For Educational Purposes Only
Phainon X Reader Summary- In which, after months of stolen glances and embarrassingly pathetic yearning, Phainon finally gets an excuse to spend some time alone with you. Unfortunately, what he expected to be a simple 'art session' quickly turns into something far more dangerous. (Which included him stripping and posing for your entertainment.) Warning : Suggestive content
"You want me to what? " Phainon blinked, repeating the sentence to confirm if his ears were truly playing tricks on him.
"Strip." you simply said, placing a long wooden board on an easel.
"Oh right, of course."
The strange thing was that this wasn't even the most shocking part of the day.
The most shocking part had happened fifteen minutes earlier when you had voluntarily approached him and started a conversation.
The second most shocking part was that you'd asked to draw him.
Unknown to you (and, thankfully, everyone else) Phainon had been harboring an embarrassingly massive crush on you for nearly a year.
It all started with a stupid laugh.
He'd been sitting in the cafeteria, stealing fries from Mydei's tray while pretending not to, when he heard it.
A loud, carefree sound that seemed to drown all noise around him.
It was just curiosity at first that led him to look up.
And there you were with your friends, head thrown back. Laughing so hard that you nearly spilled your drink.
He gulped.
And looked away.
The next day that 'carefree' image shattered completely.
Which somehow made everything worse.
He was walking across campus when he heard shouting. A crowd had formed near one of the buildings.
Curiosity won again.
He pushed through the sea of people and froze when he reached the clearing.
It was you.
Right in the center, hand gripped tightly around a boy's collar.
"I dare you to say that again." you spat, lowering your hand to throw a punch at his stomach.
The boy groaned in pain, apologizing and begging for you to let him go.
Around you, people gasped. Some recorded on their phones. Others whispered among themselves.
But you only laughed, eyes wild with maniac anger.
Your friends had to physically drag you backward.
And somehow,
Somehow...
Phainon walked away with an even bigger crush than before.
Because apparently his heart was defective.
After that he started noticing you everywhere.
The library. The hallways. The courtyard. The gym.
Everywhere.
Sometimes you'd pass each other. Sometimes your eyes would meet.
Neither of you would say anything.
Just a glance.
Then another.
Then another.
Months passed like that. Eventually the eye contact became normal. Expected even.
He'd see you.
You'd see him.
A second.
Two seconds.
Then move on.
He felt he was part of those cringe highschool romance movies. The kind with dramatic music and slow-motion eye contact.
It was embarrassing.
So Phainon turned reckless.
The next day your eyes met...
He smiled.
Nothing weird. (at least he hoped not)
Just a small upturn of his lips directed solely at you. It seemed innocent, but his heart was desperately hammering inside his ribs.
The second he did it, regret hit him like a truck.
Because what if that was weird?
What if he'd imagined everything?
What if—
You looked away sharply. Not even a glance.
Phainon immediately fell to the floor, almost on the verge of tears. "Oh, I'm fucked."
The next day he saw you again.
His expectations were already buried six feet underground.
Then you looked at him. And after a moment of hesitation, you waved.
Just waved.
Phainon spent the entire night celebrating like he'd won a national award.
After that, he figured the crush would stay exactly where it belonged.
A harmless memory. Something he'd look back and laugh.
He was content with your smile. It became something he looked forward to every morning.
However...
That fantasy came crashing down when several months afterward, you walked up to him holding a sketchbook.
"Can I draw you?" you asked, a blank look on your face.
For a moment, his brain stopped functioning.
Phainon simply stared. It was the first time he had heard your voice so close. A voice only for him to hear.
So of course he replied without a second thought.
"Sure!"
Bad idea.
An absolutely catastrophic decision.
You had taken him into a lone classroom, warm sunlight spilled through the open windows and a soft breeze blew the white curtains adrift.
The atmosphere looked like the beginning of a confession scene.
Very romantic right?
WRONG.
Because right at the center of the room was a tall wooden stool.
"Sit right there," you pointed. "And strip."
Apparently, what you actually meant was that you wanted to study anatomy for a drawing.
A completely normal explanation.
One that somehow did not make him feel any better.
"You only need to remove your shirt," you added while unpacking pencils from your bag. "Nothing else."
Yeah, like that made it any better.
Phainon sighed but relented anyway. Saying no wasn't exactly an option.
Not when it was you asking.
He approached the stool, running a finger along the edge, before sitting on it.
"Here goes nothing then." he hooked his fingers under his purple shirt and pulled upward. The movement was slow, almost hesitant, before the whole thing was off his body and discarded onto the floor.
Cool air brushed against his skin.
He glanced at you, waiting for some sort of reaction.
You barely looked up.
Instead, you focused entirely on your paper.
"Should I pose or something?" the boy asked hesitantly, tilting his head.
"Mhm." you hummed, pencil already tracing down the paper.
Phainon gulped. Then reluctantly attempted to copy what he vaguely remembered seeing in Aglea's fashion magazines.
"Let's see..." he gripped the corner of the stool with one hand, leaning back and spreading his legs. The other hand rested on his thigh, his gaze tilted to the side. "Is this good?" he asked.
No response came for a moment.
"Yeah." was all you said.
Then he heard the soft scratch of pencil against paper. From the corner of his eye, he could barely make out your figure, but he felt your gaze all the same. It lingered on him with unsettling patience, tracing every line and shadow as though committing them to memory.
He felt terribly exposed like this. As if he was showcasing every shameful feeling that lingered in heart.
He hated it. He hated how he could be half naked yet still feel so cold.
Months of longing weighed heavily inside his chest, dense and impossible to ignore. Every glance from you only seemed to make it worse.
