#veiled-asks

I am too shy to ask since its been on my mind a lot too... but I hope u remember...

I DO REMEMBER ANON HERE YOU GO IT'S BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS REFUSING TO BE EDITED

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

contains: phainon x gn!reader, masturbation, dubcon (ish)

far too many times, would the thrill of battle leave phainon in a state of pure adrenaline. a sharpened focus is helpful when facing hoards of crazed titankin. the cool of sweat under his armour and garbs has him maintain a cool head in the heat of battle. the pump of golden blood in his veins and quickening of his heartbeat serve as a soldier's much needed reminder that he is awake and aware and alive. it guides his greatsword to cut through the masses of the black tide with ease, wind swings that build off the momentum of the one before it.

but once the clash of swords come to an end, and the refugees are all as close to settled as they can be in the city, does phainon find himself with a steady flow of heightened energy with no opponent to take it out on.

that state of focus lead to a furrow in his brow and a wild glow in his eyes. the perspiring heat made him only want to strip his layers off, and his blood rushes to parts less fit for the battlefield.

he used to have to resolve it on his own. shuffle back home with a strategically placed cape covering up his raging hard-on. fighting the strain on his smile when the all too friendly okheman locals call out to him and delay him further. unbuckle and kick off his boots in the safety of his house, flop onto the couch with a groan and desperately fuck into his fist.

you'd caught him in the midst of one of these episodes once before. the sight of him fucking up into his fist while his other arm draped over the backrest of the couch. he'd been chanting your name, each time more breathless than the last. he didn't even notice you watching him absolutely lose himself when he yells out and white spurts fly from his cock. only giving you a lidded glance, tinged with exhaustion while he comes down from his high.

of course, this was when your belongings were still lingering in cardboard boxes and you were still getting used to the scent of his detergent on your clothes. once you've settled into the safety and privacy of his home — your home – you start to become part of this routine as well.

now, when he opens the door and sees you in his living room, he lights up and bounds up to you like a dog greeting it's owner — ironic given that it is him coming home to you after a long day of work. you're not even able to get a word out before he's tugging you towards him and pulling your clothes off and slamming his lips onto yours. the groan he lets out against your startled gasp is shamelessly loud that he has you flushing from the sound alone.

he cages you against him, rutting his clothed bulge between your thighs, growling at the pressure that he's been aching for and is still not enough. he's still sweating, his hair's a mess and you think there's some lingering ichor on his clothes. his eyes are bright and wild like they are after a battle, but he's also sporting a hard-on that judging by his desperation, he's been dealing with for a while.

you try to speak once more but he kisses you like sin, slobbering into your mouth and letting out obscene sounds that make your knees embarrassingly weak. he tells you not to worry while scooping you up and humming against your wet lips that he'll do everything, all the hard work, he just really needs you right now so lie back and let him work out some of his energy, okay?