#Non-sexual Age play
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Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel) Additional Tags: Non-Sexual Age Play, Intimacy, Trust Issues, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Bed-Wetting, Age Play Little Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov Feels, Age Play Caregiver Natasha Romanov (Marvel), mama nat, Diapers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Relationship Negotiation, Wetting, Temper Tantrums, Heart-to-Heart Series: Part 7 of Mamochka Summary:
Just because the threat of Insight has passed doesn't mean there aren't still huge messes to clean up.
In the aftermath of SHIELD's fall, Natasha and Steve work to redefine their relationship as Mama and Little.
New chapter is up!
(Note: tumblr is being stupid and refusing to let me post the link to the newest chapter, but here it is if you want a shortcut.)
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The ShapeShifter and The Pup.
âââ
Hopefully the first of many one shots involving Little Enid and Caregiver Weems
âââ
One shot #1: Safe Space
It was loud that day. Entirely too loud. Enid Sinclair made her way through the halls of Nevermore Academy, as she walked she attempted to block out the various small noises that pounded her sensitive eardrums. To her dismay the noises remained louder than ever. She tightened her manicured fingers around the books in her arms. She knew she needed to go to her next class but what she wanted to do was follow the corridor to the large office towards the end of the hall and once inside the large office just climb into her motherâs arms and give into the fuzzy feeling that sat at the back of her mind.
From that moment on Enid and her âmotherâ, or principal, had a special bond. Which set off a whole slurry of issues for teenage Enid. When her biological mother found out that Enid regressed she had essentially exiled her from the pack. That had sent Enid into little space for almost a week after she received the letter. During that week however Weems had shown her nothing but love. Her arms had been the safest place in the world to the werewolf. When Weems held her close she felt like the large arms around her were an impenetrable force that nothing bad could breach. Which led her to today.
The small noises of Nevermore had piled on top of one another which was beginning to overwhelm the blond. She wanted to be independent and stay big but she more so long to crawl into her safe place and let herself be little and innocent.
The blond werewolf was so lost in her own head that when she found herself in front of the large wood door with the gold name plate it was enough for her to give in. She let the books fall from her arms and her knapsack off her shoulders. She pushed the large wood door open without concern for if the principal was alone in the room. To her delight the room was in fact empty save for the tall woman at the desk. Tears pricked the eyes of the werewolf as she called out for the woman who had not heard her entrance.
âMommy.â
Weems quickly dropped what was in front of her when heard the tear filled voice of her daughter. Age quickly stood and crossed the room.
âAre you little, darling?â Weemsâ voice was soft.
Both her little and teenage self called the woman by that name, although her teenage self usually stuck with the regular âmomâ, when her emotions got the better of her sheâd revert back to the more juvenile name.
The question alone caused the fuzziness in Enidâs mind to begin to take over, dropping her into a headspace not quite little but not all the way big. Enid didnât bother answering the question, instead opting for one of her own.
âH..â words were failing the girl, tears cascaded down her reddening cheeks.
Frustrated with her inability to speak, Enid did something she would do when she was in little space. She extended her arms up towards the tall woman in front of her. Weems wasted no time in picking up the girl. Once the strong arms wrapped around her creating her safe place, that was all it took for the girl to drop. Sobs burst from the now small girl into the neck of her mother.
âIâm here, sweetheart.â Weems softly whispered as gently bounced the girl in her arms. âMommyâs right here.â
Although she was crying, an immense relief had taken over the blond. She was right where she wanted to be. Her thumb made its way to her lips to act as a soother now that Enid was slowly beginning to calm. To her dismay her mother gently pulled the digit from her lips. Enid was about to protest and immediately place the digit back where she wanted it when a pink pacifier was placed in her mouth. With her sobs now quieted and her tears beginning to dry Enid laid her head in the crook of her motherâs neck with the express intention of being as close as possible to the woman.
She clung tightly to the blond woman as she continued to bounce her as walked the two of them to the apartment tucked behind the large office. When they reached their sanctity, Weems took the girl to her nursery. Enid knew what was coming. When they reached the pink room Enid felt Weems gently pull her way to lay her down. Enid was resistant not wanting to be away from her caregiver.
âDarling.â The accented voice was soft. âYou know you need a nappy.â
Enid still didnât yield to the woman as she laid her head back down and sucked her pacifier.
âDarling.â Weems tried again. âOnce we change you we can cuddle and have a nice warm bottle.â
The prospect of a warm bottle and cuddles was enough for the girl to release her grip on her caregiver and allow her to lay her on the changing table. Enid sucked on her pacifier and looked around her nursery as her uniform was removed and a pink cloth diaper was slid under her and snapped on the front. Weems stepped out of her line of sight but kept her soft hand on Enidâs bare stomach. When she reappeared she had two sets of leggings and two pull over sweaters. The leggings were both a shade of pink. Weems held them both up so Enid could pick, the latter choosing the light shade. Weems smiled down at her and then held a sweater in each hand. One sweater was pattered with cats and the other with unicorns. Enid pointed at the cats.
âGood choice.â Weems smiled at her.
Enid beamed up at her caregiver from behind her pacifier. She laid still like a good girl as her caregiver dressed her in comfortable garments before finally lifting her back into her beloved safe space. Enid snuggled into her caregiver as the woman carried her to the kitchen. Enid watched from the tall womanâs hip as she expertly warmed up sweetened milk in a pink bottle. Enid kept her eyes on the white liquid as it warmed in front of her. She began to drool around her pacifier.
When the bottle was properly warmed and tested the two left kitchen and settled into the rocker in the living room. Weems gently shifted the littleâs position into a cradle. She supported Enidâs head with one arm and carefully removed the pink pacifier with the other. Enid almost protested the removal of the object out of instinct but was quelled when it was quickly replaced by the rubber nipple of her bottle or âbaâ as she called it when she was very small.
As she suckled her milk and snuggled into her caregiver, things were finally quiet for the little girl.
#little space#wednesday#enid sinclair#larissa weems#non-sexual age play#age regression#age regressor#the shapeshifter and the pup
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For the better part of a year, Steve has been obsessed with finding Bucky to the point where he's neglecting everything else - including his boyfriend, Tony. Tony puts a brave face on and acts as supportive as he can, but on the inside he's falling apart.
And no one knows it until the night Tony snaps. In a fit of desperation, JARVIS calls on Phil, the only one capable of understanding because of his age play with Clint, to care for Tony. Phil might not be used to taking care of someone as little as Tony Stark, but - until Steve gets the emergency message to return - he'll be damned if he lets that stop him.
Words: 13,444
#non-sexual age play#fluff#established relationship#hurt/comfort#team as family#gen#stevetony#stony#author:Â SailorChibi
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alright Zeke nation, you might not be ready for this one
but I think Zeke involuntarily age regresses sometimes
of course there's not really such a term for it in-universe and if anyone catches him doing anything they think he's "just being weird" again and move on-
⢠Zeke loves to buy things that he would've loved to own as a child but wasn't allowed to for one reason or another
⢠when he's all alone at night and is particularly stressed he can't stop himself from curling up and sucking his thumb or chewing the corner of a blanket he's especially fond of
⢠this isn't necessarily anything to do with regression but Zeke has an incurable sweet tooth and is probably a picky eater, certain tastes and especially textures are a no-go
⢠you know he loves reading the books that were read to him when he was a child (more than the "normal" amount)
⢠sometimes he's hesitant to play catch with the other warriors because he's afraid it'll somehow "trigger the regression"
⢠this may not be strictly regression related but I'd argue this is semi-canon and actually SORT OF happens a few times but Zeke loves to show off, like a little kid who just learned how to do a cartwheel or play something on an instrument
⢠Zeke probably uses cigarettes as a method to ground himself, a very adult activity that helps him pull himself out of this "strange mindset" of feeling so small and vulnerable all of the sudden for some reason
⢠rip Zeke Jaeger, you would've loved a night light...
#aot#snk#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#aot zeke#zeke jaeger#zeke yeager#zeke jaeger headcanons#zeke yeager headcanons#aot hcs#ALSO DISCLAIMER AGE REGRESSION ISNT THE SAME AS AGE PLAY#JUST MAKING SURE WE'RE ON THE SAME PAGE HERE#theyre separate things đ#this is fully non-sexual hence the no warnings or dnis
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I really wish ao3 would separate the de-aging and age regression tags </3
#also many agere ppl unfortunately using#the non-sexual age play tag for filtering purposes#no hate to them Iâm also guilty#bc ao3 hates us </3
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Chapter 3 is up!
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Age-regression is a real phenomena where a person mentally regresses to an earlier age, on purpose or accidentally.
De-aging is a fictional trope where a character is supernaturally (magic, high-tech, etc.) de-aged physically and usually mentally too.
Age regression is real. De-aging is fictional. So why on earth are they the same tag on ao3?!
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noona | sjy (1/2)

synopsis: in which your little brothers best friend canât keep his feelings and true intentions a secret anymore.
genre: brothers best friend to lovers? (not really lovers)
pairing: little brothers best friend!jake x older afab reader
warnings: non-con/dub-con, reader is sunghoons older sister, perv! jake, older!reader, age gap of 4 years, panty theif! jake, jake corners reader, tit fondling, nipple play, grinding, slight gagging?, hair pulling, oral (f. rec), fingering, kind of face fucking?
wc: 2.2k+
part 1 part 2
a/n: shorter fic i got to lazy to come up with a longer plot. hope you enjoy <33 if you have suggestions for fic ideas you can drop them in the comments or anonymously in my inbox !
