reader x phainon; friends to lovers; they have unspecified friendly history tgt; pining; light angst; some humor; messy, messy makeouts; frottage; semi-public sex; dry humping but it kinda turns wet idk??; nipple play; feelings during sex; CONSENT IS SEXY!; phainon 🥹
wc: 5366
In the many millennia since Okhema's founding at the foot of Kephale, the city has slowly shifted. Their devotion to Kephale remains, but their culture transformed from small and quiet to raucous and bustling.
The same applies to their celebrations. Today is a complete spectacle—the arrival of the Month of Joy. Stalls sprawl the city, selling specialties, and the best street musicians parade from the Marmoreal Palace all the way down to the entrance. The citizens are out and about, drinking and making merry. Even from one of the balconies of the Palace, the sound of the kithara still reaches your ears, a subtle hum under the commotion.
You're leaning against the smooth, marble railing, and as you do, a gentle breeze tousles your hair. It cools your skin and dries the sweat on your body.
This event is fairly high in importance on Aglaea's busy schedule, and the increasing risk to maintain the safety of the citizens during the event takes ultimate precedence. With her swept away deep into preparations, oversight was also placed upon Tribbie and Trianne. Though you were one of Aglaea's primary attendants, typically moving alongside her, you were instead whisked into managing the Baths. Tonight, the pools are flooded with Okheman citizens and the sharp scent of ambrosia.
It's overwhelming. You've been rushing back and forth, here and there, from room to room, aided by the Garmentmaker that trails behind you relaying various problems that seem to pop up like persistent locusts. Somehow sensing your increased fatigue, the Garmentmaker brought you to the balcony to rest. It's been around five minutes since then, and the same time since the Garmentmaker drifted away to carry out other menial duties.
Thank Kephale above for the break you have now, because you doubt you can resume working otherwise.
As you peer down at the brilliant array of lights—oranges, yellows, blues, reds, and pinks—and inhale the scent of the signature fish soup brewing in the city, you purse your lips. It's been far too long since you've directly participated in the festivities yourself, and your heart twinges at the onset of nostalgia.
You're happy in your longtime role as one of Aglaea's attendants. Hell, not only were you able to help her, but the other respected Chrysos Heirs several times as well before, in the Flame Chase Journey. Mostly in meetings, accompanying them in various errands, and even the occasional celebration which allowed attendants of your high enough station. Your mother had said that that in itself is a blessing from the Titans in your last correspondence with her.
And yet now, in this moment, that satisfaction recedes, revealing discontent.
You wallow in your feelings and subconsciously pick at your uniform, rolling the cloth in between your fingers. A few moments later, the sound of swooshing fabric registers to you, and the Garmentmaker cruises around the corner to the balcony. It beckons you to come, resume working, so what else are you to do?
You tie some of your hair back, adjust your skirt, and stalk behind Aglaea's helper. Just as you leave the balcony, you pause, having a clear view of the Hero's Bath.
And there, in the corner of the central bath, is another source of your occasional discontent. He is a 3-inch figure in the distance, his face slightly fuzzy, but you know that undeniably, stripped of his bloodstained armor and underclothes, sits Phainon. Everything below his chest is submerged by the steam, and you catch a glimpse from afar of his sun tattoo.
Then comes his barking laughter, sonorous and joyful, likely at something Castorice said from next to him. It's fluttery and warm, so you can't help the fond smile that pulls on your lips. You desperately want to call out to him like you usually do.
Then, a faint snipping sound echoes from a few yards away, metal sliding against metal, and you remember that you have responsibilities up until the last hour before midnight. You can greet Phainon then, surely.
You take several swift paces and fall in line with the Garmentmaker, who you desperately hope refrains from relaying any of the past few minutes to its master.
---
In the final few minutes before your free hour, as if the Titans themselves bestowed upon you both wonderful luck and cursed misfortune, you encounter Phainon in the halls.
It takes all you have to not stop and stare, because what the hell?
You are no stranger at all to shirtless men, much less shirtless Phainon, having seen him grace the normal baths in that undressed state, but things are so, so very different and new, now that it's just you two in the vicinity.
His skin is flushed a pale, lovely red, and the light from the long lamps along the corridor caresses his features. Droplets of sweat and water sit on his pecs, on his abs, and some trickle down, disappearing into the towel slung on his hips. And his V-line, Kephale, what a V-line, you bemoan internally.
You want to keep looking, at the veins trailing on his forearms and his long, thick fingers, but you jolt with the realization that you have been staring for far too long than is appropriate—that is, never.
