In which an overworked office girl suddenly adopts a feral himbo!
(RaccoonHybrid!Caelus x fem!reader)
wordcount: ~10500
TWs: MDNI, Slice of life-ish, breaking and entering, yearning, tsunder-ish reader, hurt/comfort, stalking, possessiveness, jealousy, reader is an overworked office girlie so ummm grumpy x (kinda dumb) sunshine dynamics.
NSFW: porn with some plot, oral sex (f receiving, face sitting), dirty talk, praise kink, begging, coming untouched, lingerie kink (man in lingerie yall), PiV, protected to unprotected sex (which is really irresponsible dont do that pls), marathon sex, messy sex, exhibionism (kinda? you talk to your boss thru the phone while Cae be pounding), overstimulation, marking, pussy drunk raccoon bum.
(If you find some more, please let me know.)
As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!
NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes.
Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.
“Ugh… What time is it?”
The summer heat had you sleeping in nothing but an old tank top and a pair of panties most nights, and tonight was no different. The window was cracked open because the ancient AC unit wheezed like it was on its deathbed, and you’d rather take your chances with mosquitoes than wake up drenched in your own sweat.
So when you stumbled half-asleep toward the bathroom at 1:58 AM, you weren’t prepared for the sounds coming from your kitchen.
Shfft.
Crunch.
Slurp.
Your sleepy brain took a solid five seconds to process that something apparently was in your kitchen, making all those sounds.
The pink bat was in the corner by the bathroom door. You’d bought it in your first week in this ground-floor apartment, after your neighbor two doors down got her place broken into.
Why pink?
Well, because you’d felt particularly bimbo that day.
Wasting no time, you gripped it with both hands, back pressed flat against the wall beside the kitchen doorway. The light spilling from the open fridge cut a bright rectangle across the linoleum, and you could see a tail, thick and gray and ringed with darker stripes, twitching lazily back and forth. There was a fucking raccoon in your kitchen!
But then your eyes slid further.
Attached to the tail was a person, or at least something shaped like one, crouched on your floor with their head inside your fridge, shuffling in your crisper drawer.
You watched, paralyzed, as a hand emerged holding one of your apples. Three sharp, efficient chk chk chk sounds, and then the core was tossed carelessly onto the pile of shredded lettuce that used to be your vegetable situation.
That was it.
You swung around the doorframe, bat raised.
“HEY!”
The creature whipped around, one hand flying up to protect his head. His cheeks were still puffed out like a chipmunk’s, apple chunks visible in the shape. The ears atop his head flattened against the messy ash-brown hair. Wide golden eyes, pupils blown huge in the low light, were fixed on you with the deer-in-headlights intensity.
“Um,” he said. “Hi.”
“Don’t ‘um hi’ me!” You tightened your grip on the bat. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!”
“E-eating?” He glanced down at the half-demolished tomato in his hand. “Your vegetables. They’re good.”
“My vegetables,” you stressed. “In my kitchen. At night.”
He blinked slowly, clearly processing. Then his ears perked forward. “Oh. Do you want me to pay you back?”
“That’s not– no, I want you to tell me why you’re here!”
His tail drooped. The tip curled under, tucking between his thighs like a dog that’d been scolded.
“I saw your window was open,” he said, and his voice went small. “I was just gonna take a little bit, just enough to not be hungry, but then the apples smelled really good and I just–” he gestured helplessly at the devastation behind him, “–kept going.”
You stared at him, but his then his gaze dropped, and his ears went from droopy to bolt upright, the fur along the edges puffing out. His face, already pink, became redder.
“Um,” he said again. “You, uh– You might want to, like– put clothes on? Before you beat me up with that p-pink bat?”
You looked down.
Your tank top was thin and white. Practically see-through in the best of circumstances, and these were not the best of circumstances. The refrigerator light was in front of you, lighting every single curve, and the cold air from the open fridge had done exactly what cold air always does. Your nipples were visibly, emphatically, aggressively pert.
“You pervert!” You yowled, dropping the bat to cross both arms over your chest.
“I said you should get dressed!” He raised both hands, palms out. “I was being polite!”
“Looking at my tits isn’t polite!”
“I wasn’t– okay, I looked, but only because they were right there and you were waving a bat at me, and I got distracted– and also,” he added in a comically high voice, opening one eye, “you’re really pretty, so. Like. Hard not to look.”
Your indignation stuttered and crashed into embarrassment, which was not the emotion you should be feeling right now.
“S-shut up,” you said weakly, exhaustion slowly seeping in.
The refrigerator beeped, complaining about being left open too long. You took a breath. Then you dropped your arms, because fuck it, they were just titties, a lot of people had them, and he’d already seen them anyway.
“Okay,” you said. “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to tell me your name, and then you’re going to explain why I shouldn’t call the cops.”
“Ca-Caelus!” The word came out rushed. “My name’s Caelus! And please don’t call the cops, I don’t think they’d know what to do with me, last time I got picked up they put me in a shelter, and I climbed out a window, and they put out like a whole thing about a chupacabra in the local paper, and it was really embarrassing–”
He was rambling. His ears were doing this thing where they rotated independently, one swiveling toward you and the other tracking something outside. His tail had started thumping against the cabinet behind him, a soft thump thump thump like he couldn’t help it.
“Caelus,” you interrupted. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in November. I think. I’m not totally sure about the exact day, though…”
And there it was. That look. The one that made you think of stray cats with matted fur and ribcages you could count through their skin. The one that made you want to feed them and give them a warm place to sleep.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay. Okay, fine. I’m not gonna make you go back to the woods at three in the morning. You can take a shower, I’ll find you something to sleep in, and tomorrow we'll figure out what to do with you.”
“You’re serious?” His voice cracked on the second word.
“I mean, yeah? Just for tonight–”
Caelus moved so fast you didn’t have time to react. One second, he was on the floor surrounded by vegetable carcasses, the next he was on his knees in front of you, hands gripping your bare thighs, face pressed firmly against your lower stomach.
“Hey!” you yelped, “what are you doing!?” His nose was pressed way too low, nestled against the waistband of your underwear.
“Thank you,” he mumbled into your skin. His arms tightened around your hips, pulling you closer. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You’re so nice. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met! I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be so–”
“Okay, okay!” Your face was on fire. His nose was definitely pressed against your pubic bone, and he was still rambling, still thanking you, his voice all muffled and worshipful. “Caelus, let go!”
He let go immediately, scrambling backward on his knees like he’d been burned. His face was absolutely scarlet.
“Sorry. Sorry, I just got excited. Nobody’s ever been nice to me like that. I mean, people have been nice, and you’re pretty and smell good and I just–”
“Shower,” you managed. “You can stay for one night, and that's it.”
One night turned into two. Two turned into three. Three bled into a week, and a week folded itself into two, and somewhere in that stretch of time, you stopped counting.
The thing about Caelus was that he seemed simple.
That was his whole deal. Simple creature. Simple needs. Food, warmth, proximity to you. He didn't ask for much, just whatever you were willing to give, and even then, he took it like a man receiving communion.
Example:
You gave him your old phone. He held it with both hands and pressed it to his chest. His eyes got wet.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you. I'll– I'll take such good care of it, I promise!"
"It's a phone, Caelus. Not a puppy." You sighed, rubbing your eyes sleepily, but when you opened them–
God, the way he looked at you.
Like you'd hung the moon. Like you'd personally reached into the sky and threaded it there on a string just for him.
You gulped, cheeks suddenly feeling too hot.
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You thought he was asleep.
He was so still at night, so quiet, curled on the couch in your tiny living room like a contented animal. His breathing evened out within minutes of lying down. His tail stopped twitching. His ears went soft and relaxed.
You'd checked. Multiple times. Just to be sure.
So when you slipped into your bedroom on Saturday night and closed the door behind you, you didn't think twice. That day, you were wound tight. Work had been hell all week – deadlines and passive-aggressive emails and colleagues who seemed to exist solely to make your life difficult. So it’s only natural you needed some kind of ✨release✨ .
You'd bought the toy online three months ago, in a moment of lonely frustration after you broke up with that last dick of a boyfriend. It was silicone, curved just right, a deep purple that made you think of bruises and pleasure in equal measure. You stripped quickly and lay back on your bed with the toy in one hand and your phone in the other.
The dildo slid in easily because you were already wet, had been wet since you started thinking about it on the walk home. You gasped at the stretch, the fullness, the way it pressed against that spot inside you that made your vision go blurry.
You thought about nothing and everything. You thought about golden eyes and warm hands and a voice that said please like a prayer.
An orgasm came fast, making your theeth sunk into your pillow, muffling a cry that wanted to be a name…
…not noticing the wet shlick shlick shlick sound behind your bedroom door.
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The cafe job was an accident. You'd mentioned it offhand, and Caelus'd latched onto it like a lifeline.
"I can work?" He scrambled closer, nearly tripping over his own tail. "And earn money?"
"It's not that exciting, trust me." You lowered your cup of coffee on the table.
The owners were a woman with hair the color of fire and a man with silver streaks at his temples and eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Himeko and Welt. They ran the place together, and they took one look at a newsboy cap that you gave him to hide his ears. Then exchanged a meaningful glance.
"Can you carry heavy things?" Himeko asked smoothly.
"Yes," Caelus answered immediately.
"Can you carry them without breaking them?"
A pause. "...Probably."
He got hired.
You promised yourself that the thing you felt when he beamed at the customers wasn't jealousy.
Nononono!
Why would you even feel something like that?
It was a concern.
Caelus was naive and gullible, not used to human ways. You just wanted to make sure he was adjusting well to workplace dynamics, and that was why you came to pick him up.
The cafe was busy when you arrived. Students, remote workers, and couples were hunched over tables. You spotted Caelus immediately, weaving between chairs with a tray balanced precariously on one hand.
You found a spot near the counter and waited.
Caelus chose that moment to round the corner, tray empty, face flushed with exertion. He spotted you and his whole body changed – shoulders relaxing, smile widening, his whole frame tilting forward with an eagerness that made your chest do something complicated.
"You came," he said. "You came to see me."
"I came to–" You stopped and sighed, tired as usual. "Yeah. Okay. I came to see you."
You could see the movement of his tail wagging in one of his pants legs. The couple at the table glanced over, puzzled.
"You can sit," he said. "I have ten more minutes. Then we can walk home together."
He was gone before you could respond, weaving back into the crowd with that strange grace he had.
You watched him go.
"He's quite something." A man had appeared beside you. He was tall, silver-haired, sharp-boned, with eyes that seemed to see straight through skin. He was wearing a barista apron over an immaculate shirt, and his smile was polite, in fact, too polite for your liking.
"Sunday," he introduced himself. "I work here part-time. I don't think we've met."
"Nope, we haven't."
Sunday's smile didn't waver. He leaned close enough that you could smell his cologne, something too heavy and nothing like Caelus's warm musk.
"He's very attached to you," Sunday observed. "I've never seen anyone so... focused."
"He's just friendly."
