Walking on a market before stumbling a fountain pen shop and decide that you need a new ink bottle and a new nip for your pen. Only to realize there is soo many of your name written in the trial page in many different style along with hearts, some were dry and some look a bit more fresh than the other.
Before you could make sense with it the shops owner came in and said that the delivered use to help the other chrysos heir by getting supplies for them. You could only nodded while you felt a little embarrassed by how it means phainon might have also been doing this to other pen/pencil shop in okheima.
You leave before you could but anything for yourself, stating that you didn't find what you're looking before hurry yourself out of there, before you could even leave the premises you can hear phainon footsteps before feeling his arms linking around your waist.
You can't hear what he's saying but you see the face of many shops keeper, many look surprise before settle to a understanding one while other look like they were please their guesses are right all along, while some young lady look heart broken at the sight. You can feel their stare at you even when phainon make sure you look at him before intertwining his hands with yours, in that moment you regretted the fact you've never consulted lady gold Weaver for help in the first place before it get out of hands.
You should have ask aglea to hold phainon off while you ran as far away from okheima. away from him and his ways of claiming you in the eyes of other after you softly said no those months ago.
It's too late now... He won't be able to let you go, nor will the people trust you have no relationship with the very beloved deliverer. You could only watch in horror as his eyes only hold devotion towards you, and how you could never ask the other heirs help now that phainon has set the stage of a loving partner in front of all to see. Beside between your word and his.... Which is more likely to be taken with a bit more weight?.
Alright I'm done but miss harmony i can't keep doing this, as if i need more than just a drabble to be able to continue another scenario with this puppy. I just love it when you post something small and my brain decided that i need more and i have no other outlets to get it out than doing this.
(Not really confidence with this but i hope you like it♥) also i decided for yandere because why not? I love yandere and yandere phainon just hits all the Ick in my brain to love him more. (And also you been the drive for me to actually write this [damn you brain bug] but again sorry if it's not to yours or anyone satisfactions. Anyway I'll be quiet now)
Notes: English is not my first language, so please comment if I make any mistakes. During a late-night scroll, I saw a drawing of Prince Lohen x maid reader and I luv this idea That was how this post was released.
Warning: yandere content, mention of killing
Summary: Lohen was an abandoned prince in the Edinburgh kingdom. His childhood was filled with hatred and discrimination from others because of his anomalies and violence. Only one of his maid, Y/N cared for him secretly by actions. He knew, he loved her and she was the light of his life. Years later, by intrigue and power, Lohen eliminated other princes and became the king. He finally confessed to his Y/N, hoping for her agreement.
Word count: 2.1k
The kingdom of Edinburgh had always been a land of beauty and prosperity. Its fields were golden with wheat, its rivers clear as crystal, and its people content under the rule of a just king. But even in paradise, shadows lurked.
And Lohen was the deepest shadow of all.
From the moment he was born, he was different. His eyes were too dark, too knowing. His cries were too quiet, too controlled. The midwives whispered that he had been cursed, that the shadow of death had touched him in the womb. His mother, the queen, looked at him with fear instead of love. His father, the king, looked at him with disappointment instead of pride.
"He's not right," his mother had said, her voice trembling. "There's something wrong with him."
"He's just a child," his nurse had replied, trying to soothe her. "He will grow out of it."
But he never did.
By the time Lohen was six, he had learned to hide his darkness. He wore a mask of politeness, of quiet obedience, of a prince who knew his place. But behind the mask, something festered. Something angry. Something hungry.
The other children feared him. The servants avoided him. His brothers and sisters—the golden children, the beloved ones—looked at him with disdain. He was the spare, the unwanted, the mistake that the kingdom would rather forget.
And then he met you.
-
You were just a maid.
A young girl, barely old enough to hold a broom, assigned to the forgotten wing of the palace where the unwanted prince lived. You didn't know who he was when you first saw him—just a boy with dark eyes and a hollow look, sitting alone in a corner of the garden.
"Are you lost?" you'd asked, your voice soft and curious.
He'd looked at you, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not lost. This is my garden."
"Your garden?" You'd looked around at the overgrown hedges, the dying flowers, the cracked stone paths. "It's a bit sad, isn't it?"
"It's mine."
"Then why don't you take care of it?"
He'd stared at you, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." You'd knelt down, pulling a weed from the soil. "If it's yours, you should make it beautiful. You should make it yours."
He'd watched you for a long moment, something shifting in his dark eyes.
"What's your name?"
"Y/N."
"Y/N," he'd repeated, as if tasting the word. "I'm Lohen."
"I know." You'd smiled—a small, warm smile. "Everyone knows who you are, Your Highness."
"Then why are you talking to me?"
"Because you looked like you needed someone to talk to."
-
After that day, you became a constant presence in his life.
Not in the way the other servants were—you never fawned over him, never bowed too low, never looked at him with fear. You just... existed. Quietly. Steadily. Like a candle in a dark room.
You brought him food when he forgot to eat. You left warm blankets on his bed on cold nights. You fixed the torn edges of his books and left flowers on his windowsill—small, wildflowers that grew in the forgotten corners of the garden.
He never thanked you. He didn't know how.
But he noticed.
"You're the one who's been leaving the flowers."
It wasn't a question. You looked up from your sweeping, your expression calm.
"I thought they might brighten the room."
"They're just weeds."
"Weeds can be beautiful too."
He looked at you—really looked—and for the first time in his life, he felt something other than anger.
"Why do you do these things?" he asked, his voice quiet.
"What things?"
"The flowers. The blankets. The food." He stepped closer, his dark eyes searching yours. "You don't have to. No one told you to."
"I know."
"Then why?"
You paused, your broom stilling in your hands.
"Because someone should," you said softly. "Everyone deserves to feel like someone cares. Even you."
-
The years passed, and you remained.
Through his childhood. Through his adolescence. Through the whispers and the rumors and the quiet cruelty of a family that had never wanted him. You were always there—a constant presence in the shadows, a gentle hand in the dark.
He never told you how much it meant to him. He didn't have the words. But he felt it, deep in his chest, like a warm ember that refused to die.
"You shouldn't talk to me," he said one day, when you were both older. "It's not safe."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not a good person."
"You're not a bad person either."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." You looked at him, your eyes steady and sure. "I've known you for years. And I know that you're not what they say you are."
He wanted to believe you. He wanted to believe that there was something good in him, something worth saving.
But the darkness was already too deep.
-
Lohen waited.
He waited through the years of neglect, through the years of scorn, through the years of watching his siblings inherit everything he should have had. He waited until the moment was right.
And then he struck.
One by one, his brothers fell. Some to poison. Some to blades. Some to the quiet, unseen hand of a man they had never considered a threat. The kingdom watched in horror as the shadow prince rose, his dark eyes gleaming with a hunger that had been nurtured for decades.
By the time the crown was placed on his head, Edinburgh had learned to fear him.
But you—you were not afraid.
-
-
The night of his coronation, Lohen found you in your chambers.
You were preparing for bed, your hair unbound, your simple nightgown a stark contrast to the opulence of the palace. He stood in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable.
"Your Majesty," you said, bowing your head. "To what do I owe the honor?"
"Don't." His voice was soft, almost pained. "Don't bow to me."
"You're the king."
"I'm still the same person." He stepped closer, his presence filling the room. "I'm still the boy who talked to you in the garden. Who you brought flowers to. Who you taught to believe that someone cared."
"That was a long time ago."
"Not long enough." He reached out, his hand cupping your face. "I've loved you since the first moment I saw you."
You froze, your heart pounding.
"Your Majesty—"
"Don't call me that." His voice was raw, desperate. "Don't call me anything but Lohen. I'm still me. I'm still the person you chose to care for."
"I was just a maid—"
"You were everything." His thumbs brushed your cheeks, his eyes burning into yours. "You were the only person who ever saw me. Who ever looked at me without fear or disgust. You were the only light in my world."
"Lohen..."
"I love you." His voice cracked. "I've loved you for years. And I can't keep pretending I don't."
-
You stepped back.
The distance between you felt like a chasm, wide and uncrossable. Your heart ached—it had always ached for him, for the lonely boy in the forgotten garden. But you knew the truth. You were a maid. He was a king.
"I can't," you whispered.
"What?"
"I can't be with you, Lohen. It's impossible."
"Why?" His voice was sharp, almost angry. "Why is it impossible?"
"Because I'm a maid! You're the king. There are rules—"
"I don't care about rules."
"You should." You looked away, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "There are princesses, noblewomen, women who are worthy of you. I'm just—"
"You're just the woman I love." He reached for you, but you stepped back again. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want what's best for you."
"What's best for me is you."
You shook your head, a broken laugh escaping your lips. "You don't mean that. You think you do, but you don't."
"I've never been more certain of anything."
"You'll change your mind." You met his eyes, your own filled with pain. "You'll find someone better. Someone who can stand beside you without bringing shame to your name."
"There is no one better."
"There is." You turned away, your voice breaking. "There has to be."
-
He didn't let you go.
That night, he ordered you to stay. To remain in the palace, to serve him, to be near him. He told himself it was because he needed you—because the world was dark and cruel and he couldn't bear to face it alone.
But the truth was simpler.
He was terrified of losing you.
"You can't leave me," he said, his voice hoarse. "I won't let you."
"Lohen, please—"
"I've spent my whole life being invisible. Being unwanted. Being the shadow everyone wished would disappear." His eyes were wild, desperate. "You were the only one who ever made me feel real. And I can't—I won't—lose that."
"You're not losing anything."
"I am." He grabbed your wrist, his grip tight. "If you leave, I lose everything. I lose the only light I've ever had."
"Lohen, you're hurting me."
He let go instantly, his expression shifting from desperation to horror.
"I'm sorry—"
"It's okay." You rubbed your wrist, your heart aching. "I know you didn't mean to."
"I never want to hurt you." His voice was broken, fragile. "I would rather die than hurt you."
"Then let me go."
"I can't." He shook his head, his eyes wet. "I've tried. I've tried so many times. But I can't. You're the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that feels real."
-
He didn't lock you in a cell.
He didn't chain you to a wall. He simply... refused to let you leave. Your chambers were comfortable, luxurious—far more than a maid could ever dream of. But the door was always guarded. The windows were always locked.
"Why are you doing this?" you asked, when he visited you that evening.
"Because I can't lose you."
"You're not losing me. I'm right here."
"You're leaving." He knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. "I can see it in your eyes. You're already gone."
"I'm not gone."
"You will be." His voice was quiet, resigned. "You're too good for me. You always were. I knew it the moment I met you. But I didn't care. I wanted you anyway."
"Lohen..."
"I know it's selfish." He looked up, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I know it's wrong. But I can't help it. I need you. I need you like I need air."
-
You stayed.
Not because you wanted to—not at first. But because you saw the desperation in his eyes, the years of pain and neglect that had shaped him into the man he was. And despite everything, you still cared.
"I'm not going to pretend this is right," you said, one night. "But I'm not going to leave either. At least, not yet."
"Why?"
"Because you're still the boy in the garden." You reached out, your hand resting on his cheek. "The one who was so lonely. The one who just needed someone to care."
"I still need you."
"I know."
"I'll never stop needing you."
-
You didn't know when it happened.
But somewhere between the whispered confessions and the stolen moments, you found yourself falling in love. Not with the king—not with the power or the crown. But with the broken boy who had never been loved, who had never known kindness until you showed it to him.
"I love you," he said, one night, his voice soft and vulnerable.
"I know."
"Say it back."
"I—"
"Please." His voice cracked. "I need to hear it. Just once."
You looked at him—at the king who had conquered kingdoms, who had killed without mercy, who had risen from the shadows to claim a throne. And you saw the boy beneath the crown. The boy who had once asked you why you cared.
"I love you too," you whispered.
His smile was like sunrise—slow, warm, and utterly radiant.
-
He never let you go.
And you stopped wanting to leave.
The kingdom whispered about the king and his mysterious consort. They wondered who she was, where she came from, what hold she had over the dark and terrifying king. But Lohen didn't care. He had what he wanted. He had you.
"You're mine," he said, holding you close.
"I know."
"Say it."
"I'm yours."
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you.
"You have been since the day you first smiled at me."
___________________________________________
The ending should have been worse, like... the Bad Ending. But I pitied this cute rabbit and maid! reader so much so... yeah. Happy Ending!
a hybrid samoyed phainon x female reader modern au
overview: he may be a new dog, but he’s more than ready to show off his wild side. make sure not to be fooled by his eyes, because this pup knows how to get what he wants.
or maybe you’re into that? come, book him now. let that fantasy turn into reality!
wc: 4.4k
notes: guys. guys. please. i’m a decent person i promise but it is what it is ok phainon makes me feel things and and pl—
kidding aside, if this concept isn’t your fancy, feel to free to look at the other side. stayed up until 4 am to finish this. idk what went inside my brain tbh. also cw suggestive!
This is a sign to walk dogs every Sunday in Okhema City!
Volunteer and make their day even better. ❤️❤️
If you’re interested, feel free to contact us through our page and on our site: @WalkYourDog on Astralgram | www.walkyourdog.com on the World Wound Web.
Click. Click. Click.
Inside your bedroom, specifically situated in your own sheets, you release a breath that you’ve been holding. You stare in intrigue at the publication material currently displayed on your PC screen: on a bright, bold shade of yellow, it says, Volunteer Dog Walkers needed! accompanied with a vector of an adorable golden retriever biting a leash. Or, well, supposedly holding the leash.
You tap thrice on your mousepad.
Warmth spreads in your chest as you browse through endearing photos of happy dogs. Happy dogs of different kinds who were, presumably, walked by previous volunteers. Numerous supporters flooded the post—their traction wasn’t bad. They had lots of heart reactions. Comments. Some were calling how lovely the dogs were, and how great their company was, to the point that they’d ‘volunteer’ again.
This, of course, is excellent for someone like you.
It’s considered a green light in your eyes if the internet has given Walk Your Dog, a rating of 4 to 5 stars for their service, because this means this is the real deal, and that there’s nothing to worry about.
So, how did you get into this position again?
Well, simply put! There were things still yet to be explored. You don’t know a lot about said world yet ( the world seems so big now and full of possibilities ), and since you’re stepping into adulthood, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know more about it.
And besides, this is most definitely not motivated by your friends who have their own side quests. This is definitely not because you feel like you have to prove to anyone that there’s something going on with your life, and that you’re not just stuck on doing your academic duties and responsibilities.
Castorice joined a book club. Mydei and his bros enrolled in a cake baking class. Cipher gets often invited to trivia nights.
And you? What’s going on with your life?
You tap on your mousepad again.
I’m going to volunteer. And I’m gonna walk a dog, you’ll say. And it’s going to be great!
You are most definitely not peer pressured. You repeat again. You are definitely not proving something. This is what people at your age do. Do activities. Discover more hobbies. Learn about what the world has to offer.
The site loads, and you read what the webpage reveals to you.
Walk Your Dog
We are Okhema’s #1 Dog Walking Service.
We are open 24/7.
Drama and Scam Free environment!
Browse and enjoy our dog walking experiences!
In Okhema Activity Park, you find yourself sitting on a bench under a tree.
It’s hot as hell, but you’re grateful for the wind every now and then. And besides, the weather is not going to ruin your mood today—because you’re hella excited to walk a damn cute dog, and not just because you’ll also get to post it on social media, for your friends to see that you are not just occupied by a thesis, or your internship, because that’s just boring.
You are practicing balancing your life well before graduation, and that’s good.
Because it means you’re not behind. And because there’s more to life than cramming academic work.
As you wait, you momentarily recall the past few nights’ events:
In walkyourdog.com, you surely took your time in choosing your options after signing up. There were plenty of super cute dogs to walk, and in all honesty, you really wanted to walk all of them.
But you didn’t have that much money ( student budget is waving ), and it really wasn’t recommended by the agency. They have strict rules, which is understandable, and according to them, only special volunteers can get to have that choice. You’re not entirely sure of what they mean by that, but you figured that it was probably reserved for regular volunteers, or volunteers who have done them a great favor. So first timers were not part of the equation.
What you see is what you get. Always!
Feel free to contact our email, [email protected] or our number, 000-0355-0336 for additional inquiries and bookings.
OUR DOGS
100% REAL and RECENT PICTURE GUARANTEED!
Seriously, there were a lot of super cute dogs, but most of them were already booked. It amazed you that their service was so top tier that the dogs were not available. This could only mean that despite how cruel the world can be, there was still hope for humanity—because they were willing to make an effort. They wanted the dogs to be happy through volunteerism.
And this really inspires you.
The community is awesome.
So even though most of the dogs were already booked, you got lucky—because you landed on one.
Phainon was the dog’s name when your mouse hovered on his panel. You swooned when you saw the pup’s pictures—Phainon was an adorable fluffy samoyed, and you could already envision walking the cloud. You’d seriously take lots of photos when you get your hands on him, and you’d definitely bury your face on the dog’s snowy fur.
You also plan to record the dog’s woofs, because aeons, samoyeds were seriously just so CUTE. Well. At least that’s what Astraltok shows you. Some of them may be a bit too exaggerated or perfect looking, but nothing could go wrong when it comes to dogs.
So, yeah. Phainon. The fluffy samoyed. Walk Your Dog claimed that Phainon was a great companion, and that he’d make sure to make your time with him worthwhile. They also emphasized that being with him would surely be unforgettable, and this excited you even more.
You felt so proud of yourself that time. You were going to have so much fun with the dog, and you were definitely not going to brag about it on social media.
Phainon may be a new dog, but he’s more than ready to show off his wild side. Make sure not to be fooled by his eyes, because this pup knows how to get what he wants.
Or maybe you’re into that? Come, book him now. Let that fantasy turn into reality!
Phainon the Samoyed had a weird description, sure, but you still progressed in volunteering. You also made note of the additional information that was also in the dog’s profile, like his age being 21, and his measurements, but you ascertained it to the service being creative. Perhaps he was 21 in dog years, and he was 5’11. . . well, if the pup probably stood in two feet. Kind of terrifying to think about, but samoyeds were big dogs, weren’t they?
Anywho, you weren’t too particular with the details. All that matters is that you’re going to walk and bond with a super cute fluffy dog today, and you’ll be broadcasting in Astralgram, because you have a life. All that matters is you’re doing something good for the pet community, and that you’re doing pretty well as a member of the society.
Ping! Your phone flashes you a notification, and you suppress your squeals. Phainon is about to arrive soon! 💕
Actually, no, you can’t hide your squealing. You’re very much thrilled by what you’re about to do in the next few minutes, because you’re finally going to meet the fluffiest ball ever. You’re gonna kneel to its level, squish its super duper cute face, bask in its presence, before skipping away to walk it for two damn hours.
It’s gonna be one hell of a time for you, and you’ve mentally patted your back for such a good job.
“Hi, good morning! Are you—” A breathy, yet deep voice calls for your name, and you pause. “The one who booked for Walk Your Dog?”
You turn around, already beaming and expecting the white samoyed. “Yes—!“ Only to not see said white samoyed anywhere, but a gorgeous, gorgeous tall man with white, fluffy hair and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. A gorgeous, gorgeous man who apparently hides a lot of beef under that tight, compression shirt, and you gulp. Then, you shake your head, focusing in on the present. What the? Who is this? Is this a staff from the service? “Um. Sorry. Where’s the dog?”
The man blinks, puzzled. You don’t know why he’s also confused, and for some reason, alerts inside your head start to go off.
Wait a second.
He rubs the back of his head. “Oh! Well. You see, I’m the dog.” White, no—snowy, pointed ears perk up from his tuffs, and your lips part at the sight. Wait. You catch an even fluffier tail behind him wag, and this time, your jaw drops. To the floor. “I’m Phainon. I’ll be the samoyed you’ll be walking today!”
Your knees give in.
And just as planned, you did kneel in front of the samoyed.
Again, you don’t know a lot about the world. No one does. No one is that perfect.
So can anyone really blame you for being stupid?
Well, Cipher would surely laugh. Aunt Tribios and Aglaea did give you both a life lesson once, that not everything you see is what they seem, and they’ve never been more right. How did you miss it? How can you be so dense?
Now everything’s making sense.
“You see, there’s this thing called hiding in plain sight,” Aglaea said before, when she was stitching a torn up shirt of Cipher’s. “There may be one person, or a group of people who would utilize this strategy. You both ought to be careful. Make sure to stay vigilant at all times. If your gut tells you that there’s something off, then there’s something off.”