ââââ ŕ¨ŕ§ ââââ
the longing stares and lingering touches didn't go unnoticed by you, but you didn't have the heart to tell your baby brother. i mean what would you tell him? that his best friend, to simply put it, was a perv?
you noticed how he'd make sure to brush himself up against you everytime he walked past you. how his touch would linger everytime you'd pass him something, or how his grip was firm around your waist when you gave a friendly hugâstroking your sides in an almost sexual manner.
on multiple occasions you saw him peer down your shirt, his tongue jutting out of his mouth to wet his lips before smirking at you. god forbid you wore shorts or a skirt around him, his eyes were glued to the soft plush of your thighs.
you didn't want to ruin their friendship, so you kept your mouth shut.
jake and sunghoon had been friends since elementary school, the two of them were inseparable growing upâand you had started seeing jake as another sunghoon.
you treated them alike, making sure the both of them were fed when they were at home, helping with assignments, giving them advice and being a shoulder for them to cry on.
it never crossed your mind that maybe jake didn't reciprocate that feeling of platonic love back until recently.
"jake!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening at the sight in front of you. jake was in the laundry room, holding a pair of your baby pink panties to his nose. your face grew hot at the scene, to your surprise, instead of apologizing and running awayâhe smirks.
"noona, i was just looking for you," he says calmly, bringing his hand down to stuff your panties into his pocket. you stare at him incredulously, your eyes dropping to the pocket where your intimate belonging was now hidden.
"noona! don't be a perv, you're staring!" he gasps mockingly, covering his bulge as if you were staring there. you were not staring at his bulge, well you were, but not on purpose.
"w-what..no! i wasn't staring! you too-" you tried to explain yourself but jake took matters into his own hands before the commotion caught sunghoons attention.Â
he moves forward, covering your mouth with his hand as he gives you a smug look, "keep it down, noona. you don't want sunghoon to come down here? do you?"
taking advantage of your submissive state, jake lets his hand wonder to your assâgiving it a light squeeze. you gasp behind his hand, shocked at his bold actions.
you shake your head, mumbling a soft 'no' against his hand. he smirks at your obedience, "good girl," he almost purrs, enjoying how close he was to you. he could smell the soft scent of lavender wafting off of you, the same scent he had gotten so accustomed to over the years.
your eyes widen and your cheeks flush at the praise, avoiding eye contact as you were at loss for words. jake grins, "c'mon noona, sunghoon's probably waiting for us upstairs," and with that he's dragging you out of the laundry room with your panties still stuffed into his pocket.
ââââ ŕ¨ŕ§ ââââ
after you caught him in the laundry room, jake only got bolder.
"m-mgh, jake n-no," you whine when you feel him pinch your nipples through your shirt. his breath was warm against your ear, his pants coming out in a ragged manner as he grinds into your lower back.
"don't worry, noona. sunghoon won't be home for another hour, we won't be caught," he murmurs, kissing your temple as he continues to fondle and pinch your breasts.Â
you had gotten off work and headed straight home to prepare dinner. you're parents had been on a work trip for the last week which meant you were in charge of feeding both yourself and sunghoon. you were cutting up some vegetables when you heard the door open, sunghoon wasn't supposed to be home for another hour.
"sunghoon?" you yell, as you peeled an onionânot bothering to look behind you. "are you home already? i just started making dinner so you're going to have to w-" "hi noona," a voice purrs right by your ear making you flinchâdropping the knife.
you try to turn around but a body pins you against the counter, a pair of familiar hands making there way around your waist.
jake.
"jake," you began carefully, "what are you doing here? sunghoon isn't home yet."
it wasn't unusual for jake to show up unannounced, he was practically family and he would be at your home instead of his own over half of the time.
he had shown up to your home when sunghoon wasn't home before too, but that was before you had noticed his change in behaviour.
"i know, that's why i came, noona," his grip on your waist tightening momentarily as he plants his nose in the crook of your neck. you stifle a moan when you feel his tongue lick up the side of your neck up to your jaw.
"j-jake, this is wrong you need to stop," you began, trying to push his wandering hands off of you. "why is it wrong, noona?", his actions becoming more bold as his hands cup the underside of your tits making you let out a small squeal. you try to elbow him but he wraps one of his arms around your frame, leaving you helpless as his other hand continues his assault.
you don't respond, to caught up in trying to wiggle free of his grasp. "tell me noona, why is it wrong?" he asks again, this time in a firmer tone before he bites down in the junction between your neck and shoulderâa squeal leaving your mouth.
"b-because, i'm older than you," you managed to get out, holding in the moans trying to leave you when jake squeezes your breast particularly hard.
jake scoffs, "so? 4 years isn't anything, noona," he brushes off. "how about you try again, i know the age gap isn't what's bothering you."
"you're my little b-brothers best friend, jake. i've treated you like a brother my whole life," you stammer, his actions getting slightly more aggressive when you refer to him as your brother.
"well, i haven't treated you like a sister, so it doesn't matter," he mutters harshly before he's yanking down the neckline of your top along with your bra so one of your tits pop out. you gasp at his actions, trying to shimmy yourself out of his grasp only to feel something thick poke against your lower back.
"ngh, don't move like that again, noona. unless you want me to bend you over and fuck your cunt raw," he groans, moving his hips into your butt as you try to stop yourself from moving. you whine at his dirty words, which only eggs jake on.
bringing two of his fingers up to your mouth, he makes you open up. he forces his fingers past your plush lips and down your throat, making you gag. "shit, look at that. you take my fingers so well down your pretty throat," he grins, pulling them out before he brings them down to your titsârubbing his saliva coated fingers on your sensitive nipples.
you writhe against him, "j-jake," you moan, feeling his dick twitch against your back when you say his name.
"you sound so pretty when you say my name, noona," he groans before pulling your other tit out of your bra, letting go of your arms so he could use both hands to squish and twist.
before you could protest with your new freedom, he turns you around so your face to face with him. you've never seen jake look so needy in your life, pupils dilated and his skin glossy as he stares down at you and your tits with pure need.
he bends his head down to capture one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting as he plays with the other one. you run your hands through his hair, occasionally yanking at his dark locksâas he grins against you.
"noona," jake says, capturing your attention as you daze out from the feeling of red hot pleasure.
you hum mindlessly, still pulling away whenever his grip on you loosens for a second. instead of answering he smirks at you, dropping down to his knees before you. you gasp, trying to make a run for it but jake holds onto your legs firmly, his fingers digging into your thighs.
today was the wrong day to wear a skirt, jake grins before he's disappearing under the flowy material. "jake no!" you exclaim trying to wiggle out of his grip which now moved to your ass.
jake doesn't responded, to mesmerized by the view in front of him. he had dreamt of this moment for countless years and here he wasâface to face with it. you were wearing a pair of white cotton panties, something only you could make look so sexy. you gasp when you feel jake flatten his tongue over your underwear clad clit.
he repeats the action a few more times before he's pulling the fabric down from you, your cunt displayed in front of him as he takes a moment to take all of you in.
he forces one of your legs over his shoulder so he could get better access, immediately attacking your cunt with his tongue.
loud moans leave your mouth as you grip onto the kitchen counter as support, your head tilting back against the cabinets. "j-jake this is so wrong."
paying your words no mind, jake continues, sucking on your sensitive bud harshly before putting his entire mouth on you to lick up and down your slit. you feel his finger poke at your entrance, whining when you feel two of his thick fingers stretch you out.
"fuck, noona," he groans against you, feeling your walls flutter against his digits as he fucks them in and out of you. jake moans at your taste, his dick straining against his pants painfully, but this was about youânot him.
he had fantasized about this moment thousands of time, wondering what you'd taste and feel like against his tongue and fingersâyour stolen panties not providing him the same relief as this moment was.
he feels you tug at his hair as he licks at your clit harder, drawing a figure '8' on it repeatedly. your legs began to shake from pleasure, unconsciously bucking your hips against his faceâsmothering him.
jake was in heaven, the woman who he had a crush on for all of his life was fucking his face while he was knuckle deep in her cunt. jake hooks his fingers, moving them in a 'come here' motion inside you.
you squirm uncontrollably as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, ashamed that jake was the reason behind it.
jake could tell you were close, you were grinding against his face uncontrollably and your walls were tight against his fingers. "gonna cum, noona?" he says against your sopping cunt.
you whine in response, your grip on his hair tightening. "cum for me, let go for me, noona. cum all over my face," he groans and just like that you saw stars. your hips stuttered as jake helps you ride out your high, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you as he kisses your clitâalmost as if he was making out with it. unfortunately, your high was short lived.
the click of the handle and the squeak of your front door breaks you out of your trance.
"noona, i'm home!" sunghoon yells, his footsteps nearing the kitchen. quickly, jake makes his way out of your skirtâhelping you step out of your panties as you look at him dazed.
he takes the white material and stuffs it into his pocket, a keepsake. he pops his fingers into his mouth, smirking at you as you watch him in disbelief. he licks his lips to savour your lingering taste before using his sleeve to wipe any remnants of your juice off of his mouth and chin.
jake smirks, putting his pointer finger to his lipsâsignalling for you to keep your mouth quiet about what had happened. you nod shakily, swallowing harshly as you fix your shirt and flatten out your hair.
