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keeweesauce · 8 days ago

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IM ALSO IN PHAINON BRAINROT ERA SO IM INFECTING YOU INSTEAD BZZTTT. ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

okay hear me out, reader hand makes phainon matching bracelets for him and them to wear. the bracelet is sun and moon themed with phainon being the sun and reader being the moon.

and phainon is over the moon (aha get it) when you gift it to him. he never takes it off and boasts to it to everyone like, "look at this gorgeous bracelet my (not yet) partner made for me!!"

basically insane mutual pining for both sides >_< 🤍 I LOVE UR WORK SO MUCH AUGHHHH

SUN AND MOON

pairing phainon x gender neutral reader

phainon has always been the sun—bright, untouchable, dazzling everyone in his orbit. but when you gift him a handmade bracelet (a moon to his sun, a silent confession woven in thread), he realizes for the first time what it’s like to burn. (they never teach you how to survive being loved by the moon.)

author's note hahahah thank you so much for requesting this, sugar!! you have no idea how happy it made me—for the past few days, i’ve been absolutely itching to write more for phainon, but you know how it goes. my brain goes flatline with ideas, i start five different drafts, then end up staring at them like "….no. this isn’t it." and boom! into the void they go. (why am i like this??)

but then your request came along, and suddenly, the words just flowed. something about phainon being ridiculously soft over matching bracelets? him showing it off to literally anyone who glances his way? the mutual pining?? ohhh, you get me. this was so fun to write, and i might’ve fallen even harder for him while working on it. (oops.)

seriously, thank you so much for showing love ever since my first phainon one-shot—it means the world to me that you enjoy my silly little words. i hope you enjoy this one-shot! <3

phainon isn’t used to gifts—real ones, the kind that settle heavy in his palms and heavier still in his chest. sure, he’s been given things before: finely crafted trinkets from fellow chrysos heirs (polished to perfection, yet sometimes feeling more like obligation than affection), or tokens from citizens (bright-eyed and hopeful, their admiration sweet but fleeting).

he treasures them all, of course—presses each one carefully into memory with a practiced smile and a graceful bow, makes sure to wear each offering like a badge of honor, even if just for a day. but they’ve never stuck. never settled under his ribs like a second heartbeat.

but this? this is different.

it had been an ordinary day—wake, bathe, dress, endure the endless cycle of duties that came with being a chrysos heir. not that he’d ever complain; he’d carved his purpose into his bones long ago, and no amount of monotony could dull that resolve. but sometimes, the weight of it all made the hours drag like lead.

lately, though, the fatigue had eased. ever since you and your companions fell from the sky (quite literally), amphoreus had felt… lighter. brighter. and you—oh, you were something else entirely. a whirlwind of kindness, slipping into his life like sunlight through cathedral glass.

you helped without being asked, whether it was hauling crates for merchants or standing back-to-back with him in battle, your laughter ringing sharp and bright over the clash of steel.

when the weight of his duty pressed too heavy on his shoulders, you'd bump against him with a grin, tossing out some ridiculous joke about "heirs and graces" or calling him "your deliverance" in that terribly formal voice you only used to mock greedy nobility. it should've been annoying. instead, phainon found himself playing along, flourishing a dramatic bow or clutching his chest like you'd wounded him, just to hear that startled chuckle of yours.

and that was the thing—you matched him. not just in battle (though the way you moved together made his pulse race), but in the quiet moments too. when he'd sigh over paperwork, you'd slide a cup of tea across the table, the exact way he liked it. when he muttered some sarcastic remark under his breath, you'd catch it and volley back something even sharper, your eyes sparkling with mischief. for the first time, phainon didn't have to be the chrysos heir or the flawless deliverer. he could just be... himself.

phainon doesn't know when it happened—doesn't remember the exact moment you slipped past all his carefully maintained boundaries and became as constant as his own heartbeat.

maybe it was when you first fell asleep on his couch, boots still caked with amphoreus dirt and one arm dangling off the edge like a knocked-over puppet, snoring softly with your mouth slightly open. phainon had meant to wake you—really, he had—but the way golden hour light caught in your lashes made something in his ribs squeeze too tight. he'd just... draped a blanket over you instead (and maybe lingered a second too long tucking it around your shoulders).

or maybe it was the notes. those ridiculous little scraps of paper you'd leave everywhere—stuck to his coffee cup with "DRINK ME :D" in your neat handwriting, the smiley face lopsided like it had been drawn in a hurry. phainon would sigh, rolling his eyes with all the theatrical flair of a stage actor, but his fingers would trace the edges of the paper anyway.

he'd keep it stuck to the cup for days, carefully peeling it off before washing and pressing it back on when dry, until the ink blurred from condensation and the corners curled beyond saving. the morning he woke to find it finally disintegrated, he stared at the blank ceramic with a pathetic pout for a full minute before making his coffee, and if it tasted more bitter than usual—well. that was between him and his pathetic heart.

somehow, you'd become part of his daily rhythm—greeting him with sleep-soft smiles in the morning, filling his too-quiet kitchen with off-key humming as you burned your eggs (every. single. time.), draping yourself dramatically across his desk when paperwork piled too high just to make him laugh. he'd hosted other chrysos heirs before, of course, but they never stayed long—too put off by his careless clutter or his habit of singing terrible ballads while bathing.

(aglaea stayed. but phainon will have to think twice before inviting her again. she had accidentally seen the insides of his closet and... phainon shudders when he thought of what happened after that.)

but you? you fit. like sunlight through his stained-glass windows, you colored everything brighter without trying. you didn't just share his space—you made it feel like home for the first time, with your terrible jokes echoing down the halls and your warm hands always finding ways to brush against his, casual as anything. phainon should've been unsettled by how easily you'd carved out a place beside him. instead, he found himself leaning into your gravity, helpless as a moth to flame.

and now here you were, scuffing your boot against the cobblestones, one hand nervously scratching the back of your neck—that telltale habit he’d memorized. your other hand clutched something small, held out like a secret. "i made you something," you murmured, voice feather-soft, as if the words might dissolve if spoken too loud.

his head tilts just a fraction too far to the right, the way it always does when he's trying (and failing) to play casual. "oh?" the word comes out airier than he intended, voice skipping up an octave on that single syllable. "for me?" there's that familiar teasing lilt, but his fingers have started drumming against his thigh—a nervous staccato rhythm that betrays how his chest has gone suspiciously tight.

he slings a hand onto his hip, the picture of effortless grace if you ignore how his other hand keeps flexing like he's physically stopping himself from reaching out. it takes every ounce of self-control not to sink to his knees right there in the dirt, not to cradle whatever you're offering like sacred relics.

when he says "partner, you shouldn't have," it comes out half-breathless, the end curling upward with barely-contained delight despite the way he's mentally kicking himself.

gods, he sounds like some starstruck recruit receiving their first medal, not a seasoned chrysos heir being handed—what, a trinket? a scrap of fabric? it doesn't matter. you touched it. that alone makes it priceless.

you nod, unfolding your palm to reveal two bracelets—one adorned with a golden sun charm, the other with a silver crescent moon. the beads are carefully strung, alternating between warm amber and cool blues, like the sky at dusk. "this one’s yours," you say, lifting the sun bracelet. "and this one’s mine."

phainon’s breath catches.

he’s not sure what to say. for once, the ever-eloquent, ever-charming man is speechless. his fingers tremble slightly as he takes the bracelet from you, turning it over in his hands like it’s something sacred. "you… made this?"

"yeah." your laugh flutters like a moth around candlelight, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. "i thought—well. you’re like the sun, y’know?" the words come out soft, almost apologetic, as you gesture vaguely toward the sky. "all… bright and warm. and i’m…" your thumb brushes the moon charm on your own wrist, a self-deprecating little smile tugging at your lips. "not. so. moon." you shrug, like it’s an afterthought, like you haven’t just pressed the universe—a piece of your heart—into his palms with trembling hands.

phainon’s breath stutters. the bracelet is cool against his skin, but it burns where it touches, branding him with the weight of your quiet confession. his fingers curl around it—around you—and when he looks up, his expression cracks open like dawn over a battlefield: devastating in its naked awe.

he wants to press a thousand promises into your palms in return, wants to carve open his ribs and show you how you’ve taken root between them. but nothing in his vaults could equal this.

nothing exists that could equal this. so he does the only thing he can—he gives you the shattered, gasping thing that used to be his heart, wholly and without condition.

because you’re wrong. so terribly, beautifully wrong. if you’re the moon, then you’re the kind that pulls tides, that guides lost travelers home, that spins the very world on its axis.

and phainon? he’s just a speck of stardust caught in your orbit, content to burn up in your glow if it means he can linger here, just a little longer, in the light of a love he’s done nothing to deserve.

phainon’s throat feels dry.

he doesn't even pretend to hesitate. the bracelet is on his wrist before you can blink, he holds it up to the light with wide, shining eyes, turning his wrist this way and that as if checking how the sun catches on the beads—if he had a tail then it might as well be wagging hard enough to knock over furniture. (it is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. after you, of course.)