Well, how were you supposed to know that Walk Your Dog was a secret escort service in Okhema!?
“No, you’re not just using your brain,” is what Mydei will say if he learns about this. Then Castorice will admonish him and console you. But you have no plans of telling them that your plan of proving to the universe that you have something going on backfired, because you scored a date. Or a hookup. Holy shit.
“W-Wait, Miss, what happened?! Why are you on the ground?” You’re spiraling so much that you haven’t registered it yet that the samoyed hybrid also knelt down with you. That the samoyed is trying his best how to handle you. Everything’s making sense. Oh my god. The fucking site. The fucking site!
The fucking site that had so much weird ass descriptions.
100% REAL and RECENT PICTURE GUARANTEED.
A great companion, and that he’d make sure to make your time with him worthwhile.
Phainon may be a new rescue dog, but he’s more than ready to show off his wild side. Make sure not to be fooled by his eyes, because this pup knows how to get what he wants.
Unforgettable.
Or maybe you’re into that? Come, book him now. Let that fantasy turn into reality!
21.
Oh my god, his age. It’s not in dog years. It’s actually his fucking age, and—you gape at him. Horrified, by this epiphany.
5’11. He’s fucking 5’11.
Yeah, humanity was a mistake.
Humanity had a bunch of weirdos.
“Miss?”
You feel your heart cry out. No fucking way he looks this adorable too because fuck, dog hybrids are seriously one of a kind because you’re endeared even though you’re severely weirded out by this whole situation. He has his ears flopped, and tail drooped down.
What a wonderful hybrid. He seems earnest in his worrying for you, with his hands fumbling around your form, not knowing where to touch.
You swallow, before gripping his wrists. Wow, he’s warm, and he’s solid. He’s real. And he’s gorgeous. Fuck, you think you’re about to fall into some sort of rabbit hole.
He freezes, before blinking again. His eyes are on you, and you swallow again, panicking.
“I’m sorry, there must’ve been a HUGE misunderstanding. Huge,” you tell him, with lips quivering. You don’t know why you said huge again, but you blame it on him for having larger hands. ( If he held yours, you’re sure it’ll be concealed by how large they are. ) People who are passing by in Okhema Activity Park witness your pathetic attempts of repenting, and you wish for the soil to devour you whole. But you must face the consequences of your actions, ‘cause that’s just how life works. “Please, forget that this happened. And I know what it’s like for you guys, and—well, I haven’t experienced it, but I’ve heard stories, so just. Take my money. Phainon.”
You even said his name, and you watch how his eyes go a little wide at that, as if stunned. As if he’s fascinated by what had just transpired. You don’t know why he’s making that face, but you assume that this case you have with him is a first for him.
His ears perk up, and his tail wags briefly, before he returns to the expression he had before.
What the hell.
His ears lower back down, and he purses his lips.
“. . .So, we’re not going for a walk?”
You feel as if a heavy boulder was thrown against your back. He’s CONCERNED about the fucking WALK!?
You’ve really never felt more stupid in your life.
As of the moment, to at least prove to the world that you’re doing well as a member of society, you’re not crossing the pedestrian lane even though there were no cars passing around.
The stoplight is red.
And on your side, is a panting, giddy pure bred samoyed beside you, while holding his leash.
Walk Your Dog said, the pup knows how to get what he wants.
You’ve explained to him briefly that you genuinely thought that this was a literal dog walking service, hence the immediate cancellation of this session. You thought that Phainon the Samoyed would laugh at you, judge you for being such a goddamn idiot, before taking his money away.
But no such thing happened. Instead, he merely laughed. It was so dreamy you weren’t going to lie, you had to stop yourself from clutching your chest. Then, the understanding hybrid remarked, “If that’s the case, allow yourself to walk me still. I just couldn’t take your money without doing anything.”
To which you retorted, “I’m giving you an opportunity, pup. To earn free money.”
He just grinned with his eyes closed. “And I’m also giving you an opportunity to get to know each other. Or to get to know about the service. Wouldn’t that be fun? Well, that is, if you’re interested. So, what do you say?”
A normal person would’ve just rejected the offer. And insist for the hybrid to take the money because you unintentionally wasted his time. And yet you relented, because again, Walk Your Dog explicitly said that Phainon knows how to get what he wants.
You couldn’t believe you were so weak.
Plus, you did say that it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about the world.
“Please? I promise, I’m gonna make it worth your while.”
How familiar, you almost lurched.
It didn’t help that he used the scrunched eyebrows and almost shimmering blue eyes combo, too.
Fucking dogs, you swear.
So when you said fine, you ignored the fact how your heart performed somersaults when he beamed. His perky white ears made an appearance, and his fluffy white tail wagged again behind him.
You raised your hand before he can even speak, “But I have one request!! Um, can you turn into a samoyed? Please?”
It was already so weird, but thank the aeons Phainon did.
He laughed again. Why was his laugh hot? Damn it. “Sure! If that’s what the client wants.”
More like what he wants, ‘no? You suppose Phainon is in his most comfortable form because he’s clearly enjoying the walk with his tongue out. It’s a cute sight, really—and you are resisting the urge to take a damn photo for your dignity, but you fear you'll collapse soon.
Also, you’ve walked Phainon. Dogs like walks. And dogs like exploring and meeting new people.
But for some reason, even though people coo at Phainon to get his attention, and he gives them in return, Phainon more so keeps on looking at you, or fully fixates on you.
Must be part of the dog package or something, you ponder quietly when you dip your head down, and meet his adorable fluffy face while you saunter the streets together. His tail wags cheerfully, and your hand twitches. Oh god, control yourself, girl. That’s a hybrid. What you’re going to do is weird. Odd. Strange. And whatever synonym you can think of.
After 30 mins of walking, you’ve decided to take a breather in another bench in Okhema Activity Park. You recall how embarrassed you got when you were strapping the leash on Phainon’s collar in his dog form, because again, that’s a hybrid—he turns into a human, don’t ever forget, and it’s already so weird that you’re putting a collar on a species that also turns into human, but this is how this service worked, apparently.
( Also, it’s amazing how the sun mark on his neck can also be seen in his full dog form, but through his fur. )
Speaking of the samoyed, he was just gazing at you again, and you don’t know what he’s thinking about. Not until he bonks your knee with his head, and you lift a brow questioningly.
You nervously ask, “W–What?”
Another bonk.
“What, Phainon? Do you want to—to pee, or something?”
If he did, he already did. And you have an inkling that Phainon is not that gross. He has decorum still. Most likely he’ll be hiding somewhere else just to flush it all out.
Then, Phainon whines. Be still, your heart. Oh my god. Why is he so cute? And why are you so mean? There’s a real, pure samoyed looking at you with the saddest eyes ever. You’re evil for not doing anything.
“I—I don’t know what you want,” you admit to him. “If you want something, say it. You can’t talk in that form?”
He huffs. Must’ve been a yes. And since he can’t talk, Phainon’s fluffy head searches for your hand. His heated breath brushes over your skin, and before you know it, he gives you a lick.
“Woah, hey! Why are you—“
Phainon whines again, and it hits you. You gawk at him for a moment, still contemplating if you’re going to proceed with what you have to do. Then Phainon rests his chin on your knee, begging, and there’s an arrow that strikes you from behind.
Aeons.
“A-ah,” you stammer, before a shaky hand elevates, shadowing a bit of the dog’s face. “My bad. I just thought it’ll be odd for me to pet you, considering the situation—“
Another whine. How many more whines will it get? You don’t know if you’re seriously going to crash out because you’re anxious by the fast course of events, but also charmed at the same time because Phainon’s so cute and you don’t want to mess things up. This is the full truth.
“Okay, okay. Fine. Sure. I’m—I’m gonna pet you. Just hold still, okay?”
And it’s not a groundbreaking climax. He complies, and you slowly rest your palm on top of his head, testing the water. Seconds pass, and wow—wow. It’s fluffier than you can ever imagine. It is like a cloud. He is like a fluffball.
Phainon leans onto your touch, and you watch how his tail wags side by side again. In those Walk Your Dog marketing materials, you’ve gotten a rough idea of what dogs look like when they’re happy.
And Phainon seems thoroughly overjoyed by the petting.
You shatter. You just can’t handle it anymore. Another hand raises, and you, in full force, start to squish the samoyed’s face, irrevocably captivated. You have been won over by the samoyed.
Luckily for you, Phainon didn’t mind.
30 minutes of walking flew by—and again, you’re sitting on a bench, but this time, you have the samoyed beside you. Residents of Okhema have stolen pictures, and even asked for your permission prior to this. You let them because you don’t own Phainon.
A few minutes ago, the samoyed quietly. . . yet freely cuddled itself close to you. He pressed his snout on your arm, and then on your neck. It was a weird sensation but you yelped when his wet nose touched your cheek.
Two eyes blinked when you took a look at him. As if he was examining your reactions. As if he was finding out what you were about to do next.
Again, it was weird ( you have no idea how much you’ve used the word weird ), but you sighed, and carefully leaned back against him anyway. Soon enough, your head was resting on the pup’s side, and your eyes were slightly blocked by snow fur.
Then, Phainon gives a deep woof, and you close your eyes.
You hear the thumpthumpthump, but pay it no mind.
It will be over soon. You did not waste those two hours. The dog insisted the walks. You have photos and videos to share now, too.
“Did you have fun today?”
You instantly detach yourself away from him after that. He’s back to his hybrid human self. Feeling your cheeks heating up, you nod bashfully. “Um—y-yeah!” Then, you narrow your eyes at him. “Can you also give me a head’s up at least when you’re transforming back?”
Phainon snickers, “I’m sorry. You seemed so content that I didn’t want to disturb you.” Then, he smiles lightly. “Which means you did, since you did not even notice me transforming back?”
Now your face gets even hotter. “What. No!” Phainon’s ears are up again, and his tail is wagging, again. Fuck. “I’m not a weirdo.”
Phainon just laughs again, “Sure.”
“I am not!”
“Mm,” He hums, and your heart skips when that smile remains on his lips.
You avert your gaze away, not knowing how to feel about that.
There’s a few minutes of silence. To avoid feeling awkward, you listen to the sounds inside Okhema Activity Park. The leaves rustling from above. The kids’ voices as they run around the grass. The bells ringing from passing bikes.
And Phainon’s gentle breathing beside you.
“You smell really good, you know,” he says, and of course, you’re taken aback.
“B-bwuh? What?”
You stare at him as if he grew two heads. You’re waiting for the I’m just kidding, but his expression hasn’t changed a bit. In fact, he’s genuine.
“I said you smell good. You smell nice.”
Now who’s calling me weird? Or maybe because this is just how hybrids are. You don’t know their biology. “I don’t know what to feel about that.”
The amused Phainon smiles wider. “Trust me, it’s a compliment.”
“To be honest I’m a bit freaked out.”
“Understandable.”
You look away again. You want to tell him to turn into a samoyed so this won’t be awkward, because you’re intimidated by his size, because does he know that his pecs are about to pop out from his compression shirt, or or that he’s shining so brightly you can’t look away, or or —
“It’s still so comical how you thought that this was a literal dog walking service,” Phainon suddenly brings up, and you glance at him. “Walk Your Dog is clever with their strategy to attract their potential clients or target audience. At first glance, it may seem innocent at the surface, not until you dig deeper. Did you really not realize that we’re not all what we seem?”
“I get it. There’s no need to rub it in, Phainon,” you pout at him, and you miss his ears twitch. “There’s still a lot of things that I don’t know about the world, okay?”
Phainon releases another chuckle. “Okay. I won’t hold it against you.”
…
There are numerous thumps as the samoyed’s tail continuously wags behind him. “But seriously, how come you’ve never realized?”
You groan, “Phainon!”
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Walkyourdog services is actually 10/10 btw
@ evernight
What?? You actually tried it?
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Yeah
It was fun
@ permansorterrae
I actually don’t want to ask the details.
Feel free not to share with us.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Did you know that booking a 2 hour session is a quickie?
@ permansorterrae
No. And I really don’t want to know.
@ evernight
But I want to!
Tell us more LOL
@ intergalacticbaseballer
WELL THEN
@ permansorterrae
Come on.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
If a hybrid dog thinks that you smell good, it’s an indication that you’re a potential mate
So if you keep on booking them for example, there’s a very high chance that the hybrid may terminate their employment to pursue said potential mate
Which is, to be perfectly honest, absolute cinema
I’d love to watch that drama
@ evernight
That’s actually really professional of them
At least there are no work violations
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Right right!
Though imagine the mess if the hybrid continued to work under work your dog??? Super messy
Anyway
I have another info to share abt them
@ permansorterrae
Why do you know so much about the hybrids and their service?
@ intergalacticbaseballer
Got to know during a 12 hour session, baby!
🤪
@ permansorterrae
We really didn’t need to know about that.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
But now you do.
My friend, if you ever try out Walk Your Dog,
@ permansorterrae
I promise you, I won’t.
@ intergalacticbaseballer
If the hybrid keeps on biting and biting you, that also means they want you as their mate
They’re claiming you, marking you as theirs
Hybrids don’t normally do that with their clients
But they will if they see a potential mate, or if the client is into that
@ permansorterrae
Again, why do we need to know this?
@ evernight
Because I’m curious!
“So.” Tonight, you are facing Cipher’s shit-eating grin in the coffee shop where you guys regularly meet after each semester. Sipping her iced drink, she says, “Someone’s been active. You having fun walking a dog these days, huh?”
Your heart pounds. It’s no secret that you’ve been posting about the samoyed recently. You’ve shared in Astralgram how you’ve been spending time with the pup every two weeks, or sometimes even every week, when you’re missing him. You go on walks, or even eat out together—unfortunately your pup is a big eater, it’s concerning sometimes.
You won’t forget that one day when he asked if he could take a bite of your burger, and he literally devoured the whole thing. His tail was wagging so happily despite you admonishing him for the biggest crime he ever committed.
But still, your friends do not know.
They do not know the truth.
“Yeah. Walking the dog is actually helping me get into shape. I walk him every two hours whenever I have him.” You tell them, and you swirl your preferred order with your teaspoon.
Castorice sends you a wonderful smile. “That sounds wonderful. If you wouldn’t mind, maybe we could join you one day when you walk the samoyed?”
Oh, no. That’s not possible. Over your dead body. They cannot know. Even though you and Phainon plan to act all normal, these three friends of yours will eventually realize what’s all underneath it.
But still, remain calm. Remain composed. Like Mydei, who has just his eyes shut tight, and arms crossed, though he’s evidently listening.
“S–sure, one day, one day,” You laugh a little. “But I’ll have to warn you—he’s a bit of a biter. Nowadays, he can’t stop biting me for some reason. It doesn’t hurt. And it doesn’t bleed. I feel like it’s more of a playful bite, if anything.”
“He could probably still be thinking that he’s a puppy,” Cipher explains with a shrug. “All dogs have that phase. They still think that they’re like young babies.”
An image of Phainon, in his full samoyed form, or even in his hybrid human form, making himself comfortable in your lap, or laying on top of you, appears in your mind. That couldn’t be further than the truth.
“Phainon, you’re so heavy! Stop it!”
He just laughs, and ignores you anyway. It’s already too late for you to push him away because he found the perfect spot to melt against you. He sighs in delight.
“Good night.”
“What?! No, Phainon—get off!”
“Haha, call my name again?”
You were suffocating so overwhelmed that day because of a gorgeous slash beefy hybrid samoyed man on top of you, and yet you wouldn’t have it any other way.
And when the topic shifts to a new one, you give the floor to Cipher and Castorice as they share updates from their new adventures. It is not long before Mydei elbows you lightly on the arm, and you look up at him, curious.
“What?”
“You’re glowing.”
Your face steams. “Wha-?”
“Glowing.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Is walking the dog the only thing happening in your life right now?”
Your task of letting the world know that you have something going on is successful, but you also have to bear the outcomes that will be gradually thrown your way.
After all. . . walking the dog, in this new context you’ve found yourself in, meant two different things.
A Good Bunny Stays in Her Pen — lohen x reader, NSFW, multichapter, masterlist
Ი𐑼 related artwork by @/pienfrey! >w<
synopsis:
You hate your job at the cabaret club. It’s draining, dehumanizing, and you always stumble home smelling like cigarettes. You wish the degree pinned to your wall had gotten you the career of your dreams instead of a mountain of debt, but life’s never been fair to you.
So maybe you should have been more cautious when Mr. Perfect came rolling through. Maybe you should have stopped staring into those red-blue eyes like you’d get drunk off them.
But you didn’t. And now, it’s far too late for you to harbor any regrets.
themes:
porn with plot, psychological, slow burn, modern au, yandere!lohen, detective!lohen, bunny-girl-hostess!reader, detectives of favonius, codependency, vigilante justice, obsessive/possessive themes, unhealthy coping mechanisms (murder, repression), explorations of childhood trauma, analysis of legal systems and cabaret clubs, explorations of sexual trauma, PTSD, unreliable narrator, developing relationship, white knight syndrome, fluff and smut and angst, lohen can save you, you can fix him...right?
warning: please note that this is a mature series intended for adult readers. there will be many dark and possibly discomforting scenes in the chapters ahead regarding trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms, violence, and codependency. there is explicit sexual content, but this is more of a plot with porn story than porn with plot. if you are uncomfortable with NSFW, you should be able to safely skip the sex scenes without missing out on much.
if you are used to reading my other standalone works, please understand that the lohen in this fic is not characterized the same way. there are a lot of similarities, but also key differences that don't exist in my canon!lohen works, for reasons to be explained in the universe of this fic.
With that said, if you choose to read, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 6: Etched Into Bone and Soul (~7.4k) coming 8/5!
Chapter 7: Disaster and Remorse
Chapter 8: Struggle All You Want
Chapter 9: Moratorium on Questioning
Chapter 10: Finale
welcome to the landing page for A Good Bunny Stays in Her Pen! if you would like to be tagged whenever i post lohen x reader, please check my rules here! thank you!
masterlist
MISS HARMONY!!! where are you??? Are u okay?? Haven't seen you posting any blurp of our beloved (phainon) and it worries me. Is it the exam month for collage students??? (Idk because I'm not in one) but if it is, i hope it goes well, Ill wait until there's news from you and make sure to stay healthy and hydrated miss harmony.
Ps. I really miss your thoughts on a daily basis of phainon and I've been restless for the past week but i can understand if it's exam month for the collage student, I'm just checking to see if you're okay. And please know that i will wait for your return. Phainon Nation isn't going down when miss harmony though of him keeping it alive (a fan of your phainon though/also the main reason i haven't been able to move on from him) o7
Sincerely a concerned witch Reliana.
HIIIIIII I'm still alive !! 😭 Thank you so so much for checking in oml,,,, I need to kill my faculty and the weather of this country because they keep on getting postponed for this and that 🤡 I feel like I'm losing years off of my lifespan from these exams ngl ugh.
I have been ITCHING to return to my regular Phaisimpery so much.. but it's hard when you're stressed out of your mind orz. I'm really spending Phaiversary the authentic way (by being a prisoner) if you think about it 🗿
BUT what is this I hear about the next patch being entirely a zzz collab 🫠 my dreams of Phainon SP in 2027 is completely shattered.
Picture of Phaicus Phairelius Phainonious Phaicinnatus III being swaddled I took some time ago because I have nothing else atm :(
MISS HARMONY!!!!! your alive!!! Thank the gods, I'm so worried. I have the exam goes well and for you to pass with flying colors. And to note on the weather, i live in a ASEAN county so i can only say this to the weather "f u and i love you air conditioner, literally cannot survive without u in this heat (36 to 39° Celcius on a daily morning from 10am to 17pm basis is CRAZY-. Even at night it's still a 29°C)
On another note of a hsr x zzz collab. I'm just hoping there would be a phainon sp, please hoyo... If not a sp at least let the collab caharcter be phainon... I can m6 him(I'm saving for ramielle but if it's phainon then.....) But then Hoyo could also be generous to give both.... Consider phainon did make them banks! I mean come on, look at his revenue hoyo... If you make him as sp i will make sure to pull for him, literally my only hyperfixation ever since he shown in amphoreous trailer. Oh what would a woman do when her husband is on another game and have no pull left for him *pulls out a barely filled with money ATM card* i may not have much but I'm committed to him 🙂↕️
also FATE COLLAB P2, PHAINON AS A SERVANT???? HELLO???? him calling us master 🤤, him doing his best to please his master yet also still being a samoyan puppy that he is..... Literally feels like you can see his tail wagging when we said he did a good job even though there's supposed to be none in his behind.
