celestiliall - Tumblr blog

celestiliall · 20 days ago

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my starlight, my eternity, my apocalypse | phainon x afab!reader

18+ mdni, 3k wc, filthy and emotional sex, bath sex, bed sex, p in v, porn barely concealed by plot, fingering, breast play, more horny shit idk, chrysos heir reader but no spoilers, not completely aligned with canon, unedited no beta in phainon we thrust, emphasis on the emotional sex. it's emotional.

When you joined the Flame Chase Journey, you were prepared for all the sacrifices that you would have to make, to give up your soul, your conscious, your body, all for the safety of Amphoreus. Life is fleeting and ephemeral, but the prophecy gave yours meaning and somehow, a family that provided you friendship, love, everything that you thought could never be yours again when the black tide took it away.

However, you don't know when everything started, how it all fell like dominoes, how it felt like the rug was swept out from under your feet. Now, when you look up at the skies of Okhema and Kephale Worldbearer statue, you're reminded of imminent doom, and the future that is calling for your demise.

A decade or so ago, you would have been eager to meet your end, but now you can't bear to leave.

"You're awfully quiet."

Phainon makes himself known by sinking into the lukewarm water beside you, his bathing tunic revealing parts of his body that you're well accustomed to.

"Hey, you," you murmur meekly, trying your best to give him a smile.

"You don't need to pretend," he says, thumb rubbing your cheek reassuringly. "Things have been tough recently."

"Then you also don't have to pretend."

He laughs, the sound airy and not really there. "I fear it's more of a destiny issue, the world will be mine to bear alone."

The thought of it makes your expression sour instantly and Phainon notices it, immediately scrambling to make sure he didn't offend you. His precious lover, he never wants to displease you in any way.

"What's wrong? What did I say?"

"I just- it's getting scary, how things are unfolding so fast. Now, I need to confront a reality where you're truly alone," you whisper. "I... I really didn't want Kephale's Coreflame to be yours to inherit, but Aglaea's never wrong, it really does have to be you, huh?"

"Y/n..."

"And then... I also have to leave you, don't I?"

Two strong hands wrap around your thigh and they pull you onto Phainon's lap in one, swift motion, the water wading and rippling due to the sudden motion. You're practically nose-to-nose with him now, and his warm breath hits your top lip.

"Don't say that," he whispers, shaking his head.

"Not addressing it doesn't make it any less real," you let your hands wander to his face, holding him by the jaw. He opens his eyes to look at you, really look at you, gaze flickering from your mouth, to your eyes, to your nose; how the Titans have sculpted you, his perfect match in every lifetime.

"I know, but... I don't want to think about it. Not now. I... don't think I can survive the grief of losing you."

You exhale a breath of relief when he nudges his nose against your cheek, feeling him pepper gentle kisses against your jaw, trailing his lips along the bone. His snow-white hair tickles your face, and it's only when you recoil a little at the feathery feeling he stops, moving his head to look at you again.

There's turmoil swimming in those usually-vibrant eyes of him, and he's uncharacteristically silent as he gazes at you.

"I love you," you whisper, voice cracking with all the emotions bubbling within you. "I love you so much, Phainon, I can't bear-"

You're interrupted by a kiss, one that is meant to consume, meant to devour you whole, one that has no clear nor purposeful movement behind it because the intention speaks for itself. The desperation, the fear, the overprotectiveness, it all declares itself present in the way Phainon is trying to mould you as close to him as humanly possible.

His hands roam, needy and demanding as it travels the expanse of your skin: holding, squeezing, wrapping around you like a serpent.

"Titans, I love you so much," he murmurs before kissing you with renewed fervour, only emboldened by the intimate position you find yourself in.

There's a growing hardness against your thigh and arousal slips into your veins like a drug. All of a sudden, the bathing gowns you wear are too heavy, and all you want is his skin against yours.

He groans when you experimentally roll your hips against his pelvis.

"Take me, take me, please, take me," you continue your ministrations, feeling his dick spring more and more to life with each teasing movement you bestow. His breath hitches, caught in his throat as he withstands your pleasurable torture.

He'll withstand anything as long as it is done in your name.

When his hands come up to strip himself of his bathing garments, his eyes never stray from yours as he bears himself naked to you, as he has done so many times before. Despite how familiar you are with Phainon's body, you will never be able to scratch the incessant itch in your fingers that beg to sink your nails into his skin, to permeate into rippled muscles that fit so perfectly against your body, every ridge of his toned frame meshing harmoniously against yours. No matter how many bite marks you leave against his frustratingly smooth skin, it will never be enough to satisfy your cravings.

You help him take off the soaked fabric and drop it out of the water without a care of where it lands because his hands are already working on presenting you equally as bare.

His hands draw up to your shoulder slowly, testing, patient, searing. Then, he pulls off your straps, sliding them off your body, eyes flitting between your naked form and your face, blue eyes so overwhelmingly fascinated with the sight presented before him.

Eventually, you're left vulnerable and bare before him.

"Beautiful," he whispers when he holds the left side of your chest, teasing your nipple with his thumb. As a cry of surprise is about to leave your lips, he swallows it with his mouth, drinking in all the noises you make as he plays with you.

Pinching, fondling, squeezing, he is so mind-numbingly reverent in his touch that it makes your thighs squeeze around him. You feel him laugh against you, the sound vibrating throughout his chest, sending subtle shocks down to your core, before he leans against your shoulder to smile up at you.

"I love you," he declares again, softly and endearingly. His hands then seek purchase on your hips, fingers moulding into the curve of your ass and the flesh of your pelvis, and he shifts you closer to his hardened member.

You moan when it teases your entrance, the tip catching the hood of your clit and sending bolts of pleasure up your spine. It goes straight to your head, because you can only think about feeling him in the most intimate places, places where only you will let him touch, places that only feel whole when he's there.

"You're perfect," Phainon whispers, looking up at you with stars in his eyes, "I want you to remember me forever, because through all our lifetimes, no one will be able to love you like I can."

His hands snake around your ass to feel your entrance instead, touch achingly slow as he rubs two fingers against your slit and you can't help but fall into Phainon even more, gasping and writhing in anticipation. Even more so when he parts your folds with his thumb and ring finger to sink in two digits.

"Isn't that right?" He smiles when your nails sink into his deltoids whilst gasping for air.

"Yes! Yes, Phainon, you're right-"

You're already so aroused, you think you might implode with how he scissors you open. Despite being submerged, the ease he was experiencing in opening you up was all the work of your body reacting to him, not the water that ripples with each movement of his hand.

That fact pleases him, because you can feel him smile into your hair, fingers still working through your velvet walls, prepping you with intentional caresses and strokes. When he curls them, you dig your nails even harder, sobbing his name into his damp skin.

"Phainon-" you whine needily.

"Yeah?" He responds casually, as if his fingers weren't causing your sanity to slowly unravel.

"Fuck me already, please."

"So impatient already, my star? Can you take it?"

Despite your slipping conscious, you resolutely agree.

"If that's what my love wants, I must comply." It feels so empty when his fingers slide out of you, leaving you wanting and lonely for his love, but you don't get long to dwell on it before he's bringing you into another gentle kiss. His lips move in tandem with yours, guiding you through something slow and intimate. By the end, his hands are on your hips and he's dragging you closer to him, until you feel the outline of his hardness underneath.

You're so impatient, you want him to sink in and never vacate.

So when his engorged tip dips between your folds, you hold onto his wrists tightly as he slowly lowers you onto the rest of his length. Inch, by agonising inch, you let out a cacophony of moans and sharp breaths while he stretches you apart, pulsating where you need him the most.

It feels so good when you finally take his whole length, filling you up so perfectly. He groans and shudders from underneath you, helpless against the way your walls shudder and twitch around his impatient member.

Both of you are mindful that he didn't prep you completely, but you're so wet and turned on you don't even think it matters. You just want him to fuck the daylights out of you, and you're not above begging for it.

And Phainon has always been helpless to your every whim, so he lifts your weak figure up slowly, hissing at the sensation of losing your warmth, before abruptly sinking you down once again.

"Phai-" you cry as he repeats his movements. "Oh Titans, more, more, more."

He pumps his hips up this time to meet you, "you don't need to ask, my love."

This torrential downpour of pleasure continues, sending shockwaves from the tips of your finger to the end of your toes, causing you to curl them.

"I don't want you to be alone," you whimper against his neck, shuddering with each drag of him against your fluttering walls. "Holding the world alone is too cruel a prophecy for you, Phainon."

"I don't want to be alone, either," he shudders when you bite into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, abs clenching and hips stuttering as he thrusts upwards. "I want you to be with me, forever, until- until the end."

You cry out when he hits a particularly deep spot in you, crashing against his chest when you don't have the ability to hold your spine strong anymore. His arms wrap around your waist, protective and firm, it feels like he's trying to prevent you from falling apart even more than you already are- metaphorically and physically.

Being pressed against him like this means you can feel each twitch and flex of his muscle; his abs, his biceps, his thighs, deliciously paired with the feeling of him violating your insides.

When you're halfway to being mindless, he suddenly tightens his hold on you.

"I'm sorry, I need more," Without anymore warning, he stands up completely from the bathtub, his member slipping out of you to leave you achingly empty. Phainon walks of out the baths, leaving a dripping puddle with every step he takes, effortlessly balancing both you and his weight.

Your world is tilted on its axis when he drops you against something soft- your shared bed, which you are soaking through because of the water.

"Phainon-"

"It's fine," he reassures with a kiss to your forehead, and you have no space to protest when you feel his tip sliding in again, breaching your walls with the resistance of slippery ice.

He sinks back home with barely any struggle, bodies pressed right up against each other and he lets out a sigh of relief when he bottoms out, feeling you clench and pulse around him. His hands then push your thighs further apart so his torso can slot in, becoming chest-to-chest with you and you can feel more of him in this position. Tip poking your cervix, you fear you might feel him in your stomach.

As you adjust to this new stretch, he watches you squirm and writhe under him, fascination and awe shining in his eyes, as if committing the sight of your heaving chest and malleable form to memory.

He moves slowly, dragging his dick out at a torturous pace, leaving just the tip in, before thrusting back in, leaving you to cry out loud with each assault of his hips. You're so wet you can feel the way your slick coats his cock and how it aids his every move, and the added lubrication of the water does nothing to help the debauched noises of skin slapping skin.

Then, he speeds up and takes you at a mind-destroying pace, one so brutally fast that you're actually worried he will tear your cervix.

Slick gushes out and out of you, oozing onto your thighs, his hips, and the sheets below, but neither of you care. Phainon is dead set on ruining you, and he has the stamina to guarantee it.

Your first orgasm is approaching, fast, and he feels it with the way your walls clench around him. So, he decides to help you out with a merciless thumb on your clit, one that rubs delightful circles and patterns that only command your undoing sooner.

The coil snaps, and you feel every muscle seize up, legs twitching from where he holds them.

"Phainon- mmh!" He kisses you, covering your lips with his mouth to swallow every sound you make without ever stopping his movements. The silence only accentuates the wet plap, plap, plap that echoes in your shared room.

"You're mine forever, my lover," he murmurs in between kisses, "my starlight, say you love me."

"I... I love you!" You scream at a particularly deep thrust, still sensitive from the shocks of your cresting pleasure, but the sudden warmth that explodes in your lower abdomen has you squealing again. Hot ropes of cum shoot in your walls, and his cock is plunged so deep in that no drop can escape. His hips stutter and convulse as he lets out a pleased grunt, heavy breaths and sounds of satisfaction filling the air.

Your orgasm had hit you like a boulder, so much so that you were still clamping around him, stimulating him enough to harden whilst nestled inside. Both of you feel it, and Phainon gulps.

"It's fine, we can go until... you're pleased," you whimper, as if reading his mind and answering his question for him.

"But you're-"

"-I don't care," your arms then come up to wrap around his neck, "I need it as much as you do. Please, Phainon, have me again, do whatever you need to make me yours forever."

That's all he needs. He kisses your jaw, peppering little, open-mouthed kisses before teasing you with a slow, experimental drag of his hips, his cock leaving your warmth before slamming back in with an aching thrust. It has you yelping and gasping for air, convulsing as the ends of your nerves beg for mercy whilst simultaneously asking for more.

Phainon begins with a moderate pace, letting his mouth drift to your breasts inside. He plays with your right nipple first, sucking, gently tugging, and biting around the flesh whilst his hand occupies your left one, fondling and squeezing. It all feels so good, a tear escapes your eye from how overwhelmingly good his hands, tongue and lips are.

With a final suckle, he pops off your tit, leaving a trail of spit behind. You catch a look of displeasure in his eyes, as if this wasn't enough, so without warning, he raises your knees higher, spreading you even wider and allowing you to feel him even deeper.

The tip of his cock catches the spot where you need him the most, and it lets him know with an involuntary squeeze and an arch of your back.

"Phainon, Phainon, Phainon," you chant, digging your face into the pillow for some semblance of sanity, for some way of grounding you. He has other plans, however, and begins repeatedly hitting that spot, readjusting his position to get you to cry his name again and again.

You're so perfect, he wants to stay here forever.

"We're perfect for each other, my starlight," your lover whispers reverently, "please, never leave me."

His engorged tip accentuates his plea, and he's growing heavier and heavier inside you while you're growing less and less conscious, mind floating away to leave nothing but how good you feel.

The pleasure builds up, and up, and up, until wetness gushes out of you and onto Phainon's member. He grits his teeth and lets go of another load of cum, filling you up again with streams of it. This time, you feel more of it escape, seeping out of you in droplets, but nevertheless, he collapses into the safety of your arms.

The two of you are still connected, the two of you are still safe and physical, the two of you are harbouring wounds that you may never recover from, but at least the two of you are still here.

Because the song of apocalypse and the prophecy that you fear is still inching towards you.

if you've read this far can you at least pray for my finals and that i get a distinction on every subject. if you don't use the highest form of manifestation to help me then no more phainon smut.

#phainon x reader #phainon smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader smut #hsr smut

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celestiliall · 1 month ago

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Damn we got abducted (not complaining)

✎ the hero and his kryptonite

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 yandere phainon x reader

♡ yandere behaviour/thoughts, insecure reader, forced capitivity, time skip, popular guy trope

──────────────

author's note: hey hey hey... I'm back... 🥀🖤⛓️

art: hyhy03_v (twitter)

Phainon used to be your sun when the both of you were just little kids running and playing in the park.

But now, he felt like your kryptonite.

…

Phainon was an example of an exemplary kid growing up.

A social butterfly, gifted at his academics and sports, and good-looking to top it all off.

As for you, well, you were just normal. And that would have been fine, that is if you had been placed next to a ‘normal’ kid growing up.

A fortune or a misfortune, you were placed next to Phainon maybe as some sort of cruel joke fate played on you.

You were tired, you’d never hear the end of the comparisons, the lack of praise for your efforts, and your self-esteem and confidence crashing down as you grew older side by side with Phainon. You were tired of Phainon.

At one point, you seemed obsessed with being at Phainon’s side, a desperate attempt to try to reach his heights. But you never did succeed, and so, you stopped and you sank down slowly to where you felt safe, where you felt like you belonged, a place where you could be comfortable in your own skin.

You stopped looking up, and started to look at things from your eye-level.

Phainon was destined for success, as for you? Well, you're destined to be wherever fate guides you. Just not by his side.

And that's okay, because the lines you set between Phainon and you will never be crossed.

…

At school, you always noticed the crowd that surrounded Phainon, it seemed like he was never alone, always with someone smiling and laughing. From kindergarten to middle school till highschool, he seemed popular with everyone; peers and teachers alike.

Although funnily enough, even with so many people around him, he could always spot you in a crowd, his blue eyes flitting over to you, stars forming in his eyes, as a wider smile graces his face, pushing through people to go over to you and grasp your hand in his.

Some people around weren't stupid, they could clearly see Phainon’s feelings towards you, although… they didn't seem reciprocated as you slowly peel his hand off yours, clearly uncomfortable with all the sudden attention on you from Phainon dashing to you like a golden retriever.

Even when you tried to distance yourself from him by rejecting his offers to hang out (it didn't matter as he suddenly appeared in your room over the weekends), tried to make other friends (he also became friends with them and it turned into a group hangout instead with the attention mostly on Phainon due to his extroverted nature), and tried to avoid him at school at all cost (he manages to find you even when you're hiding in an obscure corner).

He was… like a huge cockroach that you couldn't kill or fight off.

And frankly, your exhaustion grew dealing with him.

…

You look left and right, behind, back to the front, behind again.

Alright, you breathe out a sigh of relief, no tuft of white hair in sight. You snuck onto the school rooftop, wanting to get away from Phainon. Eating lunch with him was tiring because at least 5 other people would join the both of you when eating, and you're not that keen to have lunch with Phainon and a bunch of acquaintances you barely know.

You find a nice corner to settle yourself in, leaning against the green wired barricade as you look down to admire the view.

With the sound of nothing but student chatters down below and birds occasionally chirping accompanying you, it truly felt like a moment of peace away from the suffocating presence of Phainon haunting you.

…

“(Y/N), where were you? I couldn't find you during lunch!” The moment you take one step into the classroom, Phainon pounces on you, hugging and lifting you up in the air as he looks up at you, pouting.

Used to his antics, you tap his arm, signalling for him to let you down. You didn't answer his question, making your way to your desk. He follows you behind like a kicked puppy, yearning for a second of attention from you.

“You didn't find a new lunch partner, did you?” Phainon asks jokingly as if he didn't mind you disappearing on him during lunchtime, yet his arms wrap around you tightly, like a baby koala clinging onto its mother.

Once again, you didn't answer his question, swatting his arms off you like he was a fly. A darkened expression on your face as your classmates around looked at you and Phainon, gossiping arise.

“Go back to your class, Phainon.” You simply said. Your patience was wearing thin.

The bell rung just in time, forcing Phainon to trudge back to his class, albeit a little moody.

You heard the whispers about him and you in class, berating you for being so cold and negligent towards him and all you could do was bury your head in your arms, wishing to make your presence fade into nothing.

…

Again, you were on the rooftop. It's been about 2 weeks since you've been here.

Ever since the day you came up here, Phainon has been waiting for you in front of your class as soon as the bell rang, rendering you helpless, unable to avoid him as he dragged you to have lunch with him.

You find a suitable corner to have your lunch in, once again admiring the view from above. Your eyes shine brightly seeing the clouds pass by slowly.

If only this peace could last forever.

So, why couldn't it?

You were in your third year. It was the day of your graduation.

Your plan failed in trying to distance yourself from Phainon, despite trying every method to avoid him, only running away to the rooftop every once in a while worked unfortunately.

So today, today was the day you were going to end this friendship with Phainon. After this, you (hopefully) wouldn't see him anymore often as you chose a different college from him, even to the point of studying overseas just to get away from him. You had lied to him about your examination results, saying you were going to some prestigious school in the area, and no doubt Phainon applied to the same school and got accepted. It almost made you feel touched that Phainon thought you could get the same grades as he got.

Unfortunately, that's not how this world works.

Honestly, you think you're a pretty decent person for at least ending the friendship in-person and not over text as you initially planned, after all, you've been ‘friends’ for so long. The least you could do is give him some face.

Nearing the end of the graduation ceremony, you watch as Phainon gets on stage, receiving his awards for his contributions to the school. A sense of relief welling up within you, it looks like you wouldn't have to worry about him much when you'll be overseas.

You turn around and walk out, making your way to the park where you first met Phainon.

As you stand under the shade of the tree, you lean against the trunk and look up at the cloudless blue sky.

You send him a text, saying you would be waiting for him under the tree where you guys first met, emphasizing for him to finish greeting and chatting with everyone before finding you as you had all day.

Regardless, you didn't wait a long time before Phainon appeared out of nowhere, hands on his knees panting, his face red as droplets of sweat dots his forehead.

Yet the moment he saw you, his eyes lit up once again, like he was facing the sun of his very life. It made you slightly uncomfortable. A huge grin paints his face as he eagerly comes over to you to hold your hand to cup his cheek.

You look blankly at his actions, trying to manage your look of uneasiness.

Nevertheless, Phainon, perceptive as ever, glances at you with questioning eyes, “What's wrong? You seem tense…” His voice trails off.

You gently remove his palm from your hand once again, smiling gently. The unease in Phainon grew and he started feeling a pit of dread in his stomach.

“What's- What's wrong? Whatever it is, I can fix it.” He says, his hands going back to clasp both of yours.