"dinners being prepared," jake yells back as he quickly walks to one of the drawers to pull out an apron, he needed to cover his boner before his friend noticed.
sunghoon walks into the kitchen, confused to why he heard his friends voice from the kitchen. as he walks in he spots you chopping vegetables and jake pouring broth into a pot. "jake?"
jake turns around, giving his friend a smile before he goes to give him a hug. "what're you doing here?"
"i got into a fight with my parents, i thought you were home but it was just noona preparing dinner. so i stayed and helped her out. right, noona?", jake asks innocently.
you swallow, forcing a smile onto your face, "jake's a great helper."
"this fool is helping you cook? no way," sunghoon says in disbelief, setting his keys and wallet down onto the island table.
"what can i say, i've been told i'm good with my hands and i'm a great taste tester. isn't that right, noona?"
â enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
#enhypen jake#enha x reader#enha scenarios#enha imagines#enhypen#kpop#kpop bg#jake smut#jake sim#jake x reader#sim jaehyun x reader#smut#sim jaeyun#jaysbaefie
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đ!đđđđ˛đ3đ âąŕ˝´âá° by đ.đđđđđđđ
[TAGLIST]
This is a series of short blurbs-drabbles-one shots that contain explicit sexual content and potentially triggering themes. Viewer discretion is advised. Šđ.đđđđđđđ
âŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹââŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹ
âŁĚ˛ ⪠01) BREEDING KINK dom! Abby
âŁĚ˛ ⪠02) MOMMY KINK soft!dom! Dina
âŁĚ˛ ⪠03) FACE SITTING dom! Abby
âŁĚ˛ ⪠04) PRAISE KINK soft!dom! Caitlyn
âŁĚ˛ ⪠05) MARKING KINK sub! Vi
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âŁĚ˛ ⪠08) PRAISE KINK soft!dom! Dina
âŁĚ˛ ⪠09) GHOSTFACE dom! Abby
âŁĚ˛ ⪠10) MIRROR SEX dom! Caitlyn
âŁĚ˛ ⪠11) DACRYPHILIA dom! Ellie
âŁĚ˛ ⪠12) HAIR PULLING sub! Caitlyn
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âŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹââŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹ
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âŁĚ˛ ⪠15) BONDAGE sub! Abby
âŁĚ˛ ⪠16) GUN PLAY dom! Caitlyn
âŁĚ˛ ⪠17) BLADDER CONTROL dom! Abby
âŁĚ˛ ⪠18) GHOSTFACE dom! Ellie
âŁĚ˛ ⪠19) WAX PLAY sub! Caitlyn
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âŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹââŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹ
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âŁĚ˛ ⪠22) WEREWOLF reader x Abby
âŁĚ˛ ⪠23) VAMPIRE reader x Caitlyn
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âŁĚ˛ ⪠25) HUNTER ellie x vamp! reader
âŁĚ˛ ⪠26) VAMPIRE dina x reader
âŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹââŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹ
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âŁĚ˛ ⪠28) VAMPIRE ELLABS
âŁĚ˛ ⪠29) GHOSTFACE CAITVI
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âŁĚ˛ ⪠31) JENNIFER'S BODY Abby x reader
âŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹââŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹâŹ
Please note that everything depicted is fictional, created purely for entertainment and creative exploration.
Remember, consent is keyâ"no" always means "no," without exception. I do not support or condone any dangerous, non-consensual behavior, unhealthy power dynamics, significant age differences, or actions that are disrespectful or harmful. These works are fictional and meant to explore darker elements of fanfiction as a creative exercise.
If you feel that any content is offensive or disrespectful, please inform me, and I will address it immediately. It is never my intent to offend or harm anyone.
#đ!đđđđ˛đ3đ âąŕ˝´âá°#tlou kinktober#arcane kinktober#kinktober#tlou smut#arcane smut#arcane x reader#vi arcane x reader#vi x reader#vi smut#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn smut#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kiramman smut#caitlyn kiramman x reader#( đźđAđ˝đđđVđ° ⨠đŻ arcane )#( đ˘đďš đ x đ x đ )#abby x reader#abby anderson smut#ellie x reader#ellie williams smut#dina x reader#dina smut#abby anderson x reader#ellie williams x reader#dina nolastname x reader#dina woodward x reader#dina woodward smut#ellabs smut#ellabs x reader
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â do you love me enough that i may be weak with you?

caitlyn x morally ambiguous!fem!reader x ambessa. men & minors dni.
synopsis: you are in competition with caitlyn for ambessaâs attention. you will follow her, to whatever end. no one draws you in like ambessa does. or so you tell yourself, even as caitlyn's lingering gaze makes your heart stutter. sheâs almost desperate to be friends, but you donât trust that girl by any means. to entertain her is to enable weakness. but, then again, have you ever truly been strong?
cw: a lot wow. age gap, older woman/younger woman, you're the youngest but in your twenties, canon divergence au, toxic relationships, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, power dynamics, impact play, body worship, dirty talk, bdsm dynamics, sub!reader, brat!reader, dom!caitlyn, dom!ambessa, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tribbing, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, face-riding, slightly dub-con in some parts, kissing, so much kissing, non-sexual intimacy, shower sex, hate sex (but is it really), sexual punishment, implied mental health issues, implied manipulation, you are all up to no good, polyam but is it really we'll see, caitbessa is not in love but they use each other, slight violence (fighting, training, & reader is hurt though not by caitbessa.), enemies to lover, rivals to lovers, slightly dark but not too much, guys i even wrote this properly no lowercase.
wc: 10.03k
soundtrack: give up - fka twigs, careless - fka twigs ft. daniel ceaser, holy terrain - fka twins, your girl - lana del rey (unreleased), & oh my angel - bertha tilman. order is intentional.
notes: this was supposed to be 7k. i need to be locked up. dedicated especially to @megalomaniacz for being the beautiful mind behind the caitbessa note that started it all. definitely one of my favorite things i've ever written.
A COINâS FIRST SIDE. â CAITLYN.
ââYou do not understand her incessant need to look at you.
The day has broken dark and cold. Your body aches with the rigor of being destroyed and depleted timelessly by Ambessa's experienced hands. It is only the three of you in the early morning - you, Caitlyn with her delicate bones wrapped perfectly in binding and sequestered underneath her uniform of buttery, dusky leather, and Ambessa with her arms bare, her face exposed by the careful braiding of her hair that reveals every subtle shift of expression.
It is this, over and over, until your body shudders into collapse. Yetâminute victory or sudden deathâCaitlyn must look at you. Even when it's her turn, with her arched back pressed hard into the textured bamboo of the mat, her face crushed against the hollow of Ambessa's palm, she is looking at you. Those eyes, relentless and searching, track your every movement. It drives you utterly insane.
The weight of her gaze feels like another opponent entirely, separate from Ambessa's ruthless instruction. You tell yourself it's determination that keeps you standing, keeps you coming back day after day to this dance of dominance and submission. But there's something else, something in the way Caitlyn's breath catches when Ambessa's fingers ghost over that perfectly formed bruise on her collarboneâthe one you gave her yesterday. Something in the way Ambessa's eyes darken when she notices you noticing.
You leave it. You cannot think of it.
Yet it follows you from the training grounds, through the winding corridors where shadows pool like old bruises. Back to the quarters you share with her, where even the air feels thick with unspoken things. It follows you.Â
Caitlyn's presence fills every corner of the space you're forced to call home, from the precise way she arranges her rifle components to the lingering scent of gunpowder and leather that clings to her sheets. You are aware of that incessant staring, of the way her eyes rove over your naked chest; your small breasts are cupped dutifully in your hands as you unwrap yourself with a harsh breath.
Teacup tits, she'd called them when sheâd once had you pinned against the wooden floor. It had been a day without mats; a day of endless testing. She had leaned in close, teeth gleaming like jewels as she held your stomach down with her hips. She had been sitting on you, and you had floundered then froze at the comments. You didnât know she could be so brazen, so dirty-mouthed. This follows you too.
You've learned to move around herâaround each otherâin careful orbit. You are like twin moons, two violent girls with cheeks pressed against each other in the night, caught in some larger gravity - Ambessa's gravity - never touching but always aware. Always watching.Â
The way she strips her gloves off finger by finger after training makes your teeth clench. You tell yourself it's irritation, not fascination when she unwinds the bindings from her own chest with methodical precision. Tell yourself you don't notice how the morning's wounds are already blooming across her shoulders, masterpieces in indigo and blue that match the ones Ambessa left on you last weekâit doesnât make it less true.
And Ambessaâsometimes you catch Ambessa watching too. The way her eyes linger on Caitlyn's throat, on the marks her own hands left there. It sparks something warm and dangerous in your gut - not envy, you insist. Never envy. Just hunger, the same hunger that drives you to push harder, to prove yourself worthy of Ambessa's attention, maybe both of your intentions. To prove you're stronger than whatever weakness Caitlyn stirs in you with her endless watching.
