𝒻𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎

wildflowers and petrichor; it slackened his shoulders immediately—his eyes fluttered as he inhaled sharply, deeply and took a step forward, an unconscious part of him needed to be engulfed even further into this scent—your scent.

would it be stronger at your pulse? your slim wrists or at the point where the slope of your neck meet the curve your clavicle? or maybe in the soft between your breasts or thighs?

his eyes fluttered open as he felt the blood rush to his cheeks.

he wanted… no, needed…

his eyes met that of aglaea's, who looked at him with an arched brow and an almost disappointed expression.

“you would do better not to consort with a traveller beyond the skies.” she pointed out emotionlessly—and he knew she spoke of nothing but the truth but…

his eyes flickered toward your disappearing form.

he wanted to risk it all, just for you to remain within reach—for your scent to linger on him a second longer—so that when he lay in his bed that night, he could pretend dream of your breath, hot against him and your skin, flushed against his.

—

afterword:

- the title; “we’ve already done it in my head” is from “guilty as sin?” by, yes! you guessed it. taylor swift.

hair as silver as the coins zagreus coveted, eyes as blue as the sky where aquila lingered and as deep as the ocean where phagousa danced, with a handsome face that would surely make mnestia weep—if only for the beautiful romances it would stir.

lord phainon could not stop at being handsome of course; for he was as benevolent as the pillar of stone, georios and as honourable as the scale of justice, talanton. and if a citizen were to fear the threat of the black tide, why, lord phainon would appear—the swing of his great sword as mighty as nikador’s lance!

… suffice to say, the citizens of okhema adored their lord phainon—nay, they idolised him.

he was their hero; carved from pride and glassed in dream, delicately placed on top of a pedestal for all of okhema to distantly look upon and admire. nobody was to touch him, nobody was to want him as any less pure than that the deliverer who would free them of the black tide.

their devotions would only, should only be pure—

so it was a scandal; it was a sacrilege!… when the hero of okhema’s hopes and wishes arrived in the town proper with his sweet lips bruised by desires and his slender clavicle riddled with marks of passions.

oh how their eyes turned accusing onto the person whose shadow their lord phainon followed as if a lost dog. oh how the whispers followed mercilessly, this person whose gaze would turn their lord phainon’s way, and he would light up like a brilliant star, like the dawning sky, like the world bearer kephale.

oh.

oh.

how jealous they were, that lord phainon had found someone to be devoted to.

—

you couldn’t help the smug little smile that curled your lips once you felt the heated looks of jealousy settle on your shoulders.

“sweetheart?” you turned your head, immediately soft at the sight of phainon’s starry eyes on you, only you, there was really only you, “you are looking incredibly proud of yourself.”

your lips twitched and his eyes dropped down at the movement of your lips—those lips that bruised him, marked him, very much owned him. he shivered once he felt your fingers loop through the choker around his neck. you gave it a firm tug and he followed your silent command to bend lower. your fingers left the necklace to trace the bite marks littered throughout his clavicle.

“why wouldn’t i, when the whole of okhema is jealous that i have you?” you leaned closer, voice a soft purr. “when i have you in ways they can’t even dare to dream about?”

—

afterword:

- the title; “for you, i would fall from grace” is taken from the song “dont blame me” by taylor swift.

“i’ll try.” he laughed warmly, white lashes a-flutter as you gently pressed a fluffy warm towel across his wet face—as you dried him off from when you had washed his face a minute ago. as you finished drying his face, his eyes opened and peered up at you, his beloved, quietly, attentively. you’re concentrating as you pour liquid into your palm and you meet his gaze before you matched his smile.

“close your eyes, i’ll be patting the toner onto your face now.” he obeyed naturally, though he does flinch when you begin to pat the liquid across his cheeks. he pretended to whine when you pat a little too firmly and you giggle in turn.

“big baby.” you teased before your warm hands pull away and he opened his eyes eagerly to look up at you again.

“but i’m your big baby.” you rolled your eyes at his words and you pinched his nose but the smile on your lips is undeniably in love as you carefully pulled out a small vial that came with a dropper.

“what’s this?”

“serum.” you answered, “I’m trying something new. your pretty face has been dry because of the weather, so this should help hydrate your skin.”

he only hum as you dropped dollop of cool serum on his forehead, cheeks then chin. he flinched briefly at the cool liquid but he sighed dreamily as you used the pad of your thumbs to massage it into his skin. your hands warm the product, which soothes him even further to a point of drowsiness.

“why…” he yawned as you pulled your hands away, twisting the cap open for the last product of the night: moisturiser. “why do this anyways?”

“don’t you want to take care of your pretty face?” you teased as you spread another product across his face again—from the scent alone he recognised it as the floral face moisturiser that you always used on him.

“but you will love me even when i’m ugly.” he muttered sleepily and you laughed, your hands rubbed slow circles across his cheeks then his temples, which lulled him into an even deeper sleep.

“you aren’t wrong.” you say honestly. “my hero will always be my hero… but i suppose, this is just another way for me to take care of you... as you have always taken care of me.” you spread the length of your fingers across the slope of phainon’s cheeks, then the sharp line of his jaw—then you bend down, brushing your lips across your deliverer’s slumbering forehead.

somehow you feel a little bit more sensitive and there’s an unfamiliar feeling—weight—tightness—in your stomach, a tingling inside you.

your eyes snapped open in realisation and your fingers raked through phainon’s mussed hair—trying to tug him off from where he was lasciviously mouthing against your breasts (he only moaned into your skin at the pain, when it’s you it will always feel good—) as his cock rhythmically stroked a part of you that was pushing—pressuring—

“phainon..!” your voice was a little bit more shrill, your face hot. “off me—i’m, i’m going to—“

phainon’s cock—with it’s curved angle, and warm tip pressed against a spot inside you that you hadn’t realised was there and you—

you cum squirt.

your head is thrown back, your eyes rolled—the fingers tangled in his hair pulled hard; phainon froze, eyes torn between staring at your pleasured face (one he hadn’t seen before) or at the way your pussy gushed with hot, clear liquid that splattered all over his stomach and cock.