“Did you not get into the same college as me? It's okay! Tell me which one you got into, there's still time for applications now. I can just withdraw my acceptance from the other college.” He rambles on, his hands slightly shaking.

This problem, this silence, and the smile and slight relief on your face. (From what? Where?)

He couldn't fix it. He couldn't fix this problem like the others. He instinctively knows.

He stops shaking, feeling you once again remove his hands away from you, positioning his hands back to his side.

“Phainon. Let's end this friendship. I'm tired of being friends with you.”

Phainon couldn't ever remember a moment when you weren't by his side. As a kid growing up, he was hopelessly attached to you (as he liked to see it). It may have been hard to notice when you were younger but Phainon always seemed to prioritise you and give you slightly more attention than others around him.

Always trying to scamper to your side like some puppy, holding onto your hands all the time, dragging you around with him everywhere, and picking up hobbies you seem like you would have interest in so you could talk to him more- hang out with him more, play with him more. Whenever he played with other kids, he immediately felt your absence and would quickly run back to your side to sit down next to you and gaze at you as you read the book in your hands. (He was slightly jealous of the book.) He even wakes up early just to go over to your house to make you breakfast and practice his cooking as preparation when he marries you in the future and becomes your husband, and occasionally cleans up your room either when you're asleep or not around for whatever reason; steals some of your trinkets on the side for his collection too but he won't tell you that.

Even when he wasn't always by your side when both of you grew older, he often had fleeting thoughts about you when you weren't around, ‘What were you doing?’, ‘How is your day today?’, ‘Are you doing well today?’

Daydreaming about you was a daily activity for him to do.

He was ridiculously lovesick, attached to your side like glue.

And that,

That was his first mistake.

A consequence he suffered for his head being in the clouds. For the attention he laid upon you, all the things he ever did for you, wasn't enough to keep you by his side.

In the end, what was he without you in the end?

. . .

You woke up, the door to the balcony was open, allowing you to see and hear the ever so familiar sound of birds chirping and the bright blue sky.

The clanking of chains snaps you out from your daze, it echoes cruely in your ear.

“Darling! I bought you breakfast!”

The sun was shining brightly outside.

#phainon #hsr phainon #phainon x reader #phainon x you #phainon x y/n #yandere phainon #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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celestiliall · 1 month ago

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This was so good that it gave me goosebumps and feel the fear that we as readers felt after his slap

Patriarchy

POV: Waking up back to the 1700s wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be when you had your best friend, Phainon, accompanying you through your new journey. Now you have the chance to begin feminism yourself! How much more advanced will society be if manage to get women equal rights by 1800 instead of 1900?! But, when you were close to getting one right in specific, Phainon’s support of you was suddenly… gone.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a Yandere SFW work

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains: Possessive, obsessive and abusive behavior, a bit of physical abuse, misogynistic behavior and confinement.

— Arranged!Phainon x Arranged!Reader

— AU is: 1700s Europe

“Y/N! You’re back!” Phainon screamed excitedly from the main staircase of your shared palace when he saw you standing in your mansion’s entrance, beginning to step down towards you faster than he was doing previously. “How was it on the streets today?” He asked when he finally finished climbing down and jumped off the stairs, walking towards you with his arms behind his back excitedly.

You, happy to see him too, were quick to take off your hat, jacket and accessories with the help of your lady-in-honor, staring back at Phainon’s joyful ocean-blue eyes.

“It was fine. The army resistance was surprisingly very little today so we didn’t have much trouble doing our protest.” You reciprocated his excitement, bowing to your maid in gratefulness before she could start walking away and taking your things back to your bedroom.

“That’s great to hear, Y/N!” Phainon replied, eyes shining with pure admiration of your courage. “I also have good news.” He blinked to you with a smirky grin in his lips, just waiting for you to ask him about his achievement so he could brag about whatever he’d done.

“Oh? What is it?” You crossed your arms casually, finally putting an end to the classy and formal behavior that you adapted to to follow the societal norms of the town where you two live in.

Phainon decided to fix his throat and tie before he could answer you, trying to make himself a bit more classy and snobby before flexing whatever news he had.

“Our pads and tampons are making such a huge success that one of my investors managed to begin trading our products with all North, Central and South America.” Phainon talked in a slightly sarcastic tone, obviously trying to exaggerate it to you so you could be extra happier with it.

“Are you serious?! No way! All three Americas at the same time?!” You gasped in shock, almost skipping in joy while imagining what would be all kinds of women trying out those items and finding out just how extraordinarily better they are than whatever they were currently using to absorb their menstruations.

“Yessir!” Phainon opened both his arms,welcoming all that joy you were expressing.

Every day, Phainon somehow managed to surprise you with good news and raise your spirits about your current life whether it was because of his mindless kindness and consideration of you or with his intelligent marketing skills. You admired him so much that you didn’t even like imagining what would your life be without him in this universe. You’d probably just find yourself marrying an old man who has zero interest or empathy with you, much less in your feminist ideals, and only gives you the bare minimum attention to keep you sane.

The difference between all men and Phainon is that you and him were modern. While other men thought with a non-industrial mindset of making a few thousands for profit, Phainon, who has lived with billionaires, thinks immediately about the millions he can profit because he knows exactly what to invest in. And while other women were mostly illiterate and solely worried with things like their marriage and birthing dozens of kids for their husbands, you were worried about ‘men things’ such as the job market and human progress and you had knowledge about all sorts of things. Because of this, you two were an extremely powerful duo. Your success was sudden, massive and impressive, leaving every man and woman from all social classes either inspired or envious. You two reigned everything. Either your or Phainon’s presence was highly valued in every party you stepped in, whether as an annoyance, taking everyone’s eyes away from the main objective of the ball, or as a blessing, since your presence meant that the party was entertaining.

After all, whatever the perfect couple interacts with or believes in, many others will want to interact with it or follow your beliefs too.

Yes, you and Phainon were technically a couple that got married a few months ago, but in practice, you two didn’t even sleep in the same room. It was an arranged business that you two agreed to do because women cannot really live without a husband and neither you or Phainon wanted you to be bullied for the rest of your life, so joining family, money and forces was obviously the smartest choice. You two had a little wedding and a marriage certification, but no kiss was ever seen after the fake one in the altar.

Your ‘marriage’ was actually one of the first triggers to awaken women into feminism. It was completely alternative. You weren’t forced to display affection with him publicly, you had all rights to complain and raise your voice to Phainon, Phainon had zero demands to you regarding his satisfaction with his life or kids, while at the same time he’d spoil you nonstop. It made women crave that freedom from their husbands, who all thought you were a greedy witch and that Phainon deserved better. But there was nothing they could do about it. His money reigned the country. So much that it made this sinful way of life of yours affordable and even cultural. It’s not his fault he know as exactly what inventions will be successful or not, but he’ll only keep growing, and whatever you two do will be what people want to do too. ‘His’ idea about creating tampons and pads was actually a request from you. Using random, non-absorbing cloths as pads was horrible and barely efficient, making your routine horrible during menstruation, so you decided to talk to Phainon about it, who immediately went after the creation of tampons and pads. A perfect example of how you two were iconic. Phainon already knew tampons and pads would be an immediate millionaire success, and all women envied the dedication of your husband to you compared their own men.

There is so much Phainon has done to you… He gave you a whole personal room for you to sleep in without him, a whole garden that had all the flowers you wished, he bought you all the dresses and makeup you wanted and every reform and furniture of the house was ordered by you. It felt like his life mission was assuring you a comfortable, almost free life, but it still felt incomplete to you because of one reason. The inferiority of women. Seeing women being sent away at age of 15 to marry a 40 year-old man made your heart ache with anguish. Seeing men shame prostitutes for their jobs and even throw tiny rocks on them made you angry. Seeing men’s hypocrisy to force women into a religion and a cult of purity that they don’t follow on their own made your blood boil… A much larger list of failures in this patriarchal system made you revolt, so you begun using your influence and money to create feminism.

And your ideas were expectedly booming between all women of your country, and Congress was slowly becoming more and more convinced that it wouldn’t be horrible idea to give women a few rights.

“I know I’m awesome, I know.” Phainon used a hand to push his frontal hair back to act even prouder of himself in front of you.

“We’re making so much progress in so little time! I can’t believe we are the first era of feminists and we’re turning out to be so successful!” You tip-toed in the floor, holding your own cheeks with excitement.

“We? No, no, no… you.” Phainon’s fingers suddenly reached to your chest bone and pressed it down, forcing all the credits for the success of the feminist movement to you. “And a lady like you deserves a delicious meal in compensation for her work, don’t you think?” He took away his finger off you, but his face leaned a bit closer to you too, staring at you deeply with admiration. “Follow me, Y/N.” He blinked a bit seductively, making you giggle, and when you looked down, his hands was hanging open in front of you just waiting for you to hold it.

And so you did, inflating your chest with air to show him your excitement and how high were your expectations. Phainon giggled at your behavior, beginning to gently pull you around the house.

You and Phainon silently walked in direction of the dinging room, only a few noises of creaking wood accompanying your steps. The silence wasn’t awkward, only a bit tense due to the circumstances you were in. Every corridor you two walked through, the house would become quieter and darker despite still being early afternoon. Your dining room was in a corner of the house where no background noise could annoy you and him, meaning it was distant from the home’s main entrance. And when you had finally reached the long, dark and narrow hall that led to nothing but the dining room in its end, Phainon decided to break the silence.

“You also have a second appointment today, don’t you? Or maybe tomorrow? Or maybe it already happened?” Phainon turned half of his face to you, staring at you with curiosity.

“A second appointment? I don’t—” Before you could finish speaking, your brain suddenly brought back a memory of you and some of your friends talking about future plans and played it for you.

It was you, Ms. Castorice and Ms. Algaea, the other two co-leaders of your movement, discussing about some great news in Aglaea’s mansion. Congress had accepted to participate in a debate with you and a team of other 5 people about giving women a few rights. You and them were discussing about which topics to bring up, which people to form a team with, and when should the debate happen.

“Cat got your tongue?” Phainon woke you up from your thoughts, laughing at your frozen face and still staring at it now with a mischievous stare.

“I do!” You snapped the fingers of your other free hands. “I-I have to go to Congress by 6 tonight!” Phainon’s eyes widened when you reminded him of what appointment was scheduled for today or maybe sometime else.

“Ah, yes!” Phainon stopped walking and let your hand go. “You were telling me about your plans for it a few days ago!” He pointed to you with a hand, trying to relate to you.

“Yes, yes, yes! I’ve prepared such good arguments to tell the Congress! It’ll be very difficult for them for them to deny our requests, much less with a good reason!” You crossed your arms again, remembering the expectations you had set. “Can you imagine? By tomorrow we might get the right to divorce! Women will get the right to divorce!” Phainon’s eyes widened when he felt the impact of those news.

“Seriously? The right to divorce this early?!” His mouth dropped to the floor as you confidently nodded to him.

“Yessir! We might finally be able to ask for a divorce too!” You laughed at your own additional words, but you quickly realized that Phainon went fully quiet while you were, so you stopped laughed and looked him, only to see he did not reciprocate, still with the same widened expression in his face, but his mouth was not smiley anymore.

“What do you mean?” He asked a bit confused.

“Me and you… Getting a divorce…” You pointed to him and you as you spoke, then you put your hands together only to separate them, representing what divorce was.

But Phainon’s expression turned horrified and almost pale when you separated your hands from each other, apparently taking it as a genuine offense.

“Why..?” His eyebrows frowned, looking as you worried.

“Well.. because we aren’t exactly married… This is all just for survival, remember?” You laughed a bit to try cooling him off, but Phainon’s expression only seemed to sadden even more.

“But… we’re fine together, aren’t we? We’re surviving really well, aren’t we? So why would you want to divorce?” Phainon stepped closer to you once, and this hall started to feel like it’d became narrower.

“W-Well, yeah, we’re doing good, but if I get women the right to divorce and to work independently, I won’t need you anymore… I mean, we were not doing this back in Amphoreus for a reason…” You laughed it off again, but then his hurt expression and silence made you realize you shouldn’t be giving him any reasoning. “What’s going on, Phainon?” You darkened your expression, trying to get straight to the point.

“I’ve been a good husband, haven’t I? I’ve made you happy all this time, haven’t I?” Phainon now sounded visibly anxious, breath almost hitching as he slowly stepped closer and closer to you, forcing you to repel and step backwards.

“Yeah, Phainon, but you’re not actually my husband. No need to call yourself one…” You laughed at his words, not sympathizing with his worry. “This is all an act for us to survive in this society, remember? There is no actual love or dependence between us or anything…” Phainon’s eyes widened with that last phrase as if you said something that just crushed his heart.

“W-What..?” Phainon’s cute puppy eyes stared at you with dying hope, but you still didn’t feel the slightest pity for him.

“Phainon, seriously, what the fuck is going on?” You decided to step forward this time, setting your ground for him to understand he was almost disrespecting your space.

Phainon didn’t answer you at first, only reluctantly staring at your eyes with his shaky blue pupils. It costed him quite a while to build courage to be truthful with you, gulping down his accumulated saliva and turning his head down to avoid the shame of what he has in his mind.

“I… I don’t want a divorce.” His confession came out as loud as a whisper, which made you not understand what he said initially and forced you to guess it.

Jointing the few syllables you’ve heard and assuming the words and articles he’d said with the help of context clues, you’d concluded he’d said ‘I don’t want a divorce’, which immediately triggered you to have a negative reaction. But you still remained quiet, trying to comprehend why would he want to stay married to you. Maybe he’s afraid to live without a wife in this rigid society? But he’s a man… You are the one supposed to be afraid of living without a husband. Or maybe he’s thinking about that? About your safety and comfort living in this society without a husband? Or maybe… that alternative you’ve been avoiding to recognize ever since the day of your ‘marriage’..?

…

No, it can’t be. He would never.

So you just sighed, throwing that thought to the back of your and concluding your investigation. Phainon did not want a divorce, and he doesn’t want it because he’s worried about you.

“You don’t a want a divorce?” You firmly queried, trying to have a bit of confirmation over your guess, a hand of yours moving to the necklace you wore to fidget it while he answered.

“Yes…” He mumbled shyly and you scoffed in pride of having guessed it correctly, still not understanding why was he be acting like this if his intentions were so pure.

“Why?” You inflated your chest again, preparing for whatever he wanted to say now.

“Because…” He tried to answer your question immediately, but the knot in his throat impeded him from finishing. “Because…” And he tried again, a bit less desperately, failing so miserably he looked down to the floor again in embarrassment.

And so, you exhaled, letting all that imprisoned air in your lungs in a sigh. Since he couldn’t say it for himself, you’d do it for him.

“I appreciate your worry for my comfort, Phainon, but I can definitely live on my own. I don’t care about what these people have to say about me and my choices. In fact, they can feel free to bully me as much as they want, I’ll still be milking more money than them in the end of the day.” You spoke less firmly, trying to see if that would make him feel comfortable to be more honest with you. “I can’t even guarantee that we will get the right to divorce in the first place anyway…” You tried to be a bit more optimistic, but then you immediately regretted it in recognition that it is needed to be realistic in a situation like this. “But I’ll still go to Congress today and fight for it. For me and all the women that need to get away from their husbands.” You could see Phainon swallowing another big chunk of saliva when you finished talking, surprisingly having a negative reaction again.

“For you? Why you?” Phainon stepped closer once again, face only becoming more stunned, which truly disturbed you.

“You’re scaring me, Phainon.” You brought your shoulders closer to your body, trying to make yourself more resistant and tolerable to his behavior.

“I don’t mean to scare you, Y/N… I just want to know why do you want a divorce when we’re so happy together…” He tried to argue in a way that still didn’t reveal his reason, but seeing how unmoved and suspicious you still were of him, he sighed and squinted his eyes. “I don’t want a divorce…” He stated his intentions again, but in a weak tone that made him sound like a hungry puppy, trying to make you feel guilty.

And that pissed you off. You believed Phainon was genuinely not trying to intentionally manipulate you into staying married him, but he was still acting unreasonably.

“But I do.” You countered him firmly. “And I will get it.” You wanted to turn away and immediately walk back to your room, but the moment you spun your right foot, before you could even start about turning your full body away from him, Phainon reacted to your words.

“No, you won’t..!” The tone of his voice deepened in such a rapid way that made you stop and look back at his eyes immediately, a sense of danger growing in the back of your mind.

“Yes, I will.” Feeling even more cornered by the hall’s tightness and afraid of Phainon, you decided to turn away abruptly in a speed that would stun Phainon for a moment before he could possibly catch you and bring you back to the discussion.

“Where are you going..?!” You heard Phainon stomp forward harshly, launching himself forward to reach your wrist and hold you tight with his large hand.

“Let me go, Phainon.” You decided to turn your eyes back to his again, trying to use your presence to order him, forcing yourself to control your voice from shaking as you spoke, taking his action as a threat to your security.

“Why are you trying to leave..? Why are you trying to leave me?!” His eyes were fully widened with anguish as he desperately filled you with two questions to answer.

“I’m just… not hungry anymore. I’ll eat later.” You quickly mumbled a fake reasoning, but it didn’t seem to convince him. After all, Phainon’s eyebrows noticeably frowned.

“That’s not true. Why are you lying to me..?” His grip in your wrist tightened in a way that made you grunt from the pain.

“Phainon, you’re hurting me..!” You tried to pull your hand away from him, only to be fully held back, which only made you even more nervous and scared of him.

“I don’t want us to divorce, Y/N… We don’t need a divorce…” He suddenly turned a bit soft again, endlessly trying to argue with you about that despite the fact that he was really freaking you out.

“I-I need to prepare for Congress, Phainon..! Let me go at this instant!” You even tried stepping away from him, seeing if it was possible to run away, but it didn’t work due to his heavy weight holding you back.

“No…” He mumbled, looking the deepest he could to your eyes, still trying to find any bit of pity in you and hope for himself.

“You’re only giving me more reasons to divorce you right now, Phainon..! Let me go now!” You had no choice but to try facing him with your own strength, now trying to use your other hand to grab that wrist of his to pull it away from you.

“No… We can’t divorce…” His repetitiveness finally made you snap.

“Yes we can and we will!” You launched your face forward and screamed at him, trying to shake your hand out of his grip the fullest you could.

But that triggered him snap too in reaction to your audacity in making such a hurtful statement.

“NO, WE WON’T!” He screamed at a tone that you’ve never heard from him and didn’t recognize, also finally releasing your wrist.

But before you give your first step backward, or think about his change in tone, something else stunned you again.

SLAP!

Your body immediately fell to the ground as Phainon’s hand smacked across your face, your feet enrolling themselves with the thick layers of your dress, giving your instincts time to only put your palms in the wooden floor before your head actually hit the ground, meaning you successfully landed sat instead of fully laid. But you recovered a second after the fall, so you immediately placed a hand on the cheek Phainon had slapped to ease the arduous pain he inflicted on you and rose your head up to him, finding him powerfully standing right in front of you, staring at you like a caught prey, jailed in a cage.

Neither of you spoke for the next seconds to process what had just happened and only breathed with opened mouths. The more you thought, the more frightened for your life you became, remembering the sudden change in his tone to one you’ve never heard, the slap itself and the threat it represented to your relationship… But the more he thought, the more calm he became in realization that you were frozen in fear, defeated by his action. And that’s why after a last round of breathing in and out deeply, he shut his mouth and calmly walked closer to you, kneeling down in front of you.

“Y/N…” A hand of his also reached the same cheek you were holding, cupping it gently, which only made your skin shiver with disgust of his touch, begging yourself to scream at him to get the fuck away from you. “I’m… I-I’m sorry…” He briefly wheezed, trying to ease the both of you from the mood. “I didn’t mean to… do this… or… t-to scare you.” He pathetically smiled at you, only making you wish to run away from him even more, but your adrenaline could only afford to freeze your body in that sat position. “I just… don’t want us to divorce… There’s no good reason to do that… That’s all…” He gulped down again.

You knew it. Deep down, you’ve always known it. You just didn’t want to admit it.

But maybe… you should’ve definitely talked to him about it sooner.

Phainon’s kindness… was never just friendly.

And there were always many little signs that rose that flag…

For example, the way he’d stare at you whenever he gave you a gift, sometimes only a few inches away from your face, just waiting to see the amazing reaction he’d rip out of you. Deep down, it always felt like he urged for more of something you couldn’t name until now. It didn’t feel like he just wanted your comfort and happiness because that’s what friends do, it felt like he did it as if he was your lover. These little gifts, perfectly enveloped in a beautiful wrap, felt like little seduction attempts. After all, the next gift would always be better than the next, as if he wanted to show just how dedicated he is, and convince your heart to let yourself fall for him.