"Good evening, Lord Phainon. How were the—" Your words get caught in your throat, entrapped, by the weight of Phainon's gaze. His lips are quirked slightly up, and his eyebrow is raised, looking awfully amused.
"You're looking a little nervous there," he says. "Something happened?"
His eyes have a sparkle of something that you have no pleasure of finding out. Embarrassment churns in your gut. You're sure he already suspects something's up—maybe he noticed you were practically devouring him with your eyes.
"I'm fine, Lord Phainon," you say, aiming for nonchalance, "things are just a bit hectic tonight."
As if the previous moment disappeared into the wind, Phainon furrows his brow in confusion.
"I thought you were off tonight? I was wondering why I hadn't seen you or Lady Aglaea's other assistant," he asks. "I haven't even been able to get a hold of her, actually. Or even you. Have you checked your teleslate?"
Ah. You haven't checked your teleslate since after your morning bath, because the festivities immediately began; soon after your own departure, your company was the Garmentmaker's ever-lingering presence.
"Oh, uh, I haven't checked since the morning. I haven't gotten the opportunity at all, really." You begin sheepishly, averting your eyes. "Sorry about that. I can check it now, though."
"No need! I can just say it now." Phainon's eyes brighten, and he grins beautifully.
"Come with me for the last hour before midnight!"
You're taken aback, simply because you weren't expecting to have the whole hour with him. It seems like that reaction was very visible because the Deliverer near-imperceptibly wilts. You scramble to fix that, stammering, "no, no, Lord Phainon, I'd love to come!"
"Oh, phew, okay. I thought I—I initially thought you didn't want to," he chuckles in relief. He places one of his hands on his hip, and the towel rides down slightly, a movement you track.
"Um," you start eloquently, "I just thought you would spend the rest of the evening with the other heirs outside?"
"Oh! I guess I could? But I spent the past few hours shriveling up in the baths with them, and I wanted to do something else tonight, y'know? 'Sides, not like we're strangers." Phainon's voice lilts up enthusiastically.
"Well, I'd love to, Lord Phainon. If you'll excuse me to go change, I'll be at the front in around 20?"
"Sounds good! I also need to, well, change." He gestures down at his state of undress, and you take the chance to once again peer down. The water has long since dried, but even then, his muscles still appear atrociously good. You want to reach out and rake your fingers down his pecs, want to feel how pliable they'd be—
"—hey?" He calls your name, and damn it, you were zoning out again, weren't you? You can't even control the physical stutter your body has at being, this time, truly caught, so you shout out a quick 'bye Lord Phainon' and speed walk past him as dignified as possible. You don't see his expression at all, nor do you want to.
By the time you get to your quarters, you're a complete mess. Thankfully, no one important saw you practically race through the halls as you rounded the corner, most everyone outside of this area of the Palace for the time being.
You slam the door behind you, heart in your chest pounding against your rib-cage. And it's not the only thing that's pounding. You only notice the very apparent arousal between your legs now, sticky and uncomfortable. The most simple solution is to collapse face first onto the bed and rub yourself out to the image of Phainon fresh out of the bath ingrained in your mind. But you can't do that. Besides, the longer you take now, the less time you'll have with him outside.
Rushing, you wash your face and dab away the sweat—hardly any time for a bath. Once your face is dried, you dress in your best casual garb: a long, white, layered skirt and a rust-colored flowy top. Quickly, you apply light makeup and jewelry, and just before leaving your quarters, you spritz on your best perfume, skin the scent of sandalwood. The teleslate says around 20 minutes passed, which, not too bad, but you pick up your pace hoping to not find an incensed Phainon waiting at the Palace entrance.
On the way, you pass the same Garmentmaker, who glides by without complaint. You take that as a pass, sighing in relief at the free time.
But your mind is still occupied.
It's not the first market trip with him before, and yet probably because of the occasion, you are jittery. Often, those trips occurred because he happened to be there at the right moment to patrol the city when you had tasks to complete.
You just can't help wishing for a nice end to the night. The ones that occasionally intrude in your mind during slumber, where all you can see, smell, taste and touch is him. Naive thinking, but you can't help it; it's Kephale's city, but Mnestia tiptoes where they please.
Phainon soon comes into your line of sight, and any and all thoughts you have halt. He's chatting with one of the secretaries of the Marmoreal Palace, so he doesn't notice you yet.
Oh, but you're definitely noticing him.
