Ventini
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“I thought you hated me, Mydeimos—” Phainon whispered like a confession, and Mydei's lips pulled into a frown, eyebrows furrowing.
Phainon's fingers tightened on Mydei’s hips, his touch bruising. “I thought you despised me, but… You were actually just hoping I'd finally snap? So I'd... Make you submit to me?” Phainon's voice dropped to a low growl, and Mydei shuddered beneath him.
“Mhm,” Mydei acquiesced with a nod, smiling in an ingratiating manner that made Phainon feel hot all over.
Phainon has been agonizing over his tumultuous relationship with his new roommate for weeks, now. His roommate-- who cooks for him, does his laundry, and scolds him for his unhealthy habits. Why does he care so much, anyways?
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Desperation by Professor Xanax (Ventini)
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
13 Nov 2025
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Mydei had never one to dwell upon the more selfish, primitive desires and wants that could never be realized. He was well accustomed to not being in a position wherein indulging was in the cards.
But if he'd had it his way, he internalized… he'd have had Phainon mouthing at the shape of him through his trousers like this halfway through that first, fateful ten days of sparring.
After assuming Nikador's divinity, Mydei's grand entrance into-- and subsequent resolution of-- the conflict with the Flame Reaver renders Phainon speechless-- and very, very turned on.
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Mydei reaches down to tighten the horizontal straps running parallel across both the top and bottom of Phainon's generous bust, squeezing his breasts together. The increased pressure around him elicits a low, quiet groan from low in Mydei's chest.
Phainon has aired his grievances towards the results of his own training more than just once—mainly towards how soft and pliant his chest still is when at rest, compared to the sharper definition it takes on when he's flexing.
But it's hardly a problem, now— with the way the Crown Prince is staring down at him, a dark, hungry look in his golden gaze that further contributes to the coil of arousal burning low in his stomach.
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Phainon's wings present a glaringly obvious yet uniquely effective advantage for Mydei.
He tilted his head down, lips ghosting against his forehead, “You could have come inside of me,” He murmured, humming softly, “But you decided to be obstinate,” He punctuated his apparent dissatisfaction with another squeeze to a plume of the wing in his hand.
Phainon gasped sharply, writhing against him as his back arched and his eyes rolled, the heat in Mydei's belly coiling tighter and hotter with every desperate noise he earned from the man above him, “So you can hump me like the dog you are and come in your pants instead.”
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Summary
In an unspecified cycle, the Crown Prince of Kremnos is offered to the Flame Reaver as a Sacrifice.
But even as the lion is shorn of its ferocity, its harsh edges softened by gilded silks and ceremonial adornments, and made to bare its neck as if it were a sacrificial lamb… he remains a lion still. His chest burns with rage and hatred—rage for what has been lost. Rage for what has been taken from him, and from his people—to lead them to such dire circumstances that this– his being here– was the answer…
He is not the first, but with his sharpened claws and fangs, honed for battle, he will be the last.