And meanwhile, you sat there, calm and focused, your expression unreadable.
It was almost insulting.
The sharp sound of tearing paper cut through his thoughts. His gaze flicked up just in time to see a page slip loose and drift lazily to the floor.
"You can change poses."
He wanted more.
He wanted a reaction. Any reaction.
He wanted proof that he affected you.
He wanted to linger in your thoughts. To interrupt your concentration. To become impossible to ignore.
He wanted you to feel the same parasitic suffocation.
And so he got up.
"I think it'd help if you could see properly." he didn't even wait for your permission.
His fingers reached down to the zipper of his pants.
"Uh-?" your eyes widened.
Phainon slowly pulled on the slider of the zipper, the sound seeming far louder than it should have in the quiet room.
Fabric rustled. Somewhere behind you, the clock continued its steady ticking, yet even that seemed distant now, swallowed by the heavy silence stretching between you.
He let the discarded layers fall where they may, careless and unbothered, as if his heart wasn't beating wildly in his chest.
"Well?" he asked quietly. The corner of his mouth curved upward. "Is this better?"
He wasn't fully naked, he had some semblance of shame left after all.
You however, were frozen in place, pencil hovering over the paper before it dropped.
"Oh..." you stumbled over your words, the sound feeling like victory to the blue haired boy.
You bent forward slightly in your chair, reaching for the pencil that had rolled too far from your grasp.
But as you did, your gaze slipped—almost against your will.
Your eyes traced line of his legs first. The stillness in the way he sat, as though he had decided that movement itself was optional now.
Then higher, where tension gathered in subtle shifts of muscle and posture, like he was holding himself together through sheer will alone.
Phainon shuddered. You weren't even trying to hide your stare.
You let out a shaky sigh as you settled back onto your chair, as though nothing unusual had happened at all.
"Stay like that then..." you muttered, turning to the paper for a second before glancing back at him.
This time, your focus lingered higher, on his chest. On the way each muscle shaped his body. Memorizing the shape, the colour before copying the same on the paper in front of you.
Your gaze trailed lower again. To his waist, tracing the curve in your mind.
Soon, the stares become longer than the actual drawing.
Phainon was not stupid, it was plain to see what you were doing.
Just as you studied him, his eyes traced you in return. Every small movement you made felt suddenly too loud in the silence.
The faint tremor in your hands as you adjusted your grip on the pencil. The way your shoulders tightened when you focused too hard. The absent motion of your tongue brushing your lips every few seconds.
He watched how you folded one leg over another, pressing tightly as if you felt uncomfortable bound by the constraints of the fabric. His teeth pressed into his lower lip at the sight, a small, restrained motion that betrayed more than he intended.
The game of pretend went on for long.
Finally you tore the paper from the top of your book. "I'm done. Thank you."
Phainon blinked, as if brought back from a daze. "Oh... That's nice."
He got up from the stool, trying to ignore the obvious protrusion of his boxers and prayed you wouldn't notice.
"Can I see it?" he asked politely as he approached you. Honestly, he just wanted to stand near you. Perhaps if he could feel the warmth that clung to you, the restlessness in his heart would finally settle.
"Uh?! That's not-!" Your face flared red instantly as you bent down, scooping the papers off the floor and pressing them protectively to your chest. "No thank you..."
"..."
'That's an intense reaction.' he thought.
"Why not? I want to see how I look." He stopped beside your stool, close enough that the space between you felt intentional. Waiting for you.
But you shook your head quickly, clutching the papers tighter.
He blinked.
You stared back.
"What's that?" Phainon suddenly pointed at something behind you. You flinched slightly and turned.
The moment your gaze shifted, he yanked the papers from your hand.
"HEY!?" You pushed up from your chair, but his hand settled on your shoulder before you could fully stand, firm enough to keep you there without force.
"Now, now," he said lightly, almost amused. "What’s the hurry?"
He lifted the pages above his head with an easy grin, watching you like he already knew you weren’t actually angry.
"I wanna see how beautiful I look in your eyes."
You groaned.
When Phainon looked at the drawing, he froze.
It wasn't some masterpiece of a drawing. Heck, it wasn't a drawing at all. Only random lines and scribbles were etched on the paper.
Not him, not anything else. Just random bullshit.
"... Surprise?" you offered weakly, forcing a smile. "I'm not an art student... I just..." your voice faltered.
Oh.
Oh.
Phainon let the papers fall from his hands as he turned his gaze towards you.
"You... just?"
So you weren’t as composed as you pretended to be. That realization alone was enough to curl something satisfied in his chest.
His lips curved before he could stop it.
"I just wanted to..." you started, then stalled almost immediately, eyes dropping away from his.
Phainon slowly leaned closer. His hand found the back of your chair, bracing there. "Hm?" he murmured, voice quieter now, almost coaxing. "What is it, (Y/N)?"
"Well I... -" you took a breath, but paused when you felt one of his hands moving up your shirt. His touch feeling cool to your already burning skin.
You let out a shaky breath.
"Go on then?" his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered.
"I just..." Your voice faltered again. Like a broken cassette, stuck on the same fragile loop, refusing to play anything else.
You moaned slightly when you felt his tongue teasing the shell of your ear.
"I think you need more practice to get better, right? " his warm breath caused a shiver down your spine.
He laughed when you nodded slowly.
"Maybe... I should strip even more then."
Fin
LMAOOO UH THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IVE WRITTEN SMTHING LIKE THIS SO IM SURE ITS A BIT...WEIRD BUT I TRIED.
ANOTHER ADDITION TO MY PHAINON OBSSESSION LETS GO! i really should stop writing about him.....
ANYWAY I HOPED YOU LIKED IT! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS
