Hi, so this is an art sideblog where I try to post as many arts (drawings and writings) as I can and that's probably it, I guess?
If anyone wants to hit my ask box, feel free to do so, but just know it'll probably take a while for me to answer. In any case, I'm happy to ramble about my drawings and fics, so don't be shy to hit the ask ^^
#1 Rule:
Do not trace, repost, or feed to AI all my drawings and writings !
Events:
100 Followers Event — closed ! (on my way to finish the requests~)
This is a bit of a sudden info here, but if anyone is coming to Comifuro 22 (Indonesia) on Sunday and find a certain short decent-height person wearing a big blue backpack + Phainon's shoulder bag with a light fit theme, that's me!
Don't be afraid to approach me because I have a little something to give to everyone lol
Synopsis: There is a stir in Phainon's stagnant life, tearing through the clutter of shifting papers and the whirr of a worn down coffee machine — the clicks of heels and one such insolent new-hire who cares naught for workplace decency.
Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - Officeverse, Yandere Themes, Very Unprofessional Relationships, Supervisor!Phainon, Office-Siren!Reader, Sadist x Masochist, Smoking, Implied Housewife-Kink, Suggestive, Pet-play (It's Senphai c’mon), Phainon Is A Little Messed Up, And Reader Wants Him Bad ಠ_ಠ, MDNI.
Words: 2892
♡ Note: Senphai from @yearninflowers and Office-Siren!Reader from @avalon-hub <3 I'm so serious when I say this is Unprofessional.. Chrysos HR is hunting me down as I speak 🗿
「 Read on AO3 」
There's a buzz in the halls of CHRYSOS Corp. — different from that of the stuffy corporate air, hurled through the heels of the mischievous new-hire.
A storm of fluttering lashes and lingering smiles, gift-wrapped in a silage that rattles the sanest of minds — or so, they like to illustrate in gossip.
Though Phainon, the one tasked with ensuring that this storm doesn't stray, can say for certain that there are no lies in the claims.
In fact, they do not do you justice at all. Storms have scarce aim, they're satiated by merely wrecking havoc in their paths.
But in your measured smirk, eyes twinkling much like the gloss painted across your lips that would've driven a lesser man mad? Phainon saw ambition, a hunter’s well-contemplated aim, and that aim was pointed at none other than himself.
“Please take care of me well, sir.” you’d peered up from your polite little bow on that fated first day, sketches of schemes to make that cool head of his simmer already appearing in your eyes.
There had been no noticeable shift in Phainon's face ; no drooling smile, no intrigued glaze in his eyes, no twitch of the hands like you were accustomed to seeing from men his age — just a single blink.
“Of course, Ms [Name].” he’d measured you with a nod, and no more than a nod before taking you from a watchful Aglaea’s wings under his own.
And that, that was exactly what you were searching for.
You aren't even sure why you took such a strong liking to your supervisor from the first word — should anyone ask.
It wouldn't be a stretch to say that you could have any man dancing to the tune of your pinky.
There's Mydeimos from the marketing department, closer to your age, with body carved like a treasured sculpture — but he just doesn't cut it.
There's Mr. Jing Yuan, polite, polished and that perfect little cadence in his voice that you usually love.
But no, there was something in Mr. Phainon's tired eyes, his wry smile, his distracted little ’hm?’. Something that made you want to kindle a fire in those dull eyes, spin him to insanity — or let him do so with you.
That, or you just have a rather questionable taste in men these days.
But, for what it was worth, you made it your very important mission to make sure he duly followed his responsibility on showing you the ropes.
Whether that be by pretending to not understand even the E of Excel, or making him repeat instructions more times than he should, you were diligent in your work.
And Phainon? He never discouraged you.
That is not to say that he encouraged your mischief, but he never said no to anything.
Not even when you made paper planes out of documents and threw it to his face, smiling unflinchingly as if to say, ‘Come, discipline me if you dare.’
Not even when you mixed too much sugar in his coffee, or mixed no sugar at all.