I'm sorry ill be quiet is already 1 in the morning in here, dont mind my sudden ramble in the middle of the night.
Miss harmony miss harmony Miss harmony miss harmony Miss harmony miss harmony Miss harmony miss harmony Miss harmony
Have you seen this!? !!?!?!
I saw this and literally said "SLAY THE PRINCESS-" before putting my head in my hand because it's a possibility that the artist hasn't event read that masterpiece and it somehow break me mentally, like no way they didn't read that golden meal before drawing this ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝⸝ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ⌑ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀⸝⸝⸝꒱ྀི১
SOARIEN ARTTT 🧎🏻♀️🧎🏻♀️ I think I may have seen this on twitter!! Lmao not your first thought being STP 😭 you guys are still stuck in His chokehold like me I see 🚬
SYNOPSIS | spiderman!lohen au | lohen should leave you a five star review for cleaning the bloodstains on his suit. if only it wasn't his spiderman suit. he should kill you after.
NOTE | look at me posting an hour after i said my writer's block is horrible.
1,536 | WARNINGS: lohen.
spiderman!lohen didn't know whether to commend you for your skills or to tie you to a chair and question what you knew about him.
well, you don't exactly know him, per se.
but he's been a customer of your laundry shop since he's moved to your neighborhood. every sunday, he would come and do his laundry in peace. it was a lovely chore; getting your clothes washed, being surrounded by lovely smelling fabric conditioners, soaking upon the warmth of the dryer after, and organizing your freshly cleaned clothes. it felt good to wear newly washed clothes. there's also a coffee machine and snack area that he can help himself with while listening to the lofi music that's always player in the background.
the silence and tranquility of the laundry shop was a plus.
most customers would come and ask for cleaning service, leaving behind their clothes and lohen to his comfy lonesome. if they do stick around, they don't strike up a conversation with him. after all, your regular customers were tired people wanting to relax while waiting for their clothes. they're simply tired busy people, all minding their own business. some of them tend to sleep on the waiting areas too.
it's been a couple of relaxing weeks, with a few run-ins with burglars and good-for-nothing nobody's.
until a thief decided to smash your glass window and demand for money in the middle of the night.
lohen was merely passing by after dealing with a group of criminals, suit bloodied and a few tears on the fabric, when his spidey senses began to tingle and his webs led him to his favorite laundry shop.
“hand me the money, now!”
was the first and last thing he heard before he came barreling through the broken window. both of his feet met the side of the man's head, his unconscious body flying across the room and into one of your machines.
“oops.” lohen scratches his head awkwardly. he didn't intend to hit one of your washing machines.
“sorry about that!”
weirdly enough, you look unbothered as you are. the clothes behind you on the tabletop are a disarray, a pile of clothes in plastic sacks piled over each other and the items on the reception counter from where you stood are thrown to the side. your face blankly stares at him, cash in hand, before your shoulders slump forward with a relieved sigh.
“were you really going to hand that over?”
“were you expecting me to choose death over compliance?” your response was dry as the clothes freshly taken out of the drying machine.
“well, normally, people would put up a fight.”
“i hardly call a sudden burglary incident a normal encounter for a lot of people.” threat unconscious and nowhere threatening, you carefully place the stack of cash back into the cashier. “it's just money, i hardly think my life is worth… a few dollars of cash.”
“oh wow, that's… optimistic of you.”
you don't look optimistic at all. in all the times he's been here, you only ever have a bored look on your face whilst folding the laundry, never looking too pleased or too annoyed.
just a balance of neutrality and boredom.
but with lohen’s current predicament, neutrality is barely a choice. he's been pushing himself beyond his limit lately; over fatigued body walking here and there in the police station he works at, dragging himself after his shift to swing across cities at night. he barely gets any rest when he gets home. he can manage two to three hours of sleep before he jumps back to his feet for work. it's how he came to the decision to avail your cleaning service for his laundry.
and how he came to his predicament as of now.
lohen's spiderman suit and his bloodied uniform is nowhere to be seen.
the adrenaline of losing one of the evidence of his late night activities kept him on high alert. varka had half the mind to send him home in the middle of his shift with how many times he'd snapped at the junior officers at the station and mindlessly stared off in the air, conclusions upon conclusion of where he'd left his suit building up in his mind.
one of those conclusions is that he had thrown the suit and uniform in his laundry basket while half asleep.
the same laundry basket he's about to retrieve from your laundry shop.
the same laundry basket you handed over without so much as a reaction, just your usual bored look while you resume to tend to your other customers. you barely bat an eyelid when he had asked if you had come across his bloodied police uniform, leaving out the part of his bloodied suit.
“sorry, i don't pay enough attention to remember what each of your clothes look like. if you want, you can recount the number of clothes if it matches the ones you've sent to me. if you're missing one, just let me know.” you said, before you turned away from him.
the same basket that contained clothes the poured into his bed in search of the said suit and uniform (he grimaced when he noticed the straight folded lines of the ones you had ironed and folded, efforts wasted in vain).
the same basket that indeed had the same suit and uniform.
only difference is that both of the offending clothes are spotless and squeaky clean, almost good as new. you even sewed some of the tears in his suit.
there was no way you hadn't paid attention like you said. he doesn't even know how to clean up those bloodstains without scrubbing the hell out of them, and even then there will still be some dark spots left after drying them up. he would've left you a five star review for the amazing work you did, but all that clouded his mind is that you've seen his suit.
now, lohen stands in front of your shop once more, a laundry basket in sweaty hands.
“good evening,” you come running from the back of the shop, a stack of clothes in your hands. “oh, welcome back.”
lohen forces a smile on his face (varka always said to smile before confrontations) rocking back and forth on his heels. he feels antsy, the question screaming in the back of his mind feels heavy. the oncoming migraines are a pain in the ass.
“yup, got some cleaning to do! it's sunday, after all.” he looks around the shop, relieved to see that there's only two washing machines running but no people in sight.
lohen should kill you while he still has the chance.
“you don't seem to have many customers tonight.”
“most of them left a little earlier.” you approach the counter, where he stands in anticipation. after a few clicks on your keyboard, one of your washing machines beeps in response. “you can take those to number five.”
“thanks!”
lohen needs to find the perfect moment to pose his question, watching you work from the corner of his eyes. the buzz of the machines around him was deafening, it kind of represents the way his mind is spinning; confused and anxious with the way you're nonchalantly doing your work without addressing the laundry he sent last week.
all of the sudden, your voice rang across the shop.
“are you a cosplayer or something?”
“what?”
lohen turns to look at you fully, though you haven't spared him a look. you seem content folding the clothes on your side of the shop.
“your costume.” you repeat, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
lohen thought you've figured him out. that he was the spiderman, beating and killing criminals left right and center. but no, instead of thinking the obvious, you thought he was merely an imposter. a cosplayer.
lohen couldn't stop the snort that escaped his mouth.
“ah, so you did saw the suit!”
perhaps playing along with you is the safest solution.
“i did.” you turn to him this time, and he doesn't fail to catch the interested glint in your eyes. “the fabric was spandex, but it's more sturdy than your usual type of spandex.”
he listens to you go on and on about the suit, the way the texture of the fabric felt beneath your finger and the way it stretched when you pulled just a bit. lohen admits, he hasn't heard you speak this long. he could count the number of words he's heard you repeat before tonight and right now was reaching a world record. and your eyes, gosh, why do they look so sparkly all of the sudden? you make it look like the stars outside in the night sky are a shame and lohen's spent countless nights gazing up at the sky when he's all but spent from the adrenaline after a fight.
lohen should model the suit for you. only if you ask though. he wouldn't mind. he should tell you though. maybe.
“you seem to know a lot about fabrics.” he approaches the counter, resting his chin on a palm.
authors note . You ask, and you shall receive. This was kinda fun to make, so I might do more in the future. I'm not good at writing scenarios too quickly for vids, because that'll take me weeks to construct, so for these scenarios, I just described what happens in the video, with some added dialogue. I guess it's useful if any of the videos get deleted... anyways, enjoy!
✮ in his lap, with your back against his chest, his hand around your throat
Your hand is on top of Scara's, out of instinct. His other hand is between your legs, two fingers circling your clit in a rhythm that's making your thighs shake. He's inside you, but he isn't moving, just letting you feel the way he fills you with his cock seated so deep inside. Your squirming causes you to grind on him, and his hand on your throat tightens.
"Did I tell you to move?"
You try to stop your movements, and he doesn't even give you a break as he rubs your clit faster. Your squirming gets worse, your body clearly trying to chase something his cock won't give you. You shift your hips up again, involuntarily, desperate, and he finally snaps his hips up, one brutal thrust that makes you drop back onto him. He holds you there, grinds in, your vision going spotty.
"That's what you wanted, isn't it? You couldn't even wait.. pathetic."
✮ collar and leash...
He fucks into you roughly, his grip on the chain keeping your back arched at the angle he wants, and every time you drop your head, he yanks the leash until your chin lifts back up.
"Head up. I want to hear you. Don't you dare hide in the pillow."
At some point, as expected, you do collapse face down, your entire body trembling. Instead of yanking you back up, he puts his foot on the back of your head. He's still inside, grinding into you with his foot, pressing your face into the sheets. Your moans sound just as pathetic as before, just... muffled now.
"You're so well trained, I barely even had to teach you."
✮ vibrating cat tail
You're face down with your wrists and ankles cuffed to a spreader bar that keeps your legs apart. The vibrating plug he put inside you has been going for long enough that your hips are twitching on their own. You can't move, can't close your legs, you can't even think properly. And he's just sitting beside you on the bed with a brush in his hand, writing on your skin.
You feel the tip of the marker drag across your ass. You can't see what he's writing, but you can feel how slow he's going, how precise each stroke is.
散兵のマゾ.
He tells you to "Hold still," when your hip jerks at the dot. He adds a small heart next to whatever he wrote as a cute little addition. "You know what it says?" You shake your head into the pillow, and he leans down, his lips near your ear.
"It says you belong to me, in case you forget." He turns the plug up in vibration, and you forget everything except for his voice and the marker moving against your skin once again.
(yes i changed the japanese lettering cuz i couldn't translate that girls ass for shitz... leave me ALONE)
✮ clit jewelry
He had the jewelry commissioned, made perfectly for you. (If you're a silver girly, imagine he got that for you instead) Gold chains that loop around your hips and between your thighs, and a small gemstone that dangles from the connecting chain. It was expensive, barely made a dent, he's a harbinger after all.
He's lying between your legs, one hand on your inner thigh, the other tracing the chains with his fingertip, watching how your clit swells through the ring the more he touches around it.
"Pretty."
His finger circles your clit slowly through the ring, and the beaded chain sways with every movement. He strokes, circles, and flicks, watching you squirm, watching the gemstone dangle between your legs.
"I should make you wear this under your clothes. Walk around with my jewelry on your cunt, and nobody would know except me." His thumb presses directly onto your clit, and the gemstone presses with it. "and you."
✮ tied up
Your ankles are tied and pulled back toward your head, your thighs spread and bound, ropes around your torso and arms holding you open and vulnerable, with your hips elevated. Moving is impossible, and that is the point. He smacks you across your ass, then again, and again. Your skin changes colors faster than a mood ring, pink, to red, to dark red.
He squeezes the marked flesh between his fingers, spreading you open, keeping you on full display for him. You're wet enough that he doesn't need to ease in, one thumb in your cunt, the other in your ass, pressing inside you.
He brings in the wand vibrator eventually, pressing it against your clit with a pressure that's too much. You jerk against the ropes, but the ropes don't give... he doesn't either. He holds it there while he spanks you, while his fingers work inside you, watching how you crumble.
"You don't get to cum. Not until I say you can."
WANDERER
✮ mid-term exams at the Akademiya are over, and he can finally give you the attention you've been craving
He's on the floor with his back against the mattress, and you're in his lap. He kisses you the way he's been thinking about it for seven days straight, and when you stand up, he doesn't let you leave. His mouth finds your thigh, your hip, and then he's pressing his face against you through the fabric like he's starving.
You push the fabric aside, and his mouth is on you like an apology he'll never verbalize. He eats you out standing up, your fingers in his hair, your legs shaking around his head, and when your knees give, he catches you, pulls you down, and kisses the taste of you back into your own mouth.
"Missed you," he says into the kiss.
✮ the position he's in after you begged him to, and he agreed only because you promised it would "feel good."
He's flat on his back, knees up, his cock lying heavy on his stomach while the device you convinced a Fontaine engineer to build drills into him at a pace that you control. You're sitting on his face because sitting and watching is boring, and why not waste an opportunity to put his mouth to good use?
Every time you turn the dial up, his mouth vibrates through your cunt hard enough that your thighs 'accidentally' clamp over his face.
"Fuck… slow it… ngh… slow it down, I didn't say you could-"
You turn it up, just for that, and he bites your thigh in retaliation. You don't hesitate to turn it up higher. His hips lift off the bed, his cock twitches against his stomach, and the sound he makes is so desperate that you almost feel bad... but not enough as you dial it up 3 more levels.
✮ he's taking his time between your legs
He's lying flat on his stomach between your thighs, his arms hooked under your legs, his hands resting on your hips. He's not rushing because your reactions are too entertaining to skip through.
His eyes are fixed between your legs, watching the way your cunt clenches around nothing every time his tongue hits the right spot. The muscles tighten, release, tighten again, a visible flutter that he can see, and his mouth curves against your clit.
"Look at that, you're clenching so hard, and there's not even anything inside you." His tongue flicks across your clit again, and he watches your hole pulse in response. "That's adorable... You're so desperate for something to squeeze on, and all you're getting is my tongue."
✮ you talked back to him in front of the other Akademiya scholars. this is punishment
You're at your vanity, touching up your makeup for your next class, when Wanderer picks you up and throws you onto the bed. You mistake it for him playing around, so you let out a giggle that dies down once you realize what he's really in here for. You still had your makeup brush in your hand, and he uses that as the main tool for the punishment.
The soft bristles trace the inside of your thigh, barely even touching you, and your leg twitches anyway. He drags it up higher, your hips shifting as he does, and he draws slow circles on your clothed clit with the brush tip, the soft fibers tickling in a way that's too light to actually get you off.
"You're not allowed to move."
You try, but it's hard when the brush keeps circling, feather-light, especially when the area between your thighs is so sensitive.
"You're very quiet now..."
Your body is twitching involuntarily, your clit swollen and aching for pressure that the brush won't give, and every time you shift your hips to chase friction, he pulls the brush away for three seconds before starting over. "I could do this for hours," he says, "and I will, until you learn that talking back has consequences that last longer than the conversation."
LOHEN
✮ you lost a sparring match and the penalty is whatever he decides
You're on top of him, straddling his hips, facing him, and his cock is between your thighs. He's lying back with both arms behind his head, relaxed, like this is something he's watching happen to someone else.
"Tighter. You're barely touching me."
You press your thighs together, and the friction changes; his cock slides through the tighter space, and his hips roll up slightly, involuntarily, before he forces them back down.
"Don't look smug," he says, even though you weren't. "You're the one on top of me doing thigh exercises for my entertainment. This isn't a win for you."
He lets his arms drop from behind his head, his hands finding your hips, and he guides your grind faster, setting a pace that makes his cock slide between your thighs in a rhythm you can feel in your clit. His hips push up to meet your grind, and the pretense of boredom is cracking.
"Fuck." His hands grip your hips harder, fingers digging in, and he cums between your thighs, spilling across the inside of your stockings and dripping down.
"You should lose more often. And next time, I'm not letting you use your thighs."
✮ he doesn't use his hands like he's bored, like the girl on her knees with his cock in her throat isn't doing anything worth gripping for
He grinds his hips into your face in a rolling rhythm that pushes him across your tongue and into the back of your throat with each push, and the sounds you make around him are garbled.
When his cock slips out, spit stringing between your lips and the head, he slaps you. It's a quick one, and, before you can even fully process the slap, he grabs the back of your skull with one hand, feeding himself back in, and his hand drops, hands-free again.
"You stopped. I didn't say you could stop."
He fucks into your mouth faster, one hand finally gripping the back of your head as he grinds deep, pulling out to stroke twice, and then feeding himself balls-deep, holding you there, your nose against his pelvis. He does this a couple of times before he lets you breathe.
"Good prey."
(ik its a mlm vid, but hush ur mouth HUSH.)
✮ he treats it like a game. you're the thing being chased
You try to crawl away from him, scrambling toward the headboard. Lohen laughs at you, his hand closing around your ankle and pulling. Your body slides across the sheets, and you try to kick, your free leg pushing against the mattress, but he's stronger, and he's not even trying. He drags you toward him with one arm like you weigh nothing.
"Where are you going?" He sounds genuinely curious. "There's nowhere to go. The bed has four sides, and I'm on all of them."
You try again, your leg twisting in his grip, and he lets you struggle for a few seconds because it's funny to him, before moving toward you, and dropping your ankle when he's between your legs, forcing them open around his hips. He's naked, fully, and you can feel his cock brush against your inner thigh as he settles.
"You're running from me," he says, leaning over you, one hand finding your throat, "with your cunt this wet?"
His cock drags against your folds as he shifts his weight, sliding through the slick, and the grin on his face gets bigger. "Your body's not very good at lying. Your mouth says stop, but down here?" He grinds his length against you, the head of his cock nudging your clit. "Down here is rolling out the welcome mat."
He pulls you up by your throat, lifting you off the mattress, and you're in his lap, facing him, your bare thighs around his hips. His cock is pressed between your bodies, the heat of it against your stomach, and his free hand slides up your side, fingers finding the hem of your top.
His hand leaves your throat and drops to your chest. He bites at your tit through the fabric, his teeth closing your nipple through cotton, tugging, and your back arches into him instead of away. He grins against the fabric, bites harder, and his other hand pulls the top up, bunching it above your breasts.
He shoves you down, flat on your back, the mattress bouncing under you, and his hands strip your underwear off in one motion. He holds it up, looking at the wet spot, the soaked center of the fabric that's dark and visibly damp.
"Look at this." He turns it so you can see. "You left a whole confession in your underwear, and you're still pretending you don't want this?"
He brings the underwear to your mouth. You clamp your lips shut, turning your head, and he grabs your jaw with his free hand, squeezing the hinges until your mouth opens. He stuffs the fabric in, and you try to push it out with your tongue, tasting yourself, the salt and musk of your own arousal coating the cotton. He pushes it in further with his thumb, watching your tongue fight a battle it's losing, until the fabric sits behind your teeth and your protests are reduced to muffled sounds.
"Much better." He lets go of your jaw.
Eventually, the positions shift, and you end up on his chest, his arms around you, and his hand between your legs. He rubs your clit while his other hand finds your throat again, settling around it loosely.
You can feel his cock against your lower back, hard and twitching every time you squirm against him. The underwear in your mouth muffles every sound into something garbled and pathetic, and you can feel your spit soaking through the fabric and dripping down the corner of your mouth.
"You ran from me for about four seconds." His voice is in your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder, watching his own hand work between your legs. "Four. And now you're shaking in my lap, dripping through my fingers, with your own panties in your mouth." His fingers speed up, and your hips buck. "You may be the worst prey I've ever hunted, but you're the funniest."
(you can tell i got carried away... sorryz 👀)
I have a Discord now! 18+, for readers, writers, and anyone who wants early wips and a place to chat!! (link)
🐊 featuring: {separate}: 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
🐊 tw: yandere themes ⭐︎ non/dubcon ⭐︎ kidnapping ⭐︎ delusions ⭐︎ they’re mean es shii ⭐︎ two faced asl ⭐︎ sadism ⭐︎ masochism ⭐︎ bondage ⭐︎ footjob ⭐︎ spanking ⭐︎ degradation ⭐︎ babytrapping ⭐︎ choking ⭐︎ manhandling ⭐︎ face sitting (m! receiving) ⭐︎ 69 ⭐︎ rimming ⭐︎ feminization ⭐︎ lingerie ⭐︎ collar ⭐︎ humiliation ⭐︎ hair pulling ⭐︎ stockholm syndrome ⭐︎
🐊 an: ah yes, time to feed the twink lovers, wish you luck ♡
🐊 HEIZOU — Knick-knack!
The collar snaps before your eyes finish rolling.
Leather biting sharp into your throat – not tight enough to choke, just cruelly reminding you he already knew you'd try it.
