call me kisa

Warning(?): kinda suggestive

When Lohen enters your bedroom through the open window, your duvet is the first to go. You stir from the rush of cold air, blearily sitting up, before an unforgiving grip locks around your ankle, and your mind recalls that your first instinct is to scream.

A hand clamps over your mouth, only pulling away once the panic dissipates as your eyes settle on your lover’s familiar red.

“Lohen…? You’re—” He cuts you off with a kiss; pulling you into his gravity with the enthusiasm of a man starved. After all, who could blame him? Even you have lost count of the days he’s spent stationed away in Nod-Krai. Yet when he pulls away, he does so with fervor in his eyes—cunning, and full of guile—and the anxiety of exhilaration ignites in your chest.

“I'm here to inspect you, baby.” he lilts, guiding you onto your back. He runs a hand up your thigh, easily shifting your nightgown up, panties lazily tossed aside, before finally spreading your legs apart until your cunt unfolds in between. Two gloved fingers part your folds open to the sticky sound of your arousal, delicately woven into thin strands of webbing that refuse to snap in spite of how far his fingers stretch.

when you read phainon’s mind, never did you expect to hear your name so much. kinda tame dirty thoughts. didn’t specify what gender reader is so i made it gn ! <3

it’s late when phainon finally finds you, much later than he’d like. you’d been good this time, clever even, slipping through side streets and empty corridors like water between his fingers. but phainon’s patient when he wants to be, and when it comes to you, patience bleeds into desperation.

by the time he spots you, the night is quiet enough that your footsteps echo faintly against the pavement. he watches for a moment as he’s hidden in the shadows, eyes tracing the small rise and fall of your shoulders with every inhale. you think you’re alone, he can see it in the way your body relaxes and the way your pace slows down a step, in no rush.

so that’s when he steps out.

the scrape of his shoes against stone and the shift of his coat as he moves, but it’s enough to make you freeze. his silhouette fills the narrow space between the walls as a slow smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

the look on your face when you turn and see him, that startled mix of dread and disbelief that hits him somewhere deep in his chest. he shouldn’t enjoy it, but he does, because it’s intoxicating, the way your pulse quickens, the way you stumble back a step even though you already know it’s useless.

“found you.” he murmurs, voice low and just a little out of breath, but truth be told, he had savoured the chase.

“yeah…” you manage, swallowing hard, eyes flicking anywhere but his. “f-found me…”

he grins innocently, like this whole thing isn’t strange at all, like finding you in the dead of night without a trail was nothing to scoff about. in a few quick steps he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the warmth rolling off him. his fingers hook your collar, tugging lightly, just enough to pull you a little closer.

“there,” he says, voice soft and teasing. “it was crooked.”

the small excuse is transparent, but he says it with a smile so wide it almost feels harmless, and frankly, quite rude to doubt someone who seems as pure as him.

“i didn’t see you today,” he adds after a silent moment, the one you didn’t bother to fill, before tilting his head owlishly. “were you hiding from me, sweetheart?”

his tone is light and playful, but there’s something underneath it, something that makes your stomach twist. so you shake your head quickly, forcing a small smile, hoping it’ll make him drop it. “no, just… busy.” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

his fingers linger on your collar for a second longer than they should, then trail up until they stop just below your chin. he tilts your head up so you’re looking at him, eyes locking on yours with a softness that feels far too intense for the quiet hallway you’re standing in.

“busy,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word. his grin doesn’t fade, but it turns, less playful now and more curious. “you always seem to get so busy when i’m looking for you.” he says, his thumb brushing against the curve of your jaw.

“you know,” he says, voice low enough that it hums between you, “if you didn’t want me to find you… you’d have to try a lot harder.”

he says it like a joke, but the way he’s still holding you, the way his eyes don’t move from yours, it doesn’t sound like one.

his words hang in the air, dripping with that same teasing lilt that always makes your stomach twist. but this time, it’s not just the tone, it’s the thoughts echoing beneath it. the ones he doesn’t say, the ones you wish you couldn’t hear.

his mind hums so loud it hurts your own. flashes of you, all through his day. the way your hand brushed his sleeve this morning. the sound of your laugh when he tells a silly joke. the image of you standing in his doorway, eyes half lidded with sleep, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that wasn’t even yours.

you swallow painfully, forcing yourself to blink it all away, but it’s impossible. the images crawl into your head and the embarrassment burns down your neck. it’s exactly why you’ve been avoiding him. ever since that strange run in you had with the trailblazer, whatever energy those things you encountered carried, whatever kind of resonance it sparked in you, you haven’t been able to stop hearing people’s thoughts. not all the time, but loud enough when they’re thinking of you specifically.

and phainon… phainon was always thinking of you.

he lightly clicks his tongue, studying you like he knows something’s off, which he does, because he knows you more than you may think. “you look nervous.” he says, voice low, almost amused. look how fucking perfect you look for me…

you flinch, your skin heating. “n-no, just tired.” you stammer quickly, stepping back before he can reach again.

his grin widens, a spark of interest flickering in his mind that makes your pulse spike. perfect. i love it when you’re sleepy… you get so compliant towards me..

you bite your tongue so hard it hurts, desperate to keep your composure. it’s like being trapped in a room full of whispers that only you can hear and his are the loudest, most powerful ones.

“you’re acting quite strange.” he murmurs, taking a slow step closer, which makes his thoughts pulse even louder. what are you thinking about? me, perhaps?

you take a small step back on instinct more than fear, but phainon’s hand catches your wrist before you can even think of fully slipping away. it’s not harsh, not enough to hurt, but there’s no mistaking the strength in his grip. the way his fingers curl around your skin, keeping you there and stopping you from vanishing from his sight again.

his mind spikes the moment he touches you.

fuck.. so soft… i missed your body so much..

it’s so loud it makes your breath hitch, your chest tightening with something between embarrassment and unease.