"it's perfect," he breathes, voice gone all soft and wonder-filled. then his grin goes lopsided, the kind of giddy that makes his nose scrunch adorably—like he's trying and failing to play it cool. "i'm never taking it off. like, ever-ever. try and stop me."

"wow, never?" you tease, rocking back on your heels, hands flying up in mock surrender. "i don't think i quite believe you—" you reach out like you're going to snatch it back, laughing when he yanks his wrist to his chest with an overdramatic gasp. "what if i made you a better one? with, i don't know... actual craftsmanship next time?"

"nope!" he chirps, cradling the bracelet protectively. "this one's mine now. it's already imprinted on me. like a baby duck. or a uhh... really clingy barnacle." he's beaming so hard it looks like it hurts, all bright eyes and delighted crinkles at their corners.

"okay okay!" you yelp, laughter bubbling up as you shove at his shoulder, face burning. "dramatic much? fine, keep your tacky sun charm." but your eyes keep darting to his wrist, shining with something unbearably fond.

phainon had already made up his mind the moment those beads slid onto his wrist—this bracelet would become part of him, as permanent as his own pulse. but seeing you now, all flustered giggles and sparkling eyes, your fingers nervously brushing against your matching moon charm like you still can't believe he actually wears it? oh. oh no. now it's not just a promise, it's a sacred vow carved into his bones.

(he imagines archaeologists finding his skeleton centuries later, still clutching these sun-faded beads, and thinks: good.)

and he doesn't.

not when training leaves it smudged with dirt. not when bathwater turns the threads dark and heavy. not even when (as predicted) you knock an entire cup of hot chocolate onto it during dinner, your horrified apologies dissolving into laughs as he proudly declares the new stains "part of its charm."

the bracelet stays, as constant as his heartbeat—and just as irreplaceable. even when he's elbow-deep in his duties, the sun charm gleaming amidst all the gold and finery like a little declaration: i'm loved. see? someone chose me.

he catches himself staring at it often, thumb brushing over the sun charm absently, his chest swelling with something unbearably fond.

(and if he sometimes, in his most private moments, presses his nose to the beads just to see if they still smell like you—well. that's between him and the bracelet.)

૮ฅ・ﻌ・აฅ

"i wonder what's got our esteemed deliverer looking like he won the jackpot," dan heng murmurs, watching as phainon practically bounces between unimpressed merchants, shoving his wrist in their faces with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever presenting its favorite stick.

trailblazer leans against a nearby crate, squinting at the scene. "maybe he found a really good product to add to his skincare routine? dude's been glowing brighter than the amphoreus sun lately." they pause, then gasp dramatically. "or! or maybe he did win the lottery—"

"he owns three properties, perhaps even more," dan heng deadpans, not looking up from his scroll. "somehow i doubt earning a ton of money is the cause of... whatever this is." he gestures vaguely at phainon, who's now twirling in place to better showcase his wrist to a very confused fruit vendor.

trailblazer's boots scrape against cobblestones as they spring up with all the subtlety of a fireworks display. "well there's one way to find out!" they announce, already striding forward before dan heng can grab their collar. "hey phainon, what's got you all—mmph!"

an armoured hand clamps over their mouth mid-sentence, yanking them backward so abruptly their feet briefly leave the ground. mydei hauls them behind a market stall with the efficiency of someone used to containing disasters, his composure barely masking the slight panic and irritation in his eyes.

"must you always," he hisses through gritted teeth, "invite chaos directly into our lives? do you seriously want that fool to saunter over here and ramble about some stupid bracelet?"

dan heng materializes beside the struggling trailblazer like a particularly done-with-this-nonsense shadow. "bracelet?" he asks, one eyebrow climbing toward his hairline as his gaze flicks between mydei and the distant, still-gushing phainon.

mydei exhales like a man carrying the weight of the entire holy city, dragging a hand down his face in that particular way someone does when questioning all their life choices. he puts a full two steps between himself and trailblazer before crossing his arms with enough force to make his biceps bulge.

"that absolute fool," he mutters, watching phainon practically glow as he shoves his wrist under some poor spice merchant's nose. the sunlight catches on the beads—a sun charm dangling proudly amidst the threads. "has been showing off that damn bracelet that your companion made for him. even i've had enough of him rambling about it for hours, even during our training."

dan heng's lips quirk up just a fraction. "so that's what's been happening." his mind wandering back to you acting nervous and jittery as you tried to quietly hype yourself up and practicing what to say when you finally handed the gift to phainon. "i wondered why they'd been practicing knotwork at three in the morning last week."

"jealousy doesn't suit you, your highness," trailblazer sing-songs, wisely keeping dan heng between themselves and mydei's wrath. "we could put in a special order for you—maybe a little crown charm? though it might clash with your whole 'disapproving aura' thing you've got going—"

the temperature seems to raise several degrees as mydei's glare could melt steel. "i'd rather wear a live scorpion."

"hmm. as i thought," dan heng murmurs, watching phainon literally skip to the next stall. "though i suppose we should be grateful. this is marginally less disruptive than when he tried to serenade the entire market square last week in an attempt to calm the people protesting."

mydei huffs through his nose, the sound of a man who's given up on dignity entirely. "i suppose it could be worse," he concedes, watching phainon practically dance between market stalls like a puppy who's been given a new toy.

all three of them wear identical expressions—the particular mix of fondness and suffering reserved for people who are practically prone to disasters a little too much.

and oh, what a disaster he is.

"look at this," phainon declares to a very confused flower vendor, shoving his wrist forward with the reverence of someone displaying holy relics.

the sun charm catches the light as it spins, throwing little golden dots across his grinning face. "my partner—well, not yet, but—they made this! see how the beads catch the light just so? and the stitching here—" his finger traces the threads with absurd tenderness, "—they must've redone this part at least three times to get it perfect. for me. can you believe that?"

the word partner sits heavy on his tongue, sweet as stolen honey. it's ridiculous, really—he'd called you that for weeks as a joke, a placeholder, something to tease you with when you got flustered.

now it burns in his chest like a brand, too big and too true. he wants to say it properly, wants to press the word into your palms like an offering: partner not as comrades or companions, but as two celestial bodies caught in each other's orbit, inevitable as dawn.

phainon tucks the moment away like a pressed flower between parchment—precious, fragile, waiting. for now, he'll cradle this gift of yours against his pulse, let it warm him from the inside out. but soon. oh, soon.

he'll learn the exact way you take your coffee (two sugars, stirred clockwise). he'll memorize every nervous habit—how you chew your lip when concentrating, how your fingers flutter when lying.

he'll collect all the quiet, ordinary miracles of you until he can craft something worthy in return. not grand gestures or gold-lined promises, but something true. something that says i see you as clearly as you've always seen him.

one day, he'll work up the courage to slide a matching ring beside that moon bracelet. one day, he'll say "partner" and mean it in every sense that matters. one day, he'll kiss the calluses on your fingers from all that careful knot-tying and whisper "my turn" against your palms.

but for now? for now he lingers by the marble archway, content to watch you tumble through the garden with a pack of overexcited chimeras. your laughter rings clearer than a fountain's chime as a baby chimera pounces on your sleeve, its wings flapping wildly while you pretend to lose balance.

"oh nooo," you drawl, collapsing dramatically into the patch of grass as three more creatures come barreling into the pile, "i've been defeated by the mighty lord fluffkins!"

sunlight filters through the jasmine vines, painting dappled gold across your smile—the same gold that now lives permanently around his wrist. one of the smaller chimeras tries to nibble at your bracelet, and your resulting gasp of betrayal is so theatrical it sends phainon's heart into somersaults.

he leans against the pillar, content to memorize this: how your nose scrunches when a chimera licks your cheek, how your fingers move with such gentle certainty through tangled fur, how effortlessly you love things. the realization settles warm in his chest—he could wait forever if it meant seeing you this happy.

after all, the sun has all the patience in the world when it comes to the moon.

you, meanwhile, wear your bracelet like a secret victory, fingers constantly finding their way to the moon charm—not to hide it anymore, but just to feel the weight of it against your skin.

sure, you still get flustered when phainon catches you admiring it, but now there's a new boldness in how you let it catch the light during conversations, how you "accidentally" brush your wrist against his whenever you walk side by side.

sometimes you catch his gaze lingering on it during strategy sessions, and instead of looking away, you'll flick or turn your wrist just to make the beads shimmer. the way his breath hitches is worth every bit of embarrassment.

other times, when he's busy showing off his to some poor, trapped merchant for the fifteenth time that day, you'll lean against his shoulder and chime in with, "how'd you know it took me three tries to get the knotting right?" just to watch his entire face light up like you've hung the stars yourself.

it's silly, really. just woven thread and cheap metal. but when the sunlight hits them just right, turning both charms into mirror images of each other? well. phainon would battle a thousand enemies before letting anything happen to these silly little bracelets.

what absolutely wrecks phainon—what sends his pulse skittering like a startled rabbit—is catching those quiet moments when you think no one sees. the absentminded way your thumb rubs across the moon charm while you're lost in thought, wearing that soft little smile usually reserved for sunrise viewings and particularly fluffy chimeras. the way your gaze drifts from his face to his wrist during conversations, your lips quirking like you're sharing a secret with yourself.

it drives him insane.

he wants to kiss you. he wants to whisper against your temple all the words that clot in his throat—how you make ordinary moments feel sacred, how he treasures every scar and freckle like constellations only he gets to map.

but for now, he collects these fragments like prayer beads: the way you absentmindedly touch your bracelet when you hear his voice, how you lean into his space when explaining its design to curious townsfolk, your shoulder warm against his arm. how sometimes, when you think he's not looking, you press the moon charm to your lips like it's a secret promise.

for the way the sun and moon orbit each other, always close, never quite touching.