It forces a sharp gasp out of you—one you don't get to finish, because Heizou's already using that strip of leather to drag you right back between his legs.
Knuckles skimming your jaw as he guides your head down, unbothered, like he'd mapped out every move you were going to make before you made them.
One moment you’re glaring.
Next, your mouth is full of him.
His cock slides hot and heavy over your tongue, and the startled glkh!— that bursts out of you only makes his grin sharpen.
"There she is," he says, voice bright and almost clinical. "I gave you three opportunities to stop before it got to this point. You picked this."
You barely manage a sputter before he adjusts the collar again—SNAP!—tightening it to borderline cut off airflow.
His expression doesn't go cold so much as settle — as if he's arrived somewhere he expected to be. You glare up at him on instinct.
Heizou’s eyes lit up like you’d handed him a present.
"Oh, still brave," he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip with idle curiosity, like he's noting it down somewhere. "Predictable, but brave. Don't use your teeth, sweetheart. I already know you're thinking about it."
You don’t get to protest.
Before he slams his hips upward, seating himself deeper in your throat so fast your nose hits his skin. His cock nudges a place you're not ready for, your throat seizing around him as your vision spots.
glk!- glkh- glk
Breath stuttering, lashes fluttering as he watches your throat struggle around him.
"T-there it is," he sighs, pleased in that infuriating, already-knew-it way he has. "Much more honest than whatever smart little comment you… were... hah… about to make. I clocked the exact wording, by the way. Would've been a good one."
You dig your nails into his thighs hard, a silent ‘go fuck yourself.’
The sound you make next — a humiliating, involuntary little choke — made you cringe… and him lose composure entirely.
Making Heizou moaned loudly, head tipping back, a low breathless "Ah–!" slipping out before he could catch it, olive eyes fluttering like your defiance knocked something loose in his chest he hadn't accounted for.
First thing he hadn't accounted for.
He stares back down at you, something flickering in his expression — recalculating. Then that grin returns, slower this time. More interested.
"Hm." His thumb drags your lip down, watching the spit string between skin. "You keep doing things I don't predict. Do you know how rare that is?"
Loosening the collar just enough for you to gasp—wrong move. Your pride flares, and you try to snap back, but all that comes out is a vibration against his cock, a choked mmph! that makes his hips jerk.
"Look at you," he says, catching a tear you didn't realize had fallen, holding it on his thumb like it's a clue. "Still fighting. Still dripping. And you think I can't tell which one you're more embarrassed about."
Then he's guiding your head back down—slow, but not merciful—letting his cock drag over every tender inch of your tongue while he keeps watching.
slrp!—mmph!—glk!
He follows the tremor in your thighs like a bloodhound.
Watches them press together, you pretending it's not happening. He clocked the exact moment your hips gave the smallest, traitorous twitch toward him.
"There it is.." quietly, to himself more than you, "You know~," he continues, tilting his head, "I wasn't planning to use more than one hand today. But you're so full of-” Then something warm slides between your knees. “-surprises.”
His foot.
The arch nudges your thighs apart, slow and so casual — like it's the obvious next logical step — exposing your soaked underwear to the cool air.
“Hm?” he coos, voice all faux-gentle mockery. "You're already this wet, and we're barely into the hypothesis."
His thumb traces idle circles on the leather strap. "Your body keeps contradicting itself. That's going to be a problem for you."
You try to shake your head — trembling, furious denial — but the collar stops the motion dead. His foot presses in, slow and deliberate, rubbing just enough friction against your panties to make your breath stutter out through your nose.
"You look furious," Heizou observes, voice soft with something worse than mockery — genuine fascination. "You should see your own face right now. You're trying so hard."
Foot rubbing in that same terrifying precision he puts into everything — deliberate circles right against your soaked panties. The pressure is perfect — teasing your swollen clit through the thin fabric while his cock stays buried deep in your throat.
"Every single time I discipline you," shaft still buried deep in your throat, foot working you toward something you're desperately trying not to give him, "your body does this. I've noted it. I have a very thorough record."
You try to grumble around him, but it only comes out as a wet, vibrating mmph that makes his length twitch on your tongue.
Heizou chuckles, low and delighted.
“Oh? You like that?” His foot moves faster, rubbing firm strokes up and down your dripping slit, toes curling to press right against your clit. “Look at you… trying so badly to glare at me while your pussy’s grinding against my foot like a desperate little whore.”
The combination is too much.
Your moan vibrates wildly around his length as your orgasm crashes through you — humiliating, what's worse is that he doesn't even look surprised.
"Mhm." He watches you shake apart with the quiet satisfaction of someone whose theory was confirmed exactly on schedule. "Right on time."
Not giving you a second to recover, his hips chase his own high with the same focused efficiency he does everything else, collar keeping you exactly where the evidence requires you to be.
With a low, unraveling moan — the least composed sound he's made all night — Heizou buries himself deep and cums.
He holds you through every pulse, breathing hard, that careful control finally fraying at the edges.
When he finally pulls back, thumb smearing across your swollen lip, he looks down at you with something that isn't quite the grin from earlier.
More like the face he makes when he's solved something that actually took effort.
"Good girl." Soft. Sincere, almost. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead — unhurried, like punctuation. "You know what the most interesting part of all of this is?"
Oh god
He tilts your chin up. "You already know exactly why you keep ending up here. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."
Grinning, eyeing your trembling form. "I'll wait. I'm patient. I already know the answer."
He gives the collar one last gentle tug.
"Knick-knack.~"
🐊 KAZUHA — W.T.F.
“K-KAZUHA WHAT T-THE FUCKKK!—”
Your voice cracks–as he slams into you, deep-deep-deep, the force of it yanking your silk-bound wrists taut against the beam above. The ropes creak as your spine arches.
And Kazuha just watches, amber eyes half-lidded, like he’s admiring the way your body jolts with every thrust.
Fingers cave into your hips, digging past the surface, marking you obsessively. He drives home with a smoothness that shouldn't be this brutal, each roll of his body a new lesson in how much you can endure.
One thrust.
Two.
Counting the hitches in your chest, timing his pace to the exact second your breath fails you.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers, voice soft as a lullaby. His hips snap forward—hard—and your gasp catches high in your chest, stuck.
“Is it the bindings?...” His thumb strokes your inner thigh, gently. “Or losing your Vision?”
He says it with a terrifying ease. He’d turned that stolen glass over in his palm earlier, eyes wide and worshiping, before tying you open and filling you.
Your body bounces with every stroke, helpless. “Hahh—!” spills out when he drags you down harder, his grip tightening, fingertips pressing deep enough to leave marks.
The pace picks up—smooth, controlled, relentless—like he’s chasing the sound of your breath shattering.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
The wet smack of skin on skin echoes across the water, obscene.
“Easy…” his breath is a warm ghost against your skin, but his weight is a solid, punishing reality stretching you open. “You keep tightening around me like this—”
A particularly vicious thrust punches the air straight out of your lungs, leaving you hollow. “—I might think you enjoy it.”
“I DON’T—” The words snap out, hot and immediate, but they lose their edge halfway.
Something is failing in the back of your skull. Your thoughts are sluggish, stalling, sinking into a gray fog.
Behind him, the box pulses with a weak, dying rhythm—your Pyro Vision guttering out, its fire turning to ash. You wrench your eyes away because the sight of your own fading ambition is a physical ache.
Kazuha grinds into you, a slow, cruel pressure right where your nerves are rawest, before driving up with a sudden, jarring force.
“Nghh—FUCK—!” It spills out, unbidden. Kazuha just exhales a quiet laugh against your cheek.
You hate the scent of him—cedar and salt air.
Hate the softness of his hair, untouched by the violence of his hips.
Most of all, you hate the memory of the same hand currently bruising your hip, tucking a blanket around your shoulders this morning.
You were something precious then.
Now, you’re just a prize.
The hate is there, but it’s slipping through your fingers, dissolving into the void where your Vision used to be.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice a low vibration in your ear as he thrusts deeper. Schlk…schlk…schlk filling you sends a forced heat racing up your spine. “-my songbird is one of a kind~.”
“KAZUHA I SWEAR TO ARCHONS-” But your voice cracks. The fury is a cavernous gap, feeling emptier by the second.
Another brutal snap of his hips makes your back arch, the beam above you groaning under the strain.
“I thought you’d want it like this,” puzzled, a quiet, private observation. He pouts—a look of pure, confused innocence—while his thumb traces a slow, heavy line up your clit. “You said I was always too soft.”
His shaft pulsed a deliberate, agonizing hesitation just to watch you squirm.
“So I figured…” Another thrust, deeper, meaner. “…you’d like it rough.”
You try to muster up the strength to glare holes into him, but you could only whimper in despair at the effects of not having your vision increase.
Kazuha tilts his head slightly, watching the way your wrists strain against the ropes like you’re testing whether the knots might suddenly grow merciful.
“I’m sorry,” voice dropping, quieter. Almost apologetic, “it has to be like this.”
The sorrow in his eyes is real. Genuine.
It changes absolutely nothing about the pace of his hips.
Your breath comes in ragged gasps, chest heaving as he adjusts his grip — one hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your leg higher, spreading you wider.
You can feel it…the hollowness spreads slowly through your limbs like something being gently, methodically unplugged.
"Kaz..." Your voice comes out smaller than you want it to. "Kazuha, you said…hah y-you always said–"
"I know what I said." He says it softly, watching your face with that unbearable attentiveness, like he's memorizing something. "I meant it. Every word."
His hips roll forward, slow and thorough, and the sound that escapes you isn't angry at all. "I still mean it."
"Tch then why–"
"Because–" and here his composure cracks, "you were gunna to leave n' not come back- heh." fingers fondling your nipple, making you arch just perfectly into him as he pumps his thickened inches through every peak.
"And- I found," he continues, breathless now, white hair falling across his face as he drives deeper, "that I believe in your freedom–" thrust "completely–" thrust "except for that."
The boat sways, adding more force to his thrusts.
He chuckles darkly to himself, a tone you've never heard before. He swirls n' swirls his globular tip, the perfect rounded shape to press into your nerves.
And somewhere in the growing heaviness behind your eyes, you're realizing horribly, humiliatingly... that your hips have started moving back to meet him.
Kazuha notices it, his eyes going soft, reaching up to cup your cheek with a gentleness that has absolutely no friggin business being here right now.
"See?" like he's been waiting this whole time to say it. "Isn't this better than leaving?"
You don't answer, you can't tell anymore if the withdrawal is talking or something worse.
He angled slightly – deeper, more deliberate – and your whole body lurches forward with it, the ropes catching you, swinging you right back onto him.
Sloppy sounds fill up the whole cabin until there's no room for anything else. Including your thoughts.
They keep arriving slower now, holding more weight, and you're not sure if you can keep holding onto hate anymore.
Or even remember why you were so upset in the first place.
He feels it immediately – the shift in you. Kazuha has always been terrifyingly good at reading things.
Wind.
Weather...The exact moment you're about to stop denying him.
"Ah-" You gasp- he grinds into your poor, bruised g-spot. "I-i… m’still f-fuckin’ angryy–"
"Of course," kissing up your neck, he inhaled deeply, smiling against you, "You're allowed to be."
"That's not-" A whine punches out of you when he rolls his hips just so. "That's not what I– ngh– t-that's not the point!—"
"Then what is my love?"
And you open your mouth to tell him. You have the answer…you know you do, it was right there a moment ago, something about how wrong this is, something about him taking your vision, something about how this isn't what you wanted.
His shaft drags slowww and thoroughly across that spot inside you, and every single word dissolves.
"Hm~?" Kazuha waits expectantly as the thoughts leave your face, morphing into something that isn't guilt anymore.
"It's alright." He presses a kiss to your temple. "You don't have to say it."
…He's already decided, somewhere in that poetic, completely unwell little heart of his, that this is love. That this is the right thing, that you'll understand eventually.
"Fuhck- ah! Kazu—" hips rolling back to meet him before you even register doing it—He shivers a single tremor moving through that carefully composed body, his breath catching audibly.
His rhythm stutters for just a fraction of a second. And then it happens — the thing he's been holding back since he tied you in the boats for days now.
"Y-you feel—" He stops, then tries again. "You feel so—" he really can't finish it.
Those eyes have gone somewhere glassy and distant — still looking at you, but seeing something past the surface of you, something he's been navigating toward for a very long time-
Both arms wrapping around you, silk ropes and all, folding you into him like something he's been holding in his hands for years and is only now allowing himself to keep.
His cock pulses deep. His breath comes apart completely.
"Don't leave," he moans into your hair, and it’s not a request or a command either. He’s already made up his mind and refuses to be argued with. “Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't—"
Your mouth falls slack, and you bring what little energy you have to bite into your fist as you scream, cumming all over his shaft.
Your walls clenching around him, as a sound slipped out, one you're sure you’ll be embarrassed about later.
Kazuha grunts, a hand jumping to his mouth, trying not to be loud.
Juices connecting you two, losing the careful rhythm entirely, and then he's shuddering against you, spilling deep, face buried in your neck, lips moving against your skin in something that might be your name or might be an unhinged poem or both.
Your vision flickers once behind him…going out.
…
The boat rocks gently in the silence that follows, his arms wrapped around you, holding you softly.
After a long moment, you hear him sigh.
"Im sorry..." A pause. "I just thought this was kinder."
🐊 KINICH — Got his lick back
SMACK!
"AH—!"
The sharp crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room like a hunter’s whip.
Your cry breaks out raw and humiliating, but Kinich doesn’t give you a second to breathe. His hand stays glued to the stinging flesh, squeezing hard enough to feel the heat bloom under his fingers while his other hand slides between your slick thighs.
“Spread.” Flat. Commanding. No room for argument.
You don’t.
So he forces you anyway — two fingers pushing past your dripping folds, stretching you open with that terrifying precision, curling right against the soft, spongy spot that makes your vision spark white.
The second your hips jerk forward to escape, his fist locks into your hair and yanks you right back onto his lap like a leash.
“Already this wet?” A low, almost thoughtful hum leaves him as he pulls his fingers free.
A thick, glossy string of your slick stretches between your hole and his fingertip, catching the low light.
“Running again… but your pussy keeps begging me to stay.”
You try to snap something back — anything — but he’s already lining up. The flared, swollen head of his cock nudges against your entrance once, twice, then pushes in with one merciless slide that steals every word from your throat.
“F-fuck- Kinich-!”
He bottoms out in one smooth glide, stretching you wide around his thick length until you feel him pressing right against the entrance of your womb.
Buried deep, letting your walls flutter and clench desperately around him while his breath ghosts hot against the back of your neck.
“You keep running,” he says quietly, almost thoughtfully, as he pulls back just enough to slam in again. The wet slap of skin on skin is filthy.
“Every time I tell you to stay. Every time you look at me like you’re already gone.”
SMACK!
Your body jerks hard at the next spank, a broken cry ripping from your throat.
Before you can crawl away, his arm hooks around your waist and hauls you right back down onto his cock, pinning you flat to the slick floor. The woven texture bites into your tits and stomach as he forces you to take every brutal inch.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls low, the first real crack in that calm tone.
His hips snap forward harder, cockhead smacking mercilessly into your cunt with every precise thrust. “You’re not leaving Natlan. Not again.”
Smooth, deep rolls of his hips that drag his veiny length along every sensitive ridge inside you. Your voice climbs higher, cracking on whimpers you can’t swallow down.
Drool slips from the corner of your mouth onto the floor while your thighs shake violently.
“Kinich-! puhleaseeee- it’s too much—”
“It’s not.” Another punishing thrust. “You can take it. You will.”
His hand snakes underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit.
He pinches and rolls merciless little circles that have your walls clamping down around his cock like a vice. Your whole body seizes, pussy gushing slick down his length as he keeps fucking you through it.
“Don’t know why- Ngh-,” he rasps against your neck, voice fraying at the edges now, breath coming shorter. “Y’kept leaving me. Why ya- won’t stay put. ”
"Th-that's not— ah— that's not your problem!-"
"You made it my problem." A thrust that punches the air clean out of you. “So I found a solution. Gonna fill this tight little cunt until you’re swollen with my kid. Then you won’t have a choice.”
The words hit you like lightning. Your mind blanks for a second– “Wai-what—”
His cock swirls deep.
Pushing deeeep, his fingers pick up pace on your clit, dragging you toward something you've been denying this whole time, your walls fluttering desperately, your voice climbing so high it cracks—“No!- t-that’s genuinely insane!”
"It isn’t." He held a small, satisfied smile.
"That’s not a solution, that’s literally—fuckkkk!"
But your body betrays you completely, cutting you off. Your walls flutter wildly around him, milking his cock as a devastating orgasm rips through you.
You came hard, screaming into the floor, tears streaming, thighs clamping shut around his hand while your pussy spasms and gushes.
Kinich groans low, the sound raw and animalistic, the first time that perfect hunter composure truly fractures.
His hips stutter once, twice, then he buries himself to the hilt with a sharp snap, pressing so deep you swear you feel him in your throat.
“HNGH!—”
Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your womb — pulse after heavy pulse, so much and so warm it spills out around his pulsing cock almost instantly, smearing sticky and obscene between your bodies.
Grinding deep through every wave, slow and deliberate, like he’s determined to push every drop as far inside you as physically possible.
His arm stays locked tight around your middle, tattooed bicep flexing against your stomach, holding you exactly where he wants you.
“…Your body thinks it’s a perfect solution,” he breathes against your sweat-damp neck, voice hoarse but still terrifyingly calm. “Stop fighting it.”
You’re still shaking, still fluttering around his spent cock, when the reality crashes back in.
Tears prick hot at the corners of your eyes as you try to twist away from him, voice cracking with raw upset.
“No,” you choke out, voice hoarse and furious even while your pussy keeps weakly clenching around him like it’s trying to keep every drop he just gave you.
“I’m not getting pregnant. I’m not letting you trap me like this— you can’t just- you can’t-”
He doesn’t pull out.
If anything, Kinich sinks a little deeper, grinding the head of his cock against your overfilled cervix like he’s sealing it. His lips brush the shell of your ear, calm as ever, but the grip on your waist tightens possessively.
“You already are,” he stares, almost fondly. “Or you will be. Soon.”
You pushed him off hard, “Like hell–”
.
.
🐊
A month later, the humid air inside the Scions of Canopys midwife’s hut feels too thick to breathe.
You’re sitting on the low mat, knees drawn tight together like that might somehow undo everything, while the older woman hums softly and presses careful fingers along your lower belly.
Nausea still clings to the back of your throat. Your breasts ache. Certain smells make you want to retch.
You already know what she’s going to say.
Your captor behind you like a silent sentinel — arms loosely crossed, green-gold eyes half-lidded but missing nothing.
The midwife finally sits back on her heels, expression unreadable for a long beat.
“Congratulations! You're expecting,” she says, no question in her voice, your stomach dropping.
“It seems you're a month along, oh! The baby is healthy…you would be due…”
As the midwife drones on and on, pointing at the chart, you craned your head to glare at Kinich meeting his expectant gaze.
His expression, for once, was readable, and it only conveyed one thing:
‘You can deny it all you want, you’re stuck.’
🐊 LOHEN — Denial is a river
“LOHEN LET ME DOWN—YOU DONE LOST YO MIND.”
You thrashed wildly, hanging upside down from the thick rope coiled tight around your ankle.
The world swayed in sickening circles, blood rushing straight to your head while your own heartbeat hammered in your ears.
Dignity? Gone. Long gone.
Meanwhile, Lohen was losing his shit.
Full-body, stomach-clenching laughter poured out of him as he bent over, one hand braced on his knee, as if he might actually collapse from how hilarious you were.
Red eyes squinted with pure delight, tears pricking at the corners while he wheezed.
“HA- holy shit!-” He dragged in a gasping breath, still grinning like a maniac. “You really walked straight into that one. Fuck, you’re adorable.~”
He finally straightened up and stalked closer, head tilted as he studied your flushed, upside-down face.
That manic little smile curled slowly and hungrily across his lips, one that promised nothing good.
“You actually thought you could escape me?” he cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Cute. Real cute.”
You glared hard enough to burn holes through him.
Lohen only stepped even closer, until he was right in front of your swaying body.
Two fingers reached out and squished your cheeks together like you were some grumpy little creature he’d caught.
“Look at that face,~” he sang, eyes sparkling with pure unhinged joy.
You jerked your head and sank your teeth into his thumb — hard.
A low, genuine, filthy sound punched straight out of his chest. His eyes fluttered, lashes kissing his cheeks.