But later the envy cannot help but be itself, and you retch into your hands and sink from the vibrations of your anger. You do not trust her. Youâve seen her with that girl, the reckless pink-haired one, and she knows that youâve seen her. But you are keeping this secret for reasons you donât understand.
And in the dead of night, when sleep eludes you, you hear Caitlyn's breathing change rhythm across the room. You wonder if she lies awake thinking of the way Ambessa's fingers traced that lesion on her hip today, the one that matched the shape of your knuckles perfectly. Wonder if she knows you're awake too, caught in this web of wanting that none of you dare name.Â
đ¸
She is desperate for you, in a way that you do not understand. It is easier when she is quiet about it.Â
There is an evening where she is loudâwhere everything is loudâand it rattles you. There is an incessant buzzing, maybe cicadas, and in the beginning, you are enjoying it because it reminds you of home and the way your feet fall into wet earth in the heart of the warm season. But then slowly, you begin to lose your mind and the buzzing is in your teeth and you now feel slightly detached from the world and your body is nothing but heat and you are almost lapping at the screen between the open dormitory window and the world andâ
You crawl out of bed. You wear nothing but a sleep shirt two sizes too big, the chest open so that your sweat-laden skin gleams like a body of water. It belongs to Ambessa but it was your father's first until she swallowed your homeland and stole you away. You took it back and she said nothing. Maybe she was impressed with the voracity with which you bit and scratched her in the dark, massive cave of her bedroom.
So, yes, you crawl out of bed. You are swamped in ivory fabric and you drag your feet as you roam the halls. There is movement and it scares you, but you muzzle your mouth with your hand so that your scream dies between your teeth. It's only another guard. You keep moving.
Now, you are in the kitchen. You rummage through spaces until your fingers alight on the thick sphere of a pomegranate. You yank and now it is yours; hard and red in your hands. You turn, and she's there.
Caitlyn moves like water in the dark, all fluid grace even in her own sleep clothes. Her eyes catch the moonlight streaming through the high windows, turning them to pale fire. You clutch the pomegranate tighter, your nails breaking the skin. Juice runs down your wrist.
"Let me," she says, and she's closer now, close enough that you can see the light sheen of sweat on her collarbones. It satisfies you that she is warm too, that she is touchable. Her fingers brush yours as she takes the fruit, and you let her only because you're transfixed by the way she reaches for the small cheese knife on the counter, the way she tests its edge with her thumb. You hope for blood but there is none.
You don't remember moving, but suddenly you're against each other, a dance of hands and breath and barely-contained violence. She pushes, you pull. You spin her toward the table, but she turns it, uses your momentum to send you both sprawling across its surface. Your back cracks against the stone like a bone. Her face crumples momentarily at the sound of your pain, but then she is herself again. The pomegranate rolls away, forgotten until it isn't.
You think of another table, a wooden one from when you were younger. You think of hiding beneath the heavy oak with her, your breaths shallow and hushed as you press close to her side. You were younger then, small enough to fit between her knees, your hands gripping hers like a lifeline. Above, Ambessaâs boots thundered across the floor, her sharp commands reverberating through the room.
âWhere are you?â sheâd barked, voice like a stone through a window.
But Caitlyn had only grinned, leaning in to whisper, âDonât breathe."
It's different now. You no longer fit.
She lands on top of you when you hit the floor, pinning you with her hips. The knife glints in her hand, but she just smiles, that same smile from the training mat, the one that makes your stomach clench with disgust and desiâno. She reaches for the pomegranate, and you watch, breathless, as she begins to peel it with delicate precision.
"I'll show you how," she murmurs, and then she's leaning down, pressing her mouth to yours with bruising force. Her teeth catch your lip, and you taste copper, sharp, and sweet like pomegranate juice. When she pulls back, your blood is dark on her mouth, and she licks it away like it's nothing, like this is nothing, continuing to peel the fruit with steady hands.
You buck your hips and she sets the knife down, next to your wrists where your veins gather and bulge like snakes. She holds you down with her core, and you can feel the heat between her legs. There is a moment where you freeze, and she smiles with delight. You buck again and she slams you back down, using a hand around your throat to keep you beneath her like a lamb. Her other hand comes upâthe knife, you think in fearâand loiters against herself. Then it moves down, quick and smooth, to raise her slip of a nightgown and bare her creamy thighs. She shifts so that she is atop your stomach, and pushes the shirt up until itâs beneath your breasts.Â
She isnât wearing undergarments, or maybe she is. Maybe they are just thin. Either way, you can feel her against the skin of your belly, warm and weeping. You still arenât moving, but you are slicking in return. You want to bite her, dig until she releases some sort of sound.Â
Then there is a sound - a sharp intake of breath - and you both turn.Â
Ambessa stands in the doorway, her expression unreadable in the darkness. For a moment, she watches, her head tilted like she's solving a puzzle. You look back at Caitlynâwho seems unrepentant about her half-nakedness. You put it together, the idea that they have seen one another like this before. The envy is riotous. You ache to kiss Caitlyn again if only to vomit in her mouth.Â
Itâs as if she knows and so she leans in, holds the side of your head as she feeds you pomegranate seeds from the cavern of her own mouth. Eventually, she is no longer feeding, only taking. She presses harder and harder until you let out a yelp of discomfort. It feels, if you arenât mistaken, like a claim.Â
Ambessa gazes at the two of you for a moment longer, then she turns away. Her footsteps echo down the hall, leaving you with the taste of blood and fruit and Caitlyn's smile against your mouth.Â
You regain your strength; you throw her off.Â
đ¸
You don't sleep.Â
Your body vibrates with fury, with want, with the phantom press of her against your stomach. The dawn breaks grey and sullen through the window, and when you dress for training, you notice Caitlyn watching you again. But it's different now - you see the tremor in her hands, the way she swallows when you bend to lace your boots.
The training grounds are empty. No Ambessa. The message is as clear as a blade against the skin, and you want to scream. Instead, you strip and step into the shower block, letting scalding water pound against your shoulders. You hear the door open, close. Her footsteps on the tile.
"Don't," you say, but your voice lacks conviction. You're too tired to maintain the walls between you.
"You think she's punishing us." Caitlyn's voice is closer now. You hear fabric hitting the floor. "She's not. She's giving us space."
You turn, ready to snarl, but the sight of her stops you. She's different in daylight - less predator, more girl. There are shadows under her eyes that match your own. Water beads on her collarbone where last night's sweat had gleamed.
âGet away from me.â She doesnât. You try again. âSpace for what?âÂ
The question comes out raw.
She steps under the spray with you, and you don't stop her. You watch the way the water falls over her, the spread of the moisture against her staunch skin. She is so angular, so prismatic. You feel as if the world refracts off of her. The water is running cold, so her breasts are erect and straining toward you. You think of drinking from them, more the effort of it, of the space between them where your mouth would fit.
"For this," she says but doesn't touch you. "For whatever this is. I'm tired of watching you pretend you don't feel it too."
"You don't know what I feel."
âI think you are a lonely creature.â
The heat between you evaporates like ash against the wind. Your mouth twists, and she steps toward you. She understands she has misrepresented herself and her intentions. You feel a familiar prickling. Tears.Â
âIs this how you see me? A cowardly animal?â Your voice is flat, and she balks with her hands flexing nervously against her thighs.
âNo. No. I only meantâif anything we are both animals. We have been trained as such at least.â
âYou arenât making this better for yourself,â you say, turning away. âAnd you donât know me in any way.â
"I know you taste like pomegranates."Â
You turn back to look at her, incredulous. âI had just eaten one, you little fool.â
âI know you let me kiss you before you threw me off.â Her smile is small, almost sad. âI know you've been keeping my secret about Vi.â
The name hits like a slap. You rise to the bait.Â
"Why her?"
"Why Ambessa?"
You have no answer for that. The water runs between you, and for once, you let yourself really look at her. At the desperation in her eyes, the way sheâs holding herself like she's afraid you'll bolt. Maybe you've both been hungry for the same thing all along.
Still, it eats at you. This odd way she is pretending to be meek and mild. She is soft in the same ways you are, with the same dips in her hips and calluses along her palm. You think of the panther-like movements of her muscles as she readies a shot.Â
Something gathers underneath your tongue, and suddenly you are wailing. Loud and long. You rush at her, but she is waiting for you. She dips, and rams into your stomach as she flips you onto the tile. Though she is fighting back, sheâs careful with you. Your head is cupped by her limber fingers as she sends you down.Â
You kick and catch your foot on her side. With a gasp, sheâs down too, but a hand still manages to grip at the fine bones of your ankle and yank. It hurts, and you make a terrible noise. She releases you as if youâve burned her, and you twist to get out from underneath her.Â
Youâre on your belly now, flopping like a fish, but she makes you stay. She wrestles you up so that your back is bent as you press against her chest. You feel her fingers crawl like spider legs down your chest. She fondles, gropes, your tits. She is starved and erratic, pinching your nipples until they are standing on their own.Â
Your skin is slippery with soap, so Caitlyn digs her nails in for grip. Then the action stops and her hand descends into the apex of your thighs. You try to jerk, try to send her off but she knows this now. She is understanding. Thatâs even worse.