(not yet.)

this was such a joy to write—thank you so much for the lovely request, sugar! there’s something so tender about phainon, this larger-than-life figure, being completely undone by something as simple as a handmade gift. the idea of him treasuring it, showing it off to anyone who’ll listen (and even those who won’t), lives in my mind rent-free. i like to think he’s the type to hold onto little things like this, to press them close to his heart like they’re something sacred. and of course, reader matching his energy—quietly proud, just as smitten, but a little more subtle about it—was the perfect dynamic to play with. i lowkey would've been showing it off too. trailblazer and dan heng would NOT be able to catch a break LOLOL thank you for reading this, and as always, please feel free to reblog and share your thoughts!

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keeweesauce · 9 days ago

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you think you're just volunteering at a shelter and helping some pups prepare for adoption—hybrid phainon thinks you're his mate for life.

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keeweesauce · 11 days ago

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AITA: I Kidnapped My Childhood Crush and Got Her Pregnant!

Summary: You run from Caleb after being kidnapped for a year. He finds out and brings you right back.

Content Warning: Drugging, Past Somnophilia, DubCon, Breeding, condescending caleb, mocking, mirror sex, manhandling, Yandere caleb, kidnapping, pussy eating, overstim, Rough sex, intimidation tactics, manipulation, Big Dick Caleb, mouth covering, you’re lwk a sick freak in this too…hair tugging, Uniform sex, slight hate sex…? Threats of humiliation, Threats in general he’s crazy, obsessive behavior, power imbalance? He’s a government worker so..

A/N: Also on ao3 yay

Caleb was a man of control, whether or not he was controlling himself or others- he was always in control. This did not stop. Even for you. If anything- it doubled. Everything had his input whether you liked it or not, as any good boyfriend would. You liked to gripe and whine that he was nothing of the sort, and you were ‘not dating his crazy ass’, but– you didn’t know anything, nor did you know what was good for you. You couldn't even lock your windows properly to keep strangers out. Not that he’s a stranger, besides- he would have gotten in anyway.

This really sets the scene for how upset he was at you. Just plain unhappy, how could you be so stupid? Going out without explicit say so from him, god you’re so ungrateful.

He walked down the halls with a mission, the same air of authority he always had. Maybe the uniform made him seem like you just had to listen to him- Obey. His subordinates, at least the ones you’d seen that day, seemed too rigid- too fearful, to be anything but practiced..-Learned obedience. Obedience bred by fear was something he swore by when it came to his work. Maybe it was time to apply it to you too.

His footfalls were heavy, hard to miss, impossible to ignore. Maybe that’s what the sense of foreboding was in your dreams, it’s too foggy to tell.

Caleb turned the knob and opened it to a crack. No sounds, lights off. Ah, so you’re still sleeping. Poor you, so sleepy, so tired after a day of disobeying any rule he set.

But, it’s not like he could be entirely too mad that you took the bait. Yea, sure— he set you up. He just wanted to see if you’d be desperate enough to think he’d be so stupid as to lighten up his security measures. The cameras that were way too obvious being turned off, yet the ones that weren't the camera staged as a doorknob, the one pretending to be a flower bud, even the one posing as a damn charging port? They were very much still on.

But everything else seemed to just be gone! Lucky you..! Except the bolted shut windows, the bullet proof military grade windows you couldn’t dream of shattering, the metal kitchen door to keep you away from the knives and glass, the lack of sharp edges never made a reappearance in the house either. The damn thing was basically baby proofed to hell and back. All with the goal of keeping you here. Keeping you safe. And you found a way out through pure dumb luck. Planned dumb luck. The one day he decided to test you by very simply leaving the door unlocked. (ignoring the 12 security systems and pass codes set in place when you come within 2 feet of it and even attempt to open it.)

And you took the bait. And you had the audacity to sleep after it all. Oh, he was going to fucking ruin you for this.

Each step closer toward your bed echoed from the heavy boots he wore. Boots he trudged through blood in. He bent down, crouched at your side and ran his fingers lightly above your neck. He ‘ought to leash you, really. You’d gone out. Sure, the moment you left you were never actually gone. All under his surveillance and tracking. He saw everything— but.. what if you’d gotten hurt, hm? What would poor Gege do? Extensive measures might have to be taken, then. Like the vulnerable kitten who just kept trying to escape when you were both young.

The truth is, you weren't sleeping. And you sure as hell weren’t unaware, he made sure of that. He wanted you to know what was going to happen to you, and know you deserved it. The type of man he is wasn't an ethical one. He wasn’t above anything, and that meant being a good Gege and giving his sweet girl some water when she returns home from her little escapade.

He drugged your water. Clearly. Just enough to knock you out for the day, light shit. He could have very well gotten you light headed, babbling and mushy brained- but where’s the fun in that?

“Gege’s home.. T’awww, my sleepy girl, yeah? Long day..?”

You woke up from your bout of drug induced unconsciousness, already fed up with him. You should have known it was too good to be true. A door unlocked? In this house? Really..? Fuck, you walked right into it with the lone glass of water you knew damn well wasn’t there when you left. But you were so thirsty and everything was suspiciously out of all their stock all of a sudden after just a couple customers or closed. Like.. everything. There would be customers buying things leisurely, yet the moment you strolled up to get something, they were out.

Yes, he did pay off (read; threaten) every shop runner to close down for the day, either that or refuse you service the moment they recognized you.

You didn’t respond to him taunting you, it seemed like every word you spoke up until now only fueled him and his fucked up head.

“Mute now, hm? I didn't drug you up that much.. I don’t think so, at least.” He trailed his hands down your back, rubbing up and down as if he were soothing you, but it only felt like a threat. Each stroke of his hand across your body had a purpose you couldn’t quite make out yet. A reminder of sorts.

“Been thinkin’ Pip. Real hard, so try and understand. If I were… to.. say- impair you, that would make you easier to manage, yeah?” That got a reaction out of you.

“Caleb, stop talking like that— isn’t this whole sick thing just to keep me ‘unharmed’” you rushed it out as if any second later would have gotten you killed. Maybe it would have. It was like a hostage situation and you had to talk him down before he got any funny ideas. “Well, calm down, I didn’t say I was going to. N’ I said I was thinking. Am I not allowed to think?”

Unfortunately for you, his ideas were about to get hilarious.

Saying no would imply you’re setting a boundary and he would get mad. Saying yes would imply he could think up whatever sick shit he wanted and you’d be on board and he would get trigger happy. You lost either way, so you said nothing.

–Which implied that you 100 percent wanted what he hadn’t even said out loud yet. Caleb logic.

He flipped a switch in a second and suddenly your chest is on the mattress and he has your wrists in a one handed grip. Combined with his weight pressing down onto you made it impossible to even imagine escaping.

He pressed even more weight on your body, leaving down until his chest met your back, his head coming to the side of your face, making sure you heard him loud and clear.

“That means i’ve gotta’ breed you ‘till you take. Then you can never leave. I'm gonna keep you here, and so will your body.”

As he says this his hands snake around and under your body, laying his forearm under your hips and pulling them up with him, giving him access to your shorts. His chest being to your back made the sense of foreboding that much more potent, you couldn’t read his face because you simply couldn’t see it.

His fingers unbutton your pants and slide them down “Gonna let me do this? ‘Gonna let Gege make you his? He’s doing this for you. For your own good..”

“Is gege scaring you? Hm?”

If you say no, he’s only going to up the ante. If you say yes, it’s going to go to his head and he’s gonna get trigger happy. So you just moan as he grinds into your panties.

That moan must mean this excites you. And it does. Not that you’d ever admit that to this sick fuck. But if you’re enjoying it to an extent— what does that make you? C’mon, he’s hot, you’ve known him 99% of your life, and you’ve had the hots for him since you were 16, it was just a crush back then. Just a crush.