You pulled back, staring at him in pure disgust and disbelief.
He stared right back, looking almost surprised at himself for half a second… before that wild grin crawled back onto his face, twice as wide.
“Fuck I think I just came a bit…Do that again.”
This fucking freak
His hand finds your face again - cradles it, almost, which was somehow more unsettling than if he'd gripped it.
Thumb pressing into your cheek while your head kept spinning, and the rope creaked above you.
“You’re turning such a pretty shade.~” voice soft and sweet like poison. “Wow, are ya really that happy I’m touching you?”
“YOU PSYCHOTIC LITTLE—”
“Mhm,” Lohen cut you off smoothly, not even listening. His eyes dragged over you slowly and warmly, completely shameless. “Most people would’ve seen the rope, y’know,” he said, like you weren’t literally hanging upside down from his trap.
“Well, most people aren’t being fucking hunted-”
“Nope.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, gentle and obsessive all at once.
“Just you… ‘cause iiiii loooove yooouuu.~” He drew the words out in that obnoxious, singsong way that made your skin crawl and your stomach flip at the same time.
You rolled your eyes so hard it made you dizzy.
Lohen hummed, tilting his head as he watched you sway.
That dangerous little smile never left his face while he tapped one finger against his chin like he was thinking.
“Now~” he purred, smirk widening with wicked promise.
“How should we fix that nasty little attitude of yours…?”
Fuck
.
.
🐊
“Cmon what are ya waitingggg forrr?”
You’re straddling him, completely humiliated, his thick cock buried to the hilt inside you while he lounges back like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.
Hands tucked lazily behind his head, mint-green hair splayed wild across the grass, that damn beauty mark crinkling as he grins up at you with pure psychotic delight.
You’re not moving.
Not one fucking inch, half out of overstimulation, half out of pure spite.
SMACK!
His palm cracks hard across your ass, the sharp sting making you jerk upward with a broken yelp.
The sudden movement drags your dripping walls along every veiny inch of him, Lohen moaning loud and shameless beneath you, biting his lips like he just tasted heaven.
“There ya gooo~” he coos, voice syrupy sweet with fake innocence. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I fuckin’ hate you—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, low and wheezy, eyes sparkling as he tracks every furious twitch on your face. “You gonna move properly, or do I gotta smack that pretty ass red again?”
You barely move.
Slow. Grudging.
The most resentful little roll of your hips that’s ever existed.
Throwing his head back he bursts into loud, unhinged laughter. “HAHAAH— fuck, look at you! So madddd~ So fucking upset and still creaming all over my cock.”
“Are you deadass right now-? Of course I’m mad-!”
“Faster.”
“What—?”
“Faster,” he repeats helpfully, tilting his head with that manic little grin. “You’re going reeeaaally slow, baby. My dick’s getting bored.”
You’re going to kill him.
Fuck it.
You’re going to cum and then kill him.
But your cunt says otherwise, pussy fluttering and sucking greedily around his thick length, no matter how much you glare at him.
Lohen’s eyes darken with hungry delight. He suddenly sits up, arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands, yanking you down flush against his chest.
Shaft grinding deep, bullying right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark white.
“F—fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, that primal edge slipping into his voice. “One more, yeah? Just one more f'me, pretty thing.”
“Lohen, you’ve said that,” You batted your eyes, fighting the pleasure, “-for hours, lemme go!”
“Mmm, doesn’t sound like an answer,” he purrs, rolling his hips up in a filthy, precise way that makes your toes curl. “Doesn’t sound like you’re saying no to me.”
He doesn’t even wait for your reply.
His forearms hook under your thighs, spreading you wide open like a ragdoll as he starts rutting up into you harder.
Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air with every thrust — squelch-squelch-squelch — his cockhead kissing your cervix over and over like he’s trying to knock right through it.
“Hm? Hah- mmph!, seems like someone agrees with me.~” he laughs breathlessly against your ear, nipping at the shell with sharp teeth. “Your pussy’s the one begging for more. Greedy little thing keeps gulping me down like she never wants me to leave.~”
You try to squirm, try to plant your feet and lift off him even a little, but Lohen just tightens his grip and fucks up into you even meaner, bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing.
“Hahhh?? Running again~?” he tuts, voice mockingly sweet. “Nahhh, we still got s’much more rounds to go, baby. Five? Or is it six? I lost count already.”
Your mind was blanking out; you've been doing this for so long, you couldn’t even form coherent sentences. “Fuh- no- mgh- I’m d-done!”
"Your pussy's not done~."
“My- p-puhssy–! Don’t getta vote!” You shatter instantly — eyes rolling back, a broken scream ripping out of you as your sixth orgasm crashes through your exhausted body.
Lohen screams loudly while your walls milk him tight, but he doesn’t stop.
“Ohh-Fuck fuck fuck! Here’s ah!- another one, baby!-” Cumming hard with you, filling you up - he keeps thrusting through your high, chasing every last flutter like a man possessed.
Thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your already overstuffed cunt.
“Mmm—hah, there it is,~” he moans happily, beauty mark crinkling as he grins against your sweat-slick neck. Mint-green hair sticks to his forehead, messy and wild. “Good girl. That wasn’t for you, though~ That was all for this pretty pussy of mine.”
You’re sobbing now, chest heaving, body twitching uncontrollably in his lap. But Lohen just keeps bouncing you on his still-hard cock, slow and filthy, like he could do this forever.
“And she’s telling me…” he drawls, voice sing-song dropping into something darker, more dangerous, lips brushing your ear, “that you can handle three more.♡”
You flop forward against his chest, boneless and whimpering, barely able to hold yourself up. “A-asshole… h-hate you…”
Lohen’s manic laughter rings in your ear as he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, never once letting his cock slip out of your spasming heat.
“Keep fighting it, baby. Keep telling me how much you hate me.” He leans down, eyes glowing with lovesick affection as he starts pounding you into the grass. “Makes my dick so fucking hard when you lie like that.”
You cry out, nails raking down his back as he folds you nearly in half, knees pressed to your chest.
Every thrust is loud, messy, obscene — the constant squelch of his cum being fucked deeper into you, the slap of skin, your broken sobs mixing with his breathless laughter.
“Look at her,” he coos, glancing down between your bodies where his cock disappears into your puffy, cream-filled pussy. “Still sucking me in so hungrily. Seems like she doesn’t wanna let go, does she?”
“Stop- I can’t-!!”
“You can,” he laughs softly, leaning down to bite your bottom lip. “And you will. ‘Cause every time you say you’re done… this cute cunt just begs for more.”
Picking up speed, pounding you into the grass with relentless, mind-melting strokes. Staring straight into your tear-filled eyes, beauty mark crinkling with that same unhinged grin.
“Three more, f’me baby. Then maybe- maybe I’ll let ya rest.~” His hands push your legs up to your head, angling deeper, making your eyes roll.
“Or maybe I’ll just keep going until you forget how to say the word ‘no’ at all.~”
🐊 LYNEY — Hole dirtier than laundry!
You're so sure you're going to fucking suffocate at this rate.
Lyney’s perched on your face like he weighs nothing, knees planted on either side of your head in the middle of his messy bed, sheets already twisted and half-pulled off the mattress.
That skimpy little lingerie set he’d been hiding under his coat all evening still clinging to his slender frame—purple lace stretched taut over his flushed cock, the thin strap of the thong shoved to the side so his pretty, leaking hole could sit right against your mouth.
The fabric’s soaked through already and so is he.
He’d wanted this for weeks.
The filthy thought had lived rent-free in that pretty head of his ever since the first time you turned your face away from his goodnight kiss.
Then again, when you shoved his hand off your waist.
Then again, when you told him to “fuck off” like it was nothing.
Every denial made it worse.
He got nervous—actually nervous—thinking you’d hate it.
That you’d push him off and call him disgusting for wanting something so selfish, so greedy.
But tonight you’d denied him one too many times, pushed him away with that same cold little glare, and this was the perfect excuse.
Discipline
Clean. Simple.
He could finally do it and blame you for making him snap.
Except he's the one losing his breath — soft, shaky exhales spilling from those painted lips every time your tongue brushes against his rim. That carefully constructed composure dissolves, piece by piece, every time you move beneath him.
“Mmmh—!” He grinds down harder, your hands flailing against his thighs, nails digging into lace and soft skin. “Cat got your tongue, mon amour~?”
His voice is all theatrical breathiness, that signature charm cracking at the edges.
Shifting his weight just enough for you to gasp in a desperate breath, only to sink back down again — ass firmly planted on your face, rolling his hips in slow, filthy circles.
The wet heat of his hole drags over your lips, your tongue, smearing slick and lube everywhere.
The sound Lyney makes when you're forced to lick him is loud enough that the entire wing's probably filing a noise complaint right now.
Ash-blond hair with that tiny braid falls messily around his face, violet eyes fluttering shut, cat-like pupils blown wide.
“F-fuck… just like- that!—ngh!”
His slender fingers fist the sheets above your head, hips twitching every time your tongue pushes inside.
“D-didn’t think you’d be so… eager to clean me up after all those- ah! Nasty words you threw at me this week. You sure you didn’t want this?~”
He laughs breathless, a little unhinged—and the sound melts into another whimper when you suck on his rim trying to get air.
The lingerie thong keeps slipping back into place, and he has to keep tugging it aside with shaky fingers, the lace now completely drenched.
"Haah — look at you. Flailing around.~" Another slow grind, deliberate and mean, his cock twitching hard against the lace as it leaks onto his stomach. "But you're not pushing me off, are you? No… you're licking deeper. Mmph!~."
You thrash hard, punching at his thighs, trying to get this sick man off your face. He either mistakes it for enthusiasm or simply doesn't care — the effect is the same.
His thighs shake harder, athletic muscles flexing as he rides your tongue with more urgency. That guarded side is completely gone.
Replaced by something rawer.
The need to be wanted so badly that it overrides everything else.
"Keep going, mon amour," he pants, voice pitching higher, "because if you stop — hngh — I swear I'll sit here until morning. Until you forget every nasty word you said to me… and only remember this."
His fingers thread into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your face exactly where he wants it.
Not until he’s satisfied. Not until you’re his again—completely.
He can feel it building — hot, coiling, dangerous. And he refuses to finish like this, not when he hasn't taken everything.
With a shaky laugh that doesn't quite hide the edge beneath it, Lyney finally lifts off your face — justttt enough for you to drag in a ragged breath, spit and slick smeared across your lips.
Lungs burning as you try to speak—“Lyney, wait—” and before you can get a single word out-
His cock impales your mouth in one smooth thrust—thick, leaking, stretching your lips wide around the base of his shaft.
You choke instantly, eyes watering, the sudden fullness reducing every word you had to a wet gluck-gluck-gluck.
His thighs lock firmly beside your head. "Mmmph — there we go." He rocks into your throat with shallow, greedy thrusts, voice dropping as his face disappears between your thighs. "That's it. Let me feel how sorry you are."
Leaning down his tongue is immediate and merciless — lapping, sucking, flicking over your clit with a precision that feels almost unfair.
One hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise. The other presses flat against your stomach, pinning you exactly where he wants you.
You push at his hips, a muffled protest vibrating around his length — he just rolls deeper, unhurried, his cock fucks your mouth in the same rhythm.
The room echoes with the wet sounds of him thrusting into your throat, mixed with the slurps of his mouth on your cunt.
"Don't- fight it, mon amour," he groans against your spreaded folds, the words vibrating straight into your core. "You don't get to push me away anymore. Not after all those mean words."
He sucks hard on your clit, hips stuttering as he holds back his own orgasm. "Not after telling me to leave like I'm nothing."
The lace thong is still tangled around his balls, rubbing against the bridge of your nose with every shallow thrust. His tongue curls, teasing your entrance before plunging inside—matching the way his cock bullies the back of your throat.
Your moans of reluctant protest are drowned out by his cock, completely overstimulated by how much of him you're feeling at once.
Every thrust pushes him deeper, every swirl of his tongue makes your legs shake. Whimpering into your cunt, the sound vibrating through you, but the words that slip out between licks are pure silk-wrapped venom.
"If I have to do this every night until you stop denying me—" A sharp suck on your clit. "—then I will."
His cock throbs heavily on your tongue. "I'll keep you right here. Until the only thing you know how to do is stay."
You try to pull off—hands slapping at his hips, a broken sob ripping from your throat around his shaft—but he just angles deeper.
The filthy gluck-gluck-gluck of him fucking your mouth fills your brain, your eyes streaming tears that mix with the spit dripping down your chin.
And he doesn’t stop, tongue lashes harder between your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth with a lewd pop! before flattening it again.
Mean. Possessive. Trying to pull your orgasm out by force.
Your thighs shake around his head, hips jerking up involuntarily as the pressure coils tighter-too much, too fast, too-
You cum with a shattered cry that vibrates straight down his cock.
Creamy slick gushes over his tongue, thighs clamping around his ears, and Lyney moans like he’s the one breaking. Holding himself right there on the edge—cock twitching wildly in your throat—until your walls start fluttering hard.
“F-fuck—ngh, that’s it—give it to me-”
His cock pulses hard on your tongue, swelling thicker, and then he’s cumming too.
Rope after rope shoots straight down your throat, thick and hot, until you’re choking on it, coughing up his seed around the length still buried between your lips.
He doesn’t pull out. Just keeps shallow-thrusting through it, forcing you to swallow every drop while he drinks you down like he’s dying of thirst.
The room spins. Your lungs burn. Tears won’t stop. While Lyney stays there a second longer, chest heaving, hips still twitching with the aftershocks.
Panting, he eased cock from your mouth with a slurp!
Strings of cum and spit connect your swollen lips to his tip. Lyney watches it break with half-lidded violet eyes, his cheek flushed red.
You’re still sobbing softly, chest heaving, when he finally flips around. He curls over you, pressing soft kisses to your tear-streaked cheeks, your trembling lips, like he didn’t just fuck your face and sit on you for "punishment".
“Shhh… mon amour,” he whispers, voice sweet as sugar, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “See? Wasn’t so bad. You took me so well… my perfect little assistant.”
Lyney's fingers thread back into your hair, holding you there as he nuzzles against your neck.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” A soft, theatrical little laugh brushes your ear.
“Or tomorrow.”
He kisses the corner of your mouth, tasting himself on you.
“Or ever.”
🐊 XIAO — Bite first. Regret later
BAM!
"I'm leaving- ” The wall meets your back before you finish the sentence. “-Xiao. I mean it this–"
The impact rattled your teeth, your breath was punched clean out of your lungs, he was just across the room, teleporting in a haze of green and black, shoving you against the wall.
Another sharp gasp to follow when Xiao drove into you again, deeper, meaner, like he was trying to carve his place inside you permanently.
This is the problem.
This has always been the problem.
He doesn't talk to you, doesn't tell you he needs you, doesn't acknowledge what this even is, what you are to him — just pulls you close when it gets too heavy and expects that to be enough.
Weeks of silence.
Weeks of watching him look straight through you like you're something precious he refuses to name because naming it would make it real, and real things can be taken away.
You're exhausted.
Your legs stayed locked tight around his narrow waist, thighs trembling violently.
"I—" You push at his shoulders. He doesn't move. "Stop. I said I'm leaving—"
The only thing keeping you from sliding down the wall was his iron grip on your ass, fingers imprinting in so deep you knew they’d leave bruises shaped like his hands for days.
Xiao doesn’t respond, no words, or explanation — just eyes burning with determined focus
The tattoo on his arm bleeds green into the dark.
"Let me go." Flat. Furious. You dig your nails in hard. "I- ah! Mean it! I'm n-not doing this anymore, I can't keep– pretending-!"
He looks at you.
Amber eyes completely unguarded for once — staring at you like you've already got one foot out the door and he's watching it happen and he still, still cannot make himself say the words that would fix it. Jaw locked tight, breathing ragged.
Hitting that little spot inside you, your whole argument stutters. "That's not—"
You try to hold onto the thread of it. "That's not good enough, you can't just — this doesn't fix anything—"
He drives deeper. Your back hits the wall harder.
"Xiao!"
Nothing.
Just that devastating eye contact and the brutal, relentless pace of him, he's decided if he can't say it, he'll just make you feel it instead.
Your nails rake down his arms. "Oh-! This is- fuck! Insane. Shit! Your hurtin!- You can't keep doing this and expect me to stay!-" You twist, trying to get leverage.
His hand wraps around your throat, forehead dropping to yours, eyes closing, and he stays there breathing hard while his hips find a slower, deeper angle that makes your vision dissolve at the edges.
The weight of his karmic debt presses down on the room like a physical thing. Ozone and something older, darker, filling your lungs with every breath.
You're furious, shaking, and overwhelmed.
But believe it or not, he was terrified of hurting you.
And yet he couldn’t stop.
"Shit, what do you want from me!?"
Instead of answering, he just bites down on your throat instead. Sharp. Claiming. So suddenly, your whole body arches into him against every intention you had.
A broken sound tears out of you—high and pathetic—and you immediately hate yourself for letting it slip.
Teeth sinking in harder, not enough to break skin but enough to mark, enough to own, and your cunt clenches around him so violently it makes him stutter.
Yanking you up higher, forcing your back to scrape against the wall, making you cry out in pain- as he drives in deeper.
The anger frays at the edges where the pleasure keeps burning straight through—white-hot and unforgiving.
“I h-hate you-” you gasp. Not true. Completely not true, and you both know it.
“You’re so—” Another broken moan cuts you off, raw and humiliating. “Infuriating.”
He makes a sound against your neck. Low. Pained. Even that tiny admission costs him something precious.
Still nothing.
You’re crying now—angry tears spilling hot and fast down your face, your body betraying you completely as he drives you up the wall again and again.
Each thrust shoves you higher toward something you don’t want to give him.
“Please,” you break, hating how small and wrecked it comes out. “Please just say it. Tell me you need me. Tell me I’m—that I’m yours, that this means something, that you’re not just going to let me disappear one day and feel nothing—” His entire body goes rigid.
Exhaling, his hand slides from your throat to cradle the back of your head.
His forehead presses so hard to yours it almost hurts, eyes squeezed shut, hips grinding deep and slow and devastatingly deliberate now.
Every roll of his hips drags his cock against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your vision spark white.
He still doesn’t say it, waiting for you to say exactly what he wants to hear.
Xiao pulls you in so tight you can’t tell where he ends, and you begin anymore. Your breast presses hard against his chest, breath coming in short gasps from how tight he’s holding you, bruises already beginning to bloom.
Maybe...
“I’m staying,” you whisper, defeated, wrecked, voice cracking on every syllable. “I-i’m yours. I’m not leaving. Just—don’t let go.”
The sound he makes is quiet.
Devastated and relieved in a way that breaks your heart a little. He comes with his face buried in your neck, shaking hard, one arm locked around your waist like even now he doesn’t trust you won’t vanish.
Thick, hot ropes of cum flood you—spurt after spurt—while his teeth stay sunk into your throat, muffling the broken groan that vibrates against your skin.
He keeps rolling through it, slow and possessive, making sure every drop stays deep inside you.
Afterward, the room is just breathing. Heavy. Sticky. Charged. Then, so quiet it barely exists:
“…Again.”
Not another round, you know that.
He wants to hear it again—the words he can’t say himself, confirmed in your voice, real and present and not leaving.
“I’m yours, Xiao.” You press your lips to his temple, voice hoarse and trembling. “I’m staying.”
His grip tightens instantly. Fingers digging back into your ass, cock still buried to the hilt and twitching inside you like it’s trying to root there forever.
Xiao still doesn’t say it back; you already know how he feels.
The dark, suffocating truth that settles in the quiet—in the iron grip of his arms and the door you both know he’d never let you reach—is that staying was never really your choice to make.
It stopped being your choice a long time ago.
…Some sick, exhausted piece of you doesn’t even want the choice anymore.
Summary : In which, you find a poisoned meal at your doorstep every morning. And so, you make it your life's motto to savor it and provide your thoughts.
Much to Lohen's dismay, you never seemed particularly impressed by any of his carefully crafted poisons.
While most love stories begin with flowers, yours began with poison.
Most people reacted poorly to poison. They cried, screamed, and maybe even succumbed to death.
You, apparently smiled.
Lohen had first heard the rumor by accident.
"Apparently the new medic (Y/N) has a strange fascination with toxins," a knight muttered over drinks.
He hadn’t meant to care. He really hadn’t. But something about the word 'fascination' lodged itself under his skin like a splinter that refused to be ignored.