"Is that what we're calling it?" A pause. His eyes dropped to your mouth, just for a second. "I understand. Hybrids can be... intense. We feel things deeply. Especially when we find someone worth feeling deeply about."
You blinked. "You're a hybrid?"
He inclined his head. A pair of wings unfurled at his nape, not fully though, just enough to catch the light. Feathers in shades of pearly white were beautiful and strange.
"Doves," he said. "My sister and I. We're rare in these parts."
"I–" You stared at the wings. They were stunning, honestly, delicate and charming.
"Want to touch them?" His smile deepened. "Go ahead. Most people want to."
You reached out. The feathers were impossibly soft, warm from his body, shifting slightly under your fingers. Sunday made a small sound and leaned into the touch just slightly.
You pulled your hand back as if his wings burned you. Sunday's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Amusement, maybe.
"I should, um…" You gestured vaguely toward the door.
"Of course." He straightened. "It was nice meeting you. I hope I'll see you again."
You nodded. Turned. Walked toward the door.
And suddenly, found Caelus blocking your path.
He was standing rigid, tray clutched in both hands, his face drained of color. His ears were flat, pressed against his skull like he was bracing for a blow. His pupils had thinned into oinpricks, making his eyes ominously gold.
His gaze was fixed on Sunday.
"Caelus–"
"We can go home now." His voice was unnaturally rough. "My shift is over."
His fingers wrapped around your pulse point and held on like you were the only thing keeping him upright.
"Caelus, what?"
"Home." He tugged you toward the door. "Please. I need to– please."
Then you were outside, and he was walking so fast you had to half-run to keep up.
That evening, he didn't wish you a usual goodnight.
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You came home exhausted. Not normal exhausted, but fucking soul-deep level of exhausted. Your manager had screamed at you for an hour over a report that wasn't even yours. Your coworker had "accidentally" deleted your files. Someone had spilled coffee on your only clean shirt, and you'd spent the last three hours of your shift smelling like a burnt Starbucks.
You opened the door, wanting to just dive into your bed.
Dozens of candlelights were jammed onto plates, saucers, and a cereal bowl. Rose petals– wait… actually… Torn-up paper napkins dyed red with something were scattered across the floor. Something sultry, breathless, saxophone-heavy, and completely inappropriate for 7pm on a Tuesday was playing from your Bluetooth speaker.
And in the center of it all stood Caelus.
"Welcome home," he practically moaned, “honey~”
You stared.
He was wearing… what the fuck was he wearing?
Red lace. So much red lace. A see-through bra that did absolutely nothing to contain his chest, the underwire digging into his pectorals, the cups gaping where they were supposed to hold the fat. A garter belt attached to thigh-high stockings that had absolutely no business looking that scrumptious on his muscled legs. Panties that were catastrophically failing to contain the very obvious bulge straining against the red lace. On his neck, a collar of a slightly different red undertone glimmered. The leash attached to it swayed when he put his hand on his hip like a posing runway model.
"Would you like dinner?"
Caelus took a step closer.
“A bath?”
Another step.
“Or–”
“What in the Bad TikTok thirst traps is that?” You stopped him, thinning your lips into a narrow line.
“I dressed for you…” his voice wavered slightly, "like in those movies. Where the wife wears something pretty for her husband, and they are very happy to see each other." Caelus stepped forward again, and your traitorous gaze flew to the apex of his thighs. His cock slipped out from the side of those flimsy lace panties and bobbed against his thigh, flushed and leaking, the tip shiny with a bead of precum. He didn’t notice that. Or maybe he did, but was too far gone to care because his breathing had already gone shallow and needy, like even standing there in front of you was winding him up beyond reason.
"I could be your wife," he whispered, and his small fangs flashed when his lower lip caught between his teeth, "If you wanted. I could cook for you. I mean, badly at first, but with devotion. I could fold your laundry. I could sit in your lap while you complained about work..."
Your brain short-circuited.
"I could be good," his thighs flexed, red stockings catching the candlelight, making your mouth water. "I could be so good for you. I'd do anything–"
He was standing in front of you, wearing lingerie that was actively failing to contain him, trembling like a leaf, begging you with every fiber of his being.
And God help you, you wanted to fold immediately and take everything he was offering, gift-wrapped and presented like the tastiest dish. But sadly, at birth, you had been afflicted with the debilitating disease known as rational thinking, so...
"Caelus," you managed instead, "s-stop."
His face crumpled. "Why? You hate it?"
"I– no, I don't– that's not– why are you wearing–" You pressed both hands to your face and counted to ten while breathing deeply. When you looked up, he hadn't moved, still standing there, still half-hard, still trembling, his tail wrapped tight around his ankle.
"Caelus."
"Yes?" Instantly. Like he'd been waiting for his name in your mouth all evening.
"Why are you wearing… this?"
“It’s lingerie,” he muttered, with the confidence of a man presenting Exhibit One in a court case he thought he was absolutely winning. “I looked it up. Humans wear it to attract mates. To show they want to be taken.”
"You're not trying to– you don't need to attract anything!"
"But I want you to want me!" His voice broke on the last word, leaving something raw and bleeding underneath. "I want you to look at me the way you look at– at your laptop, when you think I'm not watching. I want you to touch me. I want you to–"
His cock twitched, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the shaft, and you watched it like you were hypnotised.
"I want you to want me," he finished. "The way I want you."
The silence stretched. Somewhere behind him, your Bluetooth speaker crackled and changed tracks with all the gravitas of a cheap porno trying to become a religious experience.
"Caelus," you said, "I don't know what you saw on my laptop, but–"
"It was the story about the girl in red and a werewolf..."
You choked.
Oh nonononono–
“And the one about the photographer and the lion guy…”
Shit–
"And the one about the fisher girl and the merman…”
Fuck, he’d found that as well?!
“And the one with two bulls and–"
"Okay!" you yelled, face burning. "Okay, I get it, you went through my Mumblr notes!"
"I just wanted to understand." His voice was earnest. "I wanted to know what you liked. What made you breathe like that..." His expression turned painfully needy. "What made you touch yourself when you thought I was asleep." His cheeks were red enough to light the room, but he kept going with suicidal courage. "You always think I'm asleep," he said quietly. "But I'm not. I'm always listening. I always know when you cum on that silicone fucking thing–"
"C-caelus–"
"What did I do wrong?" he whispered. "I looked up everything. I wanted it to be perfect for you. I wanted you to come home and see me and feel happy!"
You looked at him. At this ridiculous, pathetic, endearing creature standing in front of you, wearing lingerie too small, his cock hanging out, his eyes full of tears and desperate hope. Caelus stared back like you'd reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in your fist. His hands lifted, then stopped in midair, hovering a few inches from your waist as if even touching you without permission would be too much. That hesitation hurt more than anything else had.
You dropped your gaze to the floor because guilt rose so fast it made you nauseous.
“You don’t have to pay me with your body, Caelus,” you said quietly. The words came out wrong from the moment they left your mouth, but you couldn’t stop them. They kept coming, clumsy and awful and born from every ugly fear you had. “I’m not that kind of human.” You tried to gulp down the bile in your throat, while he froze, awestruck.
“...What?...”
“You don’t need to repay me for staying here,” you went on, hating yourself more with every syllable. “Not with money, not with your body, not with any of this. You don’t owe me anything. So please, just go change, and we can forget–”
“Forget?”
He said it so faintly you almost didn’t hear him. When you looked up, his face had changed.
“How,” Caelus said, and his voice shook so hard he had to stop and try again, “how are you managing to be that stupid while being that smart?” His brows were pulled tight, his mouth trembling in a hard line he couldn’t hold. “I’m not doing this because I think I have to! I’m not doing this because you fed me, or let me stay, or because I think I owe you some kind of price for your kindness.” His chest rose sharply. “Is that really what you think of me? That I would come to you like this because I thought that was what you were owed?”
The embarrassment in his voice was gone. So was the breathless hope. In their place was hurt so profound it had curdled into anger just to survive being felt.
“I did this because I want you,” he said, and now there was no performance left in him at all. “I want you so badly it makes me feel sick sometimes. I want you when you’re half-asleep on the couch, and your head keeps falling to one side. I want you when you come home tired. I want you when you’re making coffee. I want you when you’re reading. I want you when you are grumpy in the morning. I want you when you don’t even know I’m looking.”
His throat moved around a swallow that didn’t seem to help.
“So I thought maybe if I made it easy for you,” he said, softer now, ashamed of the softness but unable to hide it, “if I made it obvious, if I made myself into something you could want without having to think too hard about it. Then maybe...”
Your hands came up before you could think better of it.
His cheeks were warm under your touch, and the second you cuppedthem, something in his expression gave way. The anger vanished. The hurt remained, but now it was joined by something frightened and fragile and disbelieving, as though he had been preparing himself to be pushed away and did not know what to do with gentleness instead.
In a second, your lips crashed into his. It was desperate, but it was the only possible answer to all that pain in his voice.
Caeius made a sound against your mouth that you felt more than heard, something high and broken and disbelieving. For one heartbeat, he didn’t move at all, like he genuinely couldn’t believe this was happening, like if he did anything too quickly you might disappear. But when you parted your lips against his, letting him kiss you back fully, he broke. One hand slid up your back as if to reassure himself you were still there. His fangs scraped your lower lip. His breath shuddered hot into your mouth. His tail wound around your thigh so tightly it was possessive. He kissed like someone who had spent too long being careful, too long being patient, too long trying to survive on scraps of affection and accidental touches.
"I don't want to mess this up," he gasped against your mouth. "I don't want to– if you don't actually want– I can stop, I can always stop, just tell me and I'll–"
"I don't want you to stop."
He went very still.
"Say it again," he whispered. "Please. Say it again." His forehead knocked against yours, dazed. “Please...”
"I don't want you to stop, Caelus."
His lips found yours again, this time softer. His thumb traced your cheekbone. His tail tightened around your thigh. His hips rocked forward once before he caught himself, flushing violently when he realized what he'd done.
"The bed." You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "Or the floor. I don't– I can't think straight when you're looking at me like that."
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like I'm the only thing in the world worth looking at."
"That's because you are," he whispered. "The only thing. The only thing worth anything. The only thing I want to look at for the rest of my life."
Scooping you into his arms with startling ease, he carried you toward the bedroom, all restless urgency and careful hands. The moment he tossed you onto the mattress, the soft sheets dipped beneath your weight, warm lamplight catching on the buttons of your shirt. Your fingers went to them automatically. Even with your pulse sprinting and every reckless instinct in you begging to just rip the thing apart, you worked each button loose with care.
Because desire was one thing, and buying new clothes in this economy was another.
Caelus, meanwhile, landed near you with a breathless oof, rolling to his back immediately, making himself comfortable on your sheets. You swung a leg over his thighs and settled there, pinning him in place with a look that made him go still.
"If you want sex," you said, saddling his thighs, "we do it my pace."
He nodded so hard that those stupidly soft raccoon ears flopped as if they might fly right off his head. "Yes. Yes. Anything!"
You slid one hand down his chest, over the fucking ridiculous muscles he'd somehow packed onto that lanky frame, to wrap around the base of his cock.