Not even when you dragged your heel up his leg under the table in team meetings.
Not even when you painted his face with your lips, legs entangled, breaths clouding the dusty air of the janitor's closet.
The taps of someone's shoes scaling the hallway outside halts you mid-reach, lips hovering an inch away from Phainon's glistening ones.
The heat in his cheeks clasps your hands, cute, how despite his chronically enervated exterior, he blushed no different than a school-boy.
“What’s wrong?” his taunt prompts you to glance up at his face, shadows dance around smudged lipstick stains.
“You were so… eager to stake a claim on me six minutes ago,” he dips his head, nudging the little nook under your ear with his nose. “Why stop at the climax?”
Oh, you staked a claim, alright.
With greedy fingers and even greedier lips you tore his button-down and sketched scratches across that blazing sun that'd been teasing you all day, and you did not stop until you'd weaved a necklace of red lipstick marks across the inked gold across his chest.
But that's not enough.
And he, he holds you hostage with that exact knowledge — always, always.
He challenges you to dare more with his eyes, and god, do you hate that he needs nothing more than his eyes to make your knees weak.
You purse your lips, mindlessly twisting the fabric of his shirt under your nails.
For a second, Phainon thinks you’ll whine again — loudly enough that he’ll want to shut you up himself, the same push and pull that’d gotten you this far to begin with.
But no, you do something far worse.
Phainon’s lashes flutter in startle when you grip his jaw and press a loud, echoing smooch on his cheek. His heart kicks against his chest when you slide your lips down, breathing against his for three agonizing beats before seizing them in a bite.
The breath that’d stuttered in his chest releases when you withdraw, nonchalantly fixing your shirt and hair, before walking away like you hadn't just rattled him off his axis.
It makes laughter bubble in his chest, absurdly.
His hand raises to sample the lip-stain on his thumb. Dull cyan eyes measure the purposeful sway of your hips, lifting to meet the glance you throw over your shoulder, trailing all the way till your figure disappears beyond the wall’s edge, and then, he traces the rouge on his thumb with his eyes again.
The red smears between his thumb and pointer fingers, pinkening at the edges. The sight awakens the chocolatey aftertaste of it on his tongue again, followed by parchedness seizing his throat, perhaps in longing for your lips again.
Against his better judgment, the man smirks.
There was a time in Phainon's life when he loved to smile — it came easy to him as well, and just as easily, that love had fizzled out.
Though, he had to admit, he’d smiled more times in the brief window of your arrival than he had in the past decade.
You had a bizarre way of dismantling the burn-out of the cruel 9-5 grind that’d began to corrode his bones.
And by ‘bizarre’, he meant utter shamelessness in teasing the message of just how much you wanted him in your hands.
By Kephale, is it a sight, an experience of the heftiest risk. And by all means, he shouldn't be indulging you in the slightest.
Shouldn't be.
Not that he can't.
“I wish I were that cigarette.” you leisurely blink through the cloud of smoke, the chipped plaster of the railing faintly scraping at your elbows.
Something like a snort escapes your supervisor.
Your eyes follow the nimble motions of long fingers twisting the paper tube in their groves, eyes flickering and narrowing with every swipe against the calluses you’ve only half gotten acquainted with (and there's that stupid cigarette already grabbing a higher score in your face?!), lips pressing further in their pout — which he measures with a side-eye.
“You want to be used?” he flicks at the cigarette with his index and middle finger, watching the ashes drift away in the rooftop’s winds.
If Phainon notices the faint stiffening in your shoulders at that, he makes no comment on it. “I want to be held.” you stress, watching the strained ripple in his throat as he tilts his head.
“Really? But I seem to distinctly recall you begging me to loosen the hold last night instead.”
The mix and mesh of blaring horns and passing vehicles echo from the busy streets of Okhema city all the way up here, though they are not the reason you startle enough to straighten up.
“No—? That's just—” heat grips your cheeks, his smile drips of aged honey, patiently letting you grapple with words that will not come.