She holds you, exactly as you need, and gets two fingers inside of your cunt. She curves them, tries to pull you inside out. You let out another noise, but it is less terrible. She works at you until you cannot remember language, only a deep animalistic noise of âuh uh uhâ, a rhythm. Her thumb swipes against your clit and youâre there, the pleasure like a blinding fire.
You still try to leave her; you try to crawl. She rolls you over and bullies herself in between your legs until she can place her cheek along your heaving stomach. You begin to cry. Youâre unsure why, but maybe Caitlyn knows because she only strokes your inner thigh to soothe you. She looks up at you, hair black with water.
âIt can be like this, always. You only need toââ
You shove her and scramble back until youâre sitting on your own. She still watches you, cheek to the tile now.
âNo conditions,â she says, reworking her words. âOnly us.â
You close your eyes and see pink. You open them and think of your general.
âThere will always be her.â
Neither of you knows which woman youâre speaking of.
A COINâS SECOND SIDE. â AMBESSA.
Sleep does not come that night either. You only try because when there is no session to distract it, your body aches for a bed.
You lie awake, counting the beats between Caitlyn's breaths across the room, replaying the way her cheek pressed against your belly, her lips ghosting over skin as she spoke. The way she looked at you like you were something both precious and perilous, desired and dangerous all at once. Your body still aches from her attention.
A sound draws you from your thoughts - the soft click of your dormitory door. Through barely-opened eyes, you watch Caitlyn rise like a phantom, pulling on a robe. She doesn't look back as she slips out.Â
Your feet are moving before your mind catches up.
You follow her through corridors you know by heart, the same path you took for that damned pomegranate. But she goes deeper, down halls you've never dared explore. When she stops at a familiar doorâAmbessa's doorâyour heart clenches.
They speak in whispers you can't quite catch, but you see the way Ambessa's hand cups Caitlyn's face, the way Caitlyn leans into it like a cat being stroked. Your stomach twists violently. But then:
"She's ready," Caitlyn says, just loud enough, still soft. "She just doesn't know it yet."
Ambessa's laugh is low, rich like honey. "Oh, little one. She's been ready since I took her. We're just waiting for her to admit it."
You don't stay to hear more. But in the morning, when the summons comesâdelivered by a guard who won't meet your eyesâyou know they were expecting this too. They've been moving you like a piece on a board, and only now do you see the game.
You go anyway. You always do.
You press your lips together to avoid commenting on the way they stand separately like this will erase what you overheard yesterday. Ambessa stands at the center of the room, her presence devouring the light. It bends around her, as though the universe itself cannot decide whether to confront or flee her. Caitlyn is there too, poised and watchful, her gaze darting toward you and away again.
You look at her with an apathy you designed to get you through burning cities and crumbling countries. You wear your motherâs jewelry today: a septum ring with delicate chains of gold stretching across your cheeks, glinting over your ears. Ambessaâs eyes catch on it, a flicker of distaste passing over her face. Your fingers twitch, but you donât remove it.
Caitlyn moves toward you, her steps tentative. You step back, forcing her to stop and speak first. Always assume power. This is what they have taught you.
âDo you find it fun,â you ask, head tilting, âto be careless with me?â
Caitlyn halts, her expression caught between guilt and something softer. Regret, maybe. This may be your delusion. Ambessa remains impassive, her gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.
âLittle one,â she begins, the shared nickname making you flinch. âYou should be grateful. Iâve only eased you into a better space. This insipid competition for my attention is draining. I need my best soldiers to remain the best, to work with one another fluently.â
âYouâve been awful to me,â you say, your voice directed at Ambessa but your eyes locked on Caitlyn.
The mask you wear shifts, and you let your anger surface.Â
âDo not call me her name. Iâm nothing like her.â
Ambessaâs expression betrays a flicker of disagreement, but she inclines her head, a mockery of deference. âAs you wish, little one. What do you think, Cait? Do you agree?â
The nickname hits like a physical blow. Ambessa smiles wickedly. Cait. You used to call her that, back when you were little girls, not yet twisted. You saw her as some kind of beautiful flower, one that had learned to tremble tall amongst the trees.
âYou could have spoken to me,â you say finally, your voice sharper now. âYou didnât need this...elaborate scheme of seduction.â
âLove is a good enforcer,â Ambessa says, her tone rich with amusement.
âYou wouldnât know love if it spat in your face,â you snap.
The room freezes. Caitlyn stiffens, but Ambessaâs expression darkens, her presence swelling like a storm. You meet her gaze, unflinching.
âGet out,â she says, her voice quiet but deadly.
Caitlyn hesitates, her body angling toward you as though to shield you. Her hands twitch, almost childlike in their uncertainty. âSheâs only angry. Let meââ
âGet out,â Ambessa repeats, her tone slicing through the air.
Caitlyn turns to you, desperation softening her features. âListen to me,â she murmurs, stepping closer. âI meant it. All of it. With you. I onlyââ
You think of the evening before. Your throat works until you have something to say; your hand moves before you can think, shoving her back. The memory of her warmth lingers on your palm like a curse. You try to lose it.Â
âGet out,â you whisper.Â
She stumbles, her expression crumpling into something fragile. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay cold, and distant. Caitlyn hesitates for a heartbeat longer, but then she turns to leave.Â
âYou always try so hard to be good,â you push out.Â
She pauses, remains facing away from you.
âI meant it,â she says again. âWith you.â
She goes, the door clicking shut behind her.
Ambessa doesnât speak. She doesnât need to. The silence between you is a battlefield, and you know you are primed to lose.
âDo you want to have me to yourself, or do you only wish to be my favorite?â
The question surprises you. However, you shouldnât be surprised by anything Ambessa does. Her voice is calm, and measured, but it holds a challenge. There waits a quiet dare for you to step into the space sheâs carved out for you. Â
Your throat tightens, words lodging there like a trap. You hate the way your body reacts to herâthe warmth that spreads under your skin, the treacherous pull of her presence. It disgusts you. It thrills you. You feel weak.
âI donât want either,â you say, though the answer feels thin. A lie. Â
Ambessaâs mouth curves into something sharp, more predator than a smile. âLiar.â Â
Your hands clench at your sides. âI refuse to play this game, least of all with you.â Â
âOh, but you are, little one.â She takes a step closer, the sound of her boots deliberate, echoing in the cavernous space between you. âYouâve been playing since the day you first looked at me with that fire in your eyes. When I took you away.â
She clarifies as if you canât quite recall. It grates at your nerves.
âYou hate me, and yet you canât help but ache for me. Do you think I havenât noticed?â Â
Your pulse quickens, the air between you crackling with tension. You hold her gaze, refusing to look away, even as heat rises in your cheeks. Â
âDonât flatter yourself,â you say, but the words lack conviction. Â
Ambessa tilts her head, her gaze dragging over you in a way that feels invasive, consuming. âI donât need to flatter myself. I see you. At first, I thought you might take after me in a way meant to replace your mother.â
She reaches forward, fingers the cold along the ridge of your cheekbones.Â
âI see the way you tremble when Iâm near, the way your apathy tastes so much like desire,â she continues.
She steps closer, and you step back instinctively, your spine meeting the cold stone wall behind you. You hate how small you feel under her gaze, how she makes the air around you feel heavier, suffocating. Â
âYouâve used me,â you bite out, your voice shaking but firm. âYouâve used Caitlyn, too. You pit us against each other like weâre pawns on your board. Is that all we are to you?â Â
Ambessaâs expression doesnât falter, but something flickers in her eyes, something unreadable. âYouâre more than that, but useful as pawns when itâs needed. Both of you. But youâre still mine.â Â
Her hand moves, slow and deliberate, until her fingers brush your jaw. The touch is barely there, a whisper against your skin, but it sets every nerve alight. Â
âYou hate it so much when we touch you,â she says softly, her voice a low rumble. âBut itâs that hate that keeps you sharp. Thatâs why I keep you close. Why weâIâ canât let you go.â Â
You want to pull away, to spit something venomous, to remind her that youâre not some plaything for her amusement. But you donât move. You donât speak. You canât. Â
âCaitlyn wants your approval,â Ambessa continues, her thumb grazing the corner of your mouth now. âShe craves it. But you... you want something deeper, donât you? Something darker.â Â
You flinch.
âI want nothing from you.â Â
Ambessa leans in, her breath warm against your ear. âThen why are you still here?â Â
âBecause you summoned me.â Â
âBecause you wanted to come,â she counters, her voice soft but unyielding. Â
You try to defend yourself, but sheâs moved past this now. Instead, her hands come to the bend of your hips and lift you with an easy effort that makes your legs widen around the bulk of her body. With quick steps she moves you to the chaise just off to the side of the room, sitting you on top of it. The world is blurring; she is moving too quickly for you to dispute.
Ambessaâs hands are firm as she strips you bare and traces the shape of you. Like Caitlynâor maybe Caitlyn, like herâshe cups a tit in her large hand and squeezes. This version of it is more painful, different from its softer sister movement in the shower.Â
She leans forward, opens her mouth, and swallows that loose circle of fat. You arch into the heat of her lips, moan low and reedy as she suckles at your nipple. Her teeth trap bits of skin between them, marking you purposefully. She pulls off and takes your other breast inside of her again to be teased and tainted by her bruises.