The way he treated you during the day of your marriage… In the altar, what was supposed to be just a quick smooch to pose a fake picture of yourselves to the crowd witnessing you, turned out to be so much more touchy, intimate and even… real, like real couples do. And even when the vows were done, he kept throwing himself at you and holding your hands for the rest of the celebration party, for some reason so happy with the day. Friends don’t stick their tongues inside their friends’ mouths when it’s needed to fake a kiss. It wasn’t just an act.

And the one habit that mostly made you icky about thinking about Phainon’s possibly feeling things for you… The way his eyes stoned in you and his cheeks flushed whenever he saw you trying any ball dresses and makeup for the parties you were invited to or even when he saw you in your rendered pijamas when you two were home… They always delivered you a message of lust, and you don’t want any of your friends to lust over you, much less Phainon in such a situation like yours right now. But it was true, Phainon would not react to you being pretty like a friend would.

You should’ve accepted it sooner. But now it’s too late. You’ve let this grow. You are reaping what you sowed.

Phainon liked you as more than a friend.

“But think about it… Wouldn’t it be iconic? The leader of the feminist movement herself doing all of this work to get the right of divorce when she, on her own, does not desire to divorce her husband? You could show them that it is possible to be a feminist and be a married woman at the same time…” His thumb caressed your hand, lamenting that he couldn’t directly reach your fluffy cheek.

But you were still too stunned to say anything, despite the thousands of protests running in your mind, begging to be shouted.

“We are such a good duo… Why would you ever want to put and end to us? Put an end to our influence? Our impact? Our empire?” Phainon looked at you with more pity, assuming his position of total power over you. “We don’t need to be exactly like other couples… I would never force you to do that… We can still be exactly like how we are today, but all I want is to still be able to live in the same house as you… and call you my wife.” Phainon pulled that hand of yours that held your cheek and turned it around, making your palm face down.

And with very slow movements, he smooched your knuckles, smiling softly at them. And then he looked down at your fingers, meeting that engagement ring that the both of you were forced to wear to avoid any accusations or bullying, and that made his grin grow, blue eyes shining with joy. He leaned down and kissed the ring too with more intensity, sucking your skin for a bit to demonstrate just how much he valued that golden ring.

“I just want you to wear this ring with me for the rest of your life… Is that too much to ask from you? I’ve done so many harder things for you…” Phainon laid his cheek on your hand, rubbing himself against it as if it was the comfiest pillow he’d ever laid on.

He kept doing that for a few seconds before he kissed your hand again… and then again… again, again and again, many spots in it becoming a bit moistened with his saliva. He even turned your hand around and begun kissing your palm and its heel as deep as he could.

“I love you, Y/N…” He mumbled in your skin with closed eyes, breath warming up your skin. “I really do…” He made sure his message was clearly sent to you, pausing for a moment to let you absorb it. “But I can’t let you do this to us… to me…” He opened his eyes, staring at you with a weird kind of pity again, as if he wasn’t bothered by your discomfort, like a masochist would.

But then he stood up again, not offering you any help to get up too.

“You won’t go to Congress today.” He stated a bit more seriously, contrasting his previous tone as he stared down at you very firmly, before he started to calmly walk away from the scene as if he hadn’t just done something completely absurd and out of normal.

Your eyes followed his body in fear, watching him walk with his hands holding each other behind his back ao elegantly, each step making the wood planks creak a bit. In the end of the hall, where you two came from, Phainon met one of your many maids standing still with an uncomfortable expression visible in her face, but still forcing herself to do her job as either your or his servant.

“If you see her trying to leave tonight, don’t let her. You understand?” Phainon spoke to the maid very gently, contrasting himself once again.

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, assuming her new responsibility.

“Good. You may call me or the guards in the gate if that happens.” Phainon assigned the maid her permissions, making her nod again, but silently. “Go tell the other maids their new assignment.” He used to a hand to tap her shoulder twice very sweetly.

“Yes, my master.” She gently bowed to him again, making Phainon grin, feeling comfortable enough to keep walking away from the scene.

When he finally turned to the left and fully left you alone, the maid looked at you again, staring at your pitiful situation with mixed feelings. It was a silent communication, but you could still get her general message, the same way she could get yours.

After all the efforts you’ve been doing to push a feminist agenda in your town to all kinds of women and men, you’ve failed to do that in your own home with your own maids. The same women who were stuck in your palace, working 24/7 to keep every detail of your home perfect and make your routine as easy as possible, were neglected by you and your movement, just like how in real life some women were neglected from the early stages of feminism too. And now you were suffering the harshest consequences of it you could suffer. She pitied you and even seemed to wish she could do something for you, but all she was ever taught to do in this sort of job was obey the man’s command, meaning she’d betray her own beliefs and risk her whole career if she dared to think about helping you, which would be disobeying Phainon. So all she could do was give that silent treatment until she couldn’t bare her own grief anymore and begun to walk away in the same direction as Phainon did, beginning to call him by his nickname, her voice echoing in your ears lightly.

How could you forget? You live in a conservative patriarchy.

Phainon is the man in your relationship.

In conservative patriarchies, the man is always the leader. The woman is just his follower. A servant who is always mindlessly ready to please him.

And he likes this system the way it is.

Today he just made that very clear. The roles of the relationship were established.

Taglist: @gaboplaydespacito

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it! <3

#phainon x reader #phainon hsr #hsr phainon #phainon #phainon honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere phainon #yandere drabble #yandere oneshots

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celestiliall · 1 month ago

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Never Enough - Kevin Kaslana

Summary: Since Kevin likes to be on top, why not make him do all the work~

As much as you enjoy having Kevin on top of you, this position has got the rest of your experiences beat. Lounging on the bed, pillow under your hips, and enjoying the rolling of his hips against yours, you’re living your best life. Of course, the view of his perfectly muscled, pale abs rippling with his efforts is mouthwatering. Add to that the bobbing and weaving of his blushing, leaking cock as he repositions his knees and his feet to lean back, and it’s absolutely porn worthy.

“Oh, Kevin, honey, you look so good like this,” you growl and scratch up his abs and chest. Dig and claw until bright red lines bloom up all over his pale flesh. “Ride me harder, baby.”

Kevin grits his teeth and leverages on his powerful thighs and braced feet, his hands planted on your thighs, panting with the effort of bouncing up and down on the thick dildo protruding from your crotch. Sweat drips from his chin, his temple, slicking his body and turning it shiny under your bedroom light. He growls, snarls at you when you grip his cock and fondle his balls, “My love, I-”

“Getting tired, Kevin?”

It’s said in a sweet tone, but Kevin is affronted by it and switches back to straddling you properly, his hands slamming into the bed by your shoulders. His arms, bulging and flexing with his movements, tremble and shake. No, he’s not tired. He’s just-he’s just super fucking sensitive-shit stop touching his cock or he’ll-

“Ma’am-I-” His voice is raw, seething with emotion. Panic. Desire. Frustration.

“You wanna cum, Kevin?”

His eyes spit fire at you. “Yes,” he hisses, ducking his head so he’s blanketed over you. Skin to skin. Mouth to mouth. His forehead pressed against yours and his biceps at your head, hiding you entirely under his strong figure even as he rides the dildo like a pro. You can feel his cock rubbing up against your belly, smearing precum all over your skin. In between kisses, Kevin nips and nibbles at your lips, snarling into your mouth, “Do I have permission?”

“Mmm,” you purr. While you consider his request, you brace your own feet and roll up into him while he sinks down, stuffing the fat dildo so far into him and so hard that he wheezes, his eyes rolling in its sockets. “Do you deserve it?”

“Yes.” Kevin separates from you with a sharp pop and bares his teeth, his hips rolling faster, harder, until you, too, are huffing from the force of his thrusts. “So-” He stops and grinds in tight, quick circles, whimpering silently into your neck. “Even if you don’t give me permission-” His cock throbs and flexes, his balls pulling up tight against his body. His hands tangle themselves into your hair, his body squirming against you as he feels you dig your nails into his ass cheeks. “I’ll just cum anyway.”

Laughing, you fuck up into him from below and squeeze a hand between your bodies so you can get to his thick, hungry cock. “Oh, really?”

Growls echo in your ear. “Do you test me?” A slap on his ass makes him jump. But that’s all he needs. Kevin stiffens against you, an expression of panic and surprise flitting across his handsome features. “No-! No-I-!”

“Cum for me.”

And with a soundless cry, he does. Face stuffed into your neck, hips rocking desperately, ass tightening and squeezing the dildo inside him, the dildo that scrapes against his sweet spot each time he rocks back and forth. Prolonging his orgasm and forcing his cock to spurt out stream after stream of pearlescent cum. So with one final, pathetic squirt of cum, with one last tiny little wheeze that you feel more than hear, Kevin falls limp against you, his sweaty body pinning you where you lie.

And yet you continue to pump your hips gently up and down. Letting him ride through the afterglow. Letting him twitch and moan cutely against you to stop.

“E-enough.” Even as he says that, he chases your dildo as you pull out of him gently. Groans at the sick squelch of his asshole letting go of the thick silicon. Sighs at the feel of your nail raking a line of fire up his spine. “Enough.”

“Done so soon, my lovely?” You ask with a contented grin, busying yourself with scratching the hell out of his back for your own amusement. “I didn’t think a bit of riding would tire you out so much.”

That taunt is more than enough to get him to snap his slightly hazy gaze to you, fire building in its icy depths once more. “What?”

“Oh, it’s only been twenty minutes since you started, Kevin. It’s a new record~”

He growls, teeth bared, and sits up, rising on his knees high enough to slip the cock back inside him. “I’m. Not. Done.”

Got him. “That’s my good boy.”

#kevin kaslana x reader #kevin kaslana smut #dom!reader #honkai impact x reader #honkai impact 3rd x reader #honkai impact 3rd

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celestiliall · 1 month ago

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Being In Your Radiant Smile ── .✦

Synopsis: basking in the moment of your relaxed composure, Dan Heng pulled up his camera to take a picture. For the Archives, he would say—masking the hidden admiration behind his stern facade.

"Woah... you look good with those glasses, Dan Heng."

Eyes gleaming with interest, you strike up a compliment. The corner of your lips curled upward, one of your hands under your chin—while the other resting by your hip.

Focusing on the black-haired man in front of you, your eyes moved up and down toward his figure in order to study the change of features that he did for today.

Clothes being different, saved with the occasional color theme matching his usual ones, the camera in his hands used for this occasion—and not to mention, the glasses...

This was the first time you've seen him wearing them, but Aeons... He looked great in them, complimenting his teal eyes and face card that he managed to pull some of the researchers from Herta's space station into betting on who gets to sleep with him.

Despite how baffling it was when hearing about the rumors, you couldn't blame them. Dan Heng was the big shot in the Astral Express, and you just so happen to be lucky enough to be acquainted with him, along with the other members.

Under your scrutinizing gaze, Dan Heng couldn't help but feel nervous. Clearing his throat, his eyes averted toward the scenery around them. "...Thank you." He murmured, struggling on finding the right words to say.

You were always so bold with your comments, after all.

Chuckling, your hands fell back to your sides, closing your eyes with a smile. "Hehe, no problem!" Opening your eyes, you followed his gaze—secretly admiring the view presented to them. "So... What should we do, exactly?"

"March wanted us to take some pictures since she won't be able to do it due to her sickness." Dan Heng reminded, the grip on his camera tightening. "At best, we should just take a couple of them. It would also served to be useful for the Archives."

Nodding your head with a hum, your lips stretched even further. "I see!" You exclaimed, turning your gaze back to him. "Then, it's better if we look for a nice view to settle, right? I'll go look for one!" You decided, turning on your heels without a moment of hesitation.

"Wait–" Before Dan Heng could prevent you from running off, you were already a couple meters away from his vision, blending into the crowds. Left with nothing but the camera in his hands, including the scenery surrounding him; the man let out a sigh.

After taking a couple of pictures, he deemed them enough for the document, deciding to search for you instead since you were nowhere to be found when he looked around for more sceneries back there.

Where could you possibly have gone to?

Looking around, his steps came to a sudden halt. In front of him, flowers were blooming and basking in the sunlight, the sky was clear, the gentle breeze of the wind creating a soothing atmosphere—but what caught the aloof man's attention was the sight of the person he was looking for, albeit appearing more different, more radiant.

Your smile being wider, accompanied by the sound of a contended laugh echoing in the midst of the calming nature. Hair being messier than usual, due to one of the birds deciding to tease you by pulling the strands of your hair—leaving you surprised and attempting to smack the animal away, before the others joining you by surrounding your figure, regarding you as a friendly human to get along with.

The sight of you being so carefree, as if the burden of weighing the Trailblaze behind your back was lifted up just for this moment alone—he couldn't help but take in your smile from a distance, eyes widened slightly as the breeze cradled both of their hairs gently. The scene being as if they were in a movie, and he was lucky enough to be the one witnessing and experiencing it.

Unaware of his own action, the camera in his hands was lifted up high, before creating a sound of a 'click' and a brief flash passing by. Taking in the result, a subtle smile creeped up onto his face, before it slipped away when the sound of a familiar voice knocked him out of his own thoughts.

"Ooh, what view did you take?" Your question broke the silence amidst the flower field, wanting to take a glimpse of the picture that your friend took.

When did you get so near?

The sound of a camera flashing managed to distract you into looking where it had come from, but relaxed upon noticing a familiar figure standing nearby, seemingly smiling into the camera—which made you intrigued, wanting to know what picture did he take to evoke such a reaction.

Leaning in to get a glimpse with a smile, your eagerness was ruined when the camera was lifted away from you, leaving you puzzled. Standing up in a straight manner, you looked up toward the man who had the camera in his clutch, wondering why he backed up.

Averting his gaze, his cheeks were dusted in pink; unable to look at you in the eyes. Clearing his throat again, he kept the camera firmly close against his chest. "It's... Nothing." He murmured, looking away with a hesitant frown. "...just a view of the garden."

The way he answered was strangely... Out of character? You tilted your head upon noticing the flushed expression coming from your friend, not understanding why his cheeks had reddened. Was the temperature going high? But, you weren't sweating, nor was he.

Fixing his glasses, Dan Heng turned on his back. "Let's go now." He suddenly announced, already taking few steps away from you. "We're done here, so we should get back to Mr. Yang and Himeko—wouldn't want to keep them waiting." He added, not giving you the chance to respond, nor inquire about his reddened cheeks.

"Ah– wait!" Snapping out of your own thoughts, your feet started to move. "Wait for me!" You exclaimed, but Dan Heng didn't cease his steps, focusing only toward the road ahead, making you be forced to catch up with him.

In the end, you never managed to figure out on what happened with that strange encounter, only being able to make small speculations; also unaware that the view he was referring to wasn't actually the garden, but you.

#dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng #dan heng #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae x reader #dan heng x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x you #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #hsr imagines #hsr fluff #hsr #fluff

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celestiliall · 2 months ago

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Curiosity Over His Wings ── .✦

synopsis: deep in his own thoughts, Sunday stood still in the Parlor Car—when suddenly, a fleeting touch toward one of his wings caught the man's attention, snapping himself out in the end.

The Astral Express remained silent, as it traversed through the stars in the vastness of the universe. There, Sunday stood in the Parlor Car, deep in his own thoughts.

It has been a while since the man decided to board the Express, joining amongst the crew through their journey as a temporary passenger—in order to continue his own, or rather, to find the true meaning of his journey.

Despite having been blessed by new companions, he was still having troubles adapting in a new and unfamiliar place, given that he used to be trapped in a world where he strived to be the perfect one on top, otherwise he would feel like he had disappointed everyone, including himself.

But here, in a place where multiple people from multiple worlds, each of them having their own pasts to settle or to find out—converged together in order to play a single role; to explore the mysteries of the universe, following the trails left behind by the fallen Aeon, Akivili—whilst having trusted companions to rely on by your side.

No matter how hard he attempted to convince himself, the man still considered himself as an outcast.

Would he be able to fit in in the end? Would he be able to feel worthy in the eyes of his companions, were he to decide to help them with their minimal tasks?

Would they be able to trust him in the end, despite having a complex situation that happened between them in the past–

"—?!"

The man suddenly felt his body shuddered, breath hitching upon feeling the temporary but physical contact toward one of his feathered wings, before the contact was lost when he turned around to figure out the culprit.

"Ah– sorry! Did that hurt?" A voice called out, wanting to confirm. It was you, the one who had broken the silence of the room, and the culprit who had touched one of his wings without permission. The one who was standing approximately too close for someone as composed as him not liking to admit, but strangely, he didn't feel any discomfort knowing it was from you.

Nevertheless, your action served no other purpose but to get an unexpected reaction out of the poor silvery-haired man. "(Name)? why did you–" he stammered, feeling his cheeks dusted in pink, but immediately covering them up with his pair of wings. Though, his attempt to mask his expression already been noticed by you.

Chuckling in a bashful manner, a finger stroked against your cheek, feeling slightly guilty after being caught due to your own action. "Hehe, sorry... I was too focused on your wings—that I ended up giving into my own impulsive desires in the end." You admitted, not trying to hide the fact of your intentions since Sunday had already figured you as the ultimate culprit that would do this.

From the moment he boarded the Express, he had noticed you taking a liking toward his feathered wings—your lips sealed tight, but your attentive eyes giving your hidden interest away. Sometimes, you would give indirect questions about his wings, but for someone who has a keen intuition, he knew of your desires to touch them just from your gaze alone.

But he wasn't expecting that you would actually consider taking the first initiative; especially not when he was deep in his own thoughts half a minute ago, not giving him as much of a warning.

"I–" clearing his throat, one of his wings moved slightly in order for his eyes to be able to see you clearly, the frowned expression on his face implying of the discomfort upon your action—but the blush spreading across his cheeks giving a hidden message that it wasn't the case.

"...I-if you had the desire to touch them, then you need just ask me." He stated, removing his wings from his face in order to look at you straight in the eyes, though his blush was still evident, "I would've given you the pleasure of indulging your curiosity."

Listening to his words, you stared at him in silence for a moment, before opening your mouth again. "Wait..." You murmured, the corner of your lips curling upwards, "Does that mean I can touch your wings again, but this time—with your permission?!"

"That's–" Dear Aeons, you really liked the idea of touching his wings that much, huh...?

Sighing, Sunday turned away, looking into the horizon of the windows. "...Merely for a few seconds." He confirmed, murmuring with his tone softer than usual.

"Yay, thanks Sunday!" You cheered, feeling happy that the person you've been wanting to indulge in had given you permission to touch his wings now, even just for a few seconds.

Seeing you get happy with his condition, he couldn't help but glance to your form, the sight of you smiling like a child who had been allowed to do what they wanted from their parents evident in front of him.

He couldn't help but be amused, feeling his heart fluttering.

Clearing his throat again, one of his wings moved in order to cover half of his face from you, so that you wouldn't be able to see the blush deepening on his cheeks—and the subtle smile forming onto his lips.

...Maybe, he can get used to this place in the end, after all.

#sunday x reader #sunday #sunday hsr #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr fluff #honkai star rail #sunday honkai star rail #sunday x you #hsr imagines #fluff

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celestiliall · 2 months ago

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Phainon — Meant to Be Yours

cw: royal knight!phainon au, fem!princess!reader, violence but not very detailed, usual shan stuff lol

went into amphoreus not caring about anyone, went out loving the cute golden retriever man. also, i've been hyperfixated on epic the musical lately, so i may or may not have been inspired by odysseus in the ithaca saga for some parts here lol

In the whispering winds of fate, it was always said karma had a way of catching up with you—silent, inevitable, like shadow hot on your heels. In a world that spins in circles, our deeds reverberate and circle back, a reminder that what goes around comes around.

So, it was never a surprise, not really, when your father—the king, draped in the shadows of corruption and tyranny—was torn from his throne in a storm of blood and fury, undone by the very hands he once crushed beneath his own. The storm of revolution, fueled by the flames of injustice and the cries of the downtrodden, descended upon the castle walls like a vengeful deity, casting the king from his lofty throne into the harsh reality of his own making.

In the unforgiving tides of change, the pendulum of justice swung without regard for innocence or guilt, and revolution—in all its fury—can easily blind you with its smoke. You never stood by your father’s cruelty; every protest smothered beneath his iron will, your voice swallowed beneath the weight of his crown. Yet, to the eyes of the enraged masses, you bore his blood, wore his sins like a second skin.

And so, you too, must burn.