Phainon wears a white low cut, collared shirt, with gold accent details and hem, giving a sneak-peak of his delicious expanse of chest. The top has flowy sleeves, similar to your own skirt, but he wears gold, hugging armbands right above his biceps. His trousers and boots are the same as usual, but his appearance looks princely, rather than the familiar armor clad warrior. Like he's intending on truly enjoying this night without burden. Then you find his scabbard and think, nevermind, warrior through and through.
"Lord Phainon," you call and wave your hand, "hope I haven't kept you long!"
Phainon perks up, and you might need your sight checked, because his ears redden. He quickly ducks his head down, speaks, and jogs over to you, eyes crinkled.
"Hey, no you haven't at all!" He laughs out. "Thanks for accompanying me tonight."
Phainon offers you his arm, looking at you expectantly. "Shall we get going?"
You hesitate initially, but eventually loop your arm through his and let him guide you out the door. Through the top, you can feel his bulging arm, straining against the fabric, and you're growing slightly bothered at being in such close proximity to him.
"I thought we could start with Lairos' Lair." Phainon points to a nearby stall at the beginning of Okhema's main street, and you crane your head to see it. "Because I'm sure you haven't eaten much this evening. The original restaurant is super good, and in fact, Mydei gives it a gold star..."
He wasn't kidding. The skewers melted apart in your mouth and coupled with your own exhaustion, it made a heaven-sent meal.
You both weave your way through the stalls and crowds of people. Interspersed throughout the food and clothing stalls were game stalls, and you each took turns forking out money, him losing sorely while you claimed victory.
"I just don't understand why my luck is so damn bad with these!" Phainon groans, dragging a hand down his face at the tenth loss in a row.
You chuckle and place the dromas plushie in your bag. "Lord Phainon, these are games made to scam innocent customers like you! Of course you'd lose. Er, no offense."
"None taken, haha." His eyes turn accusatory. "Hey, then how'd you win one?"
"I'm just a natural. What can I say?" You shrug, enjoying the situation too much. "Perhaps you need training in stall game strategy more than swordplay."
"And where exactly could I learn that?"
"I'm not exactly sure..." You trail off. "Could we even salvage ten losses?"
Instead of the giggles you were expecting that to incite, Phainon just hums thoughtfully.
"Is everything good, Lord Phainon?" You shift your feet after an outstretched moment of silence and clutch your bag harder.
"Hmm."
"Huh?"
"Ah—Yes, yeah, everything's good. Just—your earrings are quite beautiful." It's an obvious lie, but mercifully you play along with it. A wisp of worry forms in your gut.
"Thank you! I actually bought it here as a little celebratory gift from my first paycheck."
"Truly you have an eye for style. Suits you to work under Lady Goldweaver herself." Phainon reaches out and gently flicks your earring, the hoop tapping against your neck. His finger is close enough to where it could graze your neck. "How many pairs do you have?"
"Not too many, I'd say. This is my favorite pair."
"Well!" He steers you in the direction of another stall by placing his large hand on the middle of your back. The cloth is thinner there, and all you can currently focus on is the heat of his hand. "Care to add another?"
"I—what?"
"Another! This festival happens once a year, and for your hard work, and you know, just because, I'd like to get you something. A token of our...friendship!"
Friendship. The ground has never looked more appealing. One word, uttered randomly, shouldn't even be so fucking bad. And yet, secretly, you were thinking, maybe the earlier blunder would be some kind of hint to him. Or maybe, the fact that you pulled out your best earrings and wore the nicest perfume you owned. Or maybe the fact that he took you out at all, and you said yes. Like the hopeless woman you are. You don't even know who to direct your mounting frustration at.
A tiny fraction of your brain reasons with you on the dot. Phainon is a friendly person overall, all sunshine and smiles to anyone who looks his way, not to mention, Amphoreus' Deliverer.
But, another voice counters back, he has other friends, or in the least, decent acquaintances. Why me, then?
Because, the cynical one says, he saw you as he came back to the changing room. It was the right time, right place. Nothing more, nothing less.
The mental battle endures, drawing out as you and Phainon approach a jewelry stall. The orange hanging lights hooked to the drapery do wonders for the gemstones on each of the pieces. One piece in particular catches your eye. The earrings are a sun and moon pair, both cast in gold with a light blue gem hanging from each.
"Do you like any of them?" Phainon questions, and you turn to look up at him. This entire evening you sensed no malice from him, and even now he's genuinely dead-set on buying you jewelry.
You sigh and say, "I don't quite know. Maybe you could pick for me?"