So, naturally, he did what any reasonable man with too much curiosity and too little restraint would do—he investigated.
Two alchemists confirmed it later, whispering that you had once voluntarily tasted diluted snake venom just to observe its effects.
That further piqued his curiosity.
And what better way to find out the truth than test the rumor himself?
After a day of locking himself in his house, he had come up with his very own poison. Made from the remains of a dendro slime, mixed with a few crushed petals of Dendrobium, and a generous splash of expired alcohol stolen from the Cat’s Tail.
He didn't know if it was truly toxic. In fact, he just mixed random ingredients he found revolting.
He wasn't planning on truly poisoning you after all. In its current concentration, it would merely cause temporary numbness (maybe).
And so he placed a cute little package in front of your house (he stole the documents that held information of those working under the Grand Master to find your address). Inside the package was a plate of Hash Brown he had cooked himself.
Of course, the poison was sprinkled on top as well.
He knocked on the door to your house and hid in a bush nearby.
He watched the door open, a shiver of excitement going down his spine.
But when you stepped out, his eyes widened. You weren’t what he had imagined. Not old, not bitter, not hunched over with tired eyes and stained robes.
You looked... young and composed. Normal in fact.
You glanced at the package, shrugged, and brought it inside.
The next day, he had half hoped there would be some commotion. Instead, nothing happened.
Lohen found that significantly more unsettling than if you had screamed.
Did you not open it?
Did you die?
Worse, did you throw it away?
By the second day, irritation curdled into curiosity again, and curiosity dragged him back to your house.
He hadn’t even reached the door when something stopped him.
A box.
His box.
He stared at it, then at the note pinned neatly on top.
It read-
---
Observation Log
Possible dendro slime derivative.
Taste profile:
Slight bitterness.
Floral aftertaste.
Perhaps traces of alcohol.
Symptoms:
Tingling lips.
Mild numbness in fingers.
Onset approximately twenty-five seconds.
Conclusion:
Sloppily made poison.
---
He stared at the handwriting. The faint smell of alcohol lingering on the hastily ripped paper.
'..... Sloppy?' he scoffed, annoyance creeping up into his face. He crumbled the paper, staring at the door with a sadistic smile.
"Fine then. I'll show you real poison."
The next morning, another box appeared at your doorstep.
Like last time, you took it into your home. You had no idea who was delivering these, but the last package being drenched in a mild toxin made it interesting enough for you to open.
You tore open the box.
This time, it was a plate of mushroom pizza.
"Oh, that looks delicious." you muttered to yourself, noticing the unusual purple coloring on the crust.
You reached and held a piece of the pizza near your mouth. And without a care, you took a huge bite from the area where the coloring was the brightest.
The following day, Lohen returned to find another note on your doorstep. This time it was more detailed than the last.
---
Observation Log
Low concentration of Aconitum.
Taste profile:
Initial sweet-bitter note.
Followed by burning sensation.
Symptoms:
Numbness.
Dizziness.
Loss of strength.
Conclusion:
Good posion. Easily countered.
Although, I liked the taste of the pizza.
(attached are my other observations)
---
There were six pages attached.
Six.
Lohen stared, flipping through the pages with a smile. "God. She's insane."
This started the exchange of poisons and paper notes.
The next package that Lohen put on your doorstep had a small note of his own.
---
To the Medic
Firstly, fuck you.
Secondly, you missed a secondary ingredient. (Hint : It was Naku weed)
Thirdly, thank you for complimenting the pizza.
I made it myself.
---
Your response appeared the next morning.
---
To the Poisoner
1. Rude.
2. I did not miss the ingredient. Naku weed has no toxic properties. Just color.
3. The posion on the crust was obvious. Are you perhaps new to this poisoning thing?
---
Your responses pissed the Vice captain even more. Because how dare a lowly medic like you have the audacity to critic his cooking?!
He tried even harder after that.
More precise blends. Better masking. Controlled dosages. Carefully calibrated ingredients. Tried perfecting the recipe so you couldn't find any faults.
Everything.
After making sure everything was perfect, he delivered the next package. A plate of Northern Apple Stew.
The reply next day was written in a crumbled paper with messy handwriting.
---
Rules for Future Poisoning
1. No explosive diarrhea.
2. No permanent injury.
3. No organ damage.
4. No blindness.
5. No poisoning children.
6. Food should remain edible
---
Lohen rolled his eyes at the rules. "Killjoy." To him these rules just were unnecessary boundaries that ruined his fun.
But he never wanted to stop this exchange between the two of you. It was much too entertaining for him.
Unknown to him, that night ended with you locking yourself in your room. Having non stop diarrhea for hours.
Soon the notes became longer than the poisons themselves.
One morning, the package you opened had a plate of Cream Stew.
And this time the note attached had a list of ingredients used.
---
Current Theory
The toxin should produce localized muscle weakness.
Estimated duration:
Two hours.
Possible side effects:
Dizziness.
Drowsiness.
Complaining.
Will you be able to guess what I used (Y/N)? °^°?
---
Three days later Lohen received something he could only call a report.
A dossier.
Twenty-two pages which included diagrams, charts, annotated symptom timelines.
And corrections.
So many corrections.
---
Page 14: dosage error.
Page 17: please stop using kitchen spoons as lab tools.
Page 19: “Did you eyeball the concentration?”
---
Unfortunately Lohen had. And he hated that you noticed.
Months passed and somehow it became a routine.
Your medic colleagues grew increasingly worried seeing you drowsy every other day.
"Do you know who keeps sending you poison?" one asked.
You shook your head. "No, not really."
"Shouldn't that concern you?"
You looked confused. "Why?"
"Because they're poisoning you...?"
You blinked. Honestly, if the person wanted to kill you, they could have used other deadly toxins. Yet, they always made sure to use small doses and non lethal ingredients.
You smiled to yourself. "They are very considerate actually."
"... Oh." the medic froze.
You tapped a finger on your cheek. "They also have lovely handwriting."
"..."
The medic walked away. Unable to continue the conversation.
Lohen, meanwhile, was also not doing well.
Varka had his suspicions when he first saw the crazed man laughing while tasting the exotic plants he had ordered.
One day, while Lohen was away on a mission, he broke the lock of his drawer and read through all the papers in there.
Papers about toxic plants. Possible ingredients. And of course, all the notes you had written to him.
He ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell is happening in Mondstadt?"
Varka immediately dragged Lohen by the collar and pushed him into the store you worked in to apologize.
You looked up from your desk and instantly recognized him as your mysterious poisoner.
Not by his face. But by his hands.
The stained fingertips. The chemical burns. The ink marks. The quiet proof of obsession.
"Oh," you smiled softly. "It's you."
Lohen blinked.
Varka shoved him forward. "Apologise to the lady Lohen."
Oh. So his name was Lohen.
The boy looked deeply offended. "I don't want to."
"Apologize." The Grand Master repeated, his gaze cold.
Lohen sighed dramatically. Then glanced toward you. "...Sorry for poisoning you."
You immediately shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. "There is so need for apologies. I should be thanking you actually."
Silence.
Even Varka froze.
You continued, brighter now. "The poisons were genuinely fascinating."
Varka looked horrified.
"I learned to make dozens of new antidotes!"
Lohen stared. Mesmerized.
"Also the toxins were quite creative! Honestly, every morning became something to look forward to."
Varka took a breath, and turned his gaze to the ceiling, perhaps praying to Barbatos why they allowed these two people to exist.
"Also the notes were fun!" you added, opening your drawer and placing the stack of notes you had carefully stapled on the table in front.
Lohen wasn't even listening anymore.
Because you were smiling.
At him.
Because of him.
Because he had poisoned you.
It was a stupid conversation. The girl in front of him was grateful for poisoning her. It was reckless, idiotic and yet...
At that moment his heart made some several terrible decisions.
He realised.
With a lot of hesitation...
That-
'Oh.'
'Oh no.'
'You were kinda cute.'
He had known your name for months. Known where you worked. Known your habits. Your favorite medicinal herbs. The way your handwriting became messier when excited.
But seeing you in person? Actually talking to you?
He was finished.
Absolutely in love.
That night he didn't sleep. Instead he sat at his desk surrounded by herbs, powders, vials, and failed formulas, staring at his next experiment like it might hold divine answers.
Most men wrote poetry.
Most men gifted flowers.
Most men confessed.
But Lohen was not most men.
He lifted a vial of deep red liquid, watching it swirl under lamplight with a manic smile. "If she barely liked the last one... I'll just make one that is even better."
And thus began the greatest romantic pursuit in history.
Not through gifts or heartfelt letters.
But through an escalating series of increasingly sophisticated poisons.
Lohen's new life goal was simple.
Create a poison so fascinating, so beautiful so perfect....
That when you tasted it—
You'd fall hopelessly in love with its creator.
Unfortunately for him, the only thing you fell in love with was the chemical composition.
Fin
Some of the ingredients used r actually toxic while others r just bs. I tried making it as Canon as possible but I'm sure there r some mistakes. Sorry abt tht.
Part 2, Part 3
😭 😭 😭 I CANT WITH THIS GUY. I FEEL LIKE HE'S SOMEONE WHO'D GIFT YOU A BOMB CUZ HE LOVES YOU.
Anyway! Hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts.
Tw: noncon, coercion, baby trapping, drugging (use of an aphrodisiac)
I think that after lohen and you get into a relationship, he’d want to start having sex with you as soon as possible. It’s mostly because he wants to show you his raw and deep love through it… buttt it’s also because he thinks putting a baby in you would be the ultimate form of chaining you to him. Showing the world that the two of you belong together forever, and that your child is proof of your love for each other.
Lohen is nothing but blunt so he straight up asks one day “can we please fuck?— I mean… have sex?” And you tell him you’re not ready for that yet, but maybe later down the line you’ll agree. He can only put on a polite smile that’s genuine enough to convince you, and says that he respects your decision.
Of course he does, you’re the love of his life! The sweetest apple of his eye.
But… he’s also very persistent. So he constantly asks if you guys can do it yet or are you ready today? Or begs to please let him make you feel good… and slowly, you can’t help but be tempted to let him show you how good he can be for you (his words not yours). So after a week of pestering you about it, you agree… but ONLY if he agrees to put on a condom. Oh lohen wanted to roll his eyes when you said that to his face, but he agrees nonetheless as to not ruin his plan after all he’s done to build up to this moment.
So the morning after, you wake up to him lightly humping your ass as he drowsily moans your name, hot breath fanning right below your ear as he nuzzles his teal locks into the sweet spot between your neck and shoulders as if he were scenting you. You try and shake him off but he just grips you tighter and whispers to please just let him slide it in… you groan and say that it’s too early in the morning to be doing this, and lohen relents with an extremely exaggerated groan of his own as he sits up and stretches. And as the two of you get ready for the day, you swear you see him pouting his lip a little every time he glances at you (which was pretty much the entire time), so you give him a light kiss to satiate him for the day and not take it out his frustration on his subordinates while training.
And this is where the second part of lohen’s plan starts to play out. Throughout the entire day, he’s been giving you teasing touches and half lidded stares with a devilish smirk on his face as he whispers to you all the things he’s going to do to you tonight— how he’ll make you scream and beg for him to stop all the while you fuck your cunt back into his thrusts, and how he’ll eat you out until your legs are shaking and threatening to clamp down and choke him and— you have to shove him away before he can go any further with his filth.
All this set up is for when night time comes around and he slips something in your drink during dinner to make you more… willing… to his advances. The building heat between your thighs is hard to ignore and he smiles when you press and rub up against his growing bulge all desperately. He leads the both of you to your shared bedroom as he devours your mouth and muffles the both of your moans… you don’t notice how he makes sure to lock the door to block your escape (if you even make it that far).
But even in your drugged state, you still tell him to put on a condom. He huffs a bit but complies. He’s too desperate to let the first opportunity to breed a baby into you slip away. Lohen puts the rubber on as fast as humanly possible and sinks into your warm, welcoming heat with a satisfied dragged out sigh.
As the night goes on, lohen makes sure to pleasure you until you can barely stay awake. And all this time, you don’t realize that he’s been edging himself the entire time. He won’t allow himself to cum anywhere that’s not inside your tight cunt or on your beautiful body (and it’s definitely not going to be kept in some piece of shit rubber blocking his goal of claiming you).
You’re too cock drunk and dazed out to notice the moment when he quietly rips the condom off and slides his dick in raw. You tell him that it feels even better now and lohen can only smirk and nod in agreement as he eagerly thrusts into you. He alternates between pushing his tongue down your throat and leaving even more love marks all over where his greedy mouth hasn’t touched.
He lets out an erotic, loud moan as he finally releases all the pent up cum into you and relishes the way your eyes shoot open when you feel the warm, thick release filling you up. He pumps himself slowly a few more times as he holds onto you for dear life and peppers your face in light kisses. You writhe and squirm about how this was wrong and how you can’t believe he did this to you, but your struggling only made him harder as he started thrusting into you again. He laces your pinkies together, and promises you that he’ll breed you and makes sure that you’ll wake up with the cultivation of his and your love growing inside of your belly.
First time writing smut hope it was conveyed well lol any and all criticism is appreciated of course :D
One word for this as a yandere enjoyer and a semi lohen simp- "delicious give me more of that" (no seriously, i just jump to my bed when i read the part he drugged your drink... It's that good)
lord... saw someone mention babytrapping with lohen and can't stop thinking about mutually obsessed weirdos lohen x reader 'fighting' over whos trapping who here like they arent both way too into it 😭 everyone in mondstadt has CONCERNS about the idea of either of you reproducing let alone together
Hi Anon,
I'm not sure why, maybe I forgot English, but I feel like I didn't really write this correctly? I wanted to post this earlier, but I kept getting ideas, so I might have lost the narrative. Regardless, Reader/Lohen really want that baby, and they will get it by any means necessary except for actually sitting down and having an honest conversation about wanting kids.
It’s not as though this is the first time you’ve gone along with Lohen’s whims, all while working toward your own hidden agenda. Somewhere along the way, you stopped asking whether this was a good idea and started asking what would work. Like that time during a celebration with the Knights, when everyone started dropping like flies except for the Grandmaster. A new batch of wine and a surpringly low tolerance to alcohol from knights who drink rather frequently. Who would have thought? You had been sprawled on the ground, staring up at the night sky, by the time Lohen hauled you into his arms and carried you back to your shared tent. It was nice being lifted so effortlessly, tucked securely against his warmth, that you forgot to mention you'd swapped your drink for juice before the festivities had even begun. Varka had been there the next morning and looked far too concerned about the whole situation, but you told him it was fine. It had been easier than explaining why you hadn't done anything to stop it.
In hindsight, maybe you could have sat down with Lohen and had an honest conversation about your relationship. Unfortunately, you'd already committed to a much worse idea, and there was no backing out now.
"Gonna' cum-" Lohen groans into the curve of your shoulder, his face tucked against your neck. Bloody bite marks litter your skin, sitting far too high for your clothes to hide, and you know he did it on purpose just to be a brat. You're going to get so many pained looks tomorrow. The entire city is going to know exactly what the two of you have been up to. Again. Though you suppose you cannot exactly play the innocent card. Not when you spend far too much time standing in front of the mirror, absentmindedly tracing the indents and bruises scattered across your skin. Not when your nails are stained red from how often you pick at the scabs, never quite giving them enough time to heal properly.
"Y-You need to- ah! You... hah-You need to pull out," Your words cut off in a whine as Lohen jostles you higher in his arm. His fingers dig into your thighs as he adjusts his hold, folding you closer against him. Your stomach clenches, both because he's attempting to carve a space for his dick there and it's working, and the weightlessness now that your back isn't supported against the wall anymore. Everything but your shoulder and head is relying entirely on Lohen's strength, and your heart flutters at the display of strength. It's your second-favourite thing about him.
"Yeah, yeah, 'heard you the first time," Lohen is infuriatingly blasé about your stipulation, too busy making the most of you finally letting him fuck you raw. He's been away for weeks working on a solo mission. Something about an auction, though you cannot be entirely sure those were the exact words when you had been too distracted by sucking on his tongue. Regretfully, your gaze drifts down to the floor, where two broken condoms lie discarded nearby. Two failures in a row seem unlikely enough to be bad luck rather than anything else. Probably just a bad batch. It would be a shame to end the night over so soon, so as long as he pulls out, everything will be fine.
He's surely wasting no time making up for the weeks he spent away, returning all of his pent-up desire tenfold as he fucks into you mercilessly. His hips never stop moving as he holds your thighs apart, keeping you pinned between him and the wall. It feels deliriously good, enough to leave you dizzy with it, your body clenching around his cock, sucking him in deeper. In, out, in, out, in, in, in-
"Hey."
Your hands fly to his face, pulling him down until he's forced to meet your gaze. It's the clearest your eyes have been all night. You draw him closer, your lips brushing his as you whisper the words directly against them.
"If you cum in me, I'll get pregnant."
There is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the sting of nails digging into each other's skin as Lohen stares at you with half-lidded, clouded eyes. Then, like the stupid little pervert he is, his cock twitches inside of you. Warm thick cum floods where it shouldn't, and you're too stunned that Lohen seriously just came at that. Only when you feel yourself being lowered gently to the ground does he let out a quiet grunt, pulling out to watch your combined slick and cum ooze out of you, little wet sounds splattering onto the floor.
"You-" you're about to bitch and cry, ready to find the nearest object to break over his head because this isn't fair! If you seriously get pregnant from this, you're going to drug him and ride him until his hips snap in half! Your murderous thoughts come to an abrupt halt when you hear giggling. Lohen has a hand clamped over his mouth in a pathetic attempt to muffle it, but with how hard he's trying and failing to hold back a full laugh, it isn't working. His head tips low enough that his bangs fall across his face, and his other hand scoops the cum that leaked onto the floor. Lighting his hand, he slightly spreads his fingers before dipping them into his mouth to suck clean, and you frown at how gross he's being again. The cum is supposed to go into you; has he never attended a sex ed class before?
A soft pop sounds when he pulls his now-clean fingers from his mouth. He pushes his sweat-damp hair back, finally giving you a clear view of his face, and you shiver at his expression. That same deranged smile still plays at the corners of his lips, but his eyes look almost blown wide, so dark you could swear they're glowing red. He plants his hands on either side of your head and leans over you until his shadow swallows you whole, until all you can see is him.
It's hot. You're breathing each other's air, neither of you making any effort to pull away. Your legs remain locked around his waist, and he doesn't move back to give you space. You can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest just as surely as he can feel yours. Occasionally, you wonder how you let it get this bad. How someone could have such a monopoly over your life to the point you'd find any reason to keep them with you.
"You still think I'm the one being trapped?"
Before you can answer, his hands fall back to your thighs, and with a single pull, you're flat on your back again, your knees bent so far they nearly brush your head. He cracks his neck, then proceeds to slam in so hard you can feel him in your throat. So hard that you see stars behind your eyes. Hard enough that every coherent thought scatters, dissolving into nothing but a barely intelligible string of Lohen, baby, Lohen, baby.
When you manage to look up at him, you find his gaze already fixed on your face. You can feel the intensity of it as he takes in your parted lips, the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, the fresh bite marks blooming darker against your neck. You see the tenseness of Lohen's mouth, still smiling but undeniably strained from pleasure, pleasure that you're giving him, drowning him in-
Lohen grunts under his breath, closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of you swallowing every inch of him. He looks like a man on a mission, teeth grinding together, you can almost hear them crack from how tense his jaw is. His fingers bend at odd angles, lifting you and slamming you down that nearly gives you whiplash at each push and pull against sensitive nerves. At this point, you're more of a sleeve than an actual human being. You couldn't imagine anyone touching you like this, let alone fucking you. Thank the Archons, you hadn't done this on a table. Jean might actually kick both of you out if you showed up asking for another budget increase to replace broken furniture. Considering the look she'd given you after the bookshelf incident, you'd be lucky if she didn't start assigning the two of you retraining orders.
"S-Slow- slow- down-! You promised you- you wouldn't!!" You sob, fat tears slipping from your eyes. Despite your words, your nails dig into his skin, your ankles digging into his back to pull him closer. You'll fucking kill him if he doesn't cum in you again.