But he wouldn't let them.

Your escape dissolved into a blur in your mind; Screams tearing through the air, a sea of crimson rage, and his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. In the other, his sword sang death, striking down anyone who dared raise a hand against his liege. His white hair caught the glow of the mobs' torches, almost golden in their flickering light. His blue eyes, usually so gentle, were now steel-cold with purpose. His once-pristine armor streaked with blood, icy to the touch, but his hand... his hand wrapped around yours is....

Warm.

Then, it hit you all at once.

The sudden, jarring shift from chaos to stillness.

One moment, the world was fire and fury—voices raised in furious chants, torches blazing, the glint of sharpened weapons amidst the mob.

The next, silence.

Heavy, almost sacred. The kind that presses into your ears like cotton, makes your breath sound too loud. The forest wrapped around you like a blanket soaked in earth and rain, grounding and unreal all at once.

And then—him.

A pair of blue eyes, wide and searching, locked onto you. Worry etched into every line of his face. Not just concern, something more akin to fear. Like he'd just watched you disappear, and wasn’t sure if you were really back.

"Your Highness?" Phainon’s voice breaks the quiet, low and cautious, like he’s afraid even the sound might shatter you. He doesn't move closer, just watches, eyes flicking over the slight tremble in your hands, the way your breath stutters like your body hasn’t quite remembered how to breathe in peace.

You’re pale, shaken, and at the sound of his voice, as quiet as it was, you finally look at him. No longer through him, but at him.

He takes a cautious step forward, each movement measured like he’s approaching a wounded creature, because in some ways, he is. You’re already so close to unraveling, and the last thing he wants is to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

There was no point in asking how you were. It was written all over you; in the tight set of your shoulders, the haunted glaze still clinging to your eyes, the way you swayed slightly, like your legs weren’t entirely convinced they could keep holding you up.

So instead, he does what Phainon always does—chooses gentleness.

"May I carry you?" he asks quietly, his voice a breath softer than the rustle of the leaves around you. He doesn't reach for you, doesn't presume. He has never touched you without your explicit permission. That’s just who Phainon is. Always waiting, always asking.

Always yours, for as long as you'll have him.

"We need to find shelter for the night," he adds, glancing around the thick trees, the canopy swallowing what little light remains. "We’ll be safer here than anywhere else in the kingdom.”

You don’t say anything—just stare at him, eyes wide and unreadable, like you're still somewhere between this moment and the last. But then, slowly, your head moves in a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It’s enough.

Phainon hesitates for just a breath longer, searching your face one last time for any sign of protest. When he finds none, he steps closer and carefully lifts you into his arms. You don’t resist. You don’t flinch. You just let him. He holds you like you’re made of glass and memory, something fragile, something precious. Like a wounded creature he’s afraid to hurt more than the world already has. His arms are steady, though. Warm. Grounding.

"With my honor as a knight," he murmurs, barely above a whisper, his breath brushing against your hair, "I’ll protect you."

And with that promise hanging between you, he carries you deeper into the woods, away from the flames, the shouting, the wreckage of a day that nearly stole everything. Searching for somewhere—anywhere—you can finally rest.

You didn’t know how long he walked, only that the rhythm of his footsteps and the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulled you into a kind of daze. Time slipped sideways, minutes, hours, you couldn't say. You barely registered the way his arms tensed, his body instinctively bracing at the distant sound of hooves pounding against earth.

But you did notice when he began to lower you, gently, beneath the rough arch of a shallow cave. The cool stone met your back, and suddenly the thought of him letting go was unbearable. Your hands clung to the fabric of his cloak, your fingers trembling, eyes searching his like they could stop him from leaving.

He paused. Saw the silent plea in your gaze.

"Stay here," he whispered, his voice warm and low, as if it could wrap around you like a second cloak. His eyes held yours—steady, unwavering, like they always had. "I’ll be back."

Phainon stepped out of the cave, his movements measured, deliberate, planting himself firmly between the riders and the one thing he would not let them take, the shadows of the cave behind him concealing you. There was no fear in his eyes, only steel. A cold, quiet confidence etched into every line of his face.

"I’d like to believe no good men would pursue the royal heir to do her harm," he said, voice calm, almost conversational.

The riders stared him down, eyes narrowing, hands tightening around the hilts of their weapons. Their silence said everything, fury simmered behind their eyes—righteous, bitter. The kind that doesn’t listen. They were revolutionaries, that much was clear.

The one at the front swung down from his saddle, his boots hit the earth with a thud, knuckles bone-white, clutching around his weapon.

"Step aside," he commanded. "The princess has to pay for her father’s crimes."

Phainon didn’t move.

"She’s done nothing wrong," he said quietly, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. "You’d punish a girl for her father’s sins?"

One of the other riders let out a bitter laugh. Disgust curled his lip.

"Not her mistake? That bastard’s blood runs in her veins. She is part of the throne. And you.." he spat, full of scorn. "What has become of you, Phainon? Some fallen knight guarding the tyrant’s daughter? You’d betray us? Turn your sword against your own people?"

Phainon didn’t blink.

"If protecting the innocent is treason," he said, "then yes, I'll proudly be a traitor."

His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"Kill her father. Burn the palace to ash. Do what you will, if that’s what your justice demands... but you will not lay a hand on her."

Silence followed. Heavy. Suffocating. The forest itself seemed to still, the only sound the restless whisper of leaves caught in the wind.

The riders didn’t respond, but they didn’t have to. Their expressions spoke volumes—feral and cold, eyes flicking between each other, weighing the cost of moving forward.

Because they knew who he was.

Phainon. The perfect warrior. The man whose blade had never faltered.

And here he stood, sword unsheathed not for the king or the palace…

But for the fallen princess.

"This is how you defend your people, knight?!"

The rider at the front steps forward, fury distorting his features into something near feral. His eyes burned with a hate that had nothing to do with justice.

"You’d betray us, betray your oath, betray this kingdom, and the country you swore to protect… for some pampered little princess?!"

Something in Phainon’s expression shifts. The air grows colder around him, the atmosphere dense with a sudden, cutting stillness. Gone is the composed mask he always wears; what replaces it is anger, sharp and honed like the edge of his blade. His gaze narrowed, sharpened into something unforgiving.

"Don’t you dare pretend this is for the country’s sake," he said, voice low and laced with venom. "You’re not here for justice. You’re here for blood. You’re no different than the king you claim to hate."

The words land like a slap. The other riders stiffened, anger radiating off them in pulsing waves, but it was their leader who reacted first.

"Don’t you dare compare us to that bastard. We’re trying to fix what he ruined. We’re trying to build something better." His sneer deepens, lips curling in disgust.

Phainon took a step forward, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact.

"I don’t care what you're trying to do," he said, voice quiet, but sharp enough to cut. "Do what you must. Raise your banners. Burn the city. I don’t care..."

"...But you will not harm my liege."

The leader lets out a laugh, dry and mocking, tinged with disbelief.

"Your liege?" he spat. "She’s the tyrant’s spawn. And you, great knight? You've been reduced to a loyal lapdog, clinging to a dead order."

Phainon’s grip on his sword tightened, knuckles paling, the cold in his eyes enough to send out a warning for the rider to seize his comments.

"Watch your mouth," he says darkly. "I don’t care what your grievances are with her father. She is not him. And I will not let her suffer for his sins."

"She’s his heir," The leader snarled. "She’ll turn out just the same. She’ll sit on the same throne, make the same decisions, spill the same blood… And a traitor like you will be right there at her feet, worshiping her like a good little mutt."

"You don’t know a thing about her." Phainon snaps, "She’s nothing like her father. She’s been silenced, like a doll on display, dressed up and paraded around as a symbol. If you think she’ll become a tyrant, you’re blind."

"Gods, don't tell me you've fallen for her?" The leader’s expression twisted, ugly and mocking. "You really think she gives a damn about you?"

"Of course not," Phainon replies swiftly, flatly. "That doesn't matter."

The leader just laughs again, louder this time, leaning into the sound like it shields him from the weight of Phainon’s glare. His smirk grows wide, sharp, vicious.

"Then why, oh why, are you risking your life for her, hmm?" The leader’s voice drips with mockery, his posture relaxed, his amusement dripping into every word that slips past his lips.

"What do you get for defending the princess? Her favor? A smile, perhaps? Or something better…" He grins, teeth flashing. "Like her body?"

Something snaps.

In a blink, Phainon closes the distance—no hesitation, no warning. One hand fisting the leader’s collar, the other drawing his sword with a metallic hiss. He slams the man hard against the nearest tree, bark cracking under the force, the blade pressed to the vulnerable skin of his throat.

"Keep your tongue in check." Phainon’s voice is barely a voice at all, more like a growl ripped from deep in his chest. "Don’t you dare speak of her like that. Not another word. Do you hear me?"

But the leader only grins wider, unshaken even with a blade to his throat. In fact, he seems to revel in it.

"You protect a woman who’d throw you to the wolves the moment it served her," he spits out, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You think you matter to her? You’re nothing. Just a pawn she’ll sacrifice to save herself."

"I’m not protecting just any woman." Phainon sneers, a rare sight for the kind knight. "I protect my liege. I don’t give a damn if she values my life or not. That’s not the point. You speak of things you don’t understand."

He presses the sword harder against the man’s throat, but still, the man smiles.

"You've been blinded," The man hisses, smirking like a man with nothing left to lose. "She doesn’t care about anything but herself. Just like her father. A pampered, selfish princess."

He leans forward just enough for his words to feel like poison he’s trying to inject right into Phainon’s veins.

"And you? You’ve doomed yourself for her. She’ll stab you in the back the second her life’s on the line. Mark my words."

Phainon doesn’t flinch.

"You don’t know her."

Phainon's words are quiet. More breath than voice, like a warning carried in the wind. He presses the blade closer. The tip bites skin. A thin bead of crimson wells up where the blade meets the skin of the leader’s throat.

"And I’ll cut down every last fool who dares to speak of her that way."

And then… he does.

One swift motion.

Clean.

Precise.

The forest falls silent.

The only sound is the soft thump of a body hitting the leaves crumpled on the ground.

A moment later, the man’s head rolls across the ground, eyes wide with the last expression he ever wore; that twisted smile, frozen in time.

None of them move.

Phainon stands over the body, sword slick with crimson, breath slow and steady.

No triumph.

No rage.

Just duty.

The other riders could only stare, stunned into silence, eyes darting between their leader’s lifeless, decapitated body and the knight who stood above it. Phainon remained still, breath heavy, blade lowered but still slick with blood.

"You… y-you killed him…" one of them whispered, the words cracking with disbelief.

Phainon didn’t even blink.

"I did."

His words hung in the air.

The riders exchanged nervous glances, shifting in place. One man’s hand trembled as it hovered near his blade. Another backed toward the horses.

"You’re a murderer," one of them dared to say.

Phainon’s head turned slowly in the speaker’s direction, his eyes sharp and full of disdain.

"I am a knight."

He took a single step forward, slow, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

"And you..." He swept his gaze across them.

Chaos nearly erupted. One man lunged for their fallen leader’s sword. Another tried to mount a horse that reared up and shrieked in fear. Hooves thundered against the forest floor, the horses stamping nervously, catching the scent of blood. The rest froze in place, unsure whether to fight or flee.

Still, Phainon didn’t move. He simply watched. Detached. Unbothered. Like he was watching children flail through a game they didn’t understand.

Then, he spoke again. Calm, quiet, and chilling.

"None of you are going anywhere."

The words cut through the rising noise like a blade. And just like that, everything stopped. Horses snorted, pawing the ground nervously. The riders froze mid-movement, caught between instinct and dread. No one moved. No one dared breathe.

"Y-you… you’re going to kill us too? Just like him?" One of them, voice trembling, forced himself to speak.

Phainon’s eyes flicked to the corpse at his feet, then slowly back to the man.

"It’s nothing personal."

His voice was calm. Too calm.

"But as long as any of you breathe, my liege remains in danger."

Another step forward.

The air grew heavier.

"We’re falling back," someone said quickly, hands half-raised, as if they could bargain their way out. "Our leader’s gone… we won’t hurt Her Highness anymore,"

But it was already too late.

Phainon gave no reply because the time for words had ended.

The forest was filled with the sound of quick, brutal justice. Thuds of bodies hitting the earth, gasps cut short, steel slicing through flesh. Phainon moved like death made flesh—silent, unstoppable, precise.

When it was over, the woods were quiet again.

Only he remained standing.

Him and the horses.

Phainon stood among the fallen, sword in hand, his breath steady once more. He wiped the blood from his blade on the tunic of one of the fallen men, then he turned back toward the cave, toward the only person who mattered.

Back to his liege.

You didn't say anything when his gloved hand appeared in your vision again. You didn’t flinch at the crimson streaks staining his armor, didn’t ask about the blood still clinging to his sleeve. You didn’t have to. The stench of iron lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable. And still, he looked at you with utmost gentleness.

"Let’s keep going, Your Highness," he said, voice soft and warm again, like it hadn’t just spoken death into existence. He smiled, gentle and careful, as if that alone could soothe the storm in your heart, your mind.

And of course, you took his hand.

Neither of you spoke as he guided you deeper into the forest, looking for somewhere to stay the night. His grip is steady, his pace measured. The silence between you was no longer heavy, just there. Present. Like a companion rather than a burden. The first time the silence was broken was when the trees thinned and a clearing revealed itself, a meadow bathed in moonlight. Not ideal for rest, but safe enough for a fire. The tree line was distant enough not to catch if the flames rose too high.

Phainon didn’t hesitate.

He swiftly went to work, gathering timber and stacking firewood, his movements practiced, and you watched confusedly as somehow, someway, he coaxed a spark into a flicker, then into a steady flame—a pleasant warmth against the biting cold of the night, casting a golden light against his blood-slicked armor and you tried not to look too closely.

He turned toward you, eyes softening again.

"Please," he said gently, gesturing toward a nearby rock. "Have a seat, Your Highness."

The rock was jagged, uninviting, but it was better than the ground. And somehow, the offer didn’t feel like an order. It felt like kindness, one born out of genuine concern.

You sat.

Phainon got down on his knees before you, slow and deliberate, the firelight casting golden shadows across his face, his eyes meeting yours, those bright, steady blues searching for something, asking without words. For what, you weren't sure, but you trusted him enough to give him a small nod.

As you did, he reached for the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough to expose your feet, still in those heels. He handled them like something sacred, fingers brushing delicately over the worn straps as he undid the fastenings around your ankles. Then, the shoes slipped off with barely a sound.

A quiet sigh escaped him as he took in the damage: raw, red skin and blisters blooming along your soles. His expression twisted into something pained, like it physically hurt him to look.

"You should’ve told me," he murmured, the words barely louder than the crackle of the fire. His brow furrowed, soft and earnest, looking at you akin to a puppy kicked by its owner. "I would’ve carried you."

"It’s fine, really." You shook your head gently, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "You've already done enough. I didn’t want to ask more of you."

"It's my duty to care for the princess."

"And I'm no longer one."

"You'll always be a princess."

You pause at his response, glancing to meet his eyes as he met yours with unwavering devotion, no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his features.

"For as long as I live," He added, "You'll always be a princess to me."

The silence that followed was heavy, not uncomfortable, but weighty, like something unsaid hung in the air between you. You had to look away, unable to hold the intensity of his stare, you let your gaze drift back to the fire, its flickering light dancing across the clearing like it, too, was trying to avoid the weight between you.

Behind the veil of quiet, you heard the soft clatter of metal as Phainon shed his armor. Piece by piece, it hit the ground with dull thuds, leaving him in the worn fabric beneath. Then came the rip of cloth, sharp in the still night, and you realized he was tearing his shirt.

He didn’t say a word.

Just reached for your feet again, gently cradling them in his hands as he wrapped the makeshift bandages around the blistered skin, his touch impossibly careful.

"Phainon." You said his name softly, as he continued his current task.

"Why didn't you join them? Why didn't you kill me?"

That made his hands still.

His gaze flicked up to your face, searching. He was quiet for a beat, before responding.

"Killing you is never an option." Was his simple, yet blunt response. "I could never do such a thing to you."

You frowned, unable to make sense of it.

"But… of all people, you have the most reason in the kingdom to drive your sword through my chest," you murmured, "The only thing standing between you and your freedom is me. You don’t have to do this. Any of this."

There's the slightest hint of a sad smile on his face, chuckling softly at your words, but there's no humor in the sound.

"I don't 'have' to do anything, princess. I choose to protect you of my own free will." His eyes softened.

"But your oath-" You opened your mouth to protest, to remind him of his oath, of duty, of his supposed loyalty to the people.

"Was to you." He cut you off, quiet but firm. "Not to the King. Not to the throne, not the palace or its people."

He paused, voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"My oath has always been to you."

You paused at his words, trying to make sense of them. His loyalty… his devotion... it didn’t make sense. Not in a world that had taken so much from both of you.

"You’re the son of my father’s personal knight. From the moment you were born, you were shackled to me." Your voice softened further. "Our births are only months apart. That wasn’t a coincidence."

Phainon didn’t interrupt. He let you speak, his hands still and steady at your ankle.

"You were forced to train and to be my shadow since we were children, don't you ever wish to be free?"

"Forced?" he repeated softly with a smile, almost amused. "I’ve never been forced to do anything, princess."

"But you were." You looked at him fully now, your brows furrowed. "Just like your father before you. And his before him... and if the system hadn’t been dismantled… your children would’ve been bound to mine. The cycle would’ve never ended."

There was a long beat before he spoke again.

"My family never regretted our duty. We’ve protected every heir of your bloodline with our lives," he said, his voice quiet but sure. "And I’ll do the same for you."

Then something in him shifted. His features softened, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth—gentle, knowing.

"But... you’re wrong about one thing." He looked at you with a strange tenderness in his eyes.

You blinked, caught off-guard by the warmth in his voice. He didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink.

"My children...." he said slowly, voice laced with something unreadable, "...won’t be doing the same for yours."

"What do you mean?"

But all you got in return was that smile. That quiet, secret-laced smile, like he was tucking something important behind his tongue. He gave your ankle a gentle squeeze. Comforting. Familiar.

"You’ll understand later," he murmured, voice almost lulling.

"Don’t push yourself, Your Highness," he said softly, skillfully shifting the topic. "We’ve got a long journey ahead tomorrow."

He stood, gathered the remnants of his torn shirt, and moved to tend the fire again, like he hadn’t just shaken your world with a few quiet words.

"I'll try..." you murmured, your voice tinged with hesitation, your eyes fixed on his back as he knelt by the fire, tending to the flames with care, keeping it alive to somehow keep the coldness of the night at bay.

"Thank you... for everything."

Phainon glanced over his shoulder at you. Your weariness was plain on your face, carved into the way your body sagged slightly under the weight of the day.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” His tone was quiet, like it always was, but beneath it was a quiet warmth that never seemed to leave whenever he spoke to you. “Get some sleep, princess.”

You didn’t protest again.

Despite the jagged rock beneath you, despite the ache in your limbs and the open sky above, it didn’t take long for sleep to claim you. The day had wrung you dry—body, heart, and mind—and the sound of the crackling fire, the distant rustle of trees, and Phainon’s steady presence nearby became the lullaby that finally allowed your guard to fall.

It wasn't until your breathing had evened out, deep in sleep, that Phainon stood up from the fire. The flickering glow cast long shadows across the clearing as he moved, silent as a ghost, towards you. He crouched beside you, eyes tracing your features like he was memorizing every curve, every eyelash. His fingers reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face with a gentleness that didn’t match the crimson stains still dried against his skin.

"My kids being the knights of yours?" He muses, a quiet laugh curling at the edge of his lips. "Don't be ridiculous... my kids wouldn't be doing the same for yours..."

"Because my kids will be yours too, princess."

His expression stayed soft, but there was something darker flickering beneath it—a quiet hunger, possession cloaked in tenderness. His hand moved again, hooking a single lock of your hair around his finger, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as though the scent alone grounded him, drawing it in like a man savoring something he believed— no, he knew belonged to him.

“Yours,” he whispered, “You hear me?”

The wind rustled gently through the trees, carrying his words into the night, where they vanished like smoke with no one else to hear them but himself. He stayed like that for a moment, eyes locked on your sleeping face, watching the faint shifts of your breath, the flutter of your lashes. You looked peaceful. Vulnerable.

"I'm sorry for what happened, princess. But you understand, don't you?" He questions you quietly, as if you could hear him, still making sure his voice is quiet, so as to not wake you.