Abruptly, you force yourself to huff, hugging yourself, “But you didn't really listen either last night!”
“Hah,” he cocks his head, “And despite that, you're back here begging me not to listen again, competing with a cigarette.”
“Yeah.” you take a step closer, restraining your hands into fists last second. “Yeah, because it's not enough — never enough with you.”
Your supervisor shakes his head, the muscles around his lips twitching against a smile. “That greed of yours will get you into trouble one day, girl.”
That almost makes you burst out in hysteric laughter, almost. “Trouble? I court trouble, sir.” gooseflesh peek in Phainon's body, following your sweeping gaze over his figure.
“And I have never claimed to not be greedy,” another step, “In fact, you are just as greedy as me, and very soon, you will drop this cool-collected-senior facade and join me as I drag us both down.” your face an inch away from his.
For a moment, all Phainon does is trace the sparks in your eyes with his ; they crackle whenever he takes a millisecond more to blink, macerate when he teases to — longs to — close the distance and eat up those reddened lips worked from the past minutes’ stressed nibbling, hardening just as his breath brushes against them and skipping away just as he was about to bring you in his chokehold again.
Your supervisor blinks, cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers as you do the previously-thought-impossible and step away.
“Hmph.” you flip your hair, not even bothering to spare one last glance at his bewildered stance or provide closure to why you so abruptly abandoned him at the gates of hell.
The clicks of your retreating heels pelt against the rooftop's winds, finally snapping him out of his astonishment.
Phainon shakes his head, running his free hand through strands of tousled silver-blue as if to force himself to process the astonishment.
“Minx…” his mutters to no one, tugging at the roots of his hair again.
Then, remembering the neglected cigarette in his right hand, he spares it a glance, which stretches for two more seconds where he watches the fire slowly devour the paper and the nicotine, leaving behind nothing but ghosts of ashes.
It, annoyingly, reminds him of your ridiculously confident claim.
You’re just greedy as me, that saccharine voice rings in his head. You’ll join me when I drag us down, yeah right — Phainon huffs, dropping the cigarette without care and snuffing it under his shoes, suddenly having lost all appetite for it.
Unfortunately for Phainon, what he isn't able to snuff out the upcoming days, is your sudden rebellious streak.
Or— should he call it a dial up instead? After all, you never did hide the fact that insolence ran in your blood, body and words. It was so prevalent (and perhaps, controversially, desired even) that he even begun to expect it at some point.
And he did keep on getting — just in a different format, one which he would never admit that he didn't foresaw.
“There’s a mistake in the graph, sir.”
“I already sent the files to Ms. Aglaea.”
“Ms. Tribios says that I should lead the next meeting ~”
“I must accompany Mr. Yang this Tuesday! Sorry!”
“I may be getting assigned under someone else soon…~”
Look at you. Scurrying around the office like a busy-bee, taking and executing all orders given to you like a good little girl without ever looking back.
It reminded him of his younger days— ahh, the blissful ignorance to how the corporate monster preys on the most ambitious.
Except, your ambition appears to be set not on building a mansion and buying a yacht — that much he’s certain.
Because every excited pep in your step, every obedient nod and every sweet smile, is trailed by a sidelong glance at him and made much more obvious through the attempts at stifling whatever evil smirk it is that threatens to break into your face each time his smile cracks.
It's rather cute, Phainon would admit. To see you run around like a smitten puppy after their master, in those— those pencil skirts and tight blouses, appearing so unaware of what you do to the people around you.
Phainon purses his lips, fidgeting with the pen in his grip.
Over the cubicle’s edge, he sees your hunched figure, back bent as you lean down to whisper something in Anaxa's ear.
Phainon is unable to catch the other man’s reaction, but he gets a full view of the ripple that passes by your lips, the fluster that grasps your eyes.
The pen stills between his fingers.
And perhaps, even more annoying than this, is the fact that, after these… charades, you return to his side all chippy and chatty like nothing has happened.