"Shut up-" Lohen rarely curses, so it's always a treat to hear him lose that princely appearance. Not that you have long to relish in your small victory when his hand slams beside your head, cracking the floor from the strength of his fist. With half your support gone, you feel yourself tilting to the side, the sudden movement making you tense up, clamping down on him. He lets out a low hiss, leaning forward to fully pin your body to the ground, as he buries himself deep on one last particularly bone-shattering thrust. You let your head drop harshly onto the floor as he cums, a burst of warmth that fills your stomach. You're shaking in his arms as his hips instinctively grind to ride out the waves that went on far longer than usual, throbbing in heavy pulses as he somehow dumps even more cum into you. It feels so good that you can't help but follow him, finally letting that wire inside you snap free.
You both don’t move for a while, just taking the time to catch your breath and settle back into each other’s presence. It has been getting increasingly lonelier each time Lohen gets sent halfway across the world. While you can understand his role as vice-captain, you don't appreciate seeing him fewer and fewer times. You move your hand to settle over your stomach, hope in your eyes, that hopefully now he'll have a better reason to stay.
“Sorry, I know I promised, but I couldn’t resist,” he says easily, voice soft as he presses a few lingering kisses to your cheek, yet making no move to pull out, “I’ll get you something for it tomorrow morning, alright?”
With your body fully caged in by Lohen, there's no wiggle room for you to kick him away or knee him in the gut to let you go. It's almost as if the past few minutes never existed. That same deceptively gentle smile sits on his lips, eyes catching faintly in the low light as he moves his hand on top of yours, lacing your fingers together. He raises it, pressing a small kiss on the back of your hand, whispering, "Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen."
Tomorrow morning, when you are still sleepy and woozy, Lohen will coax you into opening your mouth so he can slip in the same two white tablets, and you will groan and complain the entire time. They're oddly sweet for morning-after pills, and you've never been fond of sugar.
Allow me to add this(why every post you make gave me brainbug??? This is insane, my dear miss Harmony.)
Phainon when you doing chores and haven't give him attention for 5 minutes.
Phainon when you sleep alone in the couches while refusing to cuddle with him. (your as big as the couch itself Phainon, there won't be no space!. Phainon: whimper*)
Phainon when he see you reading a book while not wanting to cuddle with him. (He cannot keep his hand to himself so, this time... No!)
Phainon when your just trying to focus on your task while he wants your attention.
Phainon when he wants another kiss but your lips are already sore and you just want to breath for 1 minute.
Phainon when he see you doing anything else that didn't involve him in any matter.
in which: all the times phainon had to ditch you mid-date, and the one time he didn't.
warnings: 8.2k wc, superhero!au, gn!reader who is not a superhero, the chrysos heirs are the avengers basically, hurt/comfort, fluff, sloppy making out, sfw, happy ending, slight yandere!phainon, both parties are very in love with each other, a lot of food mentions bc i love to eat so, edited but i'm not happy with this.
a/n: finally got this one out of the drafts, it was really fun experimenting with this fic, while i'm not proud of the end result, i can't really say i necessarily dislike it. either way, i hope you'll enjoy!
extra #1, outtake #1
~ ONE:
Dating a superhero is not for the weak.
It's a lifestyle that requires bouts of patience and wrestling with anxiety over whether or not your lover will come home from a mission that's been running too long for your liking. It requires understanding that you may not always be the first choice, not when civilisations will always need him more and lives are what he saves. It requires immense mental capacity and unconditional love, especially when the superhero you're dating is Khaslana.
A widely revered figure and the face of the renowned group: The Chrysos Heirs, he is loved by all. His image iconic, the visage of a heroic entity with two wings sprouting from his back and a ginormous sword that he swings around so easily, moving it like an extension of his arm.
But Phainon, the man behind Khaslana, is loved by you. Snowy hair with blue eyes, his true identity is kept a secret from his public one, and this one is yours.
While fans will cheer and gush over the silhouette of his other persona, the saviour of Amphoreus comes home to you, welcoming him with open arms… and also to tease him with all the Khaslana merch you love buying.
Phainon doesn't really have it in him to feel embarrassed when you wear it so proudly, bouncing around the house in a yellow and purple hoodie that mimicks his superhero form, watching with a proud smile; seizing the heart of the man who holds the weight of the world on his back.
That said… there are also downsides to having a superhero as your significant other.
"I'm so excited to try out this café, I've been seeing them all over my feed," you gush, hand waving around enthusiastically as Phainon tightly holds your other one, watching with a fond smile. "I want to try the pomegranate cream cake, or their dromas-shaped roll!"
The sun was shining gently that day, a nice breeze blowing through the metropolis of Okhema. Ascent Hour had just begun, so the streets were starting to grow busier and busier, but you and Phainon decided to head out early that morning to try a new place that was going semi-viral online.
It was going seamlessly, the store wasn't too busy when you entered, and the weather was perfect for an impromptu picnic.
"Hey! If you like my drink so much, then get your own!" You scold as your boyfriend lifts your cup up to his lips, taking another generous gulp.
"I can't help it," he grins, "you just have better taste."
You glare at him from the corner of your eyes, raising your food to your lips. "It's mine, though."
"I paid for it, don't I deserve a little bit of renumeration?"
"Taking my food is a step over the line."
"Alright, I'm sorry my love," he kisses your cheek as you bite down, his glasses pressing into the side of your face.
When you raise your drink, he latches on to the straw before you could even react, the reaction time and instincts of a superhero being something you could never dream of overpowering. All you can do is let out a cry of defeat as he finishes the last of it without remorse.
"Phai! You meanie."
His smile is anything but apologetic. If anything, seems like the bastard is quite happy with himself.
"I thought your job was to save people, so why are you tormenting me?"
A muscular arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against the white-haired's side, personal space completely eliminated as he rubs his face against yours. "You're the only one I can torment, and I love it."
"Whatever. You owe me."
"I'll make it up to you, sunshine."
You pout but forgive his transgression regardless. Conversation flows, topics jumping around quite a bit, you mentioning something you wanted to read, recommended by your coworkers, Phainon talking about how he's going to meet with Mydei soon to train for an upcoming marathon; all mundane little things.
However, tranquility is a luxury when you're dating a Chrysos Heir, because the morning is cut through with an invasive buzzing on his watch. A sound that indicates he needed to be urgently summoned, despite how inconspicuous it was.
A flash of annoyance crosses his face, eyeing the watch like it was a minor inconvenience.
Well, to him it was. To you, it was a signal of distress.
"You should probably get going," you say, and there's a small pout on his face when he looks up at you.
"I should. I'm sorry for having to leave like this."
"It's fine, just another day being a hero. Text me when you're done, okay?"
He nods, handing you his card from his wallet. "Get yourself another drink before you go."
"Phainon, I can pay for it-"
"I was planning on buying it myself, but I'll probably be busy."
You press a fleeting kiss to his lips as a farewell, one that he burns into memory. "Stay safe, Phai."
"Please," he scoffs, "the bad guys are going to regret it when they see me."
You roll your eyes and swat away the kisses he blows at you.
Keeping his promise, you return to the café to buy the exact same drink he had stolen, browsing the pastry catalogue mundanely while pretending like your larger-than-life boyfriend's presence wasn't dearly missed. Maybe you should buy something sweet for him to enjoy when he comes home.
That afternoon, the news report of another successful Chrysos Heirs mission in the city of Janusopolis. The anxiety you've been nursing all afternoon is only quelled when you receive a text from Phainon, the notification ceasing the uneasiness in your gut.
My Hero <3: I'm okay. I'm on my way home now.
My Hero <3: I love you.
~ TWO:
Your eyes scan the passing crowds every so often, keen on the lookout for a certain white-haired and his blond friend, both of whom are quite hard to miss, yet you can't find them, each face as unfamiliar as the last. Until-
"Boo!"
Hands slam down on the back of the wooden bench you were sitting on, and you jolt in surprise, a small yelp slipping from your lips.
"You-" you guffaw, turning around to see the entertained grin of your boyfriend.
He even has the nerve to laugh at you.
"Phainon!"
"I'm sorry, sunshine, I didn't expect you to be so scared!"
You rise from the bench with crossed arms. "Can't blame me to be scared when you slapped my seat so hard, you should hold back your strength sometimes."
"And you can't blame a man who is just excited to see the love of his life." He rounds to embrace you in a tight hug, pressing you right into his warm, sweaty body that had just ran the distance of a marathon. You complain about his grossness into his skin, hitting his shoulder, but he doesn't relent, not even as Mydei approaches him with an unimpressed expression.
"Let me go before Mydei thinks you're a clingy leech."
"He already thinks I am a clingy leech," Phainon murmurs, but lets you go reluctantly, allowing you to take a step back and turn to the tattooed man.
"Hey, Mydei. How was your run?"
"It was good. We both set a new personal best."
"Mine was faster."
"By one second. You just pressed the 'end run' button sooner than I did, you cheat."
Phainon gasps, but you cut the bickering short. For a pair of superheroes who are powerful enough to destroy a city with one punch, their mentality regresses into that of schoolboys when they're around each other.
"Save the accusations for later. Still good to come over for dinner, Mydei?" You ask.
"If the invitations still up for grabs, then I'd love to."
The white-haired hero butts in. "As long as you admit that I was faster than you!"
You gently flick Phainon's forehead and he cowers at the sudden pain, pouting at you like you had done something worse. "Stop instigating fights, Phai, or I'll make you fend for yourself while Mydei and I enjoy some nice warm meals."
"Fine," he wraps a tight- almost possessive, arm around your waist. "I'm starved, lets go home."
An annoying buzz slices through the atmosphere, coming from the wrist of both men.
Another call.
Phainon glances down at you like a kicked puppy, an apology already brewing in his eyes.
"It's fine," you say before either of them could say anything. "I understand completely."
"Sorry, Y/n, this couldn't have come at any worse of a time." The blond mumbles, eyes down at his watch.
You glance up at your lover, your hand coming to hold the one thats around your waist. "I'll still cook. As soon as you're done, come home and eat, okay? You too, Mydei, and if Castorice is available too, invite her as well."
"What if it's really late?" Phainon asks, voice quiet and guilty.
"I don't care what time, just come home," you rise up to place a quick kiss against his lips before gently urging him to leave.
What you expected to be a night filled with company is spent alone, with nothing but the sound of food cooking and music occupying the empty space. You worriedly wait for any sort of message from Phainon, glancing every so often at your phone as you plate, as you eat, as you clean, as you wrap the leftovers.
Nothing ever comes. Not until near midnight, after you have spent the whole night trying not to tug your hair out.
My Hero <3: Coming home now, sunshine.
My Hero <3: Are you still awake?
You: yeah, i'll wait up for you guys.
My Hero <3: We'll be there in 20!
My Hero <3: Castorice says she'd love to come too.
You: perfect! what about hyacine?
My Hero <3: She needs to go home :(
You: that's fine, i'll see you soon.
My Hero <3: Thank you, my love.
True to their word, twenty minutes later, there are superheroes sitting on your dining table with heated up meals in front of them. Fatigue clings to your eyes, and you're actively battling sleep as you listen to the three chat, but you try to absorb the moment as much as you can, conversing with Mydei about the ingredients you used and the new grocery store that just opened nearby, talking to Castorice about Pollux and everything she might be up to.
They leave a few minutes after their plates are cleared, thanking you sincerely as Phainon walks them down and out of the apartment complex.
"I'll do the dishes," he murmurs softly, engulfing you in a hug from behind when he returns.
"Are you sure?"
"You've had a long day, babe, go sleep."
"Not as long as yours."
He scoffs. "Sunshine, please, I know you're any moment from crashing."
You laugh, deciding to relent. "Alright. Come to bed soon, okay?"
A pair of lips press against your forehead, his arms squeezing you tightly for a moment before letting you slip away.
~ THREE:
There's a low whistle behind you. Phainon's appreciative gaze is what greets you when you turn toward the source of the sound, and like a magnet drawn to metal, his hands snake around your waist. His touch is gentle, reverent, treating you like delicate china and your breath hitches when his fingers graze over a sensitive spot.
His smirk only grows when you shudder against him.
"I almost don't want to leave now," he murmurs before pressing dainty kisses along the shell of your ear. "I mean, it'll be fine if we cancel now, right?"
You stop his hand from going snaking down any lower, giving him a weak glare through the mirror. "You wanna cancel our anniversary dinner because you can't keep it in your pants?"
"My sunshine looks so beautiful, I wanna show you how you make me feel."
"After," you scold, going back to adjusting your hair in the mirror.
"Fine," he doesn't detach from you, glued to your back like a koala, except he towers over you and keeps admiring your reflection with hearts in his eyes. Every so often, he places a kiss somewhere he can reach, and you placate him with a ruffle of his hair before going back to getting ready.
Music plays softly from your phone, and he hums along intermittently, vibrations thrumming along your back.
"You good there, babe?" You ask after a completing your final touchups.
He blinks slowly, "yeah, just admiring the view."
"Ready to go?"
"Ready whenever you are, sunshine."
You shiver at the feather-light kisses he presses along your jaw, giggling at the ticklish sensation while trying to create some distance between you.
"I can't help it, just can't believe you're mine."
He's throwing hearts with his eyes right now, and if you turned your head to the left slightly, you would have seen the tenderness brewing behind those blues.
The walk out is surprisingly peaceful. Phainon keeps his hands to himself like a respectful gentleman, save for the touch on the small of your back, and the way he knelt down to help put your shoes on. You don't comment on the small kiss he places on the side of your knee just before he stands to his full height.
The night is going seamless, but what goes up must come down, because only a few minutes after you place your orders, a buzzing from his wrist interrupts the warm ambience.
Both of you fall silent, and the candle flickers vividly as his face contorts into a series of emotions. It looked like it physically pained him to leave you.
"Go," you urge. "Before it's too late."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
He can't leave you, not when you look so perfect and you've both been looking forward to this night for a long time. That's awful, you don't deserve that at all.
His watch still buzzes frantically as his heart fights with his brain.
"The night was only just beginning-"
"Phainon." You say decisively. "Go."
Reluctantly, he pushes out of his chair with a look that says he clearly does not condone this, even as he places a farewell kiss on the back of your hand, even as he powerwalks out of the restaurant, already unbuttoning his suit. Still, his gaze lingers at you, savouring the sight before he goes and punishes whoever has stolen him away from you.
You lean back into your chair with a disappointed sigh. Once again, Phainon was whisked away away from you, and now it was just you in this vast, bustling restaurant, a candlelit dinner with no one but yourself.
How sad.
When the waiter came to check up on you, pointed look in the direction of Phainon's chair, you told him something important came up. You hated the way humiliation creeped in your ribs as you tried to save face, defending your lover with no hesitation, even if the empty spot on the other side of the table told another tale.
You really did try to insist that it was important, the fate-of-a-city-hangs-in-the-balance kind of importance, but the waiter murmurs a conflicted 'alright' before coming back with your food and an extra glass of refreshments with more side dishes- on the house.
The night ends far earlier than you expected, walking out of the restaurant with his dish packed away securely in your hands.
You wait for him when you get home, methodically getting unready with soft music in the background, fitting the big bouquet he got you that morning into the largest vase you could find, killing time with mundane activities that you were not anticipating for your anniversary.
When sleep tugs at your eyes, and he still hasn't come home, you bite your cheek nervously. Him working so late was not a rare occurrence, but the ache has never been easy to quell, not when the only remedy is blindly trusting that Phainon will come home in one piece and he'll be beside you in the morning when you wake.
You: going to bed now, text me when you see this
You: love you, stay safe
It's 3am, nearing 4 when Tribbie's portal sends him back to his living room, Khaslana form cramped in the coziness of your shared space, the outermost feathers of his wings just narrowly missing the delicate decorations you've placed around the space. Weeping golden cracks close, jagged edges soften, halo and weapon disappearing into nothingness, it's Phainon who turns off the nightlight you set for him.
It's Phainon's tired footsteps that trudge against hardwood floors as he makes a beeline for your shared bedroom, kicking his clothes off layer by layer on the way, discarding tailored fabrics in the hallway as his heavy heart aches.
It's Phainon who breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you, lying peacefully asleep on the bed.
Your back is facing him, body snug under the covers as he quietly crawls over to you, hands reaching for whatever he can grab as he lays behind you, wrapping you up in his embrace.
He feels the way your chest slowly expands against his, how warm your hands are from being nestled under the covers, how adoration thrums through his veins, even as he does something as simple as holding you.
Despite his drowsiness and the way his body begs for sleep after such a demanding mission, his heart is restless.
Se sits up and leans over you, admires what he can of your expresion through the little light that filters through the windows.
The love of his life that he has to, devastatingly, let down more often than he'd like.
He lowers his lips to your cheekbones and places a lingering kiss on your skin. He presses more, and more, and more, hoping to engrain his love into you, to let it seep through your pores and into your veins so you know the magnitude of his devotion.
Titans, he adores you, what would he do without you?
It's unfair that life has to take him away from you. Vaguely, his mind rewinds to the night, how quickly you masked your disappointment when he was being summoned, how you tried to reassure him with that unsure smile of yours, how he never wanted to leave you at a table alone again, even if you are the one pushing him away.
You really are just too selfless.
Isn't that what he loves about you, though?
"Phainon?" You rustle, whining softly. He freezes, face hovering mere centimetres from yours as you turn to him, "is that you?"
He gulps, guilt settling in his gut at disturbing you. Yet, he can't bring himself to feel completely bad about it, especially not when its your voice he gets to hear, raspy from sleep or not. "Yeah, sunshine, it's me."
"What time is it?"
"Late. I'm sorry for waking you."
Your hand comes to his face, awkwardly patting around before they find his cheek; the exact spot you love cradling, and he sinks into you like sand. "It's okay," you murmur, "I'm glad you're safe and sound."
"Yeah," he whispers, "I'm glad, too."
"How was the mission?"
"Went off without a hitch. But our date-"
"Right, your food is in the fridge, got takeaway."
"That's not what I was trying to say. I'll plan another one soon to make up for it, I promise. No distractions this time."
"Rest first, Phai," you scrunch your nose, "and wash."
"Do I smell?"
"Like a superhero. Yeah."
He smiles, and he's sure you can hear it in his words. "Isn't that a good thing?"
"No, I don't like it," you murmur bluntly before retreating back under the covers, tucking them up to your chin.
"I'll go clean up then."
"M'kay."
With one last, very long kiss to your temple, he pushes off you.
~ FOUR:
Phainon is already awake when you open your eyes, the vacant bed beside you already made, but the low hum of the coffee machine whirring tempts you away from your cozy spot. Bare feet hitting wooden floors, he greets you with a warm, loving smile, exercise shirt hugging the planes of his chest and arms.
"Good morning!"
You mumble back the pleasantry, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Where are you headed?"
"I've been called to HQ, incident reports… something like that. Thought I might as well make a morning run from it."
"What'd you do?"
He makes this guilty looking face. "Might have accidentally destroyed a few top floors."
"Phai!"
"It's fine! No one was hurt because evacuation went smoothly, besides, it was for the bigger picture- don't give me that look! Nevermind, I made you coffee." He sets the steaming cup before you with a kiss to your forehead. "Oh, also, I'll reschedule our anniversary date at another place, maybe a rooftop restuarant this time?"
"Are you sure you'll make it this time?"
The hand that was playing with your hair stills, and you feel the atsmosphere shift. You feign ignorance as you take a sip of your homemade drink that was exactly to your liking, the method perfected years ago by Phainon.
"Sunshine?" He begins, voice abnormally sweet.
"Hm?"
"Is there something you want to say to me?"
"What do you think I have to say?"
His cheek twitches. "If you're upset at me, you can say it outright."
Phainon watches you set down your cup, turn to face him, and throw your arms around his neck, standing up on your toes to reach his height. He looks you right in your tired eyes, momentarily glancing down at your lips that are jutted out in a small pout.
"Do I look mad?" You ask.
"You look like the love of my life," he's about to lean in until you push at his chest, stopping him.
"Don't try appease me by flirting. If you're going to book an anniversary dinner, make sure it will go uninterrupted. I understand emergencies are inevitable, but I just want to have you to myself at least once."
He nods, snowy hair bouncing enthusiastically. Of course, he promises, but you're getting tired of over-exercised promises and redundant oaths.
Still, you love him too much. You'll always love Phainon.
"You're forgiven, you should probably get going now," you straighten his collar and pat down his broad shoulders.
"I should but… can I get a goodbye kiss first?" His blue eyes shine with want and his hands firmly hold your hips, pulling you to his chest. He cranes his head to your height, chasing after your lips for something you won't grant.
"Don't, I've got morning breath," you warn.