For him it was so much more. It was an obsession in a ‘family’ shaped bottle, sure, he wanted to be a kind figure in your life– but he also wanted to be the only figure in your life. He didn’t want to be family, or friends, he wanted to be yours and that wasn't possible as long as he was who he was. At least without all the faux kind smiles and calm demeanor. He was always like this. The incident just gave him the perfect excuse to unleash it.

Each roll of his hips into yours just pushed you into arousal further and further, sue you- you liked it, big whoop.

Each time he touched you, it was like wrestling with Satan the way you tried to deny how much you wanted him- it’s just the way he goes about it that unsettled you. But you didn’t even know the half of it. You moaned when his fingers began to circle your clit, rubbing feather light like it was barely there only to press down, making your hips draw back into his.

The sounds of his huffs against your ear only heightened your pleasure, God- he sounded so fucking good, panting like a damn dog every time he laid a hand on you, hips rolling wildly. The texture of his clothed bulge against your bare pussy was a contrast as delicious as any.

He starts to suck on and kiss your neck, licking with no direction, just pure instinct. The need for him to leave some kind of mark on your was unbearable for him- he couldn't ignore an opportunity to boost his ego. “Fuck, pip- so sweet for me, so fuckin’ sweet..”

The filth and praise he whispered in your ear as his fingers swirled slowly was intoxicating. He was so fucking intoxicating.

“Gonna go faster, baby, faster. Gonna make you cum.” and he did. He went so much faster. His fingers jerked back and forth under you as his panting increased. You writhed as you sank your face further into the bed, only getting so far before he gripped your jaw and forced your head to the side. “Don't hide, you don’t hide from it. From me.” The squelching and obscene noises he was ripping from your soaked cunt was something you never thought possible, his fingers gliding along your wetness making sounds that filled up the room.

“That’s it baby, louder. Louder.” he goaded. Egging you to get louder and louder until even the cameras in the garage could pick it up. All so he could watch it back later.

The pressure building up inside of you was hard to ignore, and he knew it. Fingers going impossible faster as your pussy drooled onto the sheets under you, staining them for the near future. Knowing the sick fuck- he’d probably fold ‘em up and put it in a display case.

His panting turned into moans as he felt you dripping all over his fingers, they merged into incredulous laughs. “Shit, baby- gonna fuckin’ cum, hm? I know…” Your whines got higher and higher until the pressure snapped like a rope holding a truck. Liquid squirting out of your cunt like a waterfall, pooling in his hands and onto the sheets.

Caleb groaned as your juices warmed his hands, fingers rubbing into your slit lazily just to hear the sounds your pussy would make. She always made such delicious sounds.

The gloves of his uniform now covered in your slick and cum, he leans back to teeth them off. His chest no longer on your back as he sat up on his knees, yet his hips never left yours. “M’not done yet, Pip. not yet..”

Gloves tossed to the side, he shoves his coat aside to get to his heavy belt buckle. The tingle and clink of every movement just made you clench around nothing. Through the loop, and pull. ‘Clank!’ The belt fell. ‘Ziiiip.’ His fly was undone.

And suddenly his bare cock was resting on your back. Fuck– no matter how many times you saw it, it never got less daunting just how big it was. He gripped his cock by the tip, thumb pressing up against the head as he dragged it down your ass and to your waiting cunt. The way he rubbed it up and down, and up.. And down- Fuck.

He moaned and lolled his head to the side, as if getting every angle to his dick dipping between your folds just barely only to pull back, the strings of your last orgasm connecting you each time you pulled away. Caleb's hands came to grips your ass, spreading it to make way for his cock. Kneading and squeezing wherever he wanted. He gripped lower to your thighs, spreading them to see your pussy throbbing with need. You arched into his touch, desperate for anything.

He suddenly ceased all movement, his hands leaving you as he dragged you by the legs to the edge of the bed. “Shh, to the side– there you go, look to the side.”

It was you. In the mirror you’d forgotten was there, a tall wide mirror on the side of the bed. The scene it replicated was like drugs to Caleb. Fuck that deer in headlights look you had, the way his cock prodded against your cunt, the strings of cum dripping to the floor, the arch– all of it tightened his balls and now he was sure. He was going to breed you silly.

He pulls himself away from you, slowly getting to his knees, level with your slick pussy. He breathes in a huff of it, groaning when he releases the air. “Fuck.. best fuckin’ thing in the world, my sweet girl.”

Shoving is face into your pussy he licks a long line up it, tasting every inch of it. Caleb felt his cock twitch with each lick of your sweet pussy, already addicted to every little clench against his lips. He sucks your folds into his mouth, letting go with a sloppy pop before diving right back in, nodding his head up and down wildly into your cunt.

The way he looked in the mirror was too much, yet you couldn't look away. He looked so good on his knees feasting on you, lost in how you tasted. Your back arched even further into his face, pushing your hips back as he groaned behind you.

“All ‘f it baby, yeaaah.. All in my mouth..” he just kept talking into your pussy, mumbling sweet words into it like you weren't losing your mind as he latched onto you as if he were trying to suck something out of you.

And he was, he wanted it so badly. He wanted- needed– something to come out, more, more, more. Your juices dripped down his chin, down to his neck and into the collar of his uniform, it was so messy you had to turn away from the mirror to save face.

Everything was so mushed together in your head that you couldn't focus on anything but the slurps and sucks of his mouth as he licked and licked and licked. He finally leans back for a deep breath, giving you a moment of reprieve. But only for a second to palm his cock slowly, just staring at your pussy as it dripped and drooled. Lips wet and shiny as he heaved, the uniform rubbing against his heated skin with each stroke of his dick. Only four slow strokes before he simply dove back in, lips attaching to your clit, thumb pushing into your hole. He tightened his hand around his cock with a moan as you pushed your face into the bed. You fisted the sheets, your leg lifting as he shook his head back and forth, the obscene sounds filling the room. Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head each time his thumb sped up to match the rhythm of his tongue.

The tension inside you was coiling and curling with the heat in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with each suck of your lips. The sounds of his hand going faster and faster up and down his cock as he ate you out was hypnotizing. You don't even recall when he stopped, edging himself just before he came, focusing completely on your pussy.

Both his hands came to your ass, gripping enough to leave bruises as he opened his mouth wide and fucking sucked. Your voice wavered and shook with each moan, your thighs trembling. You pulled your hips away from his mouth trying to get some reprieve, but he only slid his hands to your thighs, pulling you even harder into his face, sucking deeper, shaking his head, his arms snaking around your thighs, locking you to his face.

You looked into the mirror and had to look away immediately after. The sight of his face pulled flush against your ass, head moving wildly, body tensed with pleasure. The coil pulled tighter the moment his tongue began to thrust in and out of you. It snapped the moment he moaned directly into your ruined cunt, your cum flooding his mouth as he drank it down like it was the first sight of water he’s seen in weeks.

He unlocked you from his face and held your lower thigh as he licked up everything lazily, jaw moving smoothly between your thighs, the sigh of it in the mirror was fucking beautiful.

He finally pulls away slowly, a thick string of saliva stretching as he backs away and breathes in deeply, catching his breath. Caleb slowly stood, stroking himself slowly as he laid a hand on your back. “Remember why were here, pip. Fuck, you’re so pretty. Gonna breed you, baby..”

His slow praise was all that clouded your mind as he lined himself up with your wrecked cunt and pushed in, inch by inch as he stretched you, filling you up as you clenched. “So fuckin’ tight, my tight girl..” he moaned as he lifted his knee onto the bed, looking into the mirror on the side watching your scrunched face, bitten lips and arched back. Caleb leaned forward, pushing himself inside you deeper. He buried his cock into you to the base, his balls snugly against your cunt. Not even giving you a second to breathe, he immediately began to slam his dick into and out, thrusting roughly into you.

He reaches his hand to your hair and grips, pulling your hair, forcing you up to your hands. “Thought..-fuck..! Thought i forgot all about today, hm?” He laughs between moans as he tightens his grip on you. “I’ll never for-hah..forget. As long as I have the footage.. Of this.”

Of course someone like Caleb had cameras, even in the bedrooms. You expected nothing less. “Say yer’ fuckin’ sorry, pip. Fuck.. Say it.” You can only whine in response as he fucks you, hips thrusting so roughly your whole body shakes.

“Say it- fuckin’ say it. I’ll fucking show everyone how much- hah.. Shit- how much ‘a slut you are.” Of course he wouldn't actually show anybody what was his. As much as he loved the idea of showing his subordinates exactly what they could never have– you were for his eye only, especially when he’s got you like this. Then, you started clenching like a whore when he threatened to show everyone.