You rock gently, chasing the feeling. This time when Ambessaâs mouth leaves you, she presses your tits together and appraises them.Â
âShe said this was one of her favorite parts of you.â When she finds your confused gaze, Ambessa smiles. âCait.â
You tense at that, and she chuckles. The sound infuriates you. Still, you do nothing as she sinks lower, her breath approaching the swollen pearl of your clit. Without a word she latches on to you, lapping idly at you as if you arenât already dripping down her chin. She holds you as your body stutters, pleasure arcing through you like thousands of arrows.Â
Ambessa is measured in this too. She sucks your folds into her mouth, laps at you carefully as she grips your ass. She makes you ride her, clit bumping against her strong nose as you follow her instruction. She draws back from you once, only to spread you apart and spit crudely into your cunt. She watches it travel down your slit, slicking you with her saliva, then she spits again and pushes it in with a finger.
Before she continues she glances at you and gives you another order.
âSay her name.â
You say nothing, mind racing. She slaps your ass, hard.
âSay her name. As you used to.â
You understand now. Again, you ride her tongue but when your mouth opens it is not her name that you say.
âCait,â you moan, legs falling open even wider.
Ambessa adjusts you, slings your legs over her wide shoulders as she consumes you. She shakes her head, burying herself in your cunt as she leads you over the edge. Over and over, she laps at you until youâre panting hard like you would when sparring. This is sparring in another form.
âOh, fuck,â you whisper. âOh, fuck. Fuuuuck, Cait. Please.â
âMmhmm,��� Ambessa hums over your clit, and thatâs the end of it for you.
You let out a sharp, shrill scream and attempt to bow over yourself with the strength of your orgasms. Ambessa refuses to let you, forcing you back and keeping your legs spread so that she can watch your cunt flutter wildly as you cum.Â
âThere you go,â she murmurs.
âYeah,â you answer, dazed and nonsensical.
Your pussy spasms, pink and oozing juices like a wound. Your thighs strain with the stretch of remaining open. You think of the shower floor.
âCaitlyn,â you gaps. You canât stop pulsing. âYes. Fuck, Cait.â
Thereâs a thud outside, against the door as if someone has fallen.
Ambessa removes her hands. The silence stretches between you, taut and electric. Finally, you find your voice, though itâs hoarse and trembling.Â
âIf you think Iâll ever belong to you, youâre wrong.â Â
Ambessaâs smile returns, wicked and knowing.Â
âYou are brave, but you already do, little one. You just havenât admitted it yet. What do you think we speak of waiting for?â
The absence of her touch feels colder than it should. She steps back, giving you space, but her gaze remains heavy on you, a reminder that you are never truly free of her. Â
âGo,â she says, her tone dismissive. âThink about what you want. And when youâre ready to admit it, you know where to find me.â Â
You donât wait for her to say more. You rise and make to leave, hands grappling over your clothes. You feel discombobulated like a puppet with its strings cut. You only manage to slide your shirt back over your head and it dusts the tops of your thighs.
Ambessa only watches your struggle. You hate her. You want her. You donât know where one feeling ends and the other begins. Â
You tug the door open and step back as Caitlyn spills back against the floor, hand still between her thighs and shining with her own pleasure. Her chest is heaving, her skin pink with the rush of lust and physical exertion. Her legs splay beneath her like a dollâs.Â
She pulls her fingers out with a wet âschleckâ and tucks them into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she looks up at youâunashamed. You say nothing, only bend down and tug her fingers from her mouth. You put them in your own.
THE COIN, FACE DOWN. â CAITBESSA.
The dormitory is devoid of you. Caitlyn is unsurprised. Â
You are unused to being touched. You donât know how to be wanted.Â
Still, she worries. More accurately, she spirals. The ache of your absence gnaws at her in the quiet moments, like a phantom limb she canât stop reaching for. She doesnât know where youâve gone.Â
Ambessa is losing herself too, albeit in a different way. Caitlyn wonders if she has ever truly lost something before. Â
The world continues to turn. They train, a familiar ritual that feels increasingly hollow. Their strikes are sharper now, their parries more reckless. Ambessaâs movements carry an edge Caitlyn hasnât seen before, a fury barely leashed. She fights like sheâs trying to exorcise something, and Caitlyn is often the target of that rage. Â
A blow to her stomach knocks the wind out of her. A strike to her face nearly cracks her jaw. Caitlyn knows better than to show weakness, so she grits her teeth and pushes back, delivering her own brutality in return. She delivers as well as she receives.Â
She kicks Ambessa in the mouth once, the impact jarring up the toned meat of her leg. The older womanâs lip splits, blood dripping down her chin, but she doesnât flinch. In response, Ambessa hurls Caitlyn into the corner of the room. She skids across the mat, hitting the wall with enough force to rattle her bones.
Ambessa isnât looking at her, stays crouched on the mat with her hand pressed to her mouth. Caitlyn struggles upward, sliding to rest against the wall. The fight had been nothing more than an outlet, and Caitlyn, nothing more than a tool. Caitlyn struggles to her feet, leaning heavily against the wall. The guards in the room avoid looking at them, the air too charged, too dangerous.Â
Something simmers in Caitlynâs stomach, a volatile mixture of anger, frustration, and something softer she doesnât want to name. She refuses to puncture it, afraid of what might spill out. She is already suffering enough, diseased with the spores of her affection for you.Â
And Ambessa. Â
The thought churns in her mind, dark and poisonous. Ambessa has become an obsession she doesnât want to admit to, a shadow that looms too large since that moment in the room. Caitlyn hates her, resents her, envies her. She knows what you taste like, what youâd like. She too has been inside you. Caitlyn now has nothing; they are disgustingly equal.
 But beneath it all, she respects her. And thatâs what makes it worse. Â
When Caitlyn finally speaks, her voice is strained, biting. âDo you always break your toys this quickly, or am I just special?â Â
Ambessaâs gaze finally lifts, sharp and cutting. She wipes the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and smiles, a malignant curve that doesnât reach her eyes. Â
âSpecial?â she echoes, rising to her full height. âYou think too highly of yourself, Cait. Youâre simply better than most.â Â
The nickname grates, a reminder of the intimacy they share nowâunwanted, unavoidable, tangled in you. Caitlyn clenches her fists. âDonât call me that.â Â
Ambessa takes a step closer, her presence suffocating, magnetic. âYouâve been insufferable since she left,â she says, voice low and dangerous. âDo you think I donât see it? You miss her like a dog misses its master.â Â
âAnd you donât?â Caitlyn fires back, the words cutting deeper than she intended. Â
Ambessaâs expression darkens, and for a moment, Caitlyn wonders if sheâs gone too far. But then the older woman smirks, cruel and knowing.Â
âI miss her,â Ambessa admits, her tone a blade. âBut not like you do. You ache for her because she is a twin to your pain, a foil to my approval. I ache for her because she belongs to me.â Â
The words twist in Caitlynâs chest, sharp and unbearable. âShe doesnât belong to anyone,â she snaps. Â
Ambessa chuckles a low, bitter sound. âYouâre wrong. [Name] belongs to both of us, and thatâs why you hate me.â
Caitlynâs breath catches, and she doesnât deny it. Â
Without you, they writhe like snakes, their weight pulling them into collision after collision. The mouth of the snake swallows the tail. The hatred between them is palpable, a toxic undercurrent that fuels their every interaction. And yet, when the nights grow long and the ache of your absence becomes unbearable, they find themselves drawn together. Â
Itâs not love, not even close. Itâs desperation, a way to drown the pit youâve left behind. Their intimacy is suffocating, a visceral reminder of everything they canât have.Â
When Caitlynâs nails dig into Ambessaâs back, itâs not out of affection but frustration. When Ambessaâs teeth scrape Caitlynâs collarbone, itâs not passion but punishment. They use each other because they canât have you. After all, the emptiness you left is too much to bear alone. Â
Itâs never enough, no matter how fierce. Because they donât want each other.
They want you.
Still, they try.
đ¸
Again, the shower.Â
Theyâre slightly cruel to one another. It fuels the high.Â
Caitlyn snaps back to the moment as Ambessa needles a nail into the mottled skin beneath her shoulder blade, where a bruise sits thick and spreading. She hisses in pain, tits pressing further against Ambessaâs own. There are three thick fingers in her pussy and they fuck her in the way she needs.Â
Despite the embarrassment, she lets her head fall onto Ambessaâs wide shoulders as she chases her orgasm. Her cunt is like water, dribbling down Ambessaâs wrist as she carves Caitlyn out. Again, a nail presses into the bruise.Â
The motion is harsher this time around and Caitlyn cries out, throwing her head back so that her hair brushes the middle of her spine. Ambessa continues to toy with this patch of marred skin, teeth clamping on the wide skin of Caitlynâs neck as the younger woman twists and shudders around her.Â
âGood fucking girl,â Ambessa mutters, fucking her faster.
Caitlyn bounces to meet her, slamming herself down until her belly tightens and roars. Ambessa lifts her further, suctions her mouth around one of her perky tits, and digs deeper into the pink tight nature of her. Caitlyn roots a hand in her hair and slides the other down her body to collect pieces of that foamy, white ring gathering around Ambessaâs hand.
Slick with herself, she rubs tight, quick circles around Ambessaâs clit. The older womanâs cunt is large, folds heavy and leaking. Caitlyn feels her tremble and she moves faster, breath coming fast as the spray of the water slides down the crack of her ass.