"I don't care," he murmurs, mouth slotting against yours, drinking the air from your lungs.
When you try to make space, he simply follows, selfish and heedless when it comes to you. He'll keep taking everything you give until he's satisfied, and even then, Phainon is no better than a bottomless pit of greed, trying to press himself closer to try and mould your atoms together.
When he parts, your heavy breaths circulate between you, head beginning to spin.
He leaves a few minutes later, with a promise of a date and catching up on all the kisses he's missed.
Goodness, was he serious.
The coolness of the sheets beneath you are a stark contrast to the buzzing beneath your skin, the heat above you completely encompassing and wild as Phainon's mouth is everywhere. From your left, you hear the rustle of sheets, his hand bunching the fabric into a tight ball as his other hand runs up your leg, folding your thigh to sit snug against his hip. The delicate fabric of your outfit falls with the action, and when he parts, a string of saliva connects your tongue with his.
When you joked about a second round of dessert, you were not expecting him to drag you out of the restauarant, speed down empty streets so fast that you were holding on to the car door for dear life, and begin slobbering all over you in the elevator. Pressing you up against the mirrors, he began before the doors could even slide shut, hands all over your face, waist, hips, ass- anything he could grab.
Between kisses, hot licks, and bites, are confessions are love being etched into your skin. As you unbutton his suit, hands snaking underneath his lapels, he glues his mouth to your neck, panting.
When you sit up, he follows, obedient when you sit him on the mattress instead. His eyes unsubtly glance down at your half-exposed chest as you crawl over his muscular body, drinking up the view of his sky blue eyes that are now cloudy with desire. Gone was the heated beast who wanted nothing more but to devour your skin, replacing it was a compliant lover who shuddered with every sinful touch.
You lower yourself over his crotch and he rolls his head back, grunting.
"My hero is so handsome," you coo, brushing strands of his hair aside, revealing more of the flush that's crawled to his face.
"Ha- calling me that now ? Does it delight you?" He chuckles, hiding his flusteredness behind light jokes, but a drag of your finger along his sternum and abdominals has his muscles clenching.
You hum. "It does delight me to see you so susceptible, because I'm the only one who can have you like this. Right?"
"Yes, the only one," he whines.
"What about Khaslana?"
"What about him?"
"Is he mine too?"
He moans when you lick a stripe up his neck, helping you take off his shirt as he nods desperately. "Yours, I'm all yours, Khaslana too, all of me has been yours and will always be yours."
You smile. "Good boy-"
His hands tangle into your hair, pulling your mouth right to his. His tongue is quick to dart out and brush against your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth.
A shrill buzz cuts through the air.
Phainon loudly sighs as he glares at the watch on his wrist. You fix the neckline of your clothes and roll off him, watching him violently tap some buttons on the screen to silence it. Then, he leans over you once again, arms on either side of you as you're lying against the sheets, giggling at the featherlight kisses he places along your mandible.
"Ph-Phai, you should probably leave now."
He grumbles. "One more kiss."
One kiss turns to several more, until you're pushing him by the shoulders, urging him to leave. Which he does so very reluctantly, grumbling under his breath the whole time.
You go to bed alone that night, an unsettling premonition stewing in your gut as you tuck the covers over your chin and try to ignore the heavy void beside you. When you wake, Phainon's side of the bed is completely unblemished, cold to the touch, no indication that he had ever been here. A call of his name is met with silence and any indication of life beside you is nonexistent, not even a message on your phone from him.
Maybe the mission ran longer than expected.
You refresh your messages and news constantly, obsessing over any update or new notification like it'd be the salvation you were hoping for, an indication that you were approaching the light at the end of the tunnel. You pick at your skin and bite at your nails and run your hands through your hair, but nothing gets him home faster, nothing grants you the sight you truly wish to see.
Even as you stare out at the Okheman horizon on the balcony, mentally praying to the stars for him to come home.
Stillness is something that does not exist while living with Phainon, so in his absence, silence beats louder, time moves slower, and stagnation exists in the periphery, slowly closing in.
After two nights of missing his warmth and buzzing around the apartment with anxiety, there's a heavy knock on the front door. Your heart spikes, head spinning to the source of the sound. In the haven of your apartment, living room walls coated by cold sun rays, atmosphere occupied by the thrum of your running dishwasher and the video playing from your laptop, the voice you've been waiting to hear slices through it all.
"Sunshine? It's me."
The journey from the couch to the front door is completed in a blink, finally remembering how to breathe when you see him.
"Phainon," you whisper.
He's completely worn-down, eyebags prominent, shoulders slumped, but affection still gleams on his face and he's not beyond a gentle smile of reassurance.
"You're home."
He slumps into your open arms, finding no issue leaning all his weight against you. His snowy hair brushes against the side of your neck as his arms bring you as close as humanly possible, the fatigue weighing him down like iron.
"Let's get you to bed, superhero."
Unceremoniously, he collapses onto the mattress with a grunt, sprawled over the covers.
"Do you need water? Some snacks, maybe?"
He shakes his head and simply reaches for your waist.
"I just need you," he grumbles, pulling you down to him.
When your body is flush against his, head underneath his chin and legs intertwined, he sighs in relief and a ghost of a smile makes its way to his face. For the first time in two days, the silence is peaceful, and not a stark reminder of who is not here with you, of who cannot stay by your side all the time.
You press your face closer to his neck and listen to his heartbeat
~ FIVE:
It's almost ridiculous how the universe goes out of its way to spite you.
While you sat pretty and patient outside the Okheman Archives Museum, waiting for your artifact-enthusiast of a boyfriend to show up, your excitement for the date was stomped out before it could even begin. Especially after how hard you tried to get tickets to this highly rated 'Amphorean History in Ceramics' exhibition, which you would have never attended if it weren't for him and his passion in appraisal.
You even put more consideration into your work outfit today so it'd be gallery-appropriate, and you had been looking forward to this tradition of sorts for the whole day… only for a call from the man himself to dimish it.
"Don't cook tonight, okay baby?" He yells over the phone, wind whipping through the speakers. "I'll be home before dinner, we can get takeout- your favourite, and watch that movie you've been meaning to see, okay?"
"Okay."
"Sunshine… what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong, Phai, just-" you pinch your nosebridge and swing your bag over your shoulder. "Be safe out there."
"You know I will. I gotta go now, I love you."
"Bye."
"Wait, you can't leave without saying-"
You disconnect the call and shut off your phone… though not without a follow-up message.
You: i love you
Tucking the device into your bag, you begin the trip back home with the setting Okheman sun beaming into your eyes, and the wind blowing hair out of your face quite violently; just what you need after your superhero of a boyfriend cancels on you for the nth time.
When you found out about Phainon and Khaslana being one person, you were understanding and accomodating at first, and obviously freaked out that the nerdy, innocent-looking, puppy of a man you called your boyfriend had the ability to move planets. Despite how surreal it was, you knew what you were staying for. Missing nights, waking up to him not being there in the morning, sudden calls- none of these were foreign nor out of your expectations.
You kick a stray pebble in the road with a little too much force, and wonder if you were being too childish.
Can you even justify being upset with him when lives were at stake?
But how can you be second to the whole world in your own relationship?
Phainon barges through the front door at 8:30pm with bags of takeout, dumped haplessly on the kitchen counter in favour of clinging to you, wailing, acting nothing like his stoic, superhero counterpart.
"Don't ever hang up without saying 'I love you' back!" He whines loudly, rocking you back and forth in his arms while you took the food out from their containers. "A message won't suffice, and I don't care if you're upset at me, you have to say it every time, or I'll call you until you pick up!"
"And if I don't?"
"I'll call you over and over again, until it's your voice I hear and not your voicemail that tricks me every time."
"Won't the other heirs get mad at you if you pull that stunt? Especially Lady Aglaea?" The white-haired falls silent.
A quick raise of your eyebrow declares victory, but he's not satisfied at all, so he tugs you into his chest, keeping you there while demanding him to stop suffocating you in his pecs. It wasn't until he made you promise him that you'd never hang up on him again without an 'I love you' that you were finally set free from his iron grip, gasping for air.
Immediately, he's by your side again, big, blue eyes shining down at you. "Can you say you love me?"
"Right now?"
"Well, in my humble opinion, you should always love me."
Good grief. You roll your eyes and grab a plate. Unfortunately for you, he is the man that has your heart in a merciless headlock.
"I love you, Phainon."
~ SIX:
The Titans were testing the bounds of your strength.
After all this pent-up frustration that had nowhere to go, who knew that disaster striking in your own home city would become the be-all-end-all?
The day began with a long stroll to start the morning when all of a sudden, a bang to your right was heard, followed by the crumbling sound of concrete. Phainon had shielded you immediately, tugging you into the safety of his chest until it all went quiet.
Chaos erupted a split second after.
Cars beeping, people screaming, pushing others on the pavement, all running away from the settling debris and smoke that drifted into the clear Okheman skies. Your own heart began racing, but through it all, you could still make out the sound of Phainon's watch urgently beeping.
With the disaster right before him, you wondered why he wasn't making an immediate break for it.
Until you realised it was you he still tethered to, hands on either side of your shoulders, trying to guide you to safety by urging you to follow him. What on Amphoreus was he doing?
"Phainon! Stop worrying about me!" You exclaim, prying his hands off you. "Go! Go now!"
"But I need to make sure you're safe!" He insists.
"I'm fine, but there are people who aren't. They need you!"
"I also need to be with you!"
"How are we having this conversation right now- go!"
His eyebrows furrow even deeper, "at least let me escort you out of the block. The other Heirs can manage without me, c'mon."
"No, Phainon!" You shriek, heart dropping to your feet when you see a civillian free-falling from the top of the high-rise; mere seconds away from a gruesome end while everyone's beloved superhero was still standing in front of you as stubborn as a mule.
Khaslana wouldn't get to him in time, even with his inhumane abilities, it was a losing fight, and you could possibly be the reason someone's life couldn't get saved in time-
A flash of glowing red catches the victim, snatching him from the air. Following suit, a trio of superheroes on a rocket, soaring through the sky and destroying larger pieces of debris.
You heave a sigh of relief, thanking Mydeimos, Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon mentally.
"Deliverer!" Mydei bellows, his roar echoing through the streets and effortlessly reaching where you and the man he was calling for stood.
Finally, finally, Phainon makes a move in the right direction, turning around with a sour expression on his face.
"Go," you push at his back. "Go!"
When you get home, you slump against the door and sink, exhausted. The security guard downstairs asked about your safety before informing you that the Chrysos Heirs already subdued most of the chaos, now left to chase down the organisation that started this.
'Thanks to them, we sleep better at night' he cheered with a dip of his hat before the elevator doors closed.
Your throat is still sore from how hard you had to yell at Phainon. The itch at the back of your throat persists, forcing you to think back to how unmoving Phainon was. Even while within distance of the incident, it took a fearsome cry from Mydei to finally get Khaslana moving.
Has this… ever happened before? Have you ever been the reason Khaslana was too late to save someone?
All the times his watch buzzed yet he didn't move a muscle, eyes shining so brightly with guilt as they bore into you as if you were the one physically affected, like the time after the café visit, at your anniversary dinners, just then- you slam your empty cup into the sink.
Are you hindering his duties?
Khaslana enters your apartment through Tribbie's Infinity Gate.
The portal whooshing open in the middle of your living room, and out from the frame, steps the magnificent hero; a melting pot of gold, divinity, and terror. To you, he is none of those things; you look at him and see the love of your life who reserves his softest of smiles for you.
He hovers his way over to you.
"You okay? Not hurt anywhere?"
You shake your head. "What about you? How did the mission go?"
"Good. Fast."
"Phai, you know I love you, right?"
"Of course I do, sunshine."
You bite your lower lip and cast your gaze down at your lap, a whirlwind of emotions swirling behind your eyes. His clawed hand gently prompts you to look at him, sharp fingers curled around your cheek, your smooth skin a humane contrast to the ragged edges that make Khaslana Khaslana.
Khaslana isn't exactly human- no, he's half-beast and half-demigod, but still, his heart aches at how sad you seem.
"Baby," he croaks, "what's wrong?"
"Do you think it's better if we parted ways?" You ask meekly.
He freezes, silence stretching tensibly. For one moment.
Two.
Three.
He scrambles to his knees, bones hitting the floor with a dull thud as his hands cling to your thighs. "Y/n, if this is a joke then it's not funny. Is this how you're punishing me? You know I'm-"
"It's not a joke."
He makes a sound akin to a wounded animal, superhero form crowding the space around the coffee table as his wings flutter wildly; a mirror of his frantic emotions, the ones he can't show as the stone-faced Khaslana. The grip he has on your thigh is very telling, the way he digs into your skin like an anchor onto a seabed.
"Why?"
"With the most recent call, the casualties that were just narrowly avoided…" you inhale deeply before exhaling shakily. "It's best that I don't interfere with what you do, maybe… there's just no space where we can work on top of your duties."
"Don't say that," he pleads, "you couldn't be more wrong, don't say things like that."
"It's true though."
"It's not, I need you. I don't care if there's no 'space' for us, I'll carve it out, I'll make it happen, I'll do anything as long as you're here with me."
"It's not just that, though. I-" you falter, tearing your gaze away to look past him. "I overestimated how strong I am, but all the time I've spent worrying over you has worn me down. I don't know how much longer I can go wondering if you're okay or not, this isn't healthy."
"Y/n," he whispers your name like it's sacred, "please tell me you don't mean that, please."
"I do mean it. I love you, but this is killing me slowly."
"Then- then I'll fix it, I'll do anything, just wait a little longer, please. I'll talk to the other heirs, they'll understand! Especially Teacher Tribios and Lady Aglaea, they'll find a solution-"
Your fingers curl around his. "There's no permanent fix, Phai. I'll just always be here, anxiously waiting to find out if you're still breathing or not, but Amphoreus needs you. These two things will never change, you can't fix one to save the other."
"So you're already giving up without giving me a chance?"
"I can't love both Phainon and Khaslana."
You're not happy with him.
He's heaving at this point, hands shaking where they hold onto you so tight, doubling over his own hiccups and sobs as his heart breaks at the idea of you not being in his life. Of not making coffee the exact way you like it. Of not turning off a light that you leave on so he doesn't have to stumble through the darkness when he comes home at awful hours of the night. Of not coming home to you after a successful mission, of never having his safe haven and comfort place again.
Your absence, an emptiness he'd have to shoulder for the rest of his life, grieving over what he could have done to stop you from leaving.
That's not acceptable to him. He doesn't want that reality.
"Please," Khaslana begs into your skin, head pressed into your lap like a beggar. "Stay with me. You're the one that matters to me most. I can't do this if you're not here."
"I'm making it easier for the both of us."
"You're being stubborn. You think losing you makes things easier for me? No way," he shakes his head aggressively, "not in this lifetime, or any other."
"But you're a hero. Everyone loves you."
"I don't care what I am to everyone else, I care about being yourhero."
"You are my hero, Phai, but- but maybe it's better to be one at arms length."
He jolts up, blazing eyes holding your gaze. "No, never at arms length, please. Not with you. I'll do anything."
Suddenly, his weapon manifests from glowing light. A smaller version of the claymore he iconically wields, but it still holds the ability to slice through Amphoreus' crust with little effort… and he holds it dangerously close to his right wing.
"W-What are you doing?" you ask anxiously.
"If it wasn't for Khaslana, would you stay with me?"
"I'm not asking you to choose between Phainon or Khaslana, please, put your sword away!"
"You're asking me to choose between Khaslana or you, and if Khaslana is the problem" his golden eyes darken, "then I'd kill him without hesitation."
Your breath hitches when he raises the weapon above his head. One swing and it'd slice the feathers smooth off.
Frantically, you encase his warm fist with your colder hands, a pathetic attempt at stopping him that he obeys nonetheless, keeping his hand raised and frozen while staring up at you, at your mercy.
As if you had the strength to overpower him.
"Phainon, stop, don't do this."
"I'm going to lose you otherwise," he whispers.
"Don't dismember yourself for me!"
"Then how else will you stay?"
"But Khaslana is your-"
"I don't care," he hisses, his fury beginning to bubble, threatening to spill over. It's not directed at you though, Titans, it could never be because of you. "If Khaslana is the reason you want to leave me, I'll destroy him."
"Don't do that!"
"What other choice do I have?"
You bite your lip. "I won't go. I'll stay."
His wings flutter. "Really?"
"Really."
"But what about your-"
"I'll stay, Phainon."
The sword in his hand disappears and he all but collapses on you, torso thrown over your thighs as he sobs, the ache of almost losing you slowly dissipating as you play with his hair.
Every coax of your hand running along his back has him slowly transforming back into his regular form; wings shrinking back, hair turning back into a brilliant shade of white, the blues returning to his eyes only emphasising his sadness as he looks at you like you're the most precious thing he has.
"Never leave me," he whispers, voice raw while rubbing circles on your calf. "Please, I could never survive that heartbreak."
You don't say anything, just let him cry while slowly watching him turn back into the Phainon you know; the man that is yours and yours alone, but is draining your will to have.
His now-human hands wrap around your wrist tightly, bringing it up to his face as he desperately nuzzles into your palm, clinging onto whatever warmth you will spare. "Tell me you love me."
"I love you."
He chokes over his own sobs, tears falling onto your skin as your thumb collects some of the crystals, but his cries only worsen when you bring your other hand up to his cheek as well, cradling his face as Phainon holds onto your wrists with a vice grip, terrified you might slip away.
You:where are you!! >:(
You: don't tell me you got swept away by another mission
You huff at your phone, obviously displeased as you shove the device into your pocket with more aggression than necessary. The nerve of this man! What happened to being punctual?
He has the tickets, after all, if he doesn't show up (again), you wouldn't even be able to get in!
"There you are!" You jump out of your seat and take long strides toward your white-haired boyfriend, arms crossed and eyebrows slightly furrowed, beyond hiding your annoyance. He's breathing heavily, and sweat coagulates at his hairline, covering his forehead in a slight sheen.
"Ow, ow, ow!" He yelps when your fingers pinch his ear. "I got really caught up at the bank, they were being so slow! Mercy on me, sunshine, please!"
You sigh, letting him go. "Alright."
Phainon smiles softly when you let him wrap an arm around your waist, bringing you flush to his side. "I'm sorry, are you mad at me?"
"It's fine. I was just afraid you wouldn't show up… again."
"I wouldn't miss this for the world."
"Don't say that. Remember what I said about false hope?"
"Sunshine," he frowns, that familiar ache in his chest persisting when you refused to even glance up at him. "Y/n, you know that I-"
"It's fine, Phai."
He would honestly rather you just stab him, a wound from Dawnmaker would be easier to mend compared to all the metaphorical ones you've been throwing at his heart recently.
You grab his hand, wrapping your fingers tightly around his. "C'mon, lets not waste any more time standing around."
Inside the museum, you keenly listen to every fact Phainon conjures as he points at random artifacts, humming deep in thought as he reads the engraved plaques near them. Even as you pass by exhibition after exhibition, he keeps spewing facts that even tour guides spontaneously join in and begin discussing with him.
All the while, you hold onto his arm tightly, nodding and humming thoughtfully with not much else to contribute, just thankful to finally spend time with him.
Phainon's just grateful you haven't ran away yet, putting extra effort into making sure you're entertained and not bored by some historic relics that you only came to see because of him. He had to do some of his own research beforehand, scrolling endlessly through wikipages, his poor teleslate beginning to overheat with how many tabs he had open.
But… anything for you, he surmises.
Every so often, his fingers ghost over the pocket of his trench coat, making sure that the ring is still there.
Truthfully, he hadn't gone to the bank, he went to the finest jeweller in town (per Aglaea's recommendation) and spent hours inside, navigating through dozens of rings just to find the one for you, and it had to be no less than perfect.
To say he got a little caught up was an understatement. By the time the velvet box was in his hands, he realised he only had fifteen minutes to dash halfway across downtown.
Could you really blame a man in love for trying? Especially after a recent scare, and how close he was to losing you, he was not going to repeat that mistake. The world may love Khaslana, but Khaslana loves only you, and Phainon will happily devote the rest of his life proving it to you.
I wonder if newer users know that reblogging is Tumblr's bookmarking/archiving/saving feature. Decades old posts from deactivated blogs are still in circulation because someone liked them enough to reblog and share. So, please reblog that fic, fanart and post you like. For your sake if nothing else. Because one day you might very well wake up to find that that blog you'd been lurking around has deactivated without any notice whatsoever.
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