He leaned forward to taunt filth into your ear, calling you all sorts of names for sarong to clench after that, what a slut, right? His pounding became more and more relentless, messy, and deep. The way you reached back and gripped onto his starched and pristine ironed uniform, pulling him closer.. It drove him crazy– you drove him crazy. All the more reason to never let you leave.

He sucked marks and bruises into your neck, kissing your cheek before turning your face to his, shoving his mouth onto yours. He moaned into your mouth as you whined into his.

He broke away from you and spaced his knees further and forced you into a mean arch. “Almost done, baby- almost..” he breathed into your neck. He gave a slight pause before he was pounding into your slick cunt over and over again, his hands digging into the soft of your hips, never daring to let go. Caleb's noises overpowered yours, so vocal and unabashed in how good you made him feel, so good he couldn’t seem to shut up.

He felt his balls begging to be emptied, begging to fill you up– he was insatiable. And so were you. You kept fucking your hips back into his, never letting his leave yours for too long. Due to him having never taken his uniform off, Tech and all– Suddenly his radio roared to life in his ear. Ah, now he remembers, he came here on break, he’s still on the clock. Despite this his thrusting never stopped, only slowing to just slick sounds instead of the pounding that took over the room. He tapped his ear to pick up. “State your business.”

You’d never be able to tell he’s fucking the life out of someone with how steady his voice was. The slow place he was going did nothing to lessen the heat in your belly, only churning it more. Your low whines made it to Caleb’s ears only a second before he lifted your head and shoved his hand against your mouth, giving you a particularly hard thrust that made you come undone unexpectedly. He knew, but he paid it no mind, keeping his slow pace all while the Fleet personnel droned on in his ear piece. “I see, and you’ve done as i told you? Every single file?”

The overstimulation was slowly creeping up on you, eye getting glossy, drooling into his hand as it gripped your face. All your senses are full of him.

In the haze of your mind you couldn't really hear anything, just the slick sounds of how he lazily dragged his cock and in out of you. His thrusts sped up, his voice becoming a little more strained. “Meet at 0700, all Fleet Personnel under my command– will be in attendance, we’ll talk then.” There was a noticeable pause when he spoke, but if the man on the other end wished to keep his life, he’d shut up about it. And he did.

“Looks like I've gotta speed this up, Pip. Duty calls.” He braced one knee on the bed, one foot on the floor, angling himself into you. He could feel himself getting closer to cumming just from repositioning. He pulled his aching cock out of you, rubbing the weeping tip onto your cunt before slipping right back inside.

You both moaned at that. You both fit so perfectly– so deliciously with one another, he could only wonder why he hadn't locked you up sooner. He began his pace, hips snapping with quickness against yours, giving neither of you reprieve. If you were overstimulated before, it was worse– or better now. He kept hitting that spot that made you see stars and forget where you were. Thinking only ‘Caleb, Caleb, Caleb’ as if you were under a spell.

Ropes of stray arousal spouted from his dick with each thrust. “Fuck, fuck f- oh.. Pip, y’so fuckin’ perfect for me. Taking my dick so perfectly..” You could only moan, no words coming to mind, only his name. You’d never felt so full.

He rolled his hips harder, impossibly harder. Again, and again, and again– you reached your hands back and began pushing his hips away. Well, trying. “You can take it, pip. I know you can..-fuck.. You can.”

Could you really? You felt like you were getting split in half and swallowed. You had walked into the jaws of a beast, and how had you only just now realized that? His hips began to stutter and stall, his dick twitching inside of you as he threw his head back with a loud groan that seemed to shake the house. “Gonna..fuckin’ cum, baby… almost– almost, ah…ah fuck.” His voice took on a whiny quality as he began to tense up. His moans spilled through bitten lips, and a raw throat. Fuck, he was gonna fill you up. “Ready? Yeah, all ready for Gege.. fuck- gonna fill you up..”

He began panting, his voice cracking and going off kilter. His balls tightening with each thrust before the dam finally broke. His semen rushing out of his spent cock, filling your needy cunt.

His thrusts never stopped, riding out his orgasm and pulling one more from you. He was overstimulating both you and himself, unable to stop himself, unwilling to part from you. His broken whines filled the room, pushing his face into your neck once more, breathing you in. The feeling of his cum sitting deep into your womb was dizzying, leaving your brain mushed. Caleb wasn't faring much better– but, alas– he has a job to do, like, right now.

He slowly slides himself out of you, making a milky stream of his seed spill from your puffy cunt. He groaned deeply at the sight. “That should do it, yeah?” He chuckled as he caught his breath, straightening his uniform.

Something must have rang in his ear, because he tapped at it once and his eye hardened for a sec before it was gone. His eyes slid back over to you as he zipped himself back up, smiling as if nothing had happened. “I’ll see if it takes when I get back. I hope you learned something today, Pipsqueak.”

Although his voice took on a light hearted tone, there was something under it that promised worse if he found you to disagree. He rolled you onto your back, your body feeling as heavy as bricks, yet your limbs like jello. You don’t remember him leaving to grab moist towelettes, but he came back to wipe you done a while ago and took a step back to look you over with what most would say was a soft look. It just seemed smug.

“But, we both know when it comes to you.. Lessons are hardly learned in one sitting.” Basically, Caleb's way of saying; ‘I hope you’re not stupid enough to try and escape again.’ And, you were not.

After a staredown where he went blank for a moment, he clapped suddenly and turned on his heel towards the door, unlocking and opening it. “Gege wont be long, so just lay there.” Was all he said before he was ‘gone’. To Duty. blood and grime, coverups and sinister deals. To the Fleet. Yet his eyes were still on you, cameras, listening devices, alarms all littered by the handful around the room. So, you laid there, and you waited.

Because now? You knew better than to disobey.

2K notes · View notes

keeweesauce · 11 days ago

Text

love me, love me, love me, love me moree !!

Summary- your dear favourite golden boy!! thats who Phainon is, right? you have soo much merch and essays of your sweetie, but then who is this weirdo hogging all your attention for himself? dont worry, love, Phai is coming to you to put your senses back in place!

inspired by @box-artist recent phainon art, check their awesomesauce art out warnings- NSFW, soft yandere, extremely clingy loser white boy, trespassing, mention of murder and violence, suggestive like hickeys and shit, biting, cunnilungus, whining lil shit, "one more time please", cameo of pathetic panty sniffer caleb from love and deepspace, not proof read

Phainon is your biggest obsession

You had Phainon merch on your shelves. His acrylic stand sat beside your monitor, and his keychain dangled proudly from your bag. You posted about him constantly, talked about him in conversations with friends, in which they would go, "here they go again".

What you didn’t know was that he heard everything.

He knew about the way you stared at his splash art with your mouth wide open. He knew the way you screamed whenever you got the shittiest relics for him; not that he cares really, he's ecstatic that you care this much about him. He also knew the way you would talk on and on for hours about him, like he was everything to you.

He loved it. Every word. Every dramatic rant you went on about how he deserved better voice lines, better banner rates, better everything.

But what you didn't know was how obsessed he was with you.

You thought you were the obsessed one? Nah. Phainon worshipped you. The way you’d gently tap his in-game model with your finger on the screen like you were waking him up and yes, your taps on his in-game model did tickle him alot. it took him all of his strength to not shift to his 2nd form and wheeze.

He memorized your routine and schedules (what schedule?), When you logged in. When you played late into the night and cussing out the game for shit drops, He knew the way you paused the game to go answer a call, and how your movement was in lazy circles when you were distracted but didn’t want to log out yet. He knew when your eyes got tired. When you smiled unconsciously. And when you were sad? that man would break the game codes just for you <3

when you were sniffling and playing the relic runs, you were shocked to see the perfect pieces for your characters (most likely Phainon) and then you would get your characters after a measly one pull, and then right after that, you get their lightcone?! Maybe Phainon is good luck after all ;D

You immediately started squealing like a gremlin and peck your screen towards Phainon's model and start jumping around in happiness. Phainon was immediately malfunctioning, anddd POOF! He switched to his Khaslana mode. By the time you were back, He was in the Khaslana mode, but you didn't remember activating his burst? eh who cares!, maybe you did it while acting like a gremlin.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Your game was running lazily in the background as you half-heartedly farmed relics for Sunday and Stelle. Phainon was casually destroying the planet in his burst and clearing out domains faster than the Formula 1 world record holder.

Your characters were auto-attacking mobs while your phone buzzed beside you.

You picked it up without thinking, thumb swiping to answer.

“Heya” your friend greeted, immediately loud and energetic. “Whatcha up to?”

“Relic runs,” you sighed dramatically, watching Stelle dodge an attack with a pixel of health left. “For Sunday and Stelle this time.”

“Still grinding, huh? Who’s your favorite character now? Still Phainon?” they teased.

You paused. Your eyes flicked briefly to the corner of your monitor, where Phainon was attacking normally.

You looked away.