“hey…” his voice softens, as if he’s aware of how easily you seemed to be spooked today. “why’ve you been avoiding me, hm?”

you open your mouth, but no sound comes out. you can’t tell him the truth— can’t admit that every time he’s near, his thoughts spill into yours like ink, staining everything in its path. they’re too raw, too erotic sometimes. the way he thinks about you isn’t something you should ever know.

his mind hums again, a low flicker of longing wrapped in something heavier, which you could have mistaken for politeness had his hands not literally been trembling to hold you. think about what i could do to you…

and before you can breathe another word, he pulls you forward. your body collides with his chest, and all the air leaves you in one soft exhale. his arms wrap around you tightly and trembling— and for a moment, the world falls away.

you can feel everything. the thump of his heartbeat against your ribs. the way his breath catches unevenly in his throat— how his thoughts swirl, much quieter now but still blurred at the edges with relief now that he’s holding you. come here, sweetheart… be so good for me and just..

you want to push him away, tell him to stop thinking like that— but his hold doesn’t loosen. not even when you shift, not even when you whisper his name, actually, it seems to get tighter when it falls from your lips like honey.

his head drops to your shoulder, his voice muffled and broken. “…don’t move, okay?”

fuck… it’s so hard to stay composed when all i want to do is ruin you..

you don’t move. you let him hold you, his thoughts bleeding quietly into yours, until all that’s left between you is silence, the faint trembling beat of his heart pressed against your own, and the prominent bludge growing bigger against your hipbone.

his grip tightens reflexively, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as his other hand comes up to cup your jaw— thumb brushing over your cheekbone, tracing the curve of it like he hasn’t done it millions of times already.

"you're so perfect," he murmurs, voice low and rough and almost a groan. "have I ever told you that? have I ever told you how much I want to..."

he trails off, swallowing hard. but he doesn’t even need to finish that sentence because it’s in your mind before you can think.

keep you shaking and trembling under me?

his eyes are dark when they meet yours again, pupils blown wide and ringed with only the thinnest sliver of blue. he looks wrecked— wrecked and starving, and you know, with a bone deep certainty that settles in your gut that he wants to devour you whole, and it’s not just a thought anymore.

"i want..."

his voice cracks, and he clears his throat, trying again.

cw. fem reader. minors do not interact. starts as a pussy job > progresses into more. exhibitionism. a good amount of teasing. a little back and forth banter. set in the amphoreus baths.

word count. 1.5k words. ︵ ⊹ return to masterlist.

“And here I thought you were just looking to relax, hm?”

Phainon’s voice breaks into a smooth, low laugh as he lets himself bask in the damp press of your breasts against his chest. The proximity only makes the air in the Amphoreus baths feel much thicker than usual and he lets himself lean more of his weight back onto the cooler stone behind as you straddle his lap.

“What? Aren’t you relaxed?” Your words purr, pretty pussy hugging around the width of his cock as he grinds himself up through your folds and he tilts his head at you.

“Oh, I think that much is quite obvious, don’t you?” Phainon replies, cheekily before his next languid roll of his hips makes you gasp. The sound is pretty and needy and he gives you a lidded look through his bangs when you meet his gaze. “It seems I owe you my gratitude.”

His pupils are blown wide with lust, but he grins like he’s amused as his large palms squeeze at you. “After all, to get you in such a position isn’t easy to achieve.”

Soaking together wasn’t something unfamiliar. Especially after a long day of dealing with work and other commitments and Phainon didn’t think there was ever anything more relaxing than feeling you press the luxurious oil from the baths into his sore muscles.

But he’d been particularly needy today and you’d been just as beautiful as you always were when he’d offered his hand to you, luring you onto his lap. His cock was already half-hard just from the sight of you and he was feeling just as weak to you as he’s always been.

It wasn’t like you both to get carried away like this. You enjoyed the chase and teasing Phainon enough until he was all but on his knees begging for you.

But seemingly, you both had something else in mind for your moment of respite and didn’t have the patience to wait, especially when you’d found yourselves being the only ones left in the secluded bath chamber so late at night.

The opportunity had presented itself. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

And Phainon is especially thankful for it now as his breathing stutters along your cheek. He makes a low, satisfied sound that drips like honey to lick at the base of your spine, and his hands ease you into another saccharine grind against his cock as his palms squeeze at your hips to encourage more of the intoxicating friction.

he tries so hard to keep his cool but his face feels so warm and he can’t slow down his heartbeat and he can’t pay attention when you’re talking but he swears it isn’t his fault, you’re just too pretty. every time he sees you, it’s like slow, romantic music plays out of nowhere in the background, the trees seem to rustle louder and the sun seems to beam almost perfectly over your face. don’t worry about when he trips over his own feet at the sight of you too, it’s part of the process, he says, embarrassingly.

none of this stops when you finally get together by the way, he still perks up like a puppy when you say his name and his eyes still shine a little brighter when he makes you laugh and he still giggles against your lips like it’s the first time you’ve ever kissed him.

you smiled at him today, and he walks straight into a lamppost. a real, warm smile—just for him—and his brain short-circuits. the clang from his head and the lamppost echoes across the plaza, and he just stands there dazed as if there wasn’t already a visible bump forming on the center of his forehead.

you hurry over, eyes wide. “phainon? are you okay?”

he blinks at you, smiley and slightly cross-eyed. “did the sun always hit your face like that?”

you blink.

he sways a little. “be honest. was it graceful?”