Phainon immediately digs in his pocket for his coin purse. "Of course! It would be my honor."
As he browses the wares on the velvet cloth, you stare at him. None of the previous attraction arises because of the pooling anxiety inside of you. The lights, once clear, morph into hazy and distorted specks. The Okheman citizens, whose joy could never be wrong, become a loud nuisance. Your chest tightens, painfully so, and you want nothing more than to go back to the straightforward task of patrolling Marmoreal Palace with the Garmentmaker. At least that you could make sense of.
You're not sure when the tears begin, but the feeling of skin against your cheek draws you back into the present. A thumb runs under your bottom eyelid, gently wiping the water away into your skin.
Phainon holds such deep concern in his dazzling blues, mouth drawn into a tight line, that you nearly are convinced that he feels this bout of sadness and not you.
"Is everything alright?"
You can barely hear him, voice muffled to your ears. And then, you feel the brush of another hand on your other cheek.
"Please, I—I don't know if—what it is I did wrong, and I've—I don't like making you feel this way." He whispers softly, still caressing your face with his hands. "Tell me?"
The dam breaks, and the tears stream down your face. You laugh inwards bitterly about your makeup, how ruined it must be.
"Phainon—" You gurgle out. His eyes widen at lack of title. "—do you think we can talk?"
"Yes! Yes, absolutely, let me just—" He takes a small, clear pouch from the vendor and swiftly steers you towards a quieter area of the city. In a quiet alleyway, you both stand face to face, your head angled down, wiping away at your tears as delicately as possible, while Phainon hovers over you, unsure and confused.
"Lord Phainon—"
"Phainon, please. Just Phainon."
You sniffle and nod, pressing onwards. "Phainon, I...I like you. So very much. You entered my life without a single warning and took my mind by storm, with your virtue and kindness. And so, when you invited me today to accompany you in the celebration, you can't fathom how excited I was. I've always sort of orbited around you, never too close but never too far, and part of me believed for the first time that tonight would be the chance for me to get closer to you. "
You wince at your own words, the weight of the confession settling down upon your shoulders, accompanied by slight nausea.
"Wait, hold on—"
"No. Please. I just need to finish this."
Phainon acquiesces and stays silent, but shifts his hands to hover near yours, the distance between them mere millimeters. Because you just might break if he touches you now, and he knows that.
"But then a few minutes ago, you were talking about the earrings, and you said a token of friendship, and I just—I couldn't take it. It's not your fault at all, but I guess I was sort of stuck in some..." You wave your hand flippantly and roll your eyes, the latter now puffy and red.
"... delusion. It's just one word and I snapped. Either way, I didn't mean to break down like this, but at the same time I don't feel the greatest. I hope you, uh, wouldn't mind if I returned back to my quarters. I'm sorry for occupying your time, and I pray that I can still be a friend to you." You end there, voice riddled with sadness and resignation.
You can't bring yourself to look up at Phainon. But he does it for you. His large hands cradle your face and tilt it upwards, where he meets you resolutely.
"I can't let you do that."
"Huh?"
"I just—I—lovers don't have to exclusively be lovers, right? They can be friends, too?"
You squint your eyes, puzzled. "I... guess so?"
"Titans—I suck at this. I didn't mean token of friendship in that way, and I'm sorry, I was kind of using it as a gauge. It's my turn to explain, now."
As a gauge, you wonder, as Phainon's expression turns from nervous to remorseful and vulnerable.
"I have feelings for you. For the longest time. And I've always been a coward. I was worried that you would never like me back—"
"How—what?"
"Hush, it's my turn." He silences your mouth with his finger. "But, I don't know, I saw you today in the hallway, pretty blatantly checking me out—"
You snort, remembering that debacle.
"—and then you accepted my invitation for tonight. Then I saw you walk to me, radiant, like the sunsets on beaches of Styxia past."
You bite down on your lip, anxiety and worry melting away the longer Phainon speaks. Mnestia, he called you radiant like the sunset. How can you doubt how he feels about you now?
"I brought you to that earring stand for all of the reasons I said then, but the friendship thing? Only a fraction of the truth. I want not only your friendship, but your companionship."
Phainon takes a few stray strands of your hair and tenderly tucks them behind your ear, fingertips brushing against your temple.
"And I'm sorry, that method was one of the only things I could come up with. Haha, you'd think a graduate from the Grove would be somewhat decent at brainstorming, but clearly not. I—am definitely at fault here, and I should have been entirely straightforward with you. So here I am now, pleading you."