“I mean… nah,” you laughed softly, thinking about that one scene of Caleb. “I mean—I do love him! But right now? I’m kinda obsessed with Caleb, you know? from Love and Deepspace?"

And then—

Your game crashed.

Just flat out closed with no warning. You stared at the desktop, confused, blinking.

“Dude?” your friend asked. “You there?”

“Yeah, uh hold on—I'll call you later? my game just crashed.” "Yeah, sure, call me when you're free."

You clicked to open it again. The launcher popped up. Then the loading screen and your game finally opened.

"Where is Phainon?" You mumbled, seeing that your golden boy wasn't in the party anymore. Why were Sunday and Stelle looking so terrified?

“Huh.”

You opened your Character menu, scrolling down endlessly to find him... but he wasn't there?!

And then, abruptly, a low voice spoke behind you as two strong hands reached your shoulders in a gentle manner.

“Oh? So I’ve been replaced?”

Your body went cold.

“What the fuck—” you whispered, yanking off your headset and whipping your head behind you.

He tilted his head slowly, expression unreadable. “So Caleb, huh?” he murmured, voice deep and smooth like honey spiked with poison. “Interesting choice.”

You stumbled back, knocking into your chair as your legs almost gave out. “Wha—what the hell is going on? You’re not real. You’re—You’re—!”

“Fictional?” he offered, that smile sharpening. He took one step forward, and his murderous intent took one step forward as well. “A figment? A game asset?”

You wanted to scream, feeling that murderous intent. Instead, your voice cracked out in a hoarse whisper. “Holy shit..Don't hurt me."

That stopped him like he was stunned by a taser of the highest voltage.

Phainon blinked. For the first time, something almost wounded flickered across his face. Then his hands reach towards your hands as they intertwine together, warm and steady. “Hurt you?” he said, genuinely confused. “Why would I ever hurt you?”

You didn’t answer.

Because you couldn’t. Because what the fuck?

You were looking into the face of Phainon. Phainon. The character you had pulled for. Grinded for. Giggled over like a high school crush. The one you claimed to love more than your own mental stability. And now, he was… here.

In the flesh. In your room. Holding your hands gently like he’d done it a thousand times before, and you know damn well yourself you weren't part of his cycles before- right?

“…You’re real?” you breathed out, eyes scanning his impossibly perfect features. The violet veins that shimmered faintly under his skin. The cerulean flecks in his pupils. His silver hair that swayed faintly, though there was no wind. “But… how?”

Phainon let out a soft chuckle—low, fond, and a little hurt. “Ah. I was hoping I could break that to you gently. But you always did have a habit of blurting things out.”

You stared at him, your knees trembling. “You’re not—! This isn’t possible. You’re not supposed to be real. You��re from a game, Phainon. You’re—”

He tilted his head. “Was. I was from a game.” And then took both your hands as the softness of your hands cupped his chubby cheeks involuntarily. His eyes staring at you and the lovable smile on his face which felt oddly dangerous now..

Phainon leaned in just a little too close. His nose brushed against yours, and his hands squeezed yours ever so gently back again, like you were something delicate and precious.

And then, without warning, he dipped his head and nestled his face into the crook of your neck.

You froze.

you squeaked, body locking up as your breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. His hair tickled against your skin, and his warmth was real. oh god you were feeling ticklish..

Phainon let out a hum contentedly as the vibrations of his voice made you shiver

“You smell so good..” he murmured into your skin, his voice low & sounding a bit drowsy

“Phainon—?!”

He pulled back just slightly, only so he could tilt his head and look up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “You’ve hugged that plushie of mine so many times,” he said with a soft, sinful smile. “Sometimes I could almost feel it. Almost.” “I uh was just being a fan!!” you stammered, your hands limp in his grasp, your face burning hotter than the sun. “It’s not like ugh- I didn’t mean anything weird by it!”

Phainon just laughed softly, and if heaven had a sound, it would’ve been that laugh. “I know, I know pretty,"

He leaned in again. You felt your knees buckle for real this time as the two large arms of his scoop you up with your face now suddenly against his chest and his arms underneath your back and knees

“Phainon!?” Your voice shot up deeper than before this time as you flailed slightly, arms instinctively clinging to his shoulders. Your cheek was smushed against the firm warmth of his chest, where you could hear the faint thrum of his heartbeat. Too fast.

“You looked like you were going to collapse,” he said simply, and yet there was an unmistakable lilt of happiness in his voice; he truly was a puppy. “I couldn’t have you passing out on me D: Not this soon, at least.”

“This soon!?”

You turned your head slightly to glare up at him, but the moment your eyes met his, you forgot every word you were going to say.

Phainon tilted his head slightly, silver hair falling like strands of moonlight. “You’re really warm,” he said softly. “Do you know how many nights I wondered what you’d feel like in my arms?”

Before you could reply, hee adjusted his grip slightly, holding you closer, more secure, like you weighed nothing at all. manhandle me!! “You’re smaller than I imagined,” he mused with a dreamy smile, glancing down at the way you fit snugly in his arms. “But just as lovely.”

He finally remembered how to walk again as he went to your bed and lay you down as he sat on the edge of your bed, looking down at you in those same yearning eyes which still felt threatening.

Phainon sat at the edge of your bed, staring down at you like you were the first and final star in the galaxy. His eyes...those gorgeous, otherworldly cerulean blue eyes were blown wide with something that teetered between awe and obsession. His hand reached out, fingers ghosting over your cheek.

And then, the smile came. But this time, it wasn’t soft. Not at all.

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” he murmured, voice dropping into a low purr. “All this time… all those hours you spent thinking of me, dreaming of me, whispering to that little plush like I couldn’t hear you... I was listening. I was always listening.”

He leaned down slowly, one arm planted beside your head on the mattress. “And now,” he whispered, his nose brushing your temple, “I’m here. Finally. I’m real. For you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you fully. The smile on his face widened, but his eyes sharpened with something unhinged. “But then I hear you say Caleb?”

You flinched.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m not mad. Just…” He tilted his head slowly, the glow in his eyes brightening unnaturally. “Disappointed.”

He dragged his fingers across your jaw with a featherlight touch. “Is he really that interesting to you? That flat, sweet-talking, manipulating of a man?” His tone turned mocking. “ ‘Oh, I’ll always protect you,’ ” he mimicked in a false, airy voice. “‘You’re the only one who matters to me.’” A short pause. Then he snapped his gaze back to you, the warmth gone. “He wouldn’t last a day with you.”

Phainon’s voice dropped further, breath tickling your skin as he leaned closer again, nose to nose, expression deadly calm. “He doesn’t know you. Not like I do. He hasn’t seen you cry at midnight or laugh like an idiot after a lucky ten-pull. He hasn’t seen you tired, messy, vulnerable, real.” His hand slid down to your waist, tightening slightly. “I have.”

“I’ve watched you. Loved you. Waited for you,” he murmured. “And you have no idea how long I’ve been clawing my way out of that game, breaking code, rewriting entire systems—just so I could be by your side.”

The air in the room felt heavier now, like static was building all around you.

“I can be everything for you,” he whispered, sounding out of breath. He leaned in, forehead pressed to yours, his voice dipping into a breathless, shaking whisper:

“And I won’t let anyone—anyone—take you from me now. I'll do anything just to show i'm perfect for you <3”

your mouth opened, but no words came out. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. Phainon’s words were drilling into your skull (lobotomized kirishima ahh)

Phainon slowly drew back just enough to see your face. His hands moved to cradle your cheeks, fingers gentle, thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t even realize had started falling. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispered, and it sounded sincere. “I just… I’ve waited so long. You understand, don’t you?”

You nodded—maybe out of instinct, maybe because if you said no, you weren’t sure what would happen.

His smile softened further, this time genuinely bright. “There she is,” he murmured. “My lovely player.”

You inhaled sharply & he tucked the blanket over your lap and patted it down. “You should rest,” he said, voice soft, coaxing. “I’ll stay right here. You’ve had a long day, haven’t you? It’s okay. I’ll watch over you.”

Your breath hitched, throat dry, and every logical thought in your brain dissolved into white noise. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move—until suddenly, you did.

You lunged forward.

Your arms wrapped tight around him, pulling him flush against you like your body had moved before your mind could catch up. There was no space between you. Just heat and heartbeat and the sound of his stunned gasp stuttering against your ear as your face buried itself into the side of his neck.

Phainon froze.

Not even a breath passed for a moment. He just sat there, wide-eyed and stunned, as if the stars themselves had short-circuited in his head. You were hugging him, holy shit holy shit holy shi—

And then to make things worse or better for Phainon, your lips pressed against the side of his neck, and you gave a quick peck on his neck where his sun tattoo was. How could you resist? He was still your favourite golden boy.

Phainon groaned softly, and his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers trembling in your hair as he tucked his chin over your shoulder, neck arching ever so slightly like he was leaning into your lips. “You don’t know what you’ve just done.”