It doesn't take much more of seeing your flirting around with anyone you like in the moment for the realization to cement itself in his head — he doesn't like it.
Though not as much as other people, Phainon has lived a (arguably) good almost four decades on this world.
And he, much like anyone his age, is susceptible to the arrogance of experience — as such, he’s more prone to falling for simpler tricks than what he’d assume.
And Titans, does he not want to admit, seeing you return back to him, smiling and laughing at his usual dry remarks and chatting about whatever — it.. it actually relieves him.
From where this anxiety comes from, he doesn't want to acknowledge.
Because acknowledging it means admitting that a part of him (and surely just a part of him), is actually afraid of loosing whatever twisted thing it is that you two have.
Acknowledging that would mean that he's fallen right into your hands — just as you’d said he would.
And acknowledging all of it would mean confessing that he wants nothing more than to bottle those giggles of yours all to himself, trap that infuriating smile of yours in a portrait and hang it in his bedroom — or, or…
Phainon swallows dryly, unfinished work flashing on the bright-bland computer screen in front of his face.
Though he could care less about that in the face of a much more preferable outcome dangling in front of his eyes, the path to which has already begun manifesting branches for him to follow and find out.
-
“Sir~ is it true that you got a new puppy?” you tilt your head up, clutching at the strap of your purse as you exit the office building alongside him.
Phainon glances at the genuine intrigue that's taken over your face, “Mhm.” he nods, shifting his hands in his pockets.
The city lights create sparkles in your eyes, “Can I see it—? Oh— it's been so long since I saw Snowy, too!”
Phainon halts, making you stop in your tracks, too. Tufts of his hair bounce as he measures the plea in your eyes.
The normal, expected thing to do would be to just pull up a picture of the dogs on his phone, but both you and Phainon know that that isn't what you want.
A sigh escapes you as the door clicks open, “Feels like ages since I was last here.” though the shirt you’d left just a week ago, tangled with his clothes in the laundry basket, would argue otherwise.
Phainon wordlessly takes your purse from you. You watch while sliding off your heels as he locks it in the high cabinet of the kitchen.
“So?” you echo, trying to ignore the way your heart has picked up its rhythm alongside your footsteps.
“Where are the puppies?” you twist the knob of the door nearest to you — his bedroom — peaking inside without thought.
The room and the apartment answers back with silence, making your brows furrow.
Usually, Snowy would've barrelled through to greet you two at the front door, but he is nowhere in sight. And the new puppy…
You stiffen upon feeling a figure much too familiar looming behind you, “Phainon…?”
Your attempt to twist around is halted by the hand that grasps your shoulder. Another confused sound bubbles in your chest when your supervisor sweeps aside your hair.
The bites of his nails on your skin is familiar — what isn't familiar is the weight that grips around your throat and settles on your skin like a shackle.
“W-what—?” you blink, hands raising on instinct as the latch of the collar clicks shut, something feathery brushes against your collarbones.
Though your hands don’t succeed in their mission. The hand that’d been sketching crescents into your shoulder rounds to grasp both of your wrists in its hold, your back pushes against Phainon's chest when you take a surprised step backwards.
A shudder seizes your body as his breath warms the skin of your ear, “Bark, puppy.”
His fingers dig at your wrists, the other gives an experimental tug at the strap attached to the collar, making the collar scrape against your throat.
And Phainon can feel a tingle crawling up his spine as you frantically glance at his face.
Because he can see the near future in front of his eyes — in his hands ; you, waiting for him at home like a good, obedient, sweet wife everyday, taking all his stress away with a kiss, another, a hold, so much more.
And in the way the shock wears off from your face, rapidly replaced by eager fluster does he become certain, that this is what you wanted from the beginning as well.
At first, Phainon was silent—well, technically, he was flustered. He paused everything he was doing and looked at you weirdly, trying to understand why you were asking him such an obvious question, yet he answered anyway.