"Your father was a tyrant, a dictator..." He murmurs, his fingers moving to caress your cheek, watching as you stirred faintly under his touch, but did not wake, "He was going to marry you off to someone else."

"Surely, you understand why I urged people and started the revolution, don't you?"

His fingers trail lightly down your cheek, pausing at your lips, his breath hitching ever so slightly as his thumb grazes over the soft curve of your mouth. He exhales shakily, as though even this contact is almost too much.

"The only reason I was born was to be yours,” he whispers, a quiet conviction in his tone. “And thus, you, in turn, have always been mine. Law of equivalent exchange.”

His voice is low, fond, but there’s an undercurrent of something far heavier—something dangerous—coiling just beneath. He inhales sharply, as if steadying himself, and glances away from your lips like a sinner resisting temptation.

"That old man never should’ve tried to interfere," he adds, almost as an afterthought, his jaw tensing like the memory alone is enough to reignite his fury—the same fury that led to your father's downfall.

His finger lingers against your lips, then shifts, trailing down to hover just over your abdomen, his eyes now fixed there, unblinking. The soft rise and fall of your breathing beneath the fabric of your dress seems to hold him captive.

"Once all of this dies down.." he murmurs, more to himself than to you, "I’ll take you somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows your name. A little house, tucked away from the world… where you’ll be safe. And then—"

His breath hitches again, this time heavier, filled with desire.

"Then I’ll give you my children. As many as you want."

His gaze darkens as it lingers on your stomach, and his lashes lower as he exhales through his nose, eyes fluttering closed like he can already see the future blooming there. His future. Your future. Your shared future.

"I’ve waited my whole life," he breathes, almost dreamlike. "And now you look at me like I’m your savior...."

There’s a pause, still heavy, and then his eyes open again, trained solely on your face. His expression softens at the sight of your sleeping features.

"It’s only a matter of time," he says softly. "Just a few more years... or months, if I’m lucky."

His thumb traces the corner of your mouth again, delicate and adoring.

"Right, princess?"

A soft chuckle escapes him, warm and hushed and laced with something that doesn’t quite sound sane.

"You don't need the palace, the crown, the throne.... I'm already here. I am all that you need." He murmurs, fully believing his own words.

"You're mine." He breathes out, a silent declaration with only the stars above as his witness.

"You will be mine."

#phainon x reader #phainon #phainon honkai star rail #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #phainon hsr #yandere honkai star rail

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celestiliall · 2 months ago

Text

ᡣ With Him There, Lonesome Shall Never Prevail 𐭩

synopsis: from the moment your life took a heavy turn for the worst due to the black tide engulfing everything in sight, your memories about the incident hasn't been able to disappear from your mind, making you to experience all forms of nightmares almost every night.

At first, you felt lonely due to not being able to receive the company you wanted whenever you had these dreams, but not until you met a certain white-haired swordman; who would one day be the company you had always yearned for—bringing you a sense of clarity with his presence alone. (wc: 2.1k)

requested by: @appleholicc

note: due to the end of my summer break, I will not be able to post as often as I used to, but I will still post sometimes so feel free to send requests into my inbox.

Being one of the survivors from the Black Tide's influence, it was to be expected if your memories about the incident would cause an uncomfortable disturbance in the midst of your slumber from time-to-time.

All that has happened in the past, the current present, as well as the hazy future that the people of Amphoreus' feared and looked out even in the midst of their desperate attempts to pray for the fallen Titans—mix them together and eventually creating multiple kinds of torments that would come dawning on you one-by-one in your most vulnerable state, replacing them with terrible dreams.

No matter how many times you've tried to shake off those thoughts in order to get a good night's sleep, even just once, the next thing you knew when your eyes opened again that you would find yourself in the same dream, the same nightmare; different yet having similar aspects altogether.

Due to how frequent it was, you would attempt to calm yourself whenever your eyes would jolted awake when being brought back to reality, taking deep breaths or just stare at the ceiling in hopes of distracting yourself into brushing off these negative thoughts away in the end.

After you managed to calm down, even just a little bit, your form would shift on the bed wearily, closing your eyes again in order to get some sleep, fully ignoring to process the nightmares correctly so that you wouldn't have to suffer more by recalling these interminable hallucinations that would cloud your fragile mind for the whole night.

This became a daily occurrence in your life, not being able to do anything more than facing these nightmares alone in an unhealthy way, before attempting to get back to sleep again as the cycle continued to repeat over and over again. Not until you do anything about it.

—not until Thanatos pitied you and finally gave you a moment of closure of a deserved solace, that is, a swift different kind of ending to your problems, one that wouldn't be able to be severed by anyone who dared disrupt the concept of life and death in Amphoreus—not by their watch.

...Buttt, that kind of approach for an ending to your situation won't be necessary—at all; not with the presence of a loving second figure who knew nothing better than to come into your life without you expecting for it to have happened, but grateful in a way.

Since his arrival would give nothing more but a deserved solace for you, one where even you thought that this was too good to be true for it to have happened to someone undeserving like you.

Nevertheless, you reveled in his presence and comfort, deciding to bask in his warmth and gentle words reserved only for you whenever you feel and didn't feel conflicted, having been enamored with you since the moment fate brought the two of you together for some reason.

Reserved only for you; the man whom loved you chose to do, even in the midst of your vulnerable moments, he decided to do just that.

Not because he must do it—but because he wanted to do it, craved to do it—in order to make you feel seen and understood despite the silent hardships you've faced alone before he arrived into your distant and lonely life, just like what he carried all this time in his heart.

And you, knowing this, wouldn't want it any other way.

Stirring and grunting in your sleep, your face scrunched up with discomfort, having been haunted by the hallucination that creeped up inside your mind once again for the past minutes, just like old times.

Your fists clenched tightly against the sheets, teeth gritted and in need of something to hold onto in order to resist the nightmare from getting into your head fully; resisting the urge to succumb to it.

Despite being unconscious, your mind had already expected that once your eyes would jolted open, you would be left breathless and shivering on the bed, also expecting that you would have to deal with the aftermath of the situation alone, just like what you always did whenever this moment happened in the past.

But, not this time; not when he was here to relieve of your nightmares away now, so that you wouldn't have to suffer alone. Not anymore.

So, in the midst of your silent battle, a pair of hands reached out to hold one of yours, clasping around it in a tight but gentle manner, not doing anything except holding it with the intention of conveying that you weren't alone on this one, telling that someone was here for you, and only you.

Soft, warm; your subconscious mind continued to tell you so.

As if being zapped, your form instantly froze amidst the touch; your body no longer moving on the bed, as if the sudden touch was familiar, having been marked into your veins for the entirety of the situation to witness, for the holder of the touch to witness.

Smiling upon the result of his action, the same pair of hands brought your hand closer toward his cheek after moments of lingering silence, his eyes fluttering closed: "Shh... There, there..." He shushed you sweetly in hopes of being able to calm you down, even just a little.

"...having the same nightmares again?" He murmured, the words being quiet but laced with a hint of amusement, softness, and worry to it, keeping your palm close in-between his mouth and cheek.

"Don't worry... I'm here for you." The statement came off as nothing but the truth, still keeping up with the smile that remained etched on his lips, almost like he was being fond about this—were it not for the actual context behind the situation.

"I will not go anywhere. You can rest easily now." He continued, moving your palm by your wrist so that it would cradle his cheek, taking the chance to nuzzle into it, like a puppy seeking affection toward its owner.

"I'm here." He whispered, not minding the silence of the atmosphere, assuming that this was way better than the heated tension your body was giving when being overwhelmed by the nightmares you were having the moment he walked into your shared bedroom.

At first, Phainon was very concerned about your condition. But, he decided to take it easily with composure in his heart, not wanting to force you into waking up. So, instead, he decided to help you by reminding you that his presence was right next to you, telling you that he's not going anywhere. Not until he was sure that you were okay.

Not until he watched how your discomfort expression would change into a peaceful one, a contrast to the conflict vibe radiating from your vulnerable state moments prior.

Like what he's doing now.

The moment your eyes twitched slightly, preparing to wake up from your long-life slumber that had been heck of a rollercoaster, the first thing you noticed was the ceiling above you.

But, the first thing you felt was the pair of hands that were holding one of yours, making you confused at first when trying to adjust toward the familiar surroundings and the light of the room, before turning your head from the bed to look at the source of the warmth, eyes squinting to get a clearer vision of who the person was.

"...Phainon?"

Your words came nothing more than a hushed whisper, having been just woken up from the nightmares you were fighting off last night. But, the moment you called his name, Phainon was already facing you in order to respond, still holding your hand—playing with it as if it was a delicate treasure.

"Ah... You're awake." He said, as if he had been awaiting for the moment when your deep slumber would come to an end, bringing you back to reality. "How's your sleep?" He knew that the answer was relatively-obvious, judging by the silence that lingered in the room after that, but he thought that he should still ask in order to strike up a conversation with you.

Staring at him for a moment, you heaved out a sigh, before turning your attention toward the ceiling. "...Same as usual." You murmured, the tone suggesting that you didn't want to have this topic after barely surviving in the dreams you saw.

Noticing the underlying meaning behind your words, Phainon couldn't help but feel even more pitiful for your situation, his gaze softening at the mere sight of you slumped on the bed, looking exhausted despite having been asleep for the whole night. "I see... Want to talk about it? A lending ear would be good to ease the tensions inside of your head."

His intention was clear and genuine, all for the sake of being able to relieve you from your nightmares, not wanting for you to feel the burdens yourself; not when he's right there to share them together, just like how you would do the same thing whenever Phainon was being conflicted by his past from time-to-time—just like you.

But no matter how good the idea of opening up was, you weren't ready to share about them. "...I don't know." You murmured again, not knowing how you should elaborate that the reason you didn't want to tell him about your problems was due to not knowing how—not because you deemed him unworthy to know the details behind the so-called nightmares you've been experiencing. "It's... Complicated."

But, knowing how understanding Phainon could be when the situation required him to, he nodded. "I see." He responded, before letting go of your hand in order to stand up from the chair that he had been sitting in. "...In that case, why don't I run a freshly-nice bath for you? This way, you won't have to be troubled by the nightmares you've just went through." He proposed, already expecting that you would accept his offer. "It can also relax the tensions building inside both your mind and body."

Tearing your gaze from the ceiling, your eyes went back to look at the white-haired man who had been giving you his company since the moment you wake up (unaware that he had been here the whole night you were asleep).

So, with a soft chuckle, you agreed to his offer in the end. "That would be soothing." Nodding your head, you gave a smile to him. "Thank you, Phainon." The words came off as gentle, conveying the genuine gratitude upon his help.

Returning your chuckle, Phainon nodded as well. "Don't mention it. It's the least thing I can do to help ease your mind, albeit just a little." He mentioned, before turning on his back, preparing to set off and prepare a specially hot and relaxing bath for his dear lover. "I'll be back. Just make sure to keep yourself warm on the bed for the time being, okay?"

With a final nod, you followed what he said. "I will do just that."

Satisfied by your answer, his smile stretched even more. "Great." With that, he stormed out of the chamber, making it seem as if he was in a rush. Watching the scene unfolded from the bed, you heaved out another sigh—only this time, it was from amusement.

That guy...

You would never be able to get enough of him.

Sometimes, you wondered how you even managed to catch the eye of one of the infamous Crysos heirs, not to mention Phainon, of all people. But, knowing that you can always rely on him, just like how he can do it with you, your lips curved up into another smile, having been grateful for this whole situation to unveil.

Despite fate having been harsh toward the both of them, but atleast, fate was also kind enough to redeem itself by making the two of you to meet eachother; in the midst of the firing war between the corrupted Titans and Amphoreus itself, the black tide being the main cause for all of the catastrophies.

And, knowing that, you hoped that this once, just this once...

You hoped that fate won't be able to separate you both in the end; just like how it separated them from their loved ones in the past. Just like how each time the Coreflames be surrendered to the vortex of Genesis, their chosen ones would have to give their souls up to the goblet of fire, giving up their connections from the world in the end.

But, so long as your eyes would be able to settle on the aquamarine eyes that you have grown accustomed to these past few years... Your hands would clasp together; in order to pray for any of the fallen Titans, sending miracles for your lover in the midst of the impending destruction that the world had foreseen.

Oh, fallen Titans... Won't you give this devoted but pitiful soul's wish to come true?

masterlist

#phainon x reader #phainon #hsr phainon #phainon honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #phainon x you #honkai x you #honkai star rail #hsr

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celestiliall · 2 months ago

Text

This was so hot, so sweet, so gut wrenching, so– GZKGXHJKKDKF (I did not regret reading this for a day)

the psychology of men (a guide to understanding how they work) — ft. phainon

if nice guys didn’t always screw you over, you’d have an easier time trusting that phainon isn’t the good guy full of bullshit. but he’s still nice enough to patiently wait for you to give him one chance, though

❤︎ word count: 10.3k words — in literally one day. ONE

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; college au ; reader has a shitty ex boyfriend and trust issues — she is not perfect but she is human. be nice to her ; strangers to friends with benefits to lovers ; reader has a crush on mydei at first LOL ; mentions of alcohol and drunk sex ; phainon is a YEARNER ; resolved angst, miscommunication, and arguments ; phainon is down bad and reader is simply in denial that she is too ; cunnilingus ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; not proof read

❤︎ commentary: i didn’t care about this dude until today. he possessed me so hard i wrote 10k words in less than 24 hours. white hair and blue eyed freaks will do that to you

LESSON ONE: MEN ARE ALWAYS PLANNING SOMETHING. THE NICER THEY SEEM, THE MORE SINISTER THE SCHEME!

You meet Phainon for the first time while you’re freshly out of a relationship, nursing a broken heart. Your ex-boyfriend pursued you with that heartfelt, fairytale sort of devotion, and you thought you’d be telling people at your wedding one day that you knew he was “the one” early on in your relationship.

And then he dumped you as quickly as he “fell in love” with you. It wouldn’t be right, he’d said, it just isn’t fair to keep you around when I don’t feel the way I used to. He leaves you with not so much as a tear of sorrow, and you’re left with the aftermath of a devastating heartbreak.

Not the sad, lingering kind—this one is the sort of heartbreak that makes you hate all men. Especially the nice ones—the ones that manipulate you into thinking they’re the good guys who won’t turn on you, but they do. They always do. The nice guys are the ones with the most potential to turn out dangerous. They aren’t upfront about their assholery. That shitty ex of yours is a prime example, and you refuse to fall victim twice.

Your first impression of Phainon happens in some boring college class you take just for the elective credit and an easy gpa boost. He’s the sort of guy your attention doesn’t instantly latch onto—he’s sweet, sure, and funny but a little too gentle to be real. Too good to be true. Too much of a green flag to be interesting. Exactly the kind of guy you’re avoiding—exactly the sort of person who can worm his way into your heart slowly and lethally and then bite. Hard. (That sort of mindset is too pessimistic to be any good, of course, but you’re only just barely in your twenties as you navigate your dramatic breakup, and your prefrontal cortex is still developing.)

You find his friend a little more intriguing for the longest time, if you’re honest. The brooding blonde next to him always made your eyes linger for a second too long.

“Hey,” he whispers, poking your shoulder from behind. You turn, slightly irritated by the fact that some guy is interrupting your dissociation in the middle of class—doesn’t he know you have false scenarios to run through your mind while you pass the time? Professor Anaxagoras has a strict no-phones-in-sight policy if you want to keep your participation points up, so the only thing to entertain you is your own head. Sheepishly, as if sensing your irritation, he murmurs, “Sorry. Can I please use your laptop charger?”

“I’m using it,” you blink.

“Yeah, but it’s almost fully charged,” he practically pleads. The puppy eyes on him are unreal—you feel almost compelled to cave just at the sight of them alone until you realize it’s your charger, and he’s bargaining with you about why you don’t need it. Absurd. “I can see the green battery sign.”

“Are you serious,” you stare at him blandly, “it’s barely twelve pm. Why is your laptop already dying anyway?”

“I charged it,” he pouts, “but she’s old and on her last legs. It doesn’t last if I take the charger out for too long—I forgot to bring it with me. Please. If it dies in the middle of this assignment, it’ll make me start over! It took me an hour to google all these answers.”

Well. He’s convincing in that pathetic sort of way. Just the perfect mix between nice and genuine but still a tad bit needy that just tickles your gut in the right place to loosen you up. Without a word, you unplug your charger with a roll of your eyes and hand it to him as he smiles gratefully.

“You’re the best!”

“You’re pathetic,” his friend grunts to him from beside him.

“Don’t be rude, Mydei!” he whispers through a wounded voice.

They continue to bicker back and forth, but you tune it out—there’s only one thought on your mind for the remainder of your time in that room.

You spend the rest of class thinking about the deep sound of his friend’s voice to care about anything else. Fuck, you think—you’re almost debating that strict no more men rule you’d set for yourself after your break up, ready to throw it all away for the grumpy looking blonde with red tips behind you. He’s hot. And honestly, he seems a bit rude and crabby, so really, he can’t be that bad—and yeah, everyone would think he’s the red flag, but you know how men go. You’ve figured out their psychology. The ones who are prickly on the exterior are actually very soft inside, and they’re not half as bad as the soft, cuddly type of men who turn around and bite you as soon as you’re close enough.

This guy could be different. He could be worked into devotion instead of smothering you with it early on, only to have ulterior motives and get bored. What was his name again? Mydei? Sounds decently moanable in bed, you reason. He certainly seems like a keeper.

It’s not long before the lecture ends, and you walk off with all your thoughts consumed by the grumpy blonde guy who said maybe only three words that you properly heard before he possessed your mind like a fucking demon. So much so that you forget to ask for your charger back, and that clever asshole never gave it back on his own accord like a proper human being.

So, the next time Phainon walks into class, you’re glaring at him right at the entrance of the room with an outstretched hand and an unimpressed curl of your lips.

“My charger,” you say blandly, “you took off with it last class. I need it back.”

“Oh!” he flushes, quickly digging into his bag and pulling it out—at least he kept it in very good condition. Men are not to be trusted with things you need because they are irresponsible. Case example: not returning what they borrow. “Sorry,” he says earnestly, “I meant to return it, but I forgot. Which, I was thinking…maybe we should exchange numbers—you know…to contact outside of class if we ever need it.”

You blink, seeing right through him. Why else would you ever need it again? “You walked off with my charger just so you could use it as an opening to ask for my number?”

He flushes a deeper shade of red, creeping up to his ears and down his neck like he didn’t expect you to call him out on his so very blatant scheme. “W-well…did it work?”

You contemplate for a moment before you respond, “No.”

“How about if I throw in some assignment answers?”

“…Okay, fine.” You never pay attention in this class—the tests are open notes, and the weekly assignments are easy enough when you have the internet at your disposal. But still, having someone present the answers to you is a much faster route, and you have other non-elective classes to worry about, so all in all, if a semi-annoying guy messages you here and there, it’s not so bad.

And the better part is that his friend is hot, so you can snag the details on him, too. Men don’t really worry about the concept of loyalty—they don’t stay far away from the people their friends show an interest in for something like friendship. You know how they work. Phainon’s number can lead you to Mydei’s, and Mydei can break you free from your awful, terrible descent to madness from heartbreak, and when you inevitably have a happy, healthy, and loving relationship that lasts, you’ll never think about your bastard ex again.

Foolproof.

“Great!” Phainon beams. He hands you his phone, and you type your number in.

And that starts it all.

────────────────────────

LESSON TWO: SEX DOES NOT EQUAL INTIMACY. WHEN THEY SAY IT’S JUST PHYSICAL, THAT’S TOTALLY FINE. BUT IF YOU SAY IT, YOU’RE OUT OF LINE!

Exchanging phone numbers with Phainon was supposed to be a simple way to have at least one contact for a class—a very important measure you should take for every class you’re in—and perhaps, if you’re lucky, you could also somehow get closer to that hot blonde friend he has named Mydei.

It was never supposed to become a real friendship.

But, well…shit happens, and things don’t go according to plan. It also doesn’t help that Phainon is a consistent texter—almost to a fault. What sort of man doesn’t text sporadically and with a tone as dry as concrete? Phainon, apparently—which is not like any sort of man you’ve ever known.

You even start sitting with him in class instead of in front of him—that’s a terribly unplanned development. The bright side of it, however, is that you quickly get over his friend. Mydei is nice, but he’s a little too bored. Or maybe he just isn’t interested in you; you’re not so sure. No amount of flirty comments gets a flush out of him, not a smirk, not even a smart retort back. He is just…bored. (Or maybe he’s secretly just one of those good friends who doesn’t flirt with the girl that his friend is actively trying to pursue, but that option does not align with your very complex understanding of men, so you shove it aside. He’s probably just bored, and that’s just truly unfortunate. He was hot.)