Caelus shuddered and made a sound like you'd punched the air out of him. His whole body went rigid, then desperate shakes traveled from his ears all the way down to the tip of his twitching tail.
The thing was heavy in your palm. Thick and veined and already leaking like a broken faucet, the head flushed an angry red. His slit was gaping slightly, practically drooling precome onto your fingers, sticky and warm. The musky, salt-tinged scent of him intensified, flooding your senses and making your mouth water. You could see it pulse against your fingers, and something hungry curled in your stomach at the sight of him so undone by just your touch.
"Good boy."
The words barely left your mouth before his cock jerked violently in your grip. The first spurt landed on your wrist, thick and warm. The second painted your fingers, and the third shot clean over your hand to land on his own stomach. It kept coming, wave after wave of pearly white come. You felt the veins beneath your fingers throbbing in time with each spasm.
"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck–" His hips bucked helplessly into your grip, riding it out, more come splashing against your fingers, dripping down your wrist, absolutely coating your hand in thick strands. It was so much, and still his cock pulsed, still he spilled, like his body had been saving up for this moment for weeks. It pooled in the dips of his muscles, slid down the ridges of his abs, absolutely ruining the sheets beneath him. A final pulse pushed out a last drop that clung to his slit like a pearl, and you watched it tremble there, connected by the thinnest thread to the mess on his stomach.
"I think, uh…" he gasped, voice cracking, "I think I saw God."
You lifted your hand to your mouthslowly, mesmerised by the pretty shimmer, and licked a stripe up the side of your palm. The taste exploded on your tongue – bitter salt with an undertone of something musky and uniquely him. Not good exactly, but intoxicating because it was his. You deliberately dragged your tongue between your fingers, cleaning the mess, watching his eyes track every movement with glassy fascination.
"You came."
His ears flattened. His cheeks flushed darker, red spreading down his neck, across his chest, almost matching the red bra he wore. His tail was trapped between his legs, the tip curling inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. Lacy bra had shifted during his scramble, one nipple peeking out from beneath the fabric, hard and begging for attention.
"I– yes."
"From me grabbing your ears and saying 'Good boy'?"
His cock, still half-hard despite everything, gave a pathetic little twitch against his thigh, leaking a fresh bead of precome onto the ruined lace.
"‘M sorry.."
He looked up at you with those big golden eyes, ears perked forward, tail giving an uncertain little wag against the sheets. Like a dog hoping for a treat.
"You're just so pretty," he breathed, "r-really pretty. Like unfairly pretty. Like if ‘pretty’ was a person, it would be embarrassed because you're prettier than it."
Your panties came out in a second with a desperate rkkkk that signaled them turning into a useless piece of fabric. The crotch was absolutely soaked through – a dark patch in the center that had spread to the seams, and when you tossed them aside, they landed on the floor with a wet slap.
You crawled up him, and his eyes tracked your every movement with hopeful hunger. When you positioned yourself over his face, he whimpered eagerly, his hands coming up immediately to grip your thighs.
"Three taps on my thigh when you need to breeaa–," you didn't manage to finish because Caelus pulled you down onto his mouth with no hesitation. His nose pressed flush against your clit, pushing up the hood to reveal the throbbing bundle of nerves as he licked and sucked and devoured, his breath coming in desperate pants against your wetness.
You were so wet you could hear the obscene wet sounds of his tongue sliding through your folds. His nose bumped your clit with every movement, and you rocked against him, grinding down, using his face like the best fucktoy there was while he moaned in approval, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises.
"You taste like–" he gasped against you, pulling back just long enough to speak, his face absolutely drenched, your wetness dripping from his chin, "–like if heaven had a flavor it would be your cunt. Like–"
"Less talking, more licking."
"Yes, ma'am." Caelus dove back in with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue curling, dipping inside you, and you felt your thighs start to shake. He speared his tongue into your entrance as deep as it would go, curling up to stroke your front wall, and you saw stars.
"Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back, the ceiling swimming above you.
His hands traveled up and wrapped around your waist, urging you to press more weight on his face, fingers digging into flesh like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go–
Then you glanced back.
His cock was pulsing against his stomach, untouched, but spilling again. Thick ropes of come painted his abs, his chest, the stupid lace bra still stretched over his peaked nipples. This time it was slower. Almost lazy pulses that oozed rather than shot, spreading in thick puddles across his skin. His hips bucked mindlessly, fucking the air, and he didn't even seem to notice, too focused on eating you out, too desperate to make you feel good, too lost in your taste to realize he was coming.
"Jesus Christ," you breathed, the orgasm receding slightly as shock took its place.
"Mmfff–" he moaned against your cunt, not stopping, not even pausing, his tongue still working you like his life depended on it.
"You came again," you cooed, lifting up to look down at him, "before me."
Caelus froze. Pulled back just enough to look up at you with panicked eyes. His face was flushed red, soaked with your wetness and his own drool, tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes. His lips were swollen, shiny with you, and there was a strand of your wetness connecting his lower lip to your swollen clit, stretching thin before breaking.
"I– I'm sorry– I couldn't control it when you– and you're just so you and my body doesn't know how to handle it–"
"Pervert."
His face crumpled. His ears flattened so hard they almost disappeared into his hair.
"I thought you wanted to make me feel good," you continued. "But you're just using me to get off, aren't you? Coming untouched while I'm aching– "
"No!" He sat up so fast you nearly fell off. His hands grabbed your hips, steadying you on his hips, his eyes frantic and wet. "No, I want to make you feel good! I want it more than anything! I've been thinking about it for days since I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself,” your eyes opened wide at that last sentence because what the fuck? But Caelus continued.
“I watched you use this false cock– watched you bite your lip to stay quiet, watched your back arch, watched your thighs shake, and I wanted to be the one making you do that so bad it hurt– "
Maybe there was something wrong with you, but upon hearing this creepy confession, more wetness gushed out of you. A fresh wave of slick coated your inner thighs, warm and abundant, and you felt it dripping onto his lap where he held you. His cock, still half-hard and messy, twitched against your skin, smearing his come against your thigh. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, chasing your taste.
"You stalked me?" you asked slowly.
"I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. You're so beautiful when you come… The way your back arches, the way your mouth opens, the way you bite your lip to stay quiet. The way your thighs clamp together. I've jerked off to you so many times I lost count. I know the exact sound you make when you're close. I know how long it takes you. I know you like to use that pink vibrating toy first and then switch to the purple cock…"
"Stop," you breathed, but it came out wanting, your cunt clenching rhythmically around nothing at his words.
"But you're literally dripping onto my lap right now. You like that I watched you. You like that I'm obsessed with you."
"You broke into my kitchen."
"I broke into your kitchen because that night you cried and curled into a small ball after you came. You were lonely, and my heart hurt so bad for you. I watched you sob into your pillow, watched you hug yourself, watched you fall asleep still sniffling, and I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand that you were sad and alone, and I wasn't there to hold you.”
You stared at him.
Caelus stared back, that stupid smug smile still on his face, come drying on his stomach, lace stretched over his muscles, ears perked forward like he'd won something.
"Y-you're insane," you said.
"Maybe…" He leaned in, nosed at your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "If you want me to leave, I'll leave. I'll crawl back out that window and go back to the woods and jerk off thinking about you for the rest of my life. But you don't want me to leave, aren’t you?" His tongue darted out, licking a stripe up your neck, lips close to your "You want me to stay."
"I want you to–"
"To what?" Another lick. His hands slid down your back, stroking your waist. "Tell me. Say it. I need to hear you say it."
"I want you to fuck me, okay?" Your voice broke. "I want you inside me. I've been thinking about it since you showed up in my kitchen with those big pathetic eyes and that stupid tail and– and those ears, and that face– "
His lips slammed into yours, tongue immediately forcing its way in. He tasted like your cunt, like desperation and need and everything you'd been craving. And when Caelus finally pulled back, the only thing you managed was…
"Fuck me."
You could see how his eyes went blank, his mouth dropped open, his ears perked forward so hard they quivered.
"...What?"
"You heard me." You rolled off his lap onto your back, and spread your legs, fingers finding your own clit, spreading your lips to show him exactly what he was getting, glistening and ready.
Caelus moved so fast you barely saw it happen. One second he was staring at your face, looking confused. The next he was leaning over you with his cock pressing against your entrance, the tip nudging through your wet folds, already sliding in the slickness there.
"Wait," you warned, suddenly remembering one important thing.
He froze. "What? Why?"
"Condom. Nighstand, top drawer."
"Oh!" He scrambled for the nightstand, yanked open the drawer, grabbed a condom, and then paused, looking at you awkwardly. "Um…"
"What?"
"I, uh." He held up the wrapper like some kind of complex puzzle. "I don't... know how to put these on. I've never– I mean, I've watched videos, but.."
You stared at him. "You don't know how to put on a condom?"
"In my defense," he said, his cheeks flushing, "the videos I watched skipped that part. And I fucked but without–"
"Give it here!"
You yoinked the wrapper from his hand, tore it open with your teeth, and reached for his cock. He was thick and heavy in your hand, hot and pulsing, the skin velvety soft over the rigid hardness. Precum beaded at the tip, and you swiped your thumb through it, spreading the slickness, making him whimper.
"Hold still," you commanded, your voice leaving no room for argument.
Caelus barely did. His whole body was shaking with the effort of not moving, muscles trembling, thighs quivering, as you rolled the condom down his length, smoothing it over every ridge, every vein. By the time you finished, there were tears in his eyes.
You rolled onto your stomach and grabbed the pillow, hugging it while perching your ass up, presenting your wet pussy to his hungry gaze. You could feel yourself gaping slightly, your folds spread, your entrance clenching around nothing, begging to be filled.
"If you come as soon as you get inside me," you said, turning your head to look at him "I will never let you live it down."
"I won't," he promised, already hovering over you, his tip grazing your wet slit, "I'll be good."
He pushed in.
And god.
Caelus was thick, so much thicker than your toys, than your fingers, than anything you'd ever taken. The initial penetration made your eyes water from the sheer intensity of being so completely filled. Your inner walls clamped down on him instinctively, trying to accommodate the intrusion, and you felt every vein, every pulse, every twitch of his cock as he seated himself fully inside you.
When his pelvis finally pressed against your ass, he was buried to the hilt, and you could feel him in your throat, in your chest, in the very core of your being. The stretch burned, but it was the good kind of burn, the kind that made your eyes roll back, and your toes curl.
Caelus stared at you. At your tears. At the way your body was clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper. At the way your cunt was weeping around his cock, soaked and welcoming, creaming around his base.
"Fuck," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Fuckfuckfuck– You're s-so tight. So wet. So perfect. Like your cunt was made for me."
"S-shit," you gasped, your fingers gripping the pillow so hard your knuckles went white. "Caelus–"
He froze immediately. "Did I hurt you? Should I stop? I can stop, I'll stop, just tell me– "
"If you stop, I will fucking kill you."
A change came over his face. Something feral. Something hungry. Something that made the animal in him take over. That made your stomach flip with want.