He inhales sharply and slowly exhales, gearing himself up.
"May I... have the pleasure of being your partner?"
Around you, the sky falls to the ground, and the ground rises to the sky. Gods, there's only one answer you can say, huh?
"Yes. Yes to all of the above. I forgive—I don't even care, Phainon, yes."
And because Phainon is a gentleman, ever with restraint, he leans closer, only to pause a few mere centimeters away. Your warm breaths and aromas intermingle in the air that grows ever so chilly. Only a glance away is his lips: full and pink. You follow his movement as he bites on his own lip in commiseration. It snaps away from under his teeth, wet and shiny.
"Can I kiss you?" His voice cracks, like the words are trying their hardest to stop his actions, should you not allow this.
But you absolutely will.
"Please."
Milliseconds cannot describe how fast he surges forward, slotting and locking his lips in between yours like he is the key to opening your buried desire. You can't hear anything but his breathing and the relentless hammering of your heart.
It's still. Permanent.
And then he moves, angling his head to deepen the kiss and placing his hand behind you, a barrier between your hair and the dirty wall.
The tender gesture, so careful and conscious, makes you keen into the kiss.
Your first kiss with him lasts a short moment, and after you both separate, and he asks in a low tone, "was that fine?"
"More than fine. Come back here."
Shakily, you wrap your arms around him and grasping at his head, pulling it as close as you possibly can to yours. Phainon moans into your mouth when you tug his hair lightly and pulls you flush against him, the cold metal of his belt meeting the burning skin of your stomach.
Lips shift and slide languidly against each other, the sound of wet slick the only thing in the alleyway. You bite at each other's lips, licking and sucking, occasionally clicking teeth, but neither of you truly mind.
Not when you are more aroused than you have ever been in your life, body sensitive and set alight.
Not when Phainon's bulge grows against your groin, presence so very prominent and lewd the longer you both devour each other whole.
"Phai—Phainon," you gasp, breaking away for air.
"Yeah?" He says, lips swollen red and similarly winded from the long kiss.
"Are you—have you had sex before?"
"A couple times before, you?" He drops his head to your shoulder and murmurs into the crook of your neck. The words rumble through you, eliciting a soft sigh from you.
"Once, or twice—ah." Phainon places small kisses along the exposed skin, trailing upwards to your ear, each one leaving a blooming burst of heat.
"Yeah, I could tell by that kiss just now."
"Mmh—yeah, I could say the same to you."
Phainon moves his kisses along your jaw, and you angle your face to give him more access. But you wish to service him the same, so your fingers move and linger above exposed chest.
"Lord Phainon—fuck—"
"Jus' Phainon, and please, my body is yours to touch." Your cunt throbs at the words. You, an attendant, getting to worship this warrior's body—unheard of.
"Are you sensitive here, Phainon?" You tease, raking your fingers down his pecs like you've been dreaming of for so long.
He shivers, kissing you haphazardly on the lips as your fingers trace the planes of his abs and back up again. Feeling brave, you take both pecs into your hands and squeeze.
"Fuck," he rasps, so prettily that you almost moan at the sound. "If you don't mind, keep doing that..."
Phainon's exhales turn ragged, and he stands with his forearms placed on the wall, caging you in between, having given up on his poor attempt of multitasking. As you continue squeezing his pecs, your fingers accidentally brush his hardening nipples, and he jerks his hips forward.
You whine, long and breathy, as you feel scorching friction against your clit. Looking down, you can see that his bulge has completely hardened, and his tree trunk of thigh is in between your legs, perfectly placed.
"Oh, look at you, Beautiful." He mutters, flushed in the face and trained on where his thigh meets your cunt. You fluster, hearing the nickname.
He leans in and ducks his face down to your side, breath fanning your ear "How far do you want to go, here?"
You exhale, feeling your own nipples pebble up at the sensation. "Public space, not too far."
"Little too late for that, I think."
"Mm, we've jus' been kissing, though."
He brings his arm down, placing his hand on your hip and squeezing it reassuringly. "Do you trust me?"
You smile at his question. "Well, will you deliver?"
Phainon chuckles at the joke.
"Of course." He punctuates that by licking a long stripe along the shell of your ear, drawing a small whimper from your mouth.
Excruciatingly slow, he slides his thigh out, and the muscle of his leg drags against your clothed cunt. The skirt does nothing for you, and every nerve in your pussy reacts to the delicious friction.