But you grow fond of Phainon. As a friend. Sure, he’s clearly been interested in you since day one, but he’s not pushy, and a hint here and there that you’re still bitter about your previous relationship makes him keep a respectful distance. But he’s definitely smitten—and you? Well, you’re lonely. And he’s a good guy. A good guy who keeps you good company as a good friend and nothing more. He knows that, and you don’t think you’re stringing him along if he’s aware that you’re nothing more than friendly.

And sometimes, friends go to parties together. And sometimes, they also drink together. And sometimes, they also end up staying at the other’s apartment afterward because it’s closer and safer than trying to get back home alone. And…sometimes, although not a lot of times—but sometimes, they wake up in bed together, nude with no recollection of the previous night and love bites scattered on their necks as proof that something very, very physical happened between them.

It’s not always a common occurrence, but it’s certainly not a rare one. Does it complicate things? For certain—but you think that you and Phainon are good enough friends and mature enough people to know that sex does not equate to intimacy. Most men are super clear about that, anyway—it’s almost ingrained in their nature to say “no strings attached” before they fuck your brains out in every position they can think to try. This should not be a foreign concept to him.

But it doesn’t make the morning any less awkward.

“Oh my god,” you say in disbelief, pulling the sheets over your bare chest as you stare at Phainon like he’s grown two heads. He stares back at you like you’re some figment of his imagination—unsure if you’re real but painfully hopeful that you are. And then you take a quick glimpse around his room and realize he’s a space nerd—there’s a poster about Saturn on his wall. “I didn’t think you were into space. You seem a little too air-headed for that.”

“Hey!” he pouts, “you don’t know me! I can be very smart!”

You snort, eyeing him in amusement. Except staring at him for too long means that you are forced to look at the hickey you left on his neck, almost like you were a raging, horny teenager last night and not an adult. You would be more embarrassed if one glimpse down at your chest didn’t tell you that he was even worse.

“So…” you start awkwardly.

“So…” he echoes.

You don’t know where to take it from there. There’s a beat of silence before you say, “We’re good, right Phai?”

He softens, looking at you with those large, round eyes that house every shade of the sky and her beauty before he nods and murmurs, “Yeah. We’re always good.”

“Good,” you breathe, “I’m glad. I want us to be good.”

“Well,” he rubs his neck, “we are, in fact, good. So…yeah.”

In the end, you sheepishly turn around so he can get out of bed, find his scattered clothes and put them on, and leave, and you—once you’re certain he’s far enough in the kitchen and the faucet is running—scream into his pillow before slipping out of bed and putting on your own. You’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t have only one pillow. But his sheets are navy blue, so you dock a few points for that. Not a good look.

He makes you breakfast before you leave. Something about sitting and sharing pancakes while he has tousled hair feels so natural you almost feel sick at the thought of leaving. But you tell yourself that he’s an easy friend to have and feel comfortable with, and force yourself up and to the door when the time inevitably comes.

He sees you out with a soft, “See you later?”

“Yeah,” you hum, “later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

—————

You wish so badly that you could be an ideal individual, but you are as flawed as the rest of the humans you share planet Earth with.

You and Phainon fuck again. Sober, this time. Still as friends. Not by accident, or through the influence of alcohol, or by forced proximity, or by anything that you can use to excuse it. You can’t excuse it. It’s entirely an act of free will that you consented to—because he does take consent very seriously, you learn—and it starts to become abundantly clear that sex is beginning to get a little too frequent in your time together.

The first time it happened after the initial accidental night, he was over at your apartment helping you build your new desk. The old one was too small, and you needed an upgraded space badly. He spends the evening hammering and drilling pieces away and fitting them together, and like some cliche joke from the universe, when you slip on the instruction manual on the floor, he catches you as your face hovers dangerously close to his. A kiss later, and suddenly he’s fitting into you and drilling you instead of the wood.

And then it starts to happen everywhere.

Sometimes in the back of his car before he drops you off at home after class. Sometimes on your kitchen counter when you’re supposed to be washing dishes after he’s over for dinner to study. Sometimes after he’s got a bad exam grade to blow off some steam. Sometimes when you’re particularly stressed over a busy week with too many assignments due on the same day and too many hours of your part-time job to work.

Every time it happens, you go back to acting like you always do afterward. Like it never even happened. Never mentioned, or questioned, or brought up. He never questions if something is shifting in your relationship, and you never bring it up. Sometimes, two people can have a physical relationship and still be friends and nothing more. It’s not impossible, and it’s not bad.

If anything, it makes you closer friends. You start to understand each other better. You talk more—really talk. No silly banter, or heated debate, or stressed-out vents. Just you, Phainon, the sheets that cover your bodies and a quiet room that lingers with the scent of sex.

He tells you about how much he misses his hometown. How small it is, and how everyone knows everyone. How leaving home and his young triplet sisters was the hardest thing he did, but a good degree and stable job is even harder to come by where he’s from. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

And you tell him about your ex. About how sweet and nice he was. How badly he wanted you. How good he was at doing things right and reading you for what you craved. How to love you like you always wished. How to spend time with you without burning you out and depleting your social battery. How to know your ticks and know when he’s pushing your buttons too far and when a joke doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. How to make you feel seen.

No man has ever loved you like that. None have cared to, either. Learning you is a lot of work—you have years and years of life and stories and feelings and fears and everything’s to share. Teaching them is a lot. Learning them is even more.

You liked to think that boy from your past was a ticket to something good. Some better life for yourself where it’s not just you and yourself, and that’s it—a life where you were you and someone else cared to see it. Have it. Cherish it. Keep it.

You don’t know how someone could pour in so much time, do everything first, want things all on their own, and still walk away and tell you that they just don’t feel the same anymore.

You think it’s just a man thing. Men bore easily.

Phainon snorts at that.

“They do have short attention spans,” he tells you.

You smile tightly, humming as you blink back tears. “Or maybe I’m just boring.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he gasps dramatically, reaching over to swipe the tears like it’s always been his job to—it feels so natural when he does it. “You’re not boring! You’re at least a step up from boring because boring is Professor Anaxa, and god knows what he drones on about.”

“Gee,” you huff, but the tears are easier to subside when it’s him. They’re gone quickly like a fleeting reminder that sorrow exists but shooed away like they’re unwelcome when he’s around. He’s around more and more these days. “Thanks. I’m glad to be just a step up from boring. Maybe in a year or so, I’ll be two steps up from boring.”

“Nothing is ever impossible,” he winks. “Some day, with enough hard work and determination, you might even be three steps up.”

“You suck,” you giggle.

He laughs, and the sound of his voice is enough to lull you to sleep. You sleep good next to him—always do.

—————

One thing you count on is that it’s always easy when it’s you and Phainon. Phainon and you.

Just two people who exist with each other, and nothing else really needs to be thought out. You don’t worry about what you wear around him or how you look. He doesn’t care too much about what you’re doing or where you’re going. As long as it’s you and him, him and you, and nothing else—it’s okay. He’s good. He treats you good and makes you feel good, too. Inside and out. Physically and mentally.

He might even be your best friend. You don’t know if you should tell him that—men get weird about definite titles like that. But then again, maybe not Phainon. He’s like an anomaly of sorts, sometimes.

But you forget sometimes that Phainon was never hoping to just be friends. And you suppose letting him feel you come undone for him more than once is like dangling his desires right in front of his face because it all blows up on you very fast.

Perfect one second, like the calm before the storm, and a disaster zone the next, leaving you no time to evacuate before the tornado has hit and done its damage.

“Mydei wants to come with us to try that new cafe you mentioned,” Phainon hums, watching in sheepish amusement as you sigh and mutter under your breath while picking up his dirty socks from the couch and tossing them across the room. (Men are all the same, aren’t they?) “He said something about there being a pomegranate beverage he wants to try.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug, slumping onto his couch, “if he doesn’t find it awkward, then I don’t either.”

“Why would he find it awkward?” he looks at you in bewilderment.

“I think he’d have to be oblivious to miss the way I was flirting with him,” you huff out a snort, “I don’t think most men jump at the opportunity to hang out with a girl they ignored advances of, but maybe he’s just too passionate about pomegranate to care.”

Everything feels like it pauses as soon as the words come out. You thought he’d known this whole time—you could have sworn he’d known. How would Mydei have never mentioned it to him? Aren’t they best friends? Don’t men at least tell their friends when a girl is hitting on them regularly in passing? Is Mydei really that bad at giving life updates, or is he more clueless than you gave him credit for when it comes to romantic interaction?

Nothing makes sense, and you’re not entirely sure about anything. The only thing you are sure about is that Phainon is staring at you like you’ve been disloyal to the worst degree.

“You liked Mydei?” he asks in hurt, staring at you with those god-awful puppy eyes. You feel like you kicked one, too, with the way he stares at you.

“W-well, no,” you stutter, “I mean, yes—but like…not really, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” he shakes his head, “you’re not making any sense.”

“I liked him for a very short time,” you say quickly, “like…like a small crush, you know? He was attractive, and I am not immune to an attractive man, so it just…b-but it never lasted for long!”

“Did you still like him when we got together?” he asks quietly. Got together—you physically have to stop yourself from flinching at those words. Some part of you feels a little bit bad that he sounds so wounded, but the other part of you feels like this is all so absurd. That he’s starting to get worked up over nothing. He has to know you were never together—you never did anything that implies two people that are…together. It’s always been a good fuck here and there, and that’s what you kept it as strictly.

(Distantly, your mind gnaws at you and screams that two people who just fuck and nothing else do not do the things that you and Phainon do. Sure, you were friends first, but two people who draw the line at sex don’t seek each other to FaceTime until three am, and they don’t bring each other soup when they’re sick, and they don’t hold each other when they cry, and they don’t, under any circumstances, tell each other about their deepest insecurities that they’ve never voiced before about shoddy exes who ruined their ability to trust and feel loved. You can’t be the closest people in your lives and just have sex—but your mind has never been your number one supporter, so you shove the voice down.)

“No,” you admit, and for a second, his shoulders sag in relief. Like he doesn’t care or feel threatened that you liked his friend as long as it didn’t bleed into your time together—and that’s when you start to wonder if Phainon is too good for you. Too kind and genuine in a way that is not dangerous. Too sweet in a way that doesn’t slowly kill you like poison but just gives you something to look forward to. Maybe he’s a good one—a good guy who is just good and nothing else. Still, you kill his heart anyway with a harsh blow to his chest as you add, “I didn’t like anyone when we started getting physical. And I still don’t, Phainon.”

Getting physical. Whatever that means. You say it like it puts some distance between the sex you have and intimacy. You say it like it rationalizes everything you do with him—you get physical, which is only human nature, and in the mix, if you develop a good, long-standing friendship, then there is nothing wrong with that.

But are you really okay with just friends? Yes. You are. Are you sure about that? Absolutely. You don’t seem so convinced. This is a positive, for sure, one hundred percent true reality. Phainon is just a friend. You’re shooting yourself in the foot.

You force yourself to stop arguing with yourself when you notice the way his eyes flash at the words: still don’t. He processes the words that you still don’t like anyone, and the look in his eyes is devastating. Betrayal. Confusion. Hurt. Anger. Something else that you don’t quite understand, but it makes you filled dreadfully to the brim with unease.

“Every time we’ve been together has just been physical to you?” he asks quietly, croaking out the words as if they’re acrid on his tongue and taste awful. “You’re lying.”

“I thought I made it very clear we were just friends, and I wasn’t looking for a relationship,” you furrow your brows, “you can’t act like I’ve been stringing you along—”

“Before we started, fucking, sure! But I thought it was pretty mutually clear we were slowly turning romantic when you willingly took my dick down your throat every now and then.”

“We’ve never had a ‘hey, what are we?’ discussion,” you cry exasperatedly, throwing your hands up as though this is all…so, so, so absurd—and for a second, you feel like it is. You made it clear that you weren’t trying to date. Not him, not anybody. Sure, that silly blonde friend of his clouded your judgment for a bit, but that was never more than a phase. “Don’t you think it was a red flag to never discuss what we are or what we’re doing if we were getting romantic?”

He falters. Something in his face makes him look so unrecognizable. So fragile and knocked down a peg that you’ve never seen from him. And something about the way he looks at you makes you almost feel like he doesn't recognize you.

“I thought you were avoiding the conversation on purpose,” he whispers, voice cracking just as he says: you. “I thought…I thought you were just nervous about labels after everything from your last…” he clears his throat, like even mentioning the word relationship kills him, “and…and that I was just waiting for you to be more comfortable…”

You don’t know what to say. And frankly, nothing seems like it’ll make him feel better. He’s fighting the trembling of his lips and blinking back the moisture in his eyes like all he has left in his control is to not shed tears in front of you.

You extend him that much grace. (Men don’t like being vulnerable, you reason. They hate showing emotions.)

“Phainon, I think I should go,” you murmur softly.

“You want to leave?” he asks, gutted. It’s got two meanings—you know that. You know exactly what he’s asking.

Everything feels wrong when you say, “Yes,” through a soft whisper, “I do.” But you still don’t take it back.

And nothing feels right when he lets out a watery chuckle and lets the first few tears slip. “Well, you know where the door is,” he spits.

He doesn’t walk you out. You’re not sure why that feels so heavy—it’s not because you’re guilty. You know that. It’s something else, and you can’t quite understand it.

────────────────────────

LESSON THREE: NOT ALL MEN. SURE, MOST HAVE A VERY BAD STREAK, BUT NEVER THE WHITE-HAIRED AND BLUE-EYED FREAK!

You barely last two weeks before you call Phainon.

At first, you thought being without who is maybe your closest friend at the moment was just eating away at you, and that’s why you missed him. You threw yourself into your social circles, making plans left and right to fill that gaping hole of his presence. It didn’t work.

And then it slowly starts to click in place.

Your friends send you a picture of your ex’s new fling, calling him an asshole and how she’s too pretty to be his next victim. You don’t feel even the slightest bit jealous or hollow. In fact, you’re bored by the news—you have more pressing matters.

Then, you start to see what feels like fucking propaganda for romance everywhere. Every social media timeline is filled with some stupid, cheesy, cringe trend that rubs in your face how painfully in love two people are. You get ads for fucking wedding rings. Your friends are all magically starting to get out of the talking phases and actually have something exclusive and official. Your old high school friends are getting engaged, and invitations are coming in. You’ve RSVP’d one in spring and two in fall already.

Everywhere you look, it’s something that feels like the universe is promoting a relationship in your face as if it’s a poorly disguised paid sponsorship by some celebrity online, and all you want to do is throw a rock at the sky and hope it lands on whatever divine being is playing tricks on you straight in the face.

But it slowly becomes clearer and clearer why it unsettles you so much. Why it all makes you bitter and annoyed and tired and…and sad. You’re sad. And it’s because you miss Phainon, and every couple reminds you of the hurt you caused him and why it’s your fault he’s still not in your life. Because you wanted your cake and to eat it, too. Even if it meant taking advantage of his feelings and the heart he didn’t even bother wearing on his sleeve. He just pinned it to yours and let you wear it.

So you call him. When that doesn’t work, and you get sent to voicemail, you go straight to his apartment. You knock on his door incessantly for two minutes straight (you know he’s home—his car is there) before he opens the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes despite it being three in the afternoon.

“Mydei, can you at least come bother me to eat a little later in the da—oh.”

He notices you and quickly straightens up, smoothing out his wrinkled t-shirt as best as he can and fixing his ruffled hair (that doesn’t do much but ruffle more) as he looks at you with what is his best attempt at a nonchalant look and clears his throat. “Yes?”

“Hi,” you say nervously, “how are you?” (What else do you say? You’re at a loss.)

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs casually, “nursing a broken heart and trying to integrate back into society as a functioning member. The usual. How about you?”

You flinch at his tone, at the way it’s so clipped yet so emotional at the same time.

“I called earlier—”

“I know. I ignored that, by the way, if that wasn’t clear,” he says as if being petty and angry is the only thing he has left. (It might just be, and you certainly won’t blame him for it.)

“I know,” you whisper, “but I still wanted to talk. And see you. Which I know I don’t deserve, but I guess I’m clearly not perfect, huh?” you shrug softly, giving him a sad smile.

“Well,” he says flatly, “you came all this way, and I’ve already opened the door. Might as well say the groundbreaking thing you came to say.”

When Phainon is hurt is the only time he does not know how to be kind. He spends so much time not hurting others, not letting them feel the pain of their feelings being overlooked, that he doesn’t quite know how to handle it. How to stomach that, yes, there are hurt people in this world, and, yes, they do the hurting, too. And he might fall victim to it. And he might even be the cause of someone else’s hurt, too, intentional or not.

He’s not good at processing pain. He’s too good of a guy to ever have to dwell on how badly his actions have impacted someone. Not because he’s perfect but because he’s gentle enough by nature to avoid the necessity of it while he can.

“I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. Because you are. You are. “I knew you were interested early on, and having sex as often as we did was leading you on whether I meant to or not, and you got hurt because of it, so I’m sor—”

“Unbelievable,” he scoffs, shaking his head with a bitter laugh.

You blanch. “What?” you ask, mildly frustrated. He doesn’t have to forgive you, but it’s certainly an honest apology. “You don’t have to forgive me if you don’t want to. But I just felt it was right to tell you that I—”

“I’m not upset because you don’t like me or you that led me on,” he interrupts, making you blink in confusion. He looks at you for a moment—really looks at you, and before you can say anything, he lets out another disbelieving chuckle. “You still don’t get it, do you? Do you even understand it yourself—why you’re even here?”

“To apologize, of course—”

“No.”

He says it so seriously.

Phainon is hardly ever so serious. It’s what you always liked about him, even if you hated to admit it. He’s good at taking serious matters and making them feel like they’re not so serious. Not in a bad way—he’s just good at making them feel less soul-crushing with that carefree smile and those light-hearted words. He comforts you without ever letting you feel the shame of needing comfort. It’s nice.

You forget that even he is capable of being solemn.

“No one apologizes for breaking someone’s heart unless it breaks theirs too—do you see that? Do you see that you care? I’m not upset that you don’t care about me or that you don’t feel the same. That would be easy to move on from. It kills me because you do—you care, and you feel exactly the way I do, and you just won’t admit it—do you know how much that sucks?”

You swallow thickly. It’s getting to that dangerous territory. That fragile, vulnerable place in your mind that you don’t like because then you have to admit that, yes, maybe you fucking fell hard and crashed onto the ground for Phainon. Asphalt and rocks still digging into your arms with raw and bleeding skin. Yes, maybe he’s that nice, kind, genuine guy who you fell for and who has no other motives than to spend his time being nice and genuine to you. And maybe, if you’d met him sooner and not later, you could have loved him and not some other asshole in disguise, pretending to parade around like a good man, like some wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Maybe that would have saved you the constant fear of it inevitably going all wrong—of giving and giving and giving, and one day, even that’s not enough, and someone doesn’t even want to take from you anymore. That one day, someone doesn’t even find you worth taking advantage of.

That stings.

It’s this twisted sort of rejection you can’t handle. This sickening sort of feeling makes you think it’s better to be needed for selfish reasons than to be discarded like a useless, meaningless waste of time. And Phainon wouldn’t take advantage of you, right? He’s too nice of a guy—he’d reel you in, make you think he wants you so, so badly, and then when he doesn’t, he’ll play that nice guy trick again and make you think he’s doing you a favor by letting you go. Letting you go so you’re not being used by making it known you’re unwanted and not enough.

As if he didn’t spend so much time making you want him. Condition you into thinking being loved by him was such a treasure. Convince you into needing the devotion he hands so easily for free.

But you’re wrong, aren’t you? Maybe he’s not like that at all—maybe he’s just a nice guy because he really is good. Maybe he’s not nice because he needs to be to get what he wants. Maybe he’s nice because he wants to be, and it earns him what he wants the honorable way. Maybe you’ve fallen for Phainon, and maybe you were wrong about that being a bad thing. And maybe you just really fucking hate to admit when you’re wrong. (Your prefrontal cortex is still developing, after all. The men of your past are not very helpful to that slow development.)

“I don’t know how I feel anymore,” you whisper, tears littering your eyes. And god, you feel like a witch—using those sad, doe eyes with the wet, teary gaze that you know will soften him up like butter. Because he does. Even if you don’t do it on purpose, it makes sure he softens right up in front of your face because he hates the sight of your sadness being so tangible that he can feel it on the pad of his thumb in the form of a wet, warm rivulet.