"...You like it," he breathed.
"L-love it…"
Caelus moved a little, regaining that little dominance he had. Just a rock of his hips, grinding deeper, and you screamed into the pillow. Your toes curled. Your back arched. You could feel him in your throat, in your teeth, in your bones, like every nerve ending in your body was focused on the place where he filled you.
"There it is," he moaned. "That's– that's the sound you make when you're close. I know that sound. I've been dreaming of that sound."
His hips fell into the rhythm, pounding into you with single-minded focus, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust.
The bed creaked beneath you. The headboard banged against the wall. You didn't care, not when he was filling you like this, owning you like this, fucking you like you were made for him.
"You feel so good," he gasped. "A-ah fuckfuckfuck I can’t–"
"Yes you can!" You reached back, grabbing his hip, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his skin. "You will! You're going to fuck me until I come, and then you're going to keep fucking me until I come again and again!"
Something in him snapped completely.
Gone was the shy version of him that fumbled with the condom wrapper. All pretense of control, all gentleness, all restraint – gone. His hips pounded into you, relentless and desperate, driving into you like a man possessed, and you screamed into the pillow, your voice raw and wrecked. Your cunt clamped down on him like a vice, rippling and spasming around his cock. Colors bloomed behind your eyelids, bright and overwhelming. Your toes curled so hard they cramped, your feet locking up. Your entire body shook with the force of your orgasm, tremors wracking you from head to toe.
And Caelus kept going.
"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, yes, fuck– you're coming on my cock, you're– I can feel you clenching, it's so good, you're so good– you're perfect, you're everything, you're– "
He fucked you through it, pounding into your oversensitive cunt with animalistic need. You sobbed as he destroyed you, tears and drool soaking the pillow, your body no longer your own.
"I love you," he gasped. "I love you so much. I've loved you since the moment i saw you singing in the kitchen! Since you swung that pink bat at me. Since you told me I could stay– "
Caelus pounded into you harder, faster, deeper. His cock hit that spot with every thrust, and you felt yourself climbing again, felt that pressure building, felt your cunt clenching around him in desperate anticipation.
"I'm gonna come again," you gasped.
"Come," he growled. "Come on my cock. Come for me. Let me feel it. Let me–"
You came with a scream that ripped your throat raw, that probably woke the neighbors, that you'd be embarrassed about tomorrow, but tonight was pure abandon.
You felt him pulsing inside you, felt the condom fill with his release, felt him spill in hot pulses, felt him collapsing on top of you. You could see his face in your peripheral vision – eyes rolled back, mouth opened, and tongue lolled out in ecstasy, drool sliding down his chin. Some of it landed on your shoulder, and you smiled, broken and perfect, as he kept rutting mindlessly into your cunt, chasing the last spasms of his own pleasure.
For a moment, there was only breathing. Only the sound of two hearts racing, two bodies trembling, two souls connecting in a way you hadn't expected.
Then Caelus moved.
"Okay," he mumbled against your neck. "Round two."
"W-what?!” You lifted your head, glaring back at Caelus. “You just came!"
"And?" He pulled out, already reaching for the nightstand. "I’m part raccoon, so I have animal stamina." He grabbed another condom. Tore it open with his teeth while you watched, his eyes never leaving your face, golden and hungry. Rolled it down his length clumsily, fumbling in his haste. Then he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back. His hands found your legs, and positioned them around his ribcage, folding you in half. You leglocked him immediately, heels digging into his back.
There was no resistance this time. Caelus slid in easily, too easily, and the feeling of being filled again so soon made your eyes roll back. He was still wearing that stupid, beautiful lingerie, lace stretched taut over his muscles, and you reached up to grab his pecs, fingers finding his nipples over the bralette.
Caelus yowled, and his hips slammed into you so hard you stopped breathing for a second.
"Yes! M-more! I like everything you do. I like the way you breathe. I like the way you move. I like the way you frown–"
To that, you decided that he talked too much. Also, in your defence, the leash was right there, in your face, tickling your cheek like an invitation, practically begging to be used. So you grabbed it and pulled.
Caelus followed instantly, collapsing onto you, his chest pressing against yours. The lace of his bra rubbed against your nipples, making your back arch in a chase of that roughness. You could feel his heart pounding against your ribs, feel his breath hot on your neck, feel his cock driving into you deeper now, reaching places you didn't know existed. He was everywhere, in you, on you, around you, owning you. His hands found the back of your head, tangled in your hair. His eyes devoured you, memorizing the pattern of pure bliss on your face. His mouth found your neck, sucking hard, marking you, and you felt yourself cumming already, spasming around him helplessly.
"Mine," he growled against your skin. "Say it. Say you're mine."
"I'm–" Your voice broke on a moan, "yours!"
"And I'm yours," he breathed, his voice softening even as his hips kept moving. "Forever. Always. Completely. You're stuck with me. You can't get rid of me now. I'll never leave. I'll never stop wanting you. I'll never–" Caelus came with a broken shout, groaning right into your ears, his whole body shuddering, spilling into the condom, and you thought that might be it.
Ha, well…
The moment he finished, he was hard again, ready again, needing again. He pulled out, disposed of the condom, and was holding a new silver square.
"No," you whimpered, pussy gaping needily.
"Yes," he murmured, already tearing it open with his teeth.
When you woke up what felt like minutes later, Caelus was already hard again, already pressing against your thigh, already nosing between your legs with sleepy need, kissing on your well-used pussy. Your sore hole was twitching painfully whenever he pressed a kiss.
"Mmm," he mumbled against your clit. "Need you."
"D-did you even sleep?" You didn’t recognise your voice.
"Slept a little. Dreamed of you. Woke up hard. Standard operating procedure at this point."
"You're insatiable," you muttered.
"Raccoons," he said, like that explained everything, and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was gentler now. He licked through your folds like he was savouring you, memorizing you, learning every inch of you by heart. His nose pressed against your clit, and you whimpered, oversensitive and desperate.
"Shh," he murmured against you. "I've got you. I'll take care of you. I'll spend the rest of my life taking care of you. "
"Caelus, I need–" You grabbed his hair, made him look at you. His eyes were soft, worshipful, full of so much love it made your chest ache. "I need sleep and water. I need to be able to walk to the bathroom without crying."
"Oh." His ears drooped. "Okay, I'm sorry." He gestured vaguely at you, at himself, at the absolute disaster of the bed. "You're just–”
The melody of your phone rang, cutting him off in the middle of his endless banter.
You groaned and rolled onto your belly, reaching for it blindly. The movement made more fluids leak out of you, dripping down your thigh, and you heard Caelus moan behind you. To your own mental anguish, you saw your boss's name on the screen.
"Oh god," you whispered.
Caelus, crawling up your body and pressing his weight into you, raised an eyebrow, looking at the screen. "Who is Mr. Dumbfuck?"
"My boss."
His eyes narrowed, and he pressed his face to the side of yours, staring hatefully at the screen. "The one who emails you late? The one who 'needs to see you in his office' for 'private discussion'?" He made air quotes with one hand, his voice dripping with jealousy. "That boss? The one who definitely has a thing for you?"
"Caelus–"
"Answer it." His voice turned sharp.
"That's– that's so fucked up–"
"But your pussy’s twitching." His voice was smug as he rubbed his cock between your ass cheeks, the head catching on your slick folds, sliding through the mess there. "I can feel it. You're literally dripping."
You hit accept.
“Ah, good morning, dear!” The voice of your boss was uncharacteristically sad, and Caelus growled at the pet name.
"H-hello!" you managed, your voice wrecked.
"Um… I was calling you to ask why you are late, but now I hear that you sound–"
"Sick!" you yelped quickly. "Real sick! Fever! Can't– can't make it in!"
While you tried to form coherent sentences about being too sick to come in, Caelus pushed forward just an inch, just the tip, and you felt your walls flutter around him, trying to pull him deeper. You shook your head frantically, but he seemed to ignore it, keeping pushing inside you slowly, stretching you open while you tried to keep your voice steady on the phone. Your cunt gripped him like it never wanted to let go, clenching down on every ridge, every thick inch, trying to milk him deeper. You could feel every vein, every ridge, every inch of him as he filled you, could feel your inner walls parting to accommodate his girth, could feel the slight burn of the stretch that made tears prick at your eyes. You had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. He paused, waiting, his breath hot against your neck.
"Yeah, I think I caught something," you said into the phone, pussy full of fat cock. "Probably gonna be down for–"
Caelus chose that exact moment to thrust deep enough to make you gasp. The wet plap resonated through the bedroom, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan.
"You okay?" your boss asked.
"F-fine!" Your voice cracked. "Just– cough. Bad cough. It's– it's really aggressive. The cough. Very aggressive. Keeps– keeps coming back."
Caelus's tail was wagging against your leg. With your peripheral vision, you could see that the bastard was grinning, his pupils blown wide, his face flushed with pleasure and possession. One of his hands slid down your stomach, between your legs, fingers finding your clit and circling with vicious precision. The other hand gripped your breast, nipple trapped between his pointer and middle finger, holding you in place as he pulled out almost fully before sinking back in, each thrust deep, designed to make you fall apart.
You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood.
"So um… are you gonna need tomorrow to rest or…" The speaker went silent, and you breathed in some air to form an answer.
"Yeah, tomorrow as well," you whimpered, voice comically high. "Definitely tomorrow. Just need to rest! Lots of rest. Fluids. You know. Bed rest. Strict bed rest. Can't even–ah–can't even sit up."
Caelus mouthed at your neck, sucking sloppily, adding to the canvas of marks that adorned your body. His fingers kept circling your clit, keeping you right on the edge while he rocked his hips into your poor cunt. Each thrust pushed a broken little sound past your lips that you desperately tried to morph into coughs.
"Actually," your boss said, "if you're that sick, I could stop by. Bring you some soup. Check on you. Make sure you're… comfortable and taken care of."
The moment those words left the speaker, Caelus froze on top of you. You glanced at his face and felt your stomach drop. His eyes had gone completely golden, pupils narrowing into pinpricks. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a scowl. A low, rumbling growl started in his chest, vibrating through his body into yours, and his grip on your breast tightened hard enough to bruise.
"No!" you said, too quickly. "No, that's– that's not necessary. Really. I'm fine. I mean, I'm not fine, I'm sick, but I'm– I'm taken care of! M-my roommate is here!"
"Your roommate?" Your boss's voice sharpened. "I didn't know you had a roommate."
"Recent development! I'm in good hands!"
Caelus chose that moment to whisper right into the fucking speaker, "In the best hands." His hips snapped forward harder, punctuating the words, driving his cock so deep you saw pearly gates.
Your boss went silent, while you wanted to die.
"Was that–" your boss started.
"That was– uhh… that was–" You scrambled. "The TV! I’m watching a nature documentary. About– about raccoons. They're very territorial. Very possessive–"
Caelus pulled out slowly, then slammed back in, the head of his cock hitting your cervix, and your fingers spasmed, forcing you to drop the phone onto the sheets.