With a muffled grunt, Ambessa cums. As she does, she bites deeply into the meager flesh of Caitlynâs collarbone. Caitlyn whites out, eyes rolling back briefly so that sheâs swaying and focusing on a blurred ceiling. Their orgasms warp and connect; they refuse to stop touching one another as if it will keep reality at bay.
The comedown is almost irritating, and in a frenzy, Caitlyn clutches Ambessa to her chest. This does nothing.Â
She kisses Ambessa feverishly, practically mauling her, because the echo of your cunt is on her lips. Ambessa holds her, returns the kiss, then breaks it.Â
âNo matter how hard we try, she is not here.â
Caitlyn closes her eyes and her face pinches in pain.
âAnd where is she? Gone, and you are doing nothing to find her.âÂ
This close, Caitlyn can see Ambessaâs face twitch and melt into something revealing. Something rocks through her at the sight and she detangles their bodies.
âYou cannot find her.â
The statement is accusatory, so much so that Ambessa surrenders and turns away. She shuts off the water; Caitlyn remains shivering.Â
THE COIN, POCKETED. â YOU.
Your mouth tastes like metal and smoke. The streets of Zaun pulse beneath your feet, virulent and alive, and you can barely remember how many days it's been since you left them. Since you left her. Them.
You've gotten yourself into trouble - the kind Ambessa would have prevented, the kind Caitlyn would have shot through. Blood trickles down your side from where the knife caught you, and your vision swims with chemical fumes and exhaustion. You don't know where you're going anymore, just that you're going.
The world tilts sideways. You stumble and catch yourself against a wall slick with condensation. A familiar laugh echoes from somewhere above - it stops your heart, then starts it again too fast. You know that laugh.
When you look up, they're there on one of the suspended walkways - Caitlyn and that pink-haired girl, Vi. They haven't seen you yet. Vi has her hand on Caitlyn's waist, casual, proprietary. Something in you breaks and mends and breaks again.
Then Caitlyn turns her head, and her eyes find yours like they always have. The world stops. You try to runâyou always try to runâbut your legs give out. You thud to the ground. Mind heavy. Heart heavy.Â
You hate her more than anything else in the world. You wish that was true.
You hear the clatter of boots on metal as she descends, and then she's there, gathering you up as if she hadnât been entangled a moment before. She hooks a hand into your hair, and claws you into looking at her as she squeezes your face hard. Something inside of you understands that the action isnât intentional, not this time.
She bends, hair falling from her hurried bun, and swallows youâgrime and all. Her kiss tastes devastating and strains with relief, and you're too weak to fight it anymore. You push back, this time into her, and force her to hold you. She squeezes you tighter, moaning almost obscenely as she relapses and languishes in your feel, in your taste.Â
Here is her sweet girl. Her sweet fucking girl.Â
âCait,â you moan.
She pulls away and strokes your baby hairs away from your forehead as you let out a feeble, wounded noise.
"Vi," she says, not looking away from your face, "help me. I need to get her back to Ambessa."
"This is your runaway?" Vi's voice is rough, knowing. "The one you've been tearing yourself up over?"
Caitlyn's hands tighten on your arms. "It's important for the mission that we-"
"Save it, Cupcake." Vi's laugh is different now, sadder. "I know what love looks like on you."
That training, that beloved animal comes back in full force, and Caitlyn looks up from beneath her lashes. Her face contorts and itâs the strangest sheâs ever seemed to Vi. She reaches up, hooks a hand around Viâs jaw, and drags her down.Â
âGet it together, Violet. This is not your moment.â
Vi blinks at her, equal parts disturbed and titulated. Caitlyn lets her go, places that same hand on the peek of skin between the hem of your shirt and your linen pants. Why would you ever wear linen when running away? She looks back up again, traces Viâs expressionâanalyzes it.
âI can love you both. Iâve done it before.â
Vi's laugh catches in her throat. You watch through half-lidded eyes as something passes between themâ understanding, maybe. Or resignation. Your blood is making patterns on the ground.
"Fine," Vi says, and then she's lifting you like you weigh nothing, careful of your wound. "But if this gets me killed, I'm haunting you both."
âIf she dies because of our procrastinating, Iâll do something worse than haunting,â Caitlyn snaps.
Caitlyn's hand doesn't leave your skin as you move through the undercity. You drift in and out of consciousness, catching fragments: Vi muttering about shortcuts, Caitlyn's fingers pressing against your pulse, the way they work together like they've done this before. They probably have.
"Stay with me," Caitlyn keeps saying, and you're not sure if she means now or forever. Maybe both.Â
You think of Ambessa waiting, of how her hands will feel on your skin again, of how she'll look at you like you're something wild she's finally caught. You think of Caitlyn's desperation in the shower, that fucking shower and itâs cold waterâof her mouth against your stomach. Of how they both break you apart and put you back together wrong.
"She's burning up," Vi says somewhere above you. Her voice sounds almost gentle.
"We're close." Caitlyn's voice shakes. "The extraction point is-"
"I know where it is." A pause. "You really love her that much?"
"More than is safe."
You want to tell her that nothing about any of you has ever been safe. Instead, you let the darkness drag you into its arms.
When you wake, you're in Ambessa's chambers. The sheets smell like her - lime and mango and earth. Caitlyn is curled against your side, her breath evening out against your neck. And there, in the doorway, Ambessa stands watching you both with hunger in her eyes.
"Welcome home, little one," she says, and steps inside.
THE COIN, MELTED INTO GOLD â CAITLYN & YOU & AMBESSA & YOU &.
Ambessa moves like smoke in the water.Â
The room holds its breath as she approaches, and you feel Caitlyn's arm tighten across your middleânot protective, possessive. They don't look at each other. They never do. Their hunger is only for you.
"Did you think you could run from us?" Ambessa's voice is silk over steel, very careful in the moment. She sits on the edge of the bed, and the mattress dips with her weight. Her hand finds your ankle, thumb pressing into the hollow where your pulse beats rabbit-quick. "From me?"
You try to answer, but Caitlyn's mouth is suddenly on your neck, wet and wanting. She bites down, marking you, claiming you and Ambessa's grip tightens in response. They're going to tear you apart.
You realize, distantly, that you want them to.
"She's hurt," Caitlyn murmurs against your skin, but her teeth don't gentle. "We should-"
"We should punish her," Ambessa cuts in, and your body betrays you with a shiver. Her hand slides higher, past your knee. It makes you realize that youâre in nothing but a simple pair of baby blue cotton panties and a skimpy bra. Your tits spill out at the bottom. "Shouldn't we?"
Caitlyn makes a sound like drowning. Her fingers find the hem of your shirt and ghost over the bandaged wound at your side. "Yes," she breathes, and you feel yourself sinking, sinking. "But she's ours to punish."
"Ours," Ambessa agrees, and the word feels jagged.
You're losing yourself in them. A thought floats up through your hazy mind: that they refuse to acknowledge each other even as they work in tandem to break you down, to unmake you piece by piece. Their synchronized destruction should be beautiful to watch if you can remember how to open your eyes.
"Look at me," Ambessa commands and your body obeys before your mind can catch up. Her hand cups your jaw, thumb pressing against your lower lip. "She trembles so prettily for us, doesn't she?"
Caitlyn's answer is to drag her nails down your spine, making you arch into the touch. The pain blooms like ink in water, spreading out until you can't tell where it ends and pleasure begins. You're caught between them - Ambessa's unyielding strength and Caitlyn's desperate need - and you're not sure you want to escape.
"Tell us why you ran," Caitlyn whispers, but it's not really a question. Her fingers trace the edges of your bandages again, a reminder of what your foolish escape attempt cost you. "Tell us what you thought you'd find out there.â
"Freedom," you manage to gasp, and Ambessa's laugh is dark honey, sticky-sweet, and dangerous.
"Oh, little one." Her grip tightens, not quite painful. Not yet. "You're only free when I allow it."
She speaks only of herself, but you know the notion pertains to both of them. You know they're right. You've always known and it leaves something bitter in your mouth. That's why you ran - not to escape them, but to make them chase you. To prove they would. To ensure they'd punish you when they caught you.
And now they have.
"Please," you breathe, though you're not sure what you're begging for. More? Mercy? Neither?
"Please what?" Caitlyn's voice has gone rough with her aching. Her teeth find your shoulder again, and you shudder. "Use your words."
But Ambessa's hand is sliding into your hair now, pulling your head back to expose your throat. "No," she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "I don't think she gets to speak anymore tonight. I think sheâll bore me with her useless whining.â
The whimper that escapes you makes them both pause, just for a moment. Just long enough for you to feel their satisfaction ripple through the air like heat waves. You might die this way, youâre realizing. They may build you up one final time, only to slit your throat at the time of climax.
Ambessa is practically stone with her tempered fury, and Caitlyn is antsy with her need. You never realized how much you riled them in the same manner they did you. Ambessa goes on to say more, filling the silence with something sick and cruel but Caitlyn has had enough now.Â
She lurches up, rolls you over so that she sits atop just like the night she first kissed you. The night where it all burst. Thereâs a moment where she has a hand on your chest, pushing down as if resuscitating you. You donât understand it until you look down and see the way the pressure makes your breasts surge and spurt from underneath your bra. She pushes again and again and again until youâre taking halting, broken sips of air. Over and over, your tits spill until she grows crazed and snaps the fabric off of you.