Like clockwork, he wipes the tears and sighs, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know how I feel about anything because every time I think my feelings are right, they’re fucking wrong,” you sob, “I am always wrong, and I don’t know how to stop being wrong.”

His arms wrap around you and pull you close, pressing your body flush against that sturdy chest that feels like a brick wall—strong enough to keep you away from all the harm and cruelty of the world around you as long as he stands in front of you. Sometimes, you think that’s all it takes. Just Phainon standing there, and that’s it. That’s it to be okay.

“You can only stop being wrong once you’re right,” he hums, giving you a sad, innocent little smile, “isn’t that the whole point of it all? To find the person who’s right? There’s gotta be a few wrong answers here and there, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to keep crying over the wrong answers,” you sniffle, “it’s dehydrating me.”

He laughs. It sounds good. It feels good, too, with the way his chest rumbles against you. He always does. Everything about him is just good. The way he smells, and feels, and sounds, and just is. Phainon is just good. You like just good—no catches, no curveballs, no fine print. Just good.

“Hey,” he tilts your face up and presses his forehead to yours, wiping your tears valiantly still, even as they keep coming. And he’s hurt. You did that—you hurt him. But he seems more focused on the fact that your heart is crumbling than his own. “I can’t promise you won’t ever cry because of me—I’m not always the brightest, okay? But I can promise that I’m going to stay and wipe every last tear if I mess up. And then I’m going to keep staying. I will always stay so I can wipe the next round of tears and hydrate you again for your troubles. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. It doesn’t have to be perfect, yeah?”

“You don’t want it to be?” you snivel, “you seem like the type to hopelessly daydream about perfect romances with not much luck.”

“I’m going to let that dig slide because you are emotional right now, and we all say things we don’t mean when we’re emotional,” he rubs your back, rocking you slowly from side to side.

And…well, you think you’re wrong. About him. About Phainon and now he’s nice in a way that’s too nice and too good to be true. You’re wrong because he’s just nice, and it’s just nice enough that it’s good, not devious—and for once, just this once, you don’t mind being wrong.

Not if it’s for him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “for being confused and scared and unable to realize I care about you. I will get some help or something to be a functioning member of society.”

“Well, when you find help, hook me up,” he snorts, “because I need it, too. You’ve done a number on me.”

You’re both laughing. And then, at some point, you’re both kissing. His lips are on yours, and yours are on his, and it’s just a mix of each other that feels less like it’s right and more like nothing about it was ever wrong in the first place. Sometimes, it doesn’t have to be right as long as it’s just not wrong. Sometimes, that’s enough to keep things going. Sometimes, they become right along the way, all on their own.

You cup his cheeks, making him pause his assault on your lips against his will as he lets out a soft noise of protest deep in his throat. You’ll fall hopelessly harder for him because of that later—first, you have more pressing matters.

“I’m serious,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I do care about you—so much that it scares me. I care about you and I promise this time I’m going to stay and keep caring. So be ready.”

“I’m ready,” he smiles, all wobbly lips and a shaky voice and trembling fingertips. They dig into your hips as his head buries into your neck, and you hold him—latch onto him and clutch his shirt because feeling him is all that ever felt good, and you don’t think you can stomach letting it go a second time. “I am so ready to be the only thing you care about.”

“Maybe not the only thing—”

“Did you hear that? That weird crack sound? That’s the sound of my heart breaking a second time. Any more, and I’ll be collecting shards off the floor.”

“C’mere loser,” you laugh, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him into a hard, deliberate kiss that knocks the wind out of both of you. It makes your stomach twist and form knots and there’s this weird tickle in your chest that feels like you’re about to implode. Phainon is so good at that—at making you feel so, so unwell but well at the same time. You’re sick and nauseous from how badly you want him, but nothing else feels right until you have him.

So you wrap your arms around him, pressing nearer, closer, harder up against him and kissing him until both of you are gasping for breath in between every press of your mouths together. Your hands find his hair, carding through it wildly and pulling on the strands when he nips at your lips, and when he groans into your mouth at a particularly harsh tug, you know it’s starting to become a scene that should not be happening at his front door where anyone can pass by.

“Inside?” he pants, pulling away for just long enough to say the word.

You kiss him hard once more, making him groan again before you decide that, yes, it probably needs to move indoors. “Inside,” you breathe, labored and unsteady, “now—now, please.”

“Whatever you want,” he chuckles, “you don’t have to beg. You always get what you want—don’t I always give it to you?”

“Then quit talking and give it to me.”

That shuts him up really fast. With a dark glint in his eyes, he pulls you in, closing the door swiftly and pressing you against it. You’re caged—nothing but him, you, and the throbbing ache between your legs that seems to be a common denominator between the two of you.

“I want you so bad,” he groans, kissing your neck, inhaling your scent along your sweet, delicate skin, “want you so bad I never want you gone. Don’t ever leave.”

“I won’t,” you gasp as he bites—and it’s a little hard. A little mean almost, but he kisses it better with a soft peck afterward that you forgive him on the spot and melt. “I won’t.”

“Good,” he hums, nose trailing along the column of your neck before he drags it along your jaw, kissing the corner of your mouth before he murmurs, “but I’ll make it hard to walk away this time just for safe measures.”

It feels like a literal and metaphorical promise. Before you can even respond to his cheekiness, he has your mouth hostage again—kissing and groaning into it enough that you have no choice but to soften and become pliant under him. You swallow up his sounds as the bulge in his pants presses against your own heat, the slow, desperate pressure of him grinding against you, making you shiver against the door.

Good—he always feels so good. Everything about Phainon is always so damn good.

“Feel that?” he croons, gasping as you roll your hips in tandem with his own movements, “feel how hard I am for you? You’re telling me anyone else will want you this bad? No one. I’m it for you. I’m not giving you up. Ever.”

His voice is a low, almost dangerous promise—and if you weren’t dripping at your core from the sound of him alone, you’d be less than inclined to admit that you like the sound of that. But you do, don’t you? You want him to want you so badly, so desperately, that the thought of letting you go makes him his own worst enemy. And he does, doesn’t he? He wants you so badly that you’re almost scared.

But you like it. Love it, even. You fucking love that he needs you, and you want him to need you so badly he might just die without you.

“Don’t,” you whisper, lifting the bottom of his shirt up to his shoulders. He lets go just long enough to pull his arms up and let you take it off of him, tossing it to the ground before your fingers run your nails along the hard plane of his abs. He shivers, letting out a soft, barely-there sound at the feeling. “Don’t let me go. Ever.”

“Whatever you want, princess,” he grins. Phainon leans in again, kissing you impatiently like being away from you for that short period of time was enough to have him on edge. Maybe it does because he only melts and relaxes when his lips are against yours again. His fingers trail to the edge of your pants, toying with the waistband as you quiver at the feeling of his rough fingertips rubbing against the skin of your belly.

“Need you,” you whine.

“You got me,” he reassures, “just wanna take my time, yeah? You can handle that, can’t you? Let me have a little fun with you so I cheer up before I fuck you right against this door?”

You whimper. He’s mean sometimes, too. He’s so, so nice, but sometimes, it’s like a switch flips, and he’s mean. Not cruel—just teasingly mean to keep you on your toes and have you falling apart for him. It’s so mean, but it’s so careful and thoughtful and meant just for you—like he thinks only about you.

“Just hold onto me, okay, baby?” he asks gently, pecking your lips, “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

Before you can even ask what that means, he drops down to his knees, spreading yours and pulling your pants and underwear down in one go, helping them off your legs as they get thrown somewhere in the back along with his shirt. You realize exactly why you need to hold on as soon as a finger prods your entrance, splitting your folds open as he peers into them and hums at the way you’re wet and slick. You gasp, grabbing onto the nearest thing—which happens to be his hair as he chuckles.

“Easy,” he murmurs, “I hardly did anything yet. But don’t worry, you can pull if you need—I don’t mind.”

Just like that, his mouth is between the apex of your thighs, tongue tracing your sweet, precious little clit before he licks a stripe along your folds, humming against your cunt and sending vibrations as you mewl at the feeling.

“Ph-Painon…fuck—”

He hooks a leg over his shoulder, letting you half sit on him as he props you up and devours you. Devours you like you were the only thing on his mind. Like he was starved and dying in this apartment, and the only thing to sustain him is you. His tongue dips past your folds and fucks into you before pulling away just as quickly and flicking over your clit. Two fingers gently prod at your entrance this time—only they don’t tease you. No, instead, they fill you up and slip into you as far as they go, curling into a sweet, sweet spot in your walls that has your knees wobbling.

You think you will fall for a moment. You think holding onto his hair and tugging him so harshly is not going to keep you steady, and the weight he takes as he props you up on a shoulder, is not going to hold you.

But he makes good on his promise. He doesn’t let you fall or slip for even a fraction, even as your legs get weaker and your orgasm draws nearer.

“‘M close, Phai—s-so close,” you whimper.

He pulls away. With a smug, stupid little grin, he looks up at you as you stare down in disbelief. “Say you care about me.”

“What is wrong with you—”

“Ah ah, that’s not what the magic words are!”

“Phainon—”

“That’s not a bad guess, but still not the right answer!”

“Fucking hell,” you hiss, “I care about you, asshole.”

“A little more aggressive than necessary, but I will accept it,” he hums, rewarding you with a soft kiss to your clit. “Now tell me you know I care about you. That I want you, and I want to stay.”

“Phainon,” you plead, “please, can’t we do this later?”

“No,” he says firmly, “because then it’s just getting physical, and I am not getting physical. I am getting intimate. Tell me what I want to hear so there’s no mistaking things.”

He’s throwing your words right back at your face. And the only way you’re going to get what you want is if you own up to them, even if it’s against your will. So you do. With an exasperated sigh, you tell him what he wants to hear.

“I know you care about me,” you say impatiently, “I know you care, and you want me, and you want to stay, and god knows you’re not good at leaving me alone, so I guess I will just have to get used to you.”

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, giving your clit one more kiss before he’s back to lapping at your cunt like he’s parched. Your slick coats his chin and makes his skin glisten as he traces your clit with his tongue, curling his fingers just right into your heat. They brush against that spot again—he has it perfectly memorized, and just like that, you fall apart, gushing around his fingers and coating his lips with even more of your essence.

“Fuck,” you sob, grinding against his face as you ride out the shockwaves of pleasure, feeling him groan against you right where you need him.

He lets you stay like that for just a moment, resting half your weight on his shoulder and half your weight on one leg before he abruptly stands and grabs your waist, hoisting you up as your legs wrap around his hips. You’ve done this before—at that point, you’d considered it just any other step to getting physical with someone.

Now, you realize you were beyond oblivious to how much you needed it to only be him you were doing all these motions with. It almost feels silly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he grins.

“What?”

“I don’t want you against the door anymore. I want you on the bed—my bed. And you’re staying there, and you’re going to like it.”

You laugh, breaking into a fit of giggles as he jogs over to his room with you in his arms. And when he drops you unceremoniously only to the bed, flopping on top of you and attacking your neck with kisses, you can’t help but break into another fit of giggles, feeling his playful nibbles and licks against your skin. It feels so easy. So natural. Only with Phainon, you realize. Only ever with Phainon.

“Hi,” you breathe when his forehead presses to yours.

He gives you a bright, toothy grin, murmuring, “Hi, yourself, pretty.”

And then he's kissing you again. His lips are soft and slow this time around. Pressing against your mouth, slotting into the space like it’s his to fit into—and it is. It’s always been his, whether you were willing to admit it or not. His tongue glides against yours languidly, no rush or impatience or desperation like usual. This time, he kisses you like you’re his and always have been—like he knows what you taste and feel like, and he knows it’s always been his and always will be. He kisses you like he’s reminding you of it, one painstakingly slow second at a time.

“You broke my fucking heart,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice raw and vulnerable but never not soft, “you know that? You broke my fucking heart.”

Your hand presses against his chest, feeling the erratic beating of it under your palm as you whisper, “Seems like it’s working perfectly well to me.”

He chuckles at that. Lets out another toothy grin before he tilts his head back and laughs. It’s cute and precious and so fucking sweet—he sounds just like what he is. Tooth rotting sweet.

“You’re always so smart with your words,” he drawls, pressing wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

One hand slowly pulls your shirt up, inch by inch, before you slowly help him take it off of you. The bra comes off next, and you’re bare—under him as nothing else but his. Nothing else that covers or keeps what’s his away from him.

And when you eye his pants with a petulant, pouty look, he chuckles before throwing you an amused look as he takes them off slowly, not taking his eyes off of you.

You and Phainon have fucked. But you’ve never been intimate—not by the real standards, at least. The proper kind where you take the time to really take in each other’s bodies, commit each dip and curve to memory, know it inside out and like the back of your hand. Where that scar starts and ends from his childhood shenanigans, where your little moles scatter along your body in hidden crevices. And when he slowly frees his cock, and you can really stare without having to tell yourself you shouldn't, you take a good look.

You take a good look at the flush of his pretty cock—pretty, just like the rest of him. A nice, soft, muted pink at the tip that oozes with the beginnings of pre cum, and it’s sensitive as it twitches under your delicate thumb when you smear the dribbling essence along the head of his cock.

“Mmh,” he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, fluttering his eyes closed and panting as you touch him. Feel him. Want him.

You finally want him, and it’s almost enough to make him spill into your hand alone. But he forces himself to composure, grabbing your hand and pinning it over your head—and then goes the other. He holds them in place with one large hand, watching as you squirm under him impatiently.

“No touching,” he whispers, “first, I’m gonna teach you not to take me for granted. Then you’ll never want to take your hands off of me.”

“If you just ask me nicely, I’ll never take my hands off of you,” you offer.

He laughs, boyish and charming and so fucking smooth, you feel something flutter at the base of your stomach. Something stirring in your guts and twisting them inside out in anticipation. “Persuasive,” he hums, “but I still have to teach you not to take me for granted.”

When the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance, your wrists struggle against his hands to break free. You need to feel him—to know he’s there against you and real. To feel his hair and tug and hear him groan in response. To scratch along his back and feel his warm, damp skin, the way he shivers under the pain and likes it. To pull him closer and feel him practically melt against you at the gesture.

You want to feel him. Because you need to know he’s yours. And you never, ever want to take for granted Phainon again. Your Phainon. The nice, sweet, gentle boy who stole your charger for a day to get your number. Who knew before you knew, long before you were ever willing to know, that he would love you. Even when you didn’t want to, he did it from a distance. And when he thought you finally would, that you’d finally let it happen, he still did it quietly, stripped of labels and titles even though he wanted to announce it to the world.

For you. Everything was always for you.

“Please, Phai,” you plead, “please, please, please—let me touch you.”

“Yeah? You want that, huh?” he grins, pretending to think for a moment before he hums, “tell me why.”

“So I can feel you and know you’re mine,” you lean up and breathe against his ear, “don’t you want to be mine?”

It’s a silly question. It’s all he’s ever wanted, so he gives it to you easily. Lets your hands go and lets them wander over his sculpted body as he sinks deeper into you—no more taking his sweet time to draw out the teasing. He’s impatient now—just as impatient as you. Maybe even more. He’s been waiting longer than you have to make this happen. To take you and make you his and have you admit that he’s yours, too.

“Fuck,” he groans as he sinks the final few inches of this thick, girthy length, “fuck you’re so fucking tight. You feel that? Feel me? How deep I am?”

“Yes,” you mewl, “yes—so deep. F-feel so full. You feel so good.”

He groans at that, pulling out almost completely before slamming his hips into yours, cock burying deep into you and burying to the hilt. The tip of his sensitive length kisses against that sweet, delicate spot against your walls—your spot that he knows and memorizes so easily.

He knows you. Knows your body. He’s felt it so many times under him and made it react for him the way he wants, but finally—fucking finally, it reacts to him and only him. He knows it’s him and only him. Only ever will be if he has anything to say about it.

“God, you drive me insane. So insane, you know that?” he grunts, rolling his hips hard and fast and drilling into you like he has something to prove. Every slam of his hips and every brush of his cock along your sensitive folds makes you pull him closer, kissing him hungrily—desperately. So needy.

You need him. You’ve always needed this—someone to want you and need you and find you worth it to stay. How could you think Phainon didn’t want to stay when he was so clearly happy with just pieces of you because you didn’t want to give the full of you? When he stayed and stayed and stayed and happily took the little shards you dropped, even if they were sharp, and cut his fingers because they were pieces of you. When he was just happy to have you whichever way you let him because it was you.

All he wanted was you. You get that now. You’re not going to forget.

“‘M close,” you pant, breathing against his mouth, “g-gonna cum. With me…with me, please.”

“Yeah? Whatever you want, princess,” he groans.

His hand moves to find your clit, rubbing quick circles as his own pace quickens, and you can feel the telltale signs that both of you are not going to last much longer. He lets out a particularly deep, sharp thrust—and you’re gone.

Plummeting off the edge in a hazy fall. You mewl his name, chanting it over and over and over as your walls constrict around him tightly. Spasm around him uncontrollably. And your fall coaxes him into his own. He falls into his release with a soft, drawn-out moan of your name, hot, thick seed filling you up through quick ropes of cum. His cock twitches with each rope, painting your insides white with him.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, “so fucking good—you were made for me. Only me. Knew…knew you were perfect for me since the first day.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him as close as he can get without physically merging into your bones. His head tucks into your neck, and you both ride out the aftershocks of your highs. You feel him breathe, and he listens to your soft breaths, and it’s just you and Phainon. Phainon and you.

It always has been.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbles tiredly after a while, sleepy words said through a petulant warning.

You chuckle, kissing his sweaty forehead as you promise, “I won’t.”

“Good. Won’t let you.”

“Good. Don’t.”

Your own eyes start to grow heavy with exhaustion, slowly fluttering closed until—

“Who’s that?” you look at him in confusion as you hear an incessant knocking on the door.

He chuckles sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “Ah,” he sighs, “right. That’s…that’s just Mydei. He’s coming to make sure I eat instead of starving to death from sadness.”

You blink, and then you throw your head back, laughing loudly. He watches you for a moment, smiling softly at the sound of you flooding his space. “You’re hopeless, Phainon.”

“Am not!”

“Go tell Mydei to leave and that you’re alive.”

“...Okay.”

Idk what this is. It’s 10k words of pure babbling and hardly a single coherent thought. I’m sorry dfksksjr this isn’t my best work but . I needed to get him out of my system

I also think writing a reader that is younger than me and navigates life and its challenges through a less mature and experienced lens was a fun project. She is not perfect but she is certainly a human who is trying her best and wants to be loved and I think that’s endearing

#phainon x reader #phainon #hsr phainon #phainon smut #phainon honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut

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celestiliall · 3 months ago

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"Down, Boy!"

cw: phainon x reader, shameless reader, phainon being a fool in love, embarrassing situation, secondhand embarrassment, mydei being the victim of the thirdwheel and tired of his friends' antics, highschool au, comedy, fluff.

note: I made this as a joke cause I was inspired by that trend on tik tok, so enjoy :3

Being on your phone 24/7 meant that you were already knowledgeable enough on how to use social media in the current era. Being on social media, meant that you would always found yourself keeping up with the latest trends, depending on how you organized your fyp.

For example, Tik Tok.

Everytime you had nothing to do, your finger would automatically pressed on the logo of the app, so that you would be able to scroll through your fyp in order to indulge yourself by watching through all kinds of videos, each of them bringing a side to one of your current interests.

Until you came across an illustrated slideshow, about two fictional characters; one of them ordering the other to get down, whilst saying "Down, boy!" And the other who was told the order, eventually following what the former said by getting down on the floor, looking up at them as if they were a dog who was trained to follow whatever its master told it to do.

You loved this kind of contents, it just bring out a funny side to the community you were in—with how everybody in the comments would say their thoughts about it and proceeded to joke around, as if this was a common thing (which it was). And it was fictional, so there wasn't anything remotely bad about it, so long as real life people don't do them.

Which begged the thought...

When you found these videos, all of them having followed the same trend of making their favorite fictional characters being paired up, you couldn't help but find yourself thinking of your boyfriend, who had been nothing but sweet and devoted to you. Sometimes, he would be too devoted, despite you not expecting him to.

Just like a golden-retriever.

Despite not wanting to think about it at first, you couldn't help but imagine how it would be like if both of you ended up being these fictional characters in the slideshow, with you telling your boyfriend, Phainon, to get down on his knees, seeing if he would actually follow what you said or not.