"You still there?" your boss asked, while you were drooling into the mattress, absolutely not there at all. Your eyes were rolled back. Your tongue was hanging out. You were pretty sure you'd stopped breathing. Caelus leaned over you, pressing flush against your backside, and reached for your phone.
"Hello?" he said, his voice bright and cheerful, even as his hips kept moving, hungrily pressing his cock closer to your cervix. You wheezled, praying to all gods, trying to take the phone from his hands weakly. Caelus just shoved your hands away. "Yeah, she's really sick. Can't talk right now. She's, uh– she's throwing up..."
You could hear your boss sputtering on the other end.
"Anyway!" Caelus continued cheerfully, grinning down at your nape as you were very busy holding onto the sheets for dear life. "I've got her. She's in good hands." He pounded deep, making the bed slam against the wall. "So if you could just– not come over? Thanks! Bye!"
He ended the call and dropped the phone, and the moment it hit the mattress, he lost it.
"Nature documentary?" He was laughing too, even as he kept thrusting into you, his bare cock sliding against your bare walls with no barrier, no protection, just raw, devastating friction.
"And you told my boss I was throwing up!"
"But you were making sounds! Also, my brain is not exactly functioning at full capacity– "
"I was making sex sounds!"
"Well, Mr. Dumbfuck doesn't know that!" Another thrust, deeper this time. His balls slapped against your clit again, and you screamed into the pillow.
"Oh god," you gasped into the pillow as your pussy spasmed painfully. You could feel your orgasm building, coiling in your gut like a spring about to snap. Your toes curled. Your fingers gripped the sheets so hard your knuckles went white.
"Not god," he murmured against your ear, his chest pressing against your back, his tail thrashing. "Just Caelus."
"You’re insatiable!"
"Yeah." He kissed your shoulder. "But you like it. I can feel how much you like it. Your pussy's gripping me so tight, like it never wants me to leave."
"M-maybe it doesn't."
You felt him go completely still inside you with his cock buried to the hilt, his breath caught in his throat, his entire body rigid with tension.
"...What?" he whispered.
You turned your head and looked back at him over your shoulder. His eyes were huge, golden, vulnerable in a way you'd never seen before. His ears were perked forward, desperate and hopeful. His tail had stopped moving entirely, frozen mid-wag.
"I said," you repeated slowly, "maybe it doesn't want you to leave. Maybe I don't want you to leave. Maybe I want you here, in my bed, every night."
"But I'm a stalker," he said, his voice small. "I broke into your kitchen! I’m half raccoon! I’m a freak!"
"You're just mine." You reached back, grabbed his hip, pulled him closer, and Caelus snuggled his front to your back, hands flying to put his palms over yours. "And I'm yours, if you can handle the anger and the sarcasm and the way I'll probably threaten you with that pink bat at least once a week." Your hips pressed back into his, and he nuzzled into your hair blissfully.
"Once a week?" His smile came back, slow and beautiful. "I was hoping for daily."
"Don't push it."
"Never." He kissed you again, soft and reverent, even as his hips started moving once more, now gently, rubbing against your sweet spot so good your body went liquid.
"I love you. I love you so much it scares me."
"I love you too." And with that, you thumbed over the edge, weakly clenching and relaxing under him. Your orgasm rolled through you like a wave, starting in your core and spreading outward until your whole body was shaking with it. Your cunt clamped down on his cock weakly, milking him, pulling him deeper, and you felt him swell inside you, felt his hips stutter, felt his control snap. Your heavy lids closed, and you just let him chase his own orgasm, completely blissed out.
Caelus laughed, bright and joyful, his tail wagging against your leg as he spilled inside, painting your walls with white. It was a smaller amount than before, but you felt the first hot pulse of his release flooding your insides–
Wait, what?
"Condom," you gasped. "Caelus, the condom-!"
"...Ran out," he mumbled, his voice dazed, drunk on you. "We used them all, but I couldn't stop. Please don't be mad… "
You couldn't even respond. Your brain was absolutely fried, reduced to nothing. Your eyes were half-lidded, unfocused. Every thought you'd ever had had been fucked out of you hours ago.
And then, finally, beautifully, you felt yourself slipping with the last thought, which was:
I am so fucked.
Heh, literally and figuratively, babe~
.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!
Series Masterlist: Creatures Features
Prev. part: Pride Rock (Hard) (LionHybrid!JingYuan x fem!reader)
Next part: WIP
Fun fact: I had to delete a lot from the part before the smut because it was getting too long. So yeah, sorry if the plot feels a little dry :c
Also, I know I haven’t been posting much lately, but I have a lot of deadlines, including my diploma... Yeah, I’m fucked cuz I haven’t even started yet, and I’m writing this instead. Eehhh, pray for me, yall
Featuring: Phainon, Castorice, Jing Yuan, Blade, Dr. Ratio, Gallagher, Robin, Caelus (Trailblazer), March 7th x GN!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance, Slice-of-Life
Word Count: 2.67k
✦ Phainon
“You know,” an old vendor said, eyes crinkling, “you two make a lovely couple.”
Phainon froze mid-laugh. You were holding a half-melted starberry gelato. Neither of you had said anything remotely romantic in the last five minutes—you’d been arguing about whether mini cactus pets were a scam or the best investment a person could make.
So why was this vendor suddenly saying—
“A couple?” Phainon echoed, smile faltering just a millimeter.
You shot him a look. He was still grinning, warm and sunshine-eyed, but you’d traveled with him long enough to spot the shift—the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side, or the flicker of unease that passed through his cyan gaze like a faint fracture in glass.
Still, he leaned on the counter, and his golden grin was back. “A couple of troublemakers, maybe.”
“Trouble looks good on you,” the vendor said warmly.
Phainon laughed—a little too quickly. “Oh, no, no. We’re just—uh—friends. Great friends. Excellent at platonic proximity. No romance here, nope.”
He turned to you, still smiling, but his ears were pink. He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no.
Later, in the quiet of your shared cabin, you both stood by the single bed like it was some sort of challenge. Neither of you said a word. But when you lay down that night, his hand found yours—armor and all, warm and careful. Not by accident. Not in passing. And maybe that was enough for now.
(Bonus, according to the shopkeeper:)
The next day, Phainon stormed back in. “You knew.”
The vendor didn’t even look up. “You shared one blanket and argued about cactuses like a married couple. I’m not blind. Also… the gelato was buy-one-get-one for couples. You’re welcome.”
✦ Castorice
The marketplace smelled faintly of candied flowers, their sugar-dusted petals catching the light as you and Castorice browsed. She walked beside you with that careful, deliberate grace — always aware of her surroundings, always making sure no one brushed against her by accident.
You slowed your pace to match hers. “Find anything you like yet?” you asked, scanning the stalls.
Her lilac eyes softened. “Not yet. I’m mostly just enjoying the walk.”
An elderly vendor with a wiry beard leaned over his table of violet candies and called out, “You two make such a fine couple! A perfect match, eh?”
You choked back a laugh. “Oh? Hear that, Castorice? We’re a perfect match.”
Her lips curved into the faintest, almost shy smile. “Mm… I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad.”
The words were so quiet you almost missed them, but she didn’t seem embarrassed — just thoughtful. You didn’t push her for more. Instead, you reached for one of the violet candies, paid for it, and offered it to her.
She accepted it without touching your hand, a quiet gratitude in her gaze. And the two of you kept walking, the vendor’s words lingering in the air like the scent of sugared flowers.
✦ Jing Yuan
The training yard buzzed with activity, Cloud Knights sparring and drilling under the afternoon sun. You and Jing Yuan stood beneath one of the old trees at the edge of the grounds, its shade casting dappled light over his white hair. Yanqing lingered beside you both, arms folded, his eyes fixed firmly on the sparring Cloud Knights in the field.
Jing Yuan, of course, looked like he could have dozed off at any second—though the faint upward curve of his lips said otherwise.
“General Jing Yuan!” a young knight’s voice rang out from the field. Gao, wooden practice spear in hand, had stopped mid-drill, a grin on his face. “Your partner—what’s their name again?”
“Focus on your drills, Gao,” Jing Yuan said, voice smooth but sharp enough to make a few heads turn.
Gao pressed on anyway. “No, seriously! You two… you’d make a lovely couple, sir!”
Yanqing’s head whipped toward him, brows knitting. “Watch how you speak to the General,” he said, voice sharp for his age. But his glare was wasted—Gao was already shuffling awkwardly under the weight of it.
Jing Yuan let out a quiet hum. “Relax, Yanqing. Gao meant no harm.” His golden eyes flicked to you, and there was a glint there—amusement, yes, but something warmer too. “Besides… he’s not wrong.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. “We’re not—! I mean, that’s—”
“You should get back to practice, Gao,” Jing Yuan continued smoothly, ignoring your sputtering entirely. “Before your lieutenant notices you slacking.”
Gao mumbled an apology and jogged off. Yanqing muttered under his breath—just loud enough for you to hear—“I hate adults,” and angled himself further toward the training ground as if sheer willpower could block out your presence.
The moment stretched, the sounds of sparring filling the quiet. Then Jing Yuan leaned the slightest bit closer to you, his voice low enough for only you to catch.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice your smile.”
You met his gaze, pulse quickening, but before you could say a word, he was looking away again, watching the yard with that serene, unreadable expression.
✦ Blade
You were bandaging his hand after yet another reckless fight, hands steady despite the streaks of dried blood. He didn’t move, watching your every motion in silence—unblinking, unreadable.
A little old lady selling flowers passed by, glancing your way with a sweet smile.
“You two make such a lovely couple.”
Your hands froze. Blade’s gaze didn’t waver. His voice was low, cold.
“People say stupid things.”
You paused.
You tried to play it off with a small smile. “Do you think it’s stupid?”
He finally looked up, expression unreadable. “They’re wrong.”
The words cut sharper than expected. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a chuckle, looking back down at the bandage. “Ouch.”
There was a long pause. Then, his voice dropped lower.
“‘Lovely’ implies I’m capable of something good.”
He looked at you. “I’m not.”
You wanted to scream. You wanted to hug him. Instead, you reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes.
“You are. You just refuse to believe it.”
For a heartbeat, his mouth almost curved—then it was gone. Blade said nothing.
A few days later, you walked past the same florist’s stand.
The elderly woman smiled and pointed to a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, already wrapped.
“Your boyfriend picked these up earlier. Said to give them to you.”
You almost laughed—first “lovely,” now “boyfriend.” The world seemed intent on misnaming him.
You stared at the bouquet, pulse quickening.
“...He’s not my—” You stopped yourself, lips curling despite it all.
“Yeah. That sounds like him.”
✦ Dr. Ratio
You were sitting with Ratio in a quiet teahouse, steam curling up from the cups between you. He had his plaster mask off for once, tucked neatly at his side. A rare sight. He was already mid-lecture, gesturing faintly with his hand.
“Once again, your assumption ignores the most fundamental principle of logic,” he said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “It’s almost impressive how consistently you arrive at the wrong conclusion.”
You rolled your eyes, sipping your tea. “Translation: you hate being wrong, so you call it logic.”