“fuck…” he groaned as you pulled on his hair again while your warmth convulsed around him, his own orgasm washed over him as his cock throbbed with every spurt of cum he releases into you.

there’s a moment where you gaze at each other, dazed beyond belief before—

phainon scrambles to rise from his position (cock slipped out of you with a wet squelch) only for him to dive back into the apex of your thighs, tongue lapping, stroking eagerly at your clit, in your hole.

“phainon—!” you yelped, fingers fisted into his hair but he only moaned harder with every harsh tug you makes. when you make eye contact with him—his eyes luminous and hazy at the same time—you gulped.

your eyes flickered to your phone, mouth instantly dried as you recognised the username. in the next moment, you’ve closed off your book, flicked the lights off and struggled underneath the blankets as you clicked the notification open.

if you had been asked a few months ago if you would ever be interested in all those twitter porn accounts, you would’ve probably stuttered and deflected—too embarrassed to even consider looking up… well, real people porn. it wasn’t that you were a prude, you were a total degenerate who enjoyed consuming hentai manga and anime, liked to read romantic eroticas… maybe liked a couple of thirst posts with attractive half naked or nearly naked people here and there.

but you liked to believe you had standards; stayed away from pornographic material that featured real people as if that would make you somehow purer (it didn’t, but it made you feel less pathetic at least?).

… that is, until, polemos600 popped into your algorithm as you had scrolled through hentai clips; pillow squeezed in between your thighs in a desperate rut to relieve yourself of stress from your upcoming class submissions.

you hadn’t even realised it wasn’t—anime anymore—your eyes squeezed shut, the grunts in the audio made you imagine broad hands on your hips as his cock split you wide open—you licked your lips, your eyes dazed as your body trembled at your delusion—

then you noticed the video playing on your phone—it’s a cock, you realised belatedly—a real one, with a fat mushroom tip, a somehow wider shaft, thick matted light hair, heavy balls. your eyes focused in on the way a vein throbbed right underneath the broad hand that rubbed up and down the thick length. the man hissed, hand squeezed himself—(his hand was nice too, you couldn’t help but think, long thick fingers, prominent knuckles and veins—you wonder what it would feel like to be stirred by those digits—)

he cums.

you watched as thick, white seed shoots out from the tip of the head before it dribbled down his full length.

you whimpered—as you felt something sticky spill out of yourself at the sight.

your finger hovered very briefly over a decision—and blinded by ecstasy you click bookmark.

it was over for you, from that moment onward.

it was easy enough for you to watch through all the content he had on his account—he didn’t have much, he didn’t post often. it was almost always the exact same situation; he would touch himself until he cums… sometimes he would have longer videos where he would cum more than once (and ooh, you contributed probably a hundred views to those—just from how often you touched yourself to the delusion of his cum spilling inside you— it was a waste it was such a waste! his cum splattered everywhere and not inside you warming you up with a messy crea— ahem, that was your ovulation talking. whoops).

the video you were notified with today followed almost the exact same premise—his long fingers wrapped around the bulge in his sweatpants as he stroked and squeezed. when his cock finally escaped out of the fabric, your breath hitched, your thighs clenched—two fingers already buried deep inside you, curled eagerly, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes out of sheer frustration (because it’s not the same, you won’t know how it feels like to truly have him buried deep inside you—), a whimper slipped past your lip as a droplet of precum bubbled up at the tip and he spreads it across his length.

and when he finally came, you soaked your underwear.

your eyes are heavy lidded, your breath is shallow as you like, retweet and comment.

mania666: that was delicious! 🤤 you always post when i need to destress… 💞💞 thank you for the video!

you turned on your bed, flicked to your own profile and chewed your bottom lip.

if you had been asked a few months ago if you would ever dare post your nudes, your masturbation videos—you might’ve have shrieked in embarrassment.

but polemos600 had completely changed that for you.

somewhere between the multiple clips of his cock and your constant need to relieve stress as a college student meant you caught some form of feelings for him. and though you’re entirely deep in denial over the extent or strength of those feelings, you can’t deny you’ve gotten a little pathetically parasocial—making an account (mania666), only following him—posted your own pictures and short clips just for some desperate hope that just maybe he’d notice you.

and though he’s never ever featured anyone else in these videos, maybe you two can… oh i dunno, kinda sorta maybe do a little innocuous thing called a collab?

hey, you never said you weren’t delusional.

a girl could dream right?

besides…

you scrolled through your latest post—a vulgar one with your turtleneck pushed up above your chest, which was decorated by a pretty lace bra—just barely covering your nipples—then through the hundreds of comments complimenting your looks.

a girl loved being complimented.

and you won’t do it for long—the posting. (you said that last month too.) just until you’ve finished riding out the high of liking a hot guy—eventually your feelings would dwindle, you’re sure.

especially since polemos600 has never and will never notice you.

(even if you’re personally torn about wanting it and not wanting it.)

your eyes fluttered shut and you missed a notification that would’ve otherwise kept you awake until dawn.

polemos600 has followed you.

—

afterword:

- the title “feels so good (had to jump the octave)” is from sabrina carpenter’s “nonsense”. tbh that song is mania666 (reader)’s theme song?