Just for the fun of it. Not because you had a thing of telling your boyfriend whatever you wanted him to do in order to satisfy that interesting mind of yours—oh no, that would be bad.

...But would it?

"Down, boy!" A loud and authoritative voice suddenly called out, ringing throughout the already emptied classroom. The suddenness in your tone made the two tall figures who had been busy arguing with eachother just for the sake of it—to stop and looked at you with stunned faces plastered on their expressions.

The three of you were busy cleaning the classroom after school ended since all of you had cleaning duty today. Aside from you, you were accompanied by two opposite-attracted figures who had been nothing but lousy teenagers, mostly caused by the white-haired boy, Phainon, aka your boyfriend—who wouldn't keep his mouth shut toward the strawberry-blonde haired boy, Mydei, who just wanted to get this over with and head home.

Staring at them from the side, you heaved out a quiet sigh upon their childish antics, shaking your head at the sight. So, in an effort to silenced them up for good, your mind was suddenly reminded back to the thought of that specific trend. In the midst of their increased banter, you turned your back, wondering if you should actually do it or not.

Which you shouldn't, your half-mind continued to tell you so—but the thought of doing it made you to actually reconsider, despite the humiliation that you would feel if the attempt turned out to be a failure. Not to mention, how there was a third figure who would be on the scene. Mydei.

Putting a finger under your chin, your eyes shut closed to continue considering whether or not this was the right course of action (it wasn't). But hearing how their voices started to grew louder, you ended up being swayed by your own thoughts. With a tightened grip on the broom you were holding, you turned on your heels, before screaming out the words that you had been wanting to say—specifically, to your boyfriend.

Along with your words, your unoccupied hand moved up to point a finger toward the ground, emphasizing your words to get Phainon to get down on the floor, just like how the characters in the trend did. Looking at him with a serious expression, you made sure to not turn your gaze toward Mydei in order to lessen up the humiliation that would creep up later if your attempt failed.

The room instantly fell silent with your sudden exclamation, with how both figures looked at you with bewilderment written all over their faces. Both of them wondering on what you meant and the reason on why you would do this so suddenly.

The first one to break the silence was your tough-looking friend, Mydei, who was more dumfounded than your boyfriend, looking at you with a frown surprise. "What–" He was about to ask on what you were actually doing, perplexed on why you would say something so bold all of a sudden. But then–

As if on instinct, Phainon, who was standing close to him, suddenly crouched down on the floor, both of his hands holding the broom up in order to stabilize himself. Despite not saying anything, his action received quite interesting reactions from both individuals.

Both you and Mydei were shocked to see his actual compliance, turning your heads down onto the white-haired boy who was looking up at you now, staring at you with a serious but compliance in his eyes. One feeling proud of his compliance toward your order, while the other–

"Dude... Why would you–"

"Oh my god, you actually did what I said!" Your exclamation overshadowed Mydei's words, covering your mouth with a hint of joy creeping up on your expression. "I didn't think you were actually going to do it, but...!"

Having been too excited, you ended up rambling on about the reason you decided to do this by explaining the origin of the idea, the same goofy smile you held on your lips remained fixed; completely oblivious to the actual matter you were supposed to be taking account after seeing your boyfriend doing what you actually told him to do.

Perhaps, you had already expected for him to comply, given that Phainon would always be so head over heels for you from time-to-time, if not—often.

In the midst of your continued ramblings, Mydei turned his focus back onto his white-haired friend who hadn't moved an inch from his spot on the ground, looking at him with confusion in his eyes due to his questionable behavior.

"You..." He muttered, before sighing and rubbing his face with exasperation. "Why would you actually follow what they said? You could've just said no, or just continued to be surprised like I did–" He started to protest, before his words got cut off once again—but this time, coming from Phainon's breathed chuckle.

"I couldn't help it, y'know?" He replied, tearing his gaze away from you to look up, in order to see his friend's face. "The way they said it... It's as if an invisible string had been attached onto my body." He bluffed, before laughing softly. "...making me to end up doing what they told me to do."

Despite Phainon's answer for doing what he did, it was evident from Mydei's expression that he didn't believe a single word coming from this guy's mouth. Heck, even thinking that he made absolutely no sense at all. But alas, he couldn't do anything except to let out another sigh, crossing his arms with annoyance upon both of his friends' behaviors.

Seeing his friend's reaction, Phainon laughed again, before diverting his attention back toward the person in front of him—who had been rambling non-stop on why they ended up doing what they did. The sight of his lover being excited like this, it couldn't help but make his lips curved up into another smile, albeit more sincere.

If only Mydei knew... that one of the reasons on why he ended up following what you said; was because the frown you held when you exclaimed those words to him...

It made him unable to disobey you, to disappoint you.

The furrowed eyebrows, the authoritative tone–

Everything.

Everything about you made him unable to hold himself back from surrendering to you fully, having been too enamored to question himself on why he did what he had to do.

Having been too in love with you.

Although, Phainon's sure—that if Mydei heard the actual reasons behind his compliance, the guy would definitely give him a harsh smack on the head for being so foolish, for being so hopelessly attached with you.

But, who cares? As long as it's you, he wouldn't have it any other way.

For he had made it his mission to satisfy your needs, in order to get an endearing reaction from you in return. The person he loved, until death do them part.

#phainon x reader #phainon x you #phainon #hsr phainon #phainon honkai star rail #mydei #mydei honkai star rail #hsr mydei #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x you #honkai star rail #fluff #comedy

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celestiliall · 3 months ago

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ᡣ In Another Life, May We Meet Again, But Under Better Circumstances 𐭩

Summary: The first time Phainon spotted you in Okhema, he had thought that you were an interesting person. He didn't approach you or anything, just watching you from afar everytime he went on a stroll around the market. As time passed, these simple moments became something more, when the white-haired man realized that he had fallen in love with you, a ghost wandering in this world. So in an effort to get to know you better, he decided to talk with you for the first time– that would one day be the moment where fate brought the two of you together, but would also separate you both in the end. (wc: 3.4k)

cw: touch-starved f.reader, lovesick phainon, love confession, reader falling for him but not realizing it, angst, romance, gentle love, bittersweet ending, "dangerously yours" quote mentioned at the end.

Note: requested by @fianur I know it's supposed to be fluff, but I can't help but also want to insert some angst cause of the potential for this trope.. sorry! (Hope u don't mind tho) Enjoy:3

Ever since Phainon met you, a ghost wandering in the midst of the bustling streets of Okhema, seeming to be lost in your own thoughts, he knew that his fate would already be sealed; the moment it brought the two of you together.

Despite already experiencing the taste of the afterlife, your soul remained fixed on the outside world, walking amongst the living people; albeit, secretly. He would see how you would observe bystanders when they walked around the streets, having been finished with their own activities in order to spend the whole day.

He would notice how your gaze would stay glued onto these people, a hint of longing etched into your eyes, despite them looking empty most of the times. It was as if you had the hidden desire to join them, to actually walk among them... Instead of hiding yourself from them behind layers of wall, not wanting to be seen by anyone.

But, he noticed you. He had always been.

From the moment the white-haired man came to Okhema to fill in his role as a Crysos Heir, he had always been keeping an eye on you. Not to be wary of you—but to understand you. To notice that, despite already been embraced by Thanatos' touch, your lingering presence was proof enough that someone like you still continued to exist in this world; not just as a spirit, but as a person—who longed for the presence of others, who longed for the touches of others, despite knowing that they wouldn't be able to afford to give you one, given that you no longer had a physical form for them to touch anymore.

But even so, your soul continued to cling onto the sheerest of hope that someone, anyone, would be able to give you what you desired most. Even if you had to wait for an eternity for it to happen.

Knowing that, he couldn't help but want to fill in that role. Not to indulge in himself, but to make those empty but longing eyes that he had long since been keeping a watchful eye on from a distance—to share and give bits of light in them too, in order to make the woman he noticed be happy.

In order to make the woman he fell in love with; be happy.

Walking passed by the people in the market, his steps were overshadowed by their owns. Their voices ringing throughout all of Okhema, relishing in the bustling streets as per usual.

Nonetheless, Phainon continued to take small steps, taking his time in order to reach his destination. His face remained calm, before turning into a corner—where most citizens would hardly passed by.

A perfect spot to hide oneself, as his aquamarine eyes spotted a familiar figure being alone, as always. Her body crouched down, attention glued onto the ground, using a wooden stick to draw whatever images passed by her mind in order to distract herself from the pain of being left all alone—in a world where everyone else were still able to live in. But not for her anymore.

Not for you anymore.

Due to being used of not being seen by anyone, you didn't even hear the sound of footsteps coming from an unfamiliar figure standing from a distance, watching you from behind as you continued to distract yourself. Even if you did, you would assumed that the person wouldn't be able to see you, and walked passed by you without a care in the world to what they just walked in on.

Seeing you like this, Phainon couldn't help but feel even more pitiful for your situation—but also determination, on being able to change your fate to something better. So, with a composed manner, his feet started to move, approaching you slowly, not wanting for you to be frightened by his presence.

Stopping just a few feet away from you, his head turned to look down, his attention being drawn toward the drawings you made on the ground. Admiring them for a moment, his mouth then opened, bending down slightly with his palms pressed on his ankles.

"I see that you have quite the skill in performing arts. Were you, perhaps, an artist in your previous life?" He inquired, keeping his tone light and casual, making sure that his presence wouldn't be seen as a threat to the distracted woman, doing anything he could in order for your reaction to be less undesirable for the both of them.

But no matter how the man attempted to make light of the situation, he didn't fail to notice the sudden pause in your action upon hearing his question, freezing for a good moment—as if trying to figure out whether or not the person you heard that question from was talking to someone else, or you.

A few seconds passed by as silence stretched between them, giving the air of the surrounding a rather chilling atmosphere—in your eyes, atleast. Slowly, you turned your head to look behind, still clinging onto the faintest of hope that the person you heard was actually talking to someone else, and you were just being panicked for nothing.

But, looking up from the ground due to your crouching position, your eyes caught the glimpse of two pair of aquamarine eyes from a white-haired man, his gaze strangely warm—if it wasn't for the fact that he was looking at you, when nobody should've been able to. And even if somebody could, you wouldn't allow for them to actually be able to spot you that easily.

In the midst of the continued stretching silence, Phainon continued to focus on nothing else but you. Not toward the ground, not toward the other corner where the other exit was supposed to be—but you.

He was looking at you, specifically.

At that moment, your mind finally reached an understanding of what was going on, despite the situation being so sudden. Your gaze remained wide open, not being able to hide your surprise from slipping through your face, couldn't believe that any of this was actually happening. Out of instinct, your fists gripped nervously onto the fabric of your clothes, a rush of adrenaline creeping inside of you.

Despite how surprised you looked, taking note of your gripping hands, Phainon didn't take your reaction into heart, already expecting that you would react to something like this. Instead, a stark contrast to your own, his eyes softened when he was finally met with the pair of eyes that he deemed empty when noticing them from a distance in the past at first—but ended up noticing the hint of yearning from them the more he looked into them, as you remained isolated from everybody else, due to your state.

The only difference was—those pair of orbs were now looking at him for the first time. After every mild observations he did in order to study you a bit better, even by only doing it from a far distance, they were now finally looking into his own set of ones. He would no longer have to imagine how it would feel if those pair of eyes would look at him anymore–

For he had already achieved his wish, right at this moment. And he would be able to experience it over and over again in the near future. If you would let him, that is.

Beautiful, he thought to himself. His smile widening a bit upon admiring your physical features more. Even though your skin looked paler than the others, and most likely cold if he could touch your hands, given that you had already died—he still looked at you as if these features were a normal thing, and not the other way around.

And through the rush of adrenaline clinging onto your form, you couldn't help but to also feel the slightest hint of warmth, upon noticing how this man's gaze looked uncharacteristically gentle, along with his charming smile; despite only encountering him now. You failed to notice whether or not his gentle expression hid a hint of malice behind it, only being able to see the pureness plastered on his face.

Weird.

Who was this person?

A few months had gone by from your first encounter with him, like a lullaby gently lulling an infant to sleep. Now, Phainon had become someone who was a main importance in your daily life. When you found out that he could actually see you, you made sure to distanced yourself from him at first, not wanting to get involved with anything. Not to mention, how he was actually a member of the renowned Crysos Heir.

Perhaps, that was one of the reasons on why he was able to see you, without you needing to show yourself willingly.

Even when Phainon made sure to hold a casual conversation with you everytime he's got the chance, wanting to get closer to you, you remained firm in your judgement. Despite having the hidden desire to be able to get in touch with someone who was still in the realm of the living for awhile, but with the way this white-haired man kept approaching you whenever he spotted you in a corner, sometimes acting more like someone who's head over heels for you, rather than a simple friend—

You knew that you would have to do something in order to stay away from him, and to also make him lose interest in you.

Because, if your deduction turned out to be correct, then one day, he would most likely confessed his feelings to you, hoping that you would accept. As if forgetting that the whole reason on why you were still able to wander in this world—was because you were a wandering spirit. Nothing more, nothing less.

A fleeting shadow of what you were once was, soon to fade away when your time in this world finally reached its climax. When that time comes, you knew that you would have to say goodbye to this world once again, albeit forever. So, with a man who wanted nothing more than to express his innocent love for you, in the hopes of being reciprocated by the end—you knew that you would have to make a move, in order to not end up upsetting the poor man in the end.

Because, you couldn't bear to hurt the man in front of you. Instead of letting him be closer toward you, increasing his level of affection in the process, that would one day be pointless on the day when your footsteps would take one final step away from the world, ceasing to exist anymore in this realm of the living you had grown attached to—you would rather choose to prevent that from happening, by never letting him do them in the first place.

So, with your biggest efforts, the first thing you did when he started to approach you more was to disappear from his sight. He spotted you in the corner? You'd disappear. He approached you in order to strike up a conversation? You'd disappear. He searched for you in hopes of making you to go easy on him? You'd disappear. Even when he only just took one step toward you, your form would instantly vanished, as if you had never been there in the first place.

Due to how constant these moments were, you were more than confident that your plan to make him lose interest on chasing you would work. Just needing to wait for the perfect moment where this plan would reach a fascinating result, and by that moment, you would be able to rid yourself off of the unshakeable feeling that had been gnawing inside your heart, from the moment his aquamarine eyes set on you for the first time in that fated encounter.

That was how you were supposed to be until the end, but...

Your heart couldn't help but fluttered everytime his attention would be focused on you, even though you had attempted to avoid him at any cost. Even through your mask of indifference, Phainon had never let your actions to persuade him into stopping, for he had already been so in love with you—to the point of no returning back.

So, when he noticed you becoming more and more opened up toward him, albeit even just a little—he knew that he had won in this little game of cat and mouse. Seeing you starting to give him short answers upon his questions, his heart would also leaped at the sight of your bashful expression that you so hardly attempted to conceal by avoiding his gaze with a small frown, attempting so hard to remain indifferent, but failing miserably.

He had known of your unfamiliarity toward being vulnerable, even without you telling him that. So, seeing you acting like this made his hands to clench at his sides—resisting the urge to just grab ahold of your face, so that he would be able to admire your radiant face up close. If only he could do that, his mind continued to tell him so.

But, he knew he couldn't. Not because of waiting for your permission, but knowing that you no longer had a physical form that he could touch anymore. And that was the worst thing to ever come in-between you two, because both of you yearned to feel the innocent touches of eachother, albeit secretly. He had to accept this, whether he wanted to or not.

But, of course, there was one more thing that was even worse than this. That would leave one of them, if not, the both of them to feel that they had been separated from eachother already, even though it hasn't happened yet.

But he knew that he would still have to try, regardless, in order to get his feelings out one way or another. In order for the both of you to finally let yourselves out of your cages after so long.

And that, was what he intended to do next.

"...I love you, (Name)." His voice was warm upon saying these simple but life-changing words, with a hint of hopefulness that the person who received this would be able to reciprocate back. His smile never wavering even after expressing his pent-up feelings that he had been harboring for you, wanting to be especially composed for this important occasion.

Despite knowing that this would happen someday, your eyes still widened upon hearing his confession, full of conviction and devotion for you. No hint of hesitation was found, not with the way he said these words with a tender smile he would use everytime his eyes would set on you, but more loving, and... Genuine.

A moment of silence lingered after that, one where the both of them couldn't help but feel nervous. One being nervous of the other's response, while the other...

Lips pressed into a thin line, your hands clenched by your sides, before looking down with a hint of vulnerability plastered on your face, one that made the man in front of you couldn't help but to widen his eyes upon noticing it, his smile finally wavering.

He was used to seeing you being indifferent all the time. So, seeing you like this without attempting to mask your genuine feeling for the first time was...

"...You do realize that I'm still a ghost, regardless... Right?" Your murmured words finally broke the silence that had been stretching in the air for awhile, making Phainon's breath to hitch. "Just a wandering spirit walking in this realm of the living." You continued, before looking up, albeit hesitant. "...One where I would fade away when the time comes, eventually."

"I..." Taking in your words, Phainon felt his mind going blank for a good moment. His lips parted, struggling on what to say to that. He knew of your situation. He knew of your eventual departure from this world in the near future. He knew... And yet—

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a step closer toward you, his expression replaced with a hint of a fiery determination in his eyes. "...Even so, that doesn't mean that I will let you, nor myself, to walk away from this path. Not like this." He murmured, his tone taking a serious turn, continuing to look at you with longing in his eyes.

"I love you, (Name)." He repeated it again for you, head lowering down. "...I have always been." He whispered, fists clenched weakly by his sides, making you to can't help but widened your eyes again, looking up from the ground to meet his eyes that you had grown accustomed to. Noticing your attention back on him, his head turned up to meet yours. "I know that you are just a wandering spirit now– but to me?" He approached again, continuing. "To me, you are more than that. To me, you are still a person. The person who I've grown a liking toward– No, the woman who I've grown attached to be by her side with."

His eyes twitched, desperation evident behind his attempted confidence, his lips almost wavering. "The woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with." He added once again, before ending his sentence with a final confession.

"...The (Name) that I love—to the point of no returning back." He murmured, reaching out to take ahold of your face, but stopped when he remembered that you no longer have a physical form for him to touch. Even so, his hand stayed close to your cheek, trembling slightly, wanting so desperately to just cradle your face for the first time. Even for a moment.

You couldn't bear to see his expression upon this moment, knowing that he was fighting the urge to just touch you.

After a few seconds, his hand finally moved to rest by his side again, his attention focused on the ground. "I'm aware of your situation, I do..." He murmured, eyebrows furrowing. "But that doesn't mean I will just walk away– not being able to tell you of my harboring feelings for you. Not like this." He stated, feeling like he was convincing himself, rather than you. Regardless, his eyes widened, before looking up at you with full conviction. The gaze in his eyes telling you that he wasn't about to hold back.

"Not when the woman I love is standing right in front of me." He announced, his words carrying no hint of reluctance, nor any false truth. He had never been. Your heart sank at his words, but there was also a hint of bliss creeping in your chest, from the moment he uttered these words.

As if you were glad that he was willing to tell you all of this. To be able to tell you this, with no intentions of backing down.

After another moment of silence, the tension was broken with the sound of a breathed chuckle. Not coming from the white-haired man who had let out all of his pent-up feelings for you. No. It came from you.

"...You're a fool, Phainon." You remarked, closing your eyes to turn your head down, shaking your head with a strained smile. Despite telling such harsh words, your tone didn't hold any irritation, just amusement. Admittedly, you couldn't help but revelled at this side of him.

At first, Phainon froze upon hearing your sudden remark, feeling like he had just done something wrong by upsetting you. But when he spotted the strained smile your face held, with the sound of a hidden amusement coming from your words, he knew that it wasn't the case. So, with a followed-up chuckle, he tilted his head, looking at you with both adoration and fondness, before closing his eyes with another smile.

"Haha.. But isn't any man who falls in love are?" He replied, taking this chance to joke around for a bit.

Your breathed chuckle came to a halt, your eyes widening upon hearing his words. Not long after, your smile widened too. This time, more genuine. More loving. Adoration evident in your eyes, couldn't help but to look at the man in front of you again, but with a difference than your previous judgement. No, there weren't any differences in both of your judgements from the start.

You were just unwilling to disclose them, in the hopes of not hurting the poor man in the end. In the hopes of not hurting the both of you in the end.

He was right. Everything he said was right.

And you were no exception.

masterlist (feel free to request)

#phainon x reader #phainon #hsr phainon #phainon honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x you #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #phainon x you #angst #romance #doomed by the narrative

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