“I don’t hate being wrong. I simply never am.”
The waiter arrived then, setting down a plate of pastries. He glanced between you, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
“You two argue like an old married couple. Very sweet.”
Ratio inhaled, already drawing breath for what was sure to be a dissertation-length correction. You cut him off with a lazy wave of your fork.
“Careful. If you argue with everyone, people really will start assuming you’re taken.”
That silenced him. The waiter chuckled, and walked away.
You leaned back, brow raised. “You could’ve just laughed it off.”
“And encourage false assumptions?” His tone was flat.
“So it does bother you.”
Ratio finally looked up from his tea, gaze sharp. “What bothers me is humanity’s incessant need for shortcuts. Two people share a table and suddenly the world scripts a romance? Predictable.”
But then—almost too soft to catch, he added under his breath: “…Besides, if I were to choose someone, I wouldn’t want it mistaken for idle speculation.”
You blinked. “…That’s either the rudest compliment I’ve ever heard, or the sweetest insult.”
“Neither. It was criticism.” He lifted his cup again with crisp finality.
You leaned your chin on your hand, smiling despite yourself. “Mm. Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.”
Ratio’s head snapped up like you’d just committed a logical fallacy in front of him.“…Did you just—” His eyes narrowed. “No. Absolutely not.”
You raised your cup innocently. “What? It fits. Don’t tell me you’re above pet names.”
“I am far above them,” he said flatly. “In fact, I can’t think of a single term more reductive.”
You stirred your tea lazily, eyes on him. “By your own rules, you know, silence counts as agreement.”
The clink of porcelain on wood rang sharper than it should have. “…That was coincidence. Nothing more.”
✦ Gallagher
Gallagher leaned against the bar, idly cleaning a glass while sipping from his own flask. His tie was crooked, his vest wrinkled, and yet he looked perfectly at home—like the seat had been waiting for him.
“Rough day?” you asked, sliding into the chair across from him.
He tipped his flask toward you. “Every day’s rough. That’s why they invented this stuff.”
You gestured at the drink. “Pretty sure that’s not the original purpose.”
“Eh, depends who you ask.” He swirled the glass, watching the amber fizz catch the light. “People aren’t that different.”
Before you could respond, the bartender leaned in, setting down another glass. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, amused.
“You two look good together. Been long?”
You blinked. The words hung in the air like the last swirl of smoke from a half-lit cigarette.
Gallagher didn’t even look up from where he was nursing a glass of SoulGlad. The amber fizz caught the warm lighting like an old photograph, all washed-out hues and a feeling you couldn’t name.
“You gonna start makin’ jokes like that now?” he asked, his voice dry. “Thought you were smarter than the usual dream-dazed crowd.”
The bartender gave a quiet chuckle, like she knew something you didn’t. “Just sayin’. Y’look like you fit together. Even got the matching tired eyes.”
Gallagher’s gaze finally shifted to you then, and it hit like a freight train. Not because he was handsome—though he was, in that ragged, unshaven, what-the-hell-happened-to-you kind of way. No, it was because he saw you. Really saw you. That kind of look that strips away whatever polite version of yourself you tried to put on today.
“You think we’d make a lovely couple?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Tch. Can't say there's much lovely in bein’ with someone who’s more shadow than man.”
You could’ve answered him—reassured him, joked back, flirted, left — but instead, you said:
“I didn’t say I thought that. She did.”
Gallagher’s eye twitched—barely. He leaned back with a cynical huff. “Mm. Then I guess she’s got the wrong idea… or the right one. Never really could tell the difference.”
He refilled your glass without asking, pushing it across the table with that same practiced hand.
And then, just as your fingers brushed the glass, he spoke—soft, almost offhand.
“For what it’s worth… I don’t mind the idea.”
It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t even a compliment. But the way his voice dropped just then, like he wasn’t sure if he meant it or was just throwing it out there…
Your heart skipped anyway.
✦ Robin
You were helping Robin warm up before her Charmony Festival performance—adjusting her mic, steadying the edge of her flowing violet-white gown. Her voice, melodic even in rehearsal, had always been something you admired.
“You’re going to do great out there,” you reassured her, giving her a quick pep talk.
Robin’s lips curved in a serene smile, though her fingers brushed nervously over the rhinestones under her eye. “Thanks. I just hope the crowd’s ready for me tonight.”
Her halo caught the backstage light as she inhaled, steadying herself. Even now, when she was supposed to be the picture of composure, you could feel the tremor of her doubts beneath the calm.
A stagehand passed by with a smirk. “You two would make a lovely couple.”
Robin froze, wings behind her ears giving the faintest flutter. Then she turned to you with a quiet laugh, soft but curious. “Do you think so?”
Your throat went dry, but you nodded anyway. “Well… yeah. I mean—if we were, I wouldn’t mind.”
Her green eyes softened, gaze lingering. For a heartbeat, the festival, the crowd, the expectations—all of it fell away. “What if I said I already think of us that way?” she asked gently. “Would that be okay?”
The roar of the audience began to swell on the other side of the curtain. You had no time to give her a proper answer so you squeezed her hand instead. “Then let’s give them a performance worth remembering.”
Robin’s smile brightened, fragile doubt melting into quiet conviction. She stepped onto the stage, halo gleaming, wings fluttering softly behind her ears as warmth washed over her—as if she’d finally remembered she wasn’t carrying the sky alone.
And when her voice rose, radiant and resonant, you felt the air fill with Harmony as it rippled through the hall, through every heart listening, and through yours most of all.
✦ Caelus
The market was loud, hawkers waving so fiercely it felt like even the air was bargaining. You had barely stopped to glance at a trinket before the shopkeeper leaned over his stall with a too-wide grin.
“What a lovely couple you’d make,” he said, as if words alone could seal a deal.”
You opened your mouth, ready to correct him, but Caelus was faster. He deadpanned, without missing a beat, “Tragic, isn’t it? I was aiming for terrifying duo, not picture-perfect lovers.”
His tone was flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. He picked up the trinket, turned it in his hand like it was worth more than the awkwardness in the air. A hawker’s shouted bargain echoed nearby, clanging coins punctuating the chaos, but neither of you noticed.
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “So what’s next, letting them handle our wedding invitations?”
"…Free branding. Could be worse,” he muttered at last, eyes flicking sideways toward you. You huffed in exasperation, and his gaze lingered on you just long enough to catch your reaction before darting away.
“Do we get a certificate or something?” you fired back, intending to play along, though part of you couldn’t believe you just said that. “Maybe matching shirts?”
He set the trinket down as if nothing had happened, already moving on — except for the faint, telltale flush creeping up the tips of his ears.
✦ March 7th
You and March were going through photos from your last mission—half of them are just selfies she took while you were unconscious in the background.
“You were asleep for like five minutes,” she said defensively. “It was so cute!”
Then Pom-Pom waddled past, squinting at the two of you giggling and leaning into each other. Pom-Pom immediately deadpanned, “What a disgustingly adorable couple you’d make.” Then they waddled off with a tray of snacks.
March's eyes widened, cheeks flaring up pink. “Y-You hear that?! Even Pom-Pom ships us!”
You grimaced. “Please don’t say ‘Pom-Pom ships us.’”
March’s hands tightened on the photos, eyes darting to you. “I-I didn’t mean… I mean, it’s not like I care what Pom-Pom thinks! But… okay, maybe they're not entirely wrong.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Not entirely wrong?”
Her cheeks puffed up as she tried to hide a grin, then broke into a bright, nervous laugh. “Ugh… fine! Maybe we do look cute together! But it’s only because you make me smile like an idiot!”
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. And for a moment, her flustered grin was all the warmth you needed.
♡ if you haven't seen silver wolf lvl. 999's character trailer and played the recent hsr patch, i urge you to because it's pretty self-explanatory.
♡ HE KNOWS. blade DEFINITELY knows what you're talking about.
♡ he literally lives with three other girls who drag him on shopping trips all the time. you mean to tell me he's never once seen a pad in all the time he's been with them?
♡ i fully believe that blade is a pro at picking out pads because kafka, silver wolf and firefly have likely asked him to on multiple occasions. so much so that off the top of his head he remembers exactly what each girl needs.
♡ he's the kinda guy who will just hand you a heat pad silently and walk away without explanation. meanwhile you're all confused like what???
♡ another guy who predicts when your periods happen because he's just that in tune y'know? he has a sixth sense for them at this point, it's like a radar.
♡ the moment you ask for pads blade is going to calmly open a full cupboard of them, all neatly arranged according to use and length and go "take your pick."
♡ our dearest bladie is also the most compliant at this time. you want him to stay and cuddle you? alright, you're the tree and he's the koala.
♡ you want him to give you space? okay he'll leave you alone for the whole day. just message him when you want to see his face again.
♡ all in all, blade has a PHD in period care. dude is READY for anything you throw at him.
♡ one more thing is that the girls have definitely sat him down before to give him a powerpoint presentation on periods and pads. (I WILL STAY ON THIS HILL AND DIE ON IT.)
♡ blade always tries to act like it isn't a big deal that he does all this but when you hug him and call him yingxing he's gonna look away and say "unnecessary" with the smallest smile.
♡ you have nothing to worry about. blade will take such good care of you that you'll forget you're even having the period.
"yingxing, i—"
"the cookies are on the table. don't eat too many or you'll ruin your appetite. dinner will be ready soon."
"...did you read my mind or something?"
BOOTHILL:
♡ "you looking for pads? sure, i can help ya look. planning on riding a horse, darlin'?" -> referring to cowboy pads.
♡ i feel like boothill would know what periods are but he wouldn't know what women do during them.
♡ the thought process is less of "i don't think i should be getting involved." and more of "yep the ladies' have got it covered 👍". but he'll still help if you ask.
♡ it would be an extremely funny affair. just imagine boothill up to his arms with different packs of pads while on call with you so that he can figure out what to buy. every time he bends down to pick one up another falls out of his hands.
♡ each one he raises up to the camera he asks about ten questions on and says something about if you really need that many options. the look you give him shuts him up and he never says it again.
♡ dude reads out the names of the brands and has this confused look on his face while simultaneously trying to get it right. it's like "l-lauri...laureel??? forkin' hell, what kinda name is this?!"
♡ and you're like, boothill, just get the damn pads. meanwhile the galaxy ranger is more concerned with trying to pronounce the names right. he's determined to, you will not stop him.
♡ he IS the proudest mf ever after finishing the job and he brags about it. if someone asks about it boothill will just start grinning and go "yeah, i did this for my lady and i'm proud of it. what're YOU gonna do about it?"
♡ you are going to get doted on, pampered, the whole nine yards. boothill is at your every beck and call. you are getting the princess treatment and beyond.
♡ the petnames all come out too. 'sweetheart', 'doll', 'sugar'. in that accent of his too? mhm you're jumping his bones when you can.
♡ just a personal opinion, but he looks like the type of guy to crack stupid jokes to distract you from the pain of your cramps. it's a 75/25 hit or miss but when he gets you, he GETS you. he's so happy about it too.