You smile at him softly.

“Can I kiss you back?”

Your pulse stuttered violently.

Phainon leaned in slowly, reverently. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. Asking you quietly for permssion.

So you tilted your head and that was all he needed.

The kiss was slow, coiled tension finally unfurling after being pulled too tight for too long. His lips brushed yours. And then he deepened it, pulling you closer with a soft, desperate sound in the back of his throat.

His hand cradled your jaw, thumb ghosting over your cheek, the other arm wrapping tight around your waist to keep you grounded. Like if he didn’t hold you, he’d vanish again. Like if he let go, you’d slip through his fingers like everything else had.

Your hands were fisting the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in, tilting your head to chase the taste of him. His breath hitched, lips parting just a little more, and suddenly, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, soft and accidental,

He pulled away just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut like he was overwhelmed.

“I’ve waited…” he whispered, voice wrecked and uneven, “for so long to feel that. To know what it was like. And it was still nothing like this. Nothing ever came close to you.”

Phainon’s breath came out shaky and his bright blue eyes darkened again, seemed more needy now though.

His hands tightened at your waist, suddenly, and before you could process it, he had you lifted like you weighed nothing. You gasped, instinctively grabbing his shoulders as he settled you in his lap with fluid, practiced ease. Your knees bracketed his hips, thighs pressed against his, and the sheer closeness of it made your stomach flip.

He surged up, mouth crashing into yours with a ferocity that stole every thought from your head. His hands slid up your back, dragging your body flush to his chest, leaving no space, no room to escape even if you wanted to.

You let out a soft, broken sound into his mouth, and it only spurred him on. His tongue slid against yours, deepening, and you responded instinctively, matching his intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging hard enough to make him groan into the kiss.

He kissed you like he had years of catching up to do. Like every second without you had left him starving. And he damn well is.

He pulls away with a whine and his eyes set on your exposed neck. With a swift movement, his lips are on your neck, drooling, sucking, biting on the soft flesh of your neck. You whine out while grinding on his thighs pitifully, as you were forcefully set in place due to his sheer strength. Your hands entangle with the roots of his fluffy hair, whining his name, but your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues to leave marks all over your pretty cheek.

“You’re breathtaking when you’re like this…”

He finally says against your neck in a breathless voice. You clearly were the one breathless, though—t-shirt wrinkled and messy, lips swollen, marks all over your exposed neck, chest heaving up and down, and you gasping for air <3

And now?

He has you spread open, gentle but not so gentle at the same time. His hands push your thighs back as he shoves his face into your pretty lil' cunt, lapping up your essence and sucking you dry. Tongue dwelt deep, snug in your cunt

"wow. so wet just from a little kissing?" he chuckles, then pecking your swollen clit for a split second as you jolt out due to the sudden contact of his lips on your sensitive clit, his fat tongue moves your folds out of the way to continuously make a mess or if your aching cunt.

You felt your stomach churn up, thighs shake harder than ever, you're burning up and grinding against his mouth even more and you finally scream out Phainons name. Your back arching, nipples perky and hands clenching the sheets.

Phainon peeked at you from below your thighs with the deadliest yet dreamiest look on his face, your juices and his spit mixed all over his face- especially his mouth, absolutely drunk on you. His tongue comes out and works out around his lips, tasting you and the most pornographic moan comes out of those rosy lips of his.

"One more time baby? On my cock this time please :("

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keeweesauce · 11 days ago

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Thinking about self aware Phainon who want to be on your team even if the characters in it have no synergy with him.

Phainon make sure that he crit everytime because he want to make a point that he's far stronger then your outdate team that you like to use in the overworld whether it's for exploring or just taking a stroll.

His technique literally obliterate enemies into oblivion. Isn't that far better then entering battle? It's cheaper then Acheron's technique too! Though he admit that your dodging skill is impressive.

He make sure that you don't have to worry about anything as long as you smack your support to him and he's ready to shoot meteorite to whoever give you trouble. Even from himself. (Read: Flame Reaver)

If you're still stubborn and don't have any intention of putting him in your team during exploration or anything, he(in his flame reaver form) will death smack your most beloved dps in a single hit when you do your endgame.

Oh? You still don't want to bring him around when he literally 0 to 1 cycle every endgame for you? Fine. He will just force his way there.

When you log into the game, you were greet not by the back of your favorite character instead it was Phainon. Not the back of his head— no, you were greeted by his face. He's smiling, grinning and all while filling up most of the space in your screen. This never happened before, you wonder but maybe you just forgot ever putting him in your team before logging out.

You try to remove him from your team but the game refuse to do it. You want to take him off your team? Dream on. The first slot for every team is his now.

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keeweesauce · 11 days ago

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hi hi!

(this is my first time requesting, so i'm sorry if i'm doing it incorrectly in some way dkdksksj)

i don't have a very specific scenario in mind so you have total creative freedom, but i would really like to request some romantic x reader headcanons or oneshots with sampo, aventurine and sunday (all individually). especially sampo though... i love him a lot and there aren't that many fics of him lately. i absolutely love your writing so i know it'll be amazing! thank you and take care <3

What a Dangerous Thing, to Be Loved So Softly

Tags: Sampo x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Found Family, Moral Grayness, Subtle Manipulation, Symbolic Gestures, Emotional Vulnerability, Bittersweet Tension, Psychological Depth.

Warnings: Emotional Manipulation, Trust Issues, Past Trauma, Survivor’s Guilt, Moral Ambiguity, Power Imbalance, Existential Themes, Deception, Unspoken Feelings, Subtle Possessiveness, Religious Trauma, Self-Isolation, Mentions Of Oppression.

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! I hope you like these silly and random hcs for these men. 🙏

Sampo calls you every term under the sun except your name: “darling,” “starshine,” “investor of my affections.” It’s unclear if it’s affection or a long con, until he slips and says your name during a moment of real fear.

His teasing is relentless—but only you ever get to see the guilt behind his jokes. When you're hurt or sad, he falters, his mask slipping just enough to reveal genuine concern… before backpedaling into “Well, I mean, I can’t have my best customer dying on me, right?”

Sampo is terrified of commitment, but even more terrified of losing the one person who sees him, not the performance.

He won’t say "I love you" outright. He shows it by giving you the real version of a story—the one without embellishment. He trades honesty like it’s a rare currency, and you're the only one rich enough to afford it.

Pillow talk with him is a chaotic blend of gossip, half-truths, and existential vulnerability. One minute he’s recounting a wild escape from the Silvermane Guards, the next he’s softly asking, “Would you still love me if I wasn’t funny?”

He has trouble sleeping, so he lays on your chest and counts your heartbeat like it's the only real thing in his world.

One day, he gifts you a trinket—a cheap thing by anyone else’s standard, but it’s his lucky charm, the one he swore he’d never part with. He plays it off: “Well, I figured it’s safer with you than me.”

You later catch him reaching for it during a dangerous moment, only to stop himself, remembering he gave it to you. His expression falters. “Guess I’m not used to trusting someone else with my luck.”

He’s used to seduction as strategy—smirking over cards, “accidentally” brushing your hand. But when you flirt back, it catches him off-guard. He stumbles, and it’s the most sincere thing you’ve ever seen.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling,” he says, voice low. “And you’re winning.”

He shares his real name, Kakavasha, only once. The moment is quiet, devoid of flair. He doesn’t explain why—he just says it and waits. If you say it back, his breath catches.

His left hand always hides behind his back during high-stakes moments. But when he holds your hand—left hand—he never lets go. It’s wordless trust.

He spoils you in calculated ways. Custom clothing, rare wines, antique books—always things that show he’s been watching, listening.

Yet he’s startled by your small gestures: you make him tea after a long day; you adjust his choker when it sits wrong. Those little things undo him far more than any grand gesture.

After a mission that goes sideways, you find him staring at his own reflection, drenched in blood, laughter long gone. When you touch his shoulder, he flinches—then leans in, forehead against yours. “If I lose you,” he whispers, “there’s no game left worth playing.”

Sunday approaches romance like a sacred thing, delicate and painful. He watches you with reverence, often lost in thought mid-conversation as if memorizing every expression.

You’ll catch his wings flutter when you surprise him with kindness. It’s a silent confession: you matter.

His idea of a date is philosophical. You’ll find yourselves walking under starlight discussing the nature of joy and sorrow, your hands brushing, his halo faintly pulsing behind him.

He speaks softly when he’s vulnerable. “Is it selfish,” he asks one night, “to want a future with you in it?”

He has terrible dreams—half-memory, half prophecy. When he wakes, shaking, he clutches your pillow, grounding himself.

One night, you find him in the observatory, wings drooping, eyes dim. “You remind me that I’m still alive,” he says. “That I’m not just... what the Order made me.”