"Fuck—Phainon, that feels so—ohhh!" You hold onto his neck, practically sitting on his knee, and you crash your lips against his, letting every single plead disappear into his mouth for him to keep and claim.
He does it again. And again. And again.
Every single fucking time, his thigh grinds against your cunt, spreading it and rubbing your juices against your underwear and skirt. He picks up his pace, relishing in the way you heatedly beg, your eyes twisted in pleasure and your lips shiny and bruised every time you separate. Every noise goes straight to his dick, already leaking precum.
At some point, you glide your hands with renewed obsession over his soft, sinewy chest, and take both nipples in between your fingers. You flick and roll them, and he jolts forward again.
"Titans—" He growls your name, so loud you almost have the sense to worry that someone will hear you. Then, he mutters hotly, "fuck, liftin' you up", and he actually lifts you up against the wall. Getting the message, you wrap both legs around his waist, and he ruts his rock-hard sex against your sopping cunt.
Cloth against cloth, he thrusts up against you, and his clothed dick catches on your clit, rubbing it so perfectly, you see the very same stars Aquila tries their damnedest to hide. "Your—mmh—! Your nipples are so sensitive Phainon. 'N you keep on shoving your cock under my—ahh—! My—hah—clit," you babble, dazed and definitely not thinking straight.
"Yeah, does it—" he groans obscenely as you massage his left pec, "—feel good? That's all I wanna do, my limelight, make you feel good."
"It doesn't matter what you do, Phainon. You've always—" another cry rips away from your mouth, "—always been so attentive and—"
Phainon dips down, and you bring your hands up to rake through his beautiful gray locks. Your tongues twist around each other, saliva dripping out of your lips in a lustful mess. In a moment's reprieve from his tongue, you whisper against his lips, as he continues rutting.
"—and I will never, ever—ohh—make you regret this decision we made tonight."
"Make me—mmh—regret? Limelight, this entire time, I haven't been Deliverer. Just Phainon. 'N you—" He rolls his body against yours, and you jolt forward to brush lips.
"—you are not Aglaea's attendant. Not with me. Not now, not ever."
"Phainon, I—" In a split second, you meet his eyes again, for the final time, before your orgasm wrecks your body.
Adoration. Simple, unadulterated adoration. For you.
You cum all at once, orgasm sparking like fireworks inside your cunt as you tighten your legs around Phainon's broad waist. Moaning, you clutch at him, burying your face into his chest and chanting his name as your cunt throbs in waves. He continues to rub against your wet heat, pressing kisses into your hair and muttering frantic praise—seconds later, he jerks towards you, cumming in his pants.
You both sigh heavily, and you feel your legs tire and cramp. Phainon's arms probably ache too, but he still holds you in the same position and leans his forehead down to knock against yours.
You end the way you start: inhaling his scent, the heavy musk of sweat and long-gone cologne.
A short time later, he pulls away reluctantly, and you hear the peeling smack of wet linen. Threads of cum connect the moist patch of your skirt with his trousers, obscene and arousing.
He reaches out with his middle and ring finger, and strokes them down the patch.
A thought disrupts your post-orgasmic haze: he's going to lick it. You almost dismiss that, but he brings his middle finger up to his lips, swirls his tongue around it, and pulls it away with a pop.
"Oh," you breathe.
"What?"
"Oh, fuck."
Phainon smirks, keeling over and grabbing your dropped bag from the ground.
"Was that sexy?"
"Oh my god," you can't help but giggle at his words. "Yes—yes it was so sexy."
"I'm just a natural. What can I say?" He throws your words back at you, and the memories of the festival resurface.
As you both collect yourselves, fixing clothes and hair, you huff, "I was so stupid, wasn't I?"
"What do you mean?" He finishes adjusting his collar and moves to help wipe off excess cum on your skirt.
"It's just—I guess I could have been more assertive, huh?"
"Hey." He takes your hand and laces his fingers with yours, the action innocent and domestic. You both exit the alley, bedroom in the Marmoreal Palace the ending destination for the night.
"If you're saying that about yourself, then I feel the same about myself."
"Hm, then we're both stupid, huh?"
"Mhm!" He swings your hand like a child, and the action endears you.
Wait. Hold on.
"Phainon, do you think Lady Aglaea knows by now?"
"Oh, for sure. But don't worry your pretty head about that."
"Kephale..."
You both dissolve into laughter, and that is perhaps the most remarkable event of the night.
end note: frottage could not be hotter, I hope. Also please let me know if there were any glaring grammar errors <3