♡ he also knows he doesn't have a filter, so he's given you the permission to hit him if he says something stupid. aim for the head, you'll hurt yourself if you hit his body.
♡ boothill may not be the best, but he tries. and i think that's enough.
"wait, i swear i have a good one this time!"
"boothill, no."
"why are cowboys bad at math?"
"..."
"because they're always roundin' things up!"
"do me a favour and shut yourself down."
ROBIN:
♡ the sweetest girl alive who is committed to the cause.
♡ robin will get you the best pads money can buy because you deserve the best. yes she knows the brand you always use, but a few extras from the more pricier brands wouldn't hurt. gotta make sure her angel is taken care of!
♡ you have to remind her sometimes not to get too carried away or else she'll spend more than she planned to. she can't help but spoil you really.
♡ i feel like the way she chooses pads is both mindful and certain, like robin doesn't spend much time on deciding but she also doesn't go through it quickly? it's this very nice balance that makes it seem almost leisurely.
♡ she's just a girlie shopping for pads leave her alone.
♡ sometimes she'll find new products on the shelf and ask if you want them. even better if they come in a pair or set so both of you can try them together!
♡ you know that thing where girls are able to sync up their periods? it happens to you both more often than not and robin is always so excited when it happens because it means you guys are suffering together.
♡ just kidding it means robin gets to cuddle you while you're swaddled in a heap of blankets and watching Say Yes to the Dress. you are not leaving for the next 48 hours.
♡ you'll be like "baby i can't breathe." and robin will just purr and nuzzle further into you, pressing her body against yours to savour some more of your toasty warmth. the nesting urge is real with this one.
♡ she insists on skin care and massages as well, and warm bubble baths are a must too. robin will lather your back and you'll preen her feathers, allowing the stress of the day to wash away.
♡ robin also lulls you to sleep with that angelic voice of hers, the singing melodious and utterly heavenly. the pain and aches all but disappear when you hear it, and you somehow feel lighter each time, a numbing haze over your mind.
♡ the week is more bearable with her by your side.
"that wedding dress is stunning."
"it is! i adore the lace front on it. would you wear something like that, angel?"
"when we get married, sure."
"hehe, maybe it will come sooner than you think."
"um, robin?!?!"
BONUS!
THE TRAILBLAZERS:
♡ these two will combine the half braincell they each got into one and accomplish the task. but before that they will each need to roll a nat 20 on intelligence just to be safe.
♡ stelle and caelus bring all kinds of 'pads with wings'. examples include bicycle pads with wing motifs, seat pads with wings etc. just know that each one is more ridiculous and deranged than the next.
♡ it's quite impressive that in the huge pile of knick knacks, there is absolutely nothing close to what you were asking for. in fact, you swear you see some living things in there...
♡ along the way, instructions were also lost in translation as they bring pom pom to you, the conductor dressed in an angel outfit and bound by a red ribbon. they squirm and struggle as stelle flashes you a grin.
♡ honestly, you would've been better off asking anyone else on the express than them. but i guess the power of love makes you believe in them more than you should.
♡ in the end, you need to write a very specific list for the both of them to follow and provide a few pictures, to which caelus nods along like he understands and stelle squints to scrutinise the picture more.
♡ when they get the job done, trust me when i say that they're ALL over you. it's an active competition between the both of them to see who is the better helper and they WILL sabotage each other.
♡ you have to be the one to prevent stelle from choking out caelus when he 'accidentally' knocks over the cake she made for you and caelus from setting stelle on fire when she trips him up and makes him drop the pot of tea meant for you.
♡ i like the idea that stelle and caelus are major fumblers and goofballs until they realise their actions are actually pissing you off and not helping whatsoever.
♡ only then will they lock in and function together like a well-oiled machine, suddenly becoming the best caretakers in existence. the switch-up is crazy.
♡ the express expresses their respect to you for being able to tame two raccoons.
"stelle, you're in the way. get your head off her thigh."
"no way! first come, first serve. get in line, caelus."
"Who's their favorite member?" — four different ways of saying 'you'.
synopsis ;– you ask around the Astral Express to complete your one question survey— "Who's your favorite Astral Express member?"
featured ;– Dan heng, March 7th, Sunday, Trailblazer (Stelle or Caelus).
contains ;– Fluff, hints of guiltday, mentions of the 'other' trailblazer, gn!reader, you/your pronouns, ooc? bonus at the end!
DAN HENG
He raises a brow at your question. Then he ponders for a moment. “You all have unique qualities that are endearing…”
You stare at him eagerly. “And my qualities? What about my qualities?”
He has to stifle a humored smile. “I didn't know you wanted my favor so badly.”
Somehow he managed to avoid your question all together. A mix of vagueness and redirection.
He doesn't linger on the question much longer after you leave— successfully diverted into something else.
Everyone on the express has their own quirks and habits, each fit for their own tasks.
Who better than March 7th to compile an album of precious moments? Who better than Himeko to make sure the Express is running smoothly? Who better than the Trailblazer to… find trash cans in each world they visit?
And you, he wouldn't admit (nor easily realize) how much comfort you bring him. You're a constant – someone he can rely on to be there.
Subconsciously he seeks you out when he needs help. Not from a sense of wanting to burden you, but knowing you're capable enough to problem solve with him.
He loves those nights where you two say nothing, and just exist in each other's company.
There's a silent recognition in moments like those. A wordless “I'm here.”
He may not have an answer to your question. But you are the first person that comes to mind.
MARCH 7TH
“You of course!” She answers immediately, then she quickly looks around, checking if anyone else could hear her.
You look at her, suspicious. “Are you sure?”
March nods, “Yep! Definitely, aha!” You stare at her until she breaks– two seconds approximately.
“Okay well, DanhengandTrailblazerhelpedmeoutwithscrapbookingyesterdayAndMrYanggavemesomereallygoodadviceaboutsomethingtotallyunreatedand–” She took a sharp inhale, “you all are so high up on the ‘March's Favorites’ scale its way too hard to pick one!”
That was NOT how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to say your name and list out all the things she likes about you!
But she suddenly became aware of Shush in the party car, and the chance of someone else walking in and ruining the not-yet-moment moment. Only for her to do it herself
March could tell you felt bad for asking her such a tough question, even after you laughed at her defensive rambling.
But you are her favorite member! Ever since your first conversation, March has held a deep fascination for you.
For her, you're new and innovative. You're everchanging but still recognizable. She could relate anything back to you without fail.
Her camera roll would fill up with random pictures of objects and landscapes, and she'd save them in a folder called ‘show to [name]’
She definitely realizes her feelings for you quickly. After all, she's done plenty of ‘Do you have a Crush?’ and ‘Does your crush like you back?’ quizzes online.
The former would always say “Yes” in bolded words. The latter? varied.
She just hoped you'd ask her that question again, and she'd admit it proudly. No takebacksies!
SUNDAY
“What do you mean by favorite?” He asks, eyes raising from whatever book he was invested in.
“Y'know favorite. Out of all of us.” Sunday looked unimpressed. “Like if you could only choose one of us to see for the rest of your life who would it be?”
“Your first question is very different to what you just asked me.” He was entertained by your insistence.
“Could you just fire off a name?” You pleaded. Sunday only chuckled as he refocused on the page he was reading, much to your disappointment.
Sunday never thought about that question. He still felt indebted to the Nameless, and admitting he had a “favorite” put a sour taste in his mouth. ( who was he to assign a preference?)
The “Astral Express Family” as the name of the group chat he was added into suggested, was much more tightly knit compared to The Family back in Penacony.
To brazenly say you have a favorite in The Family, is like debuting how much use a person was to you, according to the political lingo.
The thought of using any one of the nameless felt discordant with what he's become. And, he's already used more than enough favors from the nameless.
March was easy to have a conversation with, so Sunday would find himself borrowing her time. Welt was a great storyteller. Sunday had stories of his own– but compared to a man travelling the cosmos, he didn't have much to offer.
And there was you. He quickly found himself by your side after bumping into you in the parlor car at some obscene hour in the night.
A one off interaction turned into a routine, and suddenly The Express felt warmer, like he was a part of the family. (instead of The Family.)
Even when you two would be far away from each other, often enough you'd end up texting in between those late hours.
To call you his favorite would mean to admit he had some use from you. To choose only to see you felt cruel to the other nameless.
Oh.
He already had an answer, didn't he?
THE TRAILBLAZER
“Seriously?” They ask. There's an amused look on their face that screams they're going to drag out their answer (that is, if they even take the question seriously.)
You sigh and decide that their antics aren't worth the trouble. “Alright, I'll ask someone else–”
They gasp with faux-offense. “You hate me.”
You roll your eyes, playfully denying. “No I don't, so are you gonna answer the question?”
The trailblazer thinks for a moment. “I knew the best nameless since the day I woke up on the express–” so not Sunday, “–we were soul linked, bonded without words. So obviously, the best member on the express is…”
They say Stelle or Caelus depending on which trailblazer you picked.
In canon, do they know the name of the other ‘Trailblazer’? likely not, but the excuse is the name felt right on their tongue, so surely that person is the best member.
They were lucky you didn't mention the loophole they slipped through.
They said best not favorite.
If they had to say their favorite, you're the default answer.
You're fun! You get them in a weird kind of way.
They remember the first expedition where you stayed in the Astral Express, and it didn't feel the same without you.
They missed your banter, and you matching their energy.
They'd look off into the sunset as if they were mourning a lover, despite the fact that you were content on the express. Just living out your slice-of-life without them.
It only took a few days after that thought for them to realize ‘Ohhhhh…’
Yeah, you're their favorite. (They're still the best nameless though. )
[Simulation note: Love is the strongest catalyst for entropy.]
[Running patch: DatingSim_Mode.ON]
[Boot Sequence Complete]
> Reinitializing sensory input...
> Sound... ACTIVE
> Light... ACTIVE
> Memory fragments... ACTIVE
> Emotional pathways... (modified) ACTIVE
*NPC #5144 now online. Please enjoy your emotionally volatile simulation.*
> Welcome back, NPC #5144.
> Day cycle initialized.
---
*End of system message. Please enjoy your newly optimized day.*
---
“System update complete. Emotional parameters linked. Good morning, dear Artisan of Okhema! Try not to fall in love too fast. It speeds up the end of the world.”
You stared at the floating box in front of you in disbelief. “..What?”
lesbian headcanons with aglaea, stelle, kafka, ruan mei
notes: x female/lesbian reader strictly, men go away this isn't for you, suggestive in all but nothing explicit, drugging in kafka's not to reader, in ruan mei's to reader, implied pillow princess reader in all
happy really late pride month LOL i was working on this all month but had neck surgery and court and yeaaaa it took me a bit. but i hope you all enjoy to my fellow lesbians/bi ladies<3
༄ aglaea:
✣ there is no lack of whispers amongst okhema's citizens about how cold the goldweaver is, immovable and unwavering in her believes, but those who are attentive enough will notice the way she becomes substantially more amicable if you show interest in the well-being of her wife. her threads loosen ever so slightly, enough to comfortably breathe as she speaks of her beloved's current enjoyment of golden honeycakes.