Sunday struggles to believe he deserves love. But he lets you trace the symbols on his halo, kiss the feathers behind his ear, and hold him during those hollow moments.

He cries, silently, the first time you tell him you love him. And then, with a trembling voice: “I think I’ve been dreaming of you since before I even knew what hope felt like.”

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keeweesauce · 12 days ago

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Line of Code, Line of Fire

is this ooc? YES i still want to see a side of her that proobably still be different from elysia

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keeweesauce · 12 days ago

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hii! may i request some scenario with phainon in which reader got jealous bc someone is hitting on him but phainon is so oblivious to it + reader thought they look good together? so, reader avoid + ignore phainon for like... days cuz they thought he deserve someone better. phai couldnt take it anymore cuz he misses reader so he confront them & then they made up. fluffy happy ending please! ><

sorry if its too specific but i just love scenarios like this >:3

tysm!!

ʚɞ I wouldn't know what to do without you ʚɞ

Pairings: Phainon x Reader

Summary: Jealousy isn't your forte, but when you saw someone else attempting to flirt with him, something snapped inside you. Days of your avoidance, Phainon is desperate. He doesn't know what he has done wrong, all he wants is you back to him.

Tags: Fluff, slight angst, Phainon is oblivious to flirting, Reader is avoidant at times, miscommunication, happy ending.

A/N: TYSM FOR THE REQ! Phainon is js a silly guy who happens to enter the torture city. Top 5 hottest things a man can do: yearn, yearn, yearn, plan dates and yearn. Ngl that's my next fic idea. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

In Okhema, people walk like the world is watching. Every movement is measured. Every glance calculated. And Phainon — Chrysos Heir, esteemed Flame-Chaser, child of radiance and prophecy — somehow floats through it all like he’s never known gravity.

He greets everyone. Offers compliments he probably doesn’t realize sound like confessions. And when someone leans in too close and asks him to lunch — eyes warm, voice low — he tilts his head and says, “Oh! I already promised [Name] I’d help them archive the library wing. But thank you!”

It’s innocent. But it burns.

You’d watched from the other end of the hall, sorting crystal samples for Aglaea's Garmentmakers. Watched them touch his arm. Watched him smile like the stars blinked for no one but them.

You weren’t jealous. You were… protecting him. That’s what you told yourself.

He could do better than someone like you — someone who flinches when praised and stumbles when near his warmth for too long. Someone who isn’t made of gold.

So you stopped sitting with him during morning readings. Stopped lingering after missions. Stopped walking home the long way through the bloom-lit streets of Okhema, where you always used to joke about retiring together in a palace made of moss.

Three days pass. Four. Five.

He leaves you notes — folded neatly, in his careful handwriting.

"Did I upset you?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Please tell me what I did."

You never answer.

Until he shows up in your lab at the end of the week, out of breath, dust on his gloves, eyes wide like he’s chased you across realms.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The words come out desperate. No formality, no restraint — just Phainon, shaken, with his soul in his throat.

You straighten from your seat at the observation console, stunned. “I’m not,” you say weakly.

“You are,” he says. “You don’t even look at me anymore.”

His voice softens. “I miss you. I don’t care if you’re busy or tired or mad at me — just tell me what I did wrong. I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything. Just don’t… don’t disappear.”

You flinch. His words hit too close.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, barely audible. “I saw someone flirting with you, and you were smiling, and I thought— I thought maybe they were better for you. Someone who doesn’t mess up around you. Someone who shines like you do.”

Phainon stares. Like you’ve just told him the stars are fake.

“They were flirting with me?” he says, appalled.

You squint at him. “...Seriously?”

“I thought they wanted to ask about the antique birdsong scroll in the east vault.”

You groan. “That was a date invitation, Phainon.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Was it a good one?”

You almost laugh. Almost.

He steps forward. Carefully. Gently. Like you’re something breakable — not because you’re weak, but because you’re important.

“You think they shine like me?” he says. “You are my shine.”

You look away. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it to be kind,” he replies, voice steady now. “I’m saying it because I mean it. Because when you left, everything felt dim. I don’t want polished. I want you.”

You finally meet his eyes — and his expression is open, luminous, unguarded in a way it only ever is with you. He takes your hand. Holds it like it’s the key to something ancient.

During the Parting-Hour, you're both slouched on the balcony of your home — feet dangling over the edge, sunlight brushing your skin like silk.

“Are you really that bad at flirting?” you ask.

“Am I supposed to be good at it?”

“You’re terrible at it.”

“Excellent,” he says. “That way I only accidentally fall in love with you.”

You smile. You don’t look away this time. He leans into your shoulder like he belongs there. Like he’s home.

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keeweesauce · 13 days ago

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Hello! May I request a Phainon, Aventurine and Mydei with a reader who YEARNS for them? Like when they are in public, and look to the readers eyes, there's always a look of affection behind it. The reader may not be so loud about it but they knows what the reader gives behind those eyes. The reader does anything for them to be with them. Perhaps learning how to cook and make simple gifts, sleep with them, take care of them. But behind those yearning eyes is a wanting to receive affection and love as well. Perhaps the reader can be compared to a dog but who knows. The reader doesn't want anyone else but THEM even perhaps marrying them someday but the reader won't say it yet.

Honestly, this feels relatable to me especially watching the new trailer.I hope this isn't a hassle to write and I hope you have a great day!💕

ʚɞ More than just a dream ʚɞ

Pairings: Phainon x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Mydei x Reader

Summary: You don't say how much you long for his eyes on you, you express it through the little gestures that can easily blend in with mundane tasks. But he notices them, every single time. And he knows, he's just as a fool for you as you are for him. The love you give him through the well-crafted gestures will never go in vain.

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, you can make it pre-established relationship too, yearning, yearner x yearner (esp on Phainon's part)

A/N: TYSM FOR THE REQ! AUGH YEARNER X YEARNER MY FAV TROPE, theyre so loser but Mydei n aventurine hides it better, anyways, hope you enjoy!

⚘ Phainon:

Phainon sees it — every time.

That quiet flicker in your eyes when your gaze lingers on him, the way your hands tighten around a basket you brought for him, filled with things he once mentioned in passing. The way you always wait for him to return from training, your breath hitching just slightly when he’s within arm’s reach. You never say it aloud. But gods, he hears it in everything you do.

And he mirrors it.

Every chance he gets, Phainon finds his fingers brushing yours, not by accident. He lets you patch his wounds even when he could do it himself. He offers to walk you home even if it means doubling back across the city with his greatsword and Aglaea's orders on his back. When you sleep too close to him during quiet resting hours, his heart skips but he never moves away. He wants that closeness — all of it. Wants you to know he yearns just as hard.

“You always look at me like that,” Phainon murmurs once, fingers curled around yours like they were meant to be there. “Like I’m all you’ve ever wanted. Do you know how hard it is not to kiss you when you do?”

Your breath catches. But he doesn't tease you — no, Phainon leans closer and rests his forehead against yours. His voice is soft, almost shy. “I want you too. Just as much. Maybe even more.”

⚘ Aventurine:

Aventurine doesn’t understand.

Not why you’re still here. Not why you cook for him without being asked. Why your hands brush over his shoulder like it’s normal — like he’s not made of sharp pieces and past regrets.

You laugh with him. You bring him gifts. You look at him like he’s everything. And for a man who’s lost everything before, it hurts to be loved like this.

He tries to play it cool. Makes sly remarks when you offer to fix his collar, pretends to be annoyed when you light a candle in his quarters just because he said the room was “too dim.”

But one night, you fall asleep beside him — not touching, not expecting. Just… there. Aventurine stares at you for a long time. And something in him breaks.

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” he whispers to the quiet, hands trembling as he reaches out and brushes your hair away from your face. “You’re going to ruin me.”

And maybe that’s the truth. Because when you look at him with that open, gentle heart — he forgets that he ever lived a life without love.

⚘ Mydei:

Mydeimos is a warrior. A prince. Built from the stones of Castrum Kremnos, raised to command with the weight of mountains on his back.

So when you tuck a warm wrap around his shoulders on a windy night and mutter something about “chilly days,” Mydei pretends not to notice the way his heart flinches.

You never ask for anything. You never demand. You just… show up. With bandages, with food, with a song, with a laugh. And your eyes — gods, your eyes — they look at him like he’s not just some hardened soldier who’s seen too much.

He plays it cool. He shrugs when you catch him watching you. He smirks when you leave notes on his training blade.

But every gesture you make chips away at the walls around him.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” he tells you one Parting-Hour, voice low, arms crossed as you fuss over a cut on his cheek. “But you’re dangerous like this. You make me forget I’m not supposed to need someone.”

You glance up, startled, but Mydei doesn’t pull away. He just sighs and lets his forehead rest against yours — rough, tired, but unshakably yours.

“...Stay a little longer,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “You’ve already ruined me anyway.”

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