“Of course,” he tucked a conveniently fallen hair strand over your ear, laughing rather softly at your question despite the confusion, “how could I not? It's as easy as breathing and as simple as admiring the skies.” His face got closer, a smile still apparent on his face.
“You don't have to try so hard. It's quite easy to love someone like you.”
He kissed your forehead. It felt soft, and the love from his heart seemed to wrap itself around you from this one action. And somehow, the lingering touch left you wanting more before he eventually talked again.
“You don't always need to fit in. You're fine as you are.”
He kissed your cheeks, both of them, carefully. And just like before, the lingering touch had left you wanting more. How could someone show their love so apparently like this?
Suddenly, he held your shoulder, forcing you to match his eyes. They seemed to focus solely on yours as he tried to mutter out something.
"You're you, and—" He gulped, the hold he had over your shoulder tightened slightly, "and that's why I love you.”
He leaned in. And at that moment, you noticed the slight tremble in his hands as he kissed you—slightly, softly, only touching the left corner of your lips.
“...understand now?”
Oh, God. You wanted to cry at this moment, somehow. It felt as if something—you didn't know if an old wound had been healed or it was just you feeling so loved—had changed in you.
Is it truly possible to have someone love you so deeply and effortlessly? — You often questioned that. For someone who had been thirsty for such an 'easy' love, how could you not melt for the man in front of you? How could you not... love him back as well?
“Yes, yes.” You sobbed out, smiling awkwardly through all the bubbling feelings. “I understand well.”
Hearing your answer, he laughed rather quietly. It sounded comforting, rather than anything else. Some people could laugh at you when you show vulnerability, but he didn't. He never did.
“Good." He smiled, nodding off to yours and his own words. "I hope you remember it well too. I really love you, you know?”
And so, you smiled back.
As your heart was filled to the brim, you finally gathered what little courage you had to give him a small peck to his lips, truly finishing what he wanted to do before.
“...uh?”
You grinned cheekily.
“Hehe, I love you too, Phainon.”
And that was all it took for him to finally melt in your hold.
Had another thought that whenever you're cooking, Mydei would secretly help you out with the seasonings. Even if he wasn't able to help you out, he would still eat whatever you give him—after all, whatever you made is always so delicious for him ♡
Just thought that Phainon would probably give you a samoyed doll or keychain because you said he reminded you of one—him giving it to you also indirectly means "Please think of me more ♡"
Imagine having Senior!Phainon (read: Senphai) as your supervisor when you first enter the company as one of the newly hired workers.
Pick your poison:
#1 Tired!Senphai — fluff genre ♡
⤷ Phainon as your tired-looking supervisor who seems keen on keeping you at arms length—little did he know, you were never easy to give up in wanting to get close to him. Despite him always acting distant, he never raises his voice nor scold you harshly for anything. This weird feeling of admiration turns into something more when you realize that a smile looks prettier on his face more than anything.
"Don't jest, Y/N. You don't want to get close to me."
⤷ Phainon as your nice, cheerful-like supervisor who seems to keep you at arms length despite him always acting close to you. He never did stop smiling even if you did many mistakes or even trouble him with so many things—but maybe that was supposed to be the red light for you. It all went on until one day you discovered a secret only known to Phainon himself. Now, he seems keen on knowing you even closer than before. Truly, is a smile supposed to be something you should be scared of?
would gloomynon appreciate being sat on... I wanna cuddle him and kiss his face and pinch his cheeks and rub his head.... I wanna smother my face in his chest...... wanna snuggle him........ wanna give him so much affection........... OUAAGGEHAHAHAHHHHHH!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!
Do you really think he would not beg you to sit on him, especially on his face—coughs—I mean, he'll feel sooo lucky to be able to even touch you!
Don't (or do) give him too much affection, he'll get greedier and take more, you know?
URK..... tamon b side actually got me in a chokehold.
not only is the art beautiful and comedically expressive (god bless ouri, hes literally the funniest character imo), i really love tamon's devotion and his desire to change
also shout out tamon b-side! phainon by @yearninflowers i eat that shit up