✣ anyone with eyes can see she's extremely lenient with what you get away with as opposed others, giving you a light wrist tapping at most. that being said, it's also well established that blatant disobedience will never end in your favor. the line between being pampered versus being a impudent child is thin in her eyes, and she's very obvious in how easy life can be for you if you mind your manners.
✣ once a peaceful sanctuary, the hero's bath has turned into amphoreus' most taxing test of courage. ever since aglaea's wife expressed a deep enjoyment of the area, the chances of running into said wife have increased dramatically. under normal circumstances this would be no issue, but considering the expected attire one would have in a bath — that is, nearly none at all — the idea of informing aglaea even on something she asked for can turn the stomach of the most hardened soldier. truthfully, seeing her in a state of undress would be more uncomfortable than anything else. no, it was the primal dread of what would be made of them if they were to ever witness her precious wife in such a way.
⁀➷
"so when i had asked mydei about it, he just grumbled something about phainon being too trusting, but he was totally jeal- ack!"
aglaea sighs as you get too excited telling your story, and as usual, flail so much you stop floating atop the water and nearly drown yourself. her fingers barely flutter as a few threads grab and turn you right-side up. your hair flops over your forehead and eyes, making you resemble a sheepish puppy when you part the strands and smile at her.
"i should consider having you participate in the children's sunday swimming lessons," she teases while watching you with a quick beating heart as you whine about unnecessary bullying.
she's been finding herself more fascinated with you recently.
romance and love have been long intertwined throughout history, so it should be no surprise she has found the incarnation cradling her heart. with all the time that passes, your grip only grows tighter, but she would be no more than the common perjurer if she said she disliked it. the sheer will of your own fondness for the world around you has her enraptured in ways even cerces would find no answer for.
still, you live with such carelessness that she cannot find herself to fathom when it seems like nothing is ever going your way. how you manage to brush it off, much like the water dripping from your curved chest, is a skill she'd rather not hone.
she coughs to herself as her thoughts wander. the water seems warmer than usual — it must be effecting her intuition.
her eyes drift down once more. you're too distracted to notice, surely. the habit of getting engrossed in your own stories is something she'll make sure to thank mnestia for tonight.
༄ stelle:
✣ despite appearances and what others might say, the trailblazer is no fool. stelle is well aware of her privilege to be able to travel among the stars in an endless adventure. where she considers this privilege to turn into a blessing stems from the fact her girlfriend is trailblazing by her side. you're never thrown into the fray in a way similar to her (and she prefers it that way), but knowing you're by her side only makes her feel stronger in battle. no matter what, she'll win every fight in your name.
✣ she would never judge march 7th for her fascination with photography and is always happy to help her friend, but she personally felt as if living in the moment and keeping the experience to a beautiful memory made it feel more special. this was the case until you started dating, because now she's in the middle of filling her third camera solely with pictures of you. naps in her room, exploring new planets, date nights, petting random dogs you see — she wants to cherish every moment of joy that you give her.
✣ freedom is something held in high regard by akivili's followers, stelle included, but… can you act less free around other women? she isn't really used to feeling jealously this intense and navigating it is a challenge to say the least. controlling your free will would never sit right with her, yet that aching weight in her heart when you blush over kafka's boldness or are enraptured with herta's genius speaks some pretty treacherous thoughts into her subconscious. luckily, it slips her mind the second she's cuddled in your arms with a wagging raccoon tail.
⁀➷
the bright lights of planarcadia's main street feel's like it's burning stelle's eyes more and more by the second, but she's too preoccupied with dragging you in joining her unpredictable escapades. the night life was incomparable to anything else she'd experienced, and she wanted you to enjoy every last second with her.
your laughs echo against the brick buildings, turning her heart into a gooey mess. she almost feels sick with how much she adores you, wanting more of your praise and adornment. some would find the way she craved to satisfy you lamentable, but nothing brought her more happiness than seeing you happy.
"– and this is where march ate noodles so spicy she ended up puking after," she giggles while pointing out some fast casual gimmick restaurant before stopping the two of you at an ice cream stand.
when you express concern for march despite the event being over a week ago, stelle tugs you closer and nuzzles against your neck with big, wet eyes and whines, "you're not even gonna ask if i was okay?"
you poke her forehead and remind her, "i've seen you eat bugs, drywall, and literal trash. i think the noodles should've been scared of you instead."
she sighs in response, complaining loudly about being unloved and spousal abuse even as she's paying for your ice cream cone. the employee gives you a quick glance up and down with too much longing for stelle's comfort and she's quick to tug you closer to her side with puffed cheeks and a narrowed gaze.
the cold cream touching her lips takes her out of the one sided internal battle she was fighting, yelping as she looks down and sees you chuckling and pressing your cone to her mouth. her heart feels like it's going to burst out of her chest with how adorable you look offering her the first bite.
whoever is watching no longer matters as she overwhelms you with kisses — cheeks, forehead, lips, neck?
"we're in public!" you shriek at her while visibly trying to contain your amusement, only making her want to kiss you even more.
"don't care, too in love to do anything else," she cackles while the vendor tries to avert their gaze, regretful of even admiring the necklace you had been wearing.
༄ kafka:
✣ the sun that her universe orbits around, along with the stars that surround its atmosphere. if there was one purpose truly given to her, more important than elio's script, she has zero doubts that it would be to love you until the cosmos light dies out. she often ponders aloud to you how she got gifted with the sweetest little angel, while the memories of all the events she manipulated in her favor to land you in her arms bounce around her head.
✣ if someone told kafka she was creating a spoiled brat out of you, she would simply sigh lovingly and agree. her darling should never yearn for anything in her mind. besides, what's the point of acting frugal when you're well aware of the bounty on her head? you could tell her flat out you're planning to drain her wallet dry ; all you're getting in response is a kiss on the forehead and her telling you to make sure you send pictures of everything you try on.
✣ while kafka does like a woman who can fight (and she especially likes if you fight her for fun), she does also take pride in protecting you. the life she lives is one far removing from any fairytale knight or charming prince, but there's something that makes your heart flutter even more when she drapes a priceless necklace around your neck, kissing up the tender skin of your nape, or how dull her eyes seem when blood blooms from the bullet hole she put in the skull of a man who was audacious enough to lay a hand on what's hers.
⁀➷
a woman of kafka's caliber normally wouldn't be found in a tawdry nightclub such as this, watching the young patrons flit around with no sense of commitment or self preservation. it would be a simple matter to slip something in any of their drinks to try and pry information out of them.
of course, that wasn't her reason for being here tonight. instead, she was indulging the playful nature of someone much more precious to her.
"you come here often, beautiful?"
speaking of, the slurred words of her darling reach her ears as she glances to the side and sees you barely holding yourself up against the bar counter, staring at her with flushed cheeks, glazed eyes and the most indiscreet grin she's ever seen in her life. she's thrilled you're just dating and not working for her. you'd be her worst asset (and favorite) by far.
"i can't say that i do," she answers with ease, sipping her drink and beckoning you closer with a curl of her fingers, "though my little dove likes to find her way here."
you stumble like a fatigued fawn, toppling into her lap while she wraps her arms around your waist and adjusts you to be comfortable. how charming you could be when you weren't even trying.
she tucks some of your hair behind your ear, watching intently at the changing expressions on your face. she could tell your addled brain was struggling to put her words together, no matter how simple they had come off.
your eyes go wide for a moment before you grab her and wail, "do you like girls?!" with such desperation the bartender raises an eyebrow in concern. kafka waves them off while trying to hide her own smile at your foolishness.
(really, she's foolish for allowing herself to be so enthralled with you.)
she leans closer to your ear, brushing her fingers under your chin to lift your head up and tell you, "i like one very special girl in particular."
the way you wriggle on her lap in response only fuels her desire even more, and when your woeful eyes make contact with hers, she's just about at her wit's end.
you can't even get your next question out before her lips are on yours, making you jump in surprise but latch onto her sleeve with barely any fight. you relax under her touch, trusting, docile, and she has half a mind to clear out the building just to have you in every way she can.
your grip goes slack, and she pulls away for a brief moment to tease how meek you are before blinking in confusion at the way your head hangs. parting your hair, a defeated smile graces her face as she realizes you've somehow managed to fall asleep in your drunken state.
aeons, you're lucky you're cute.
༄ ruan mei:
✣ you are, without question, the most prized pet in the entirety of ruan mei's lab. whether or not she's devoted to you is never something you're unsure of, because the truth of the matter is you're in her eyesight for most of the day, night, and too often in your dreams for it to be natural. you'd asked her once if she found a way to infiltrate them, and all she had done was brush you off and ask if you thought she'd became an aeon early. neither of you brought up the fact it wasn't a no.
✣ plum blossoms are now her second favorite scent, with the first being you coated in their fragrance. ruan mei can be quite touchy to begin with (though in a fairly clinical sense, since she's usually testing on you), and that doubles in moments of fervent desire. when an experiment goes just awry enough to throw off her plans, she'll take a moment to decompress in a navy leather chair, tugging you by your custom collar into her lap. while she would normally be against breaks, even she is a slave to the feeling of your pliant body against her own as she inhales the sweet aroma.
✣ there is one obvious yet unspoken rule that she had implied many times before you entered a relationship with her: your bodily autonomy becomes very, very minuscule. the downside to getting her attention is that most of it is on the scientific side, viewing you as an extremely adorable and submissive test subject. you've woken up to iv drips that change the reality you perceive, had drinks mixed with powders that leave your skin tingling for days, and she never seems apologetic for it. she always takes care of you after all, what is there to complain about? and if she happens to like the way you look, teary eyed and begging for her to help you, then that's a secret she'll keep to herself.
⁀➷ "open."
you comply with no resistance, bringing a pleased curve of the lips to ruan mei's face. a glowing aqua substance, slightly viscous in texture, is dropped onto your tongue. the hum of various machinery and ongoing scans echoes on the sterile walls of ruan mei's lab while you sit in her lap, back to her chest. she watches as a grimace quickly spreads across your features at the simultaneous bitter and sour taste and it causes a quiet chuckle to fall from her lips.
"remind me not to extend any poker invitations to you. your ability to hold a straight expression is rather abysmal, my love," she teases while questioning you about the more fine details regarding your reaction. an uncontrollable burst of sneezes, hiccups, and dizzy spells follows, and she gives you an antidote while documenting that the reaction on you is far different than the one on her creations. your wet eyes do little to deter her as a vial with sparkling pink liquid is held up next, with her soft promises of, "you'll enjoy this one."
you hesitate for a moment before obeying once more, much to her satisfaction. her eyes soften as she brushes her lips against your ears, murmuring, "good girl," and making sure you swallow every drop. the vial is discarded, less important than feeling your soft skin on her, for once, bare hands. her gaze is more attentive this time, eager for the moment your skin grows flushed and your eyes glaze over. you're panting like a dog, writhing in her lap, whining about being too hot before your ability to speak is lost to the hunger thrashing inside of you.
she'll make sure to document later: results as expected.