Ambessa only watches, though you notice her thighs spreading. She looks soft, her hair unbraided and haloing her face. She wears nothing but a silk yellow robe which displays her figure lovingly. Your cunt grows warm, tender.
Catilyn taps your cheek, brings you back to her. You canât remember if the button-down she wears is yours or Ambessaâs. Maybe both. You wince at her weight on your stomach and she moves up and over your face.Â
Thereâs no time to prepare for the way she comes down on you, her groan thunderous as her pussy settles on your parted mouth. You fall into line, give her what she wants.
Still, you are to be punished, so she sits for a long while. Just smothers you. Occasionally she grinds, filling your nose with her musk. You can feel her soft curls around your lips, and you arch up as if to crawl inside of her skin. This gets her to move, a slow rocking that amps up as you settle into making out with her pouring pussy.Â
You kiss her here, over and over, dragging your tongue into the affair until sheâs riding you. Your tongue slips in and Caitlyn quivers with a whimper as she rides your face harder. You bring a hand up to hold her, to prevent her from slipping but she smacks it away.Â
âNo,â she pants. âNoâoh, fuck me. Holy shiiiit.â She bounces liberally, selfishly. âNo touching.â
Caitlyn leans forward, supporting herself as she fucks down on you with fervor. Youâre so distracted with getting her to fill your throat with her pleasure that you mistakenly lose focus on where Ambessa is. Which is why the press of her cunt against your own absolutely blindsides you.
Sheâs climbed atop the bed during the desperate coupling between you and Caitlyn, removing your panties so that your pussy winks at her voraciously. True to her nature she decides to take, to conquer you. You grip Caitlyn tightly, so tightly that she squeals and cums at the pain.Â
You forget to let go, buck wildly as she creams over your nose and chin. It settles on you like sugar; she takes a long finger and dips it inâsoft and sweet. You suckle at the pad of it, taking the digit into your mouth and moaning around it as Ambessa slides your cunts together.Â
You canât tell if you are one body or three or three-in-one. You feel enmeshed in the both of them. Your blood is theirs; your cunt is theirs. Maybe it is less togetherness and more possession. Ambessa groans deeply as you gush against her, the squelch both loud and quiet. Caitlyn is now off to this sideâthis you know. She has her other fingers playing with herself, shifts down to let them puncture her.Â
She shoves another finger into your mouth and you gag, let her hit the back of your throat. Drool is coalescing and running over them. The sight makes Ambessa open you further, and hold you down as she slides your clits together over and overâharder and harder.
Your babbling makes the both of them smile, dark curves tinged with their sadistic pleasure. Again, the possession. Ambessa shoves Caitlyn aside and crawls over you to hook her thicker digits into your mouth. She drags you, your head lolling, as she reaches down and rubs your clit.
You scream, silent with your mouth open wide as you cum. This is not enough. It is never enough. She is back on you, like a lioness on a gazelle. Her pussy swallows yours, and Ambessa forgets you as she leads herself to that approaching golden horizon.
When she crests, she falls on you and you do nothing but accept her weight. You lay there, do this for what feels like years, until Caitlyn weasels behind you. Then you do it again.
đ¸
You wake with a start, disoriented by the weight pinning you to the bed. Caitlyn's arm drapes loosely over your waist, her fingers curled like sheâd been holding you even in sleep. Ambessaâs warmth radiates from behind you, her breath slow and even. The sheets smell of sweat and sandalwood, of something heady and unnamed.
The sheet clings to your skin almost oppressively, a reminder of last nightâs twist of limbs and pleasure. You slide out from between them, careful not to disturb their slumber. Ambessa stirs slightly, her arm shifting, and you hesitate. Caitlyn murmurs something unintelligible, and you freeze. When neither of them wakes, you slip free.
You take Caitlynâs robe from the chair by the bed, pulling it around your shoulders. The fabric is sheer, nearly useless, but it smells of her. You step onto the balcony, and the cool morning air kisses your skin. The horizon is painted in hues of gold and rose, the sun stretching its fingers across the sky.
You lean against the railing, the chill of the metal biting into your palms. The fortress sprawls below and blends into the distant city, a patchwork of shadows and light. For a moment, it feels like youâre the only person in the world. But the ache in your chest reminds you that isnât true.Â
You are loved. You are wanted. And it terrifies you.
You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to make sense of the ache in your chest. The robe clings to you, and the light hits your body in a way that feels exposing, even with no one watching.
A soft sound pulls your attention, and Caitlyn steps out onto the balcony, her hair a tumble of dark waves over her shoulders. Sheâs still half-asleep, her bare feet silent on the stone. When she sits beside you, the space between you feels both unbearable and necessary.
"Couldn't sleep, baby?" she murmurs, her voice rasping in the quiet.
You shake your head, eyes fixed on the horizon. You ignore the goosebumps that rise at the pet name.
 "I donât know what to do with so much love," you say finally, your voice trembling. "From you. From her. Itâs⌠too much."
She doesnât answer immediately. Instead, she reaches out, her fingers brushing your forearm. You flinch, and she pulls back, pain flickering across her face.Â
"Baby," she says softly, and the word lands like a stone in your chest. "I will undo this. I will make your living easier."
You exhale sharply, the sound halfway to a laugh. âWill I always have to share you?â you ask.Â
You donât look at her.Â
Caitlyn hesitates, then glances toward the bed where Ambessa shifts, her hand moving as if searching for you in her sleep. You glance over instinctively, the motion so natural it betrays you.
âI could ask you the same,â she says finally. Her tone is steady, but thereâs a thread of something deeper woven through itâsomething sharp and sad. Your gaze flickers to her, then back to the bed behind you. Ambessa shifts again, her brow furrowing, and you instinctively turn to her. The action is so ingrained, that you donât realize what youâve done until Caitlyn speaks again.
âShe pulls at you,â Caitlyn says, not unkindly. âI see it.â
You want to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you say, âAnd you donât?â
Her lips curve into a wry smile. âI pull at you too. But sheâs⌠something else.â
You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling over you. âYou didnât answer my question.â
Your breath catches, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The city stirs below, oblivious to the ache of your small world.
INTERLUDE: THE LIONESS, WITH THE COIN IN HER MOUTH.Â
Ambessa lies still in the bed, her breathing measured and even, but her mind sharp and alert. She hears the murmur of voices from the balcony, the quiet cadence of Caitlyn's voice mingling with yours, a soft harmony in the cool morning air.Â
Her eyes remain closed, yet her thoughts stray to the image of you wrapped in Caitlynâs robe, the rosy light of dawn casting faint halos around your figures. She imagines the tension in your body as Caitlyn reaches for you, the way youâd shift, hesitant, but never pulling away entirely. Itâs a dynamic Ambessa understands all too well: the push and pull, the magnetic sway you hold over both of them.
Youâre the thread that binds, fragile yet unbreakable. Itâs maddening. Itâs beautiful. Â
Ambessa shifts slightly, her fingers brushing the cool sheets where you once lay. The absence is temporaryâshe knows this. But the way you linger in her mind is something she canât easily reconcile. She has always been a woman of precision, of control. Yet you are beginning to undo her in ways she cannot name, cannot stop, that she believed herself too old for.
Through the door left ajar, your voice carries faintly. When you and Caitlyn return, Ambessa will let you come to her. For now, she waits, her lips curving faintly, as if in a private, unspoken promise. Â
âYouâll come back to me,â she murmurs under her breath, a whisper carried only by the stillness of the room. Â
And outside, the sun climbs higher, gilding the world in its light.
RE: THE COIN, MELTED INTO GOLD â CAITLYN & YOU & AMBESSA & YOU &.
Caitlyn leans back, her eyes tracing your face. "We grew up together," she begins, her voice softer now. "Trained together. They taught us to kill, to win, to survive. But youâŚ" She pauses, swallowing hard. "You were always my half. I canât promise much, but when the pendulum swings, I will choose you to save. Every time."
Her words settle heavy in the space between you. You lean your head against her shoulder, letting the warmth of her presence ease the sharp edges of your doubt.
Caitlyn tilts her head, resting her cheek against your hair. "Youâre half of me," she murmurs.
From inside, Ambessaâs voice calls softly, "Come back to bed."
Caitlyn shifts, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, then your nose, and finally your lips. Itâs a lingering kiss, tender and unhurried as if sheâs trying to pour every unsaid word into you.
"Youâre my girl," she whispers against your mouth. "I love you, baby."
The declarations are so soft you almost think youâve imagined them. But the look in her eyes tells you otherwise.
Ambessa calls again, her voice low and expectant. Caitlyn straightens, her hand falling away from yours. She glances at the door, then back at you. She stands, offering her hand to you.Â
"Come," she says simply.
You hesitate, the ache in your chest a living thing. But you take her hand.
The sun exposes as it further moves toward its high point, casting the balcony in streaky light, but you feel no warmth. Only the quiet weight of something you canât name, pressing into the spaces between your ribs.
And behind you, the world goes on turning.
âCome,â Caitlyn says again, her tone gentle but firm.
You go.
Š hcneymooners.
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wife â nanami kento.
âI donât like the way theyâre looking at you.â You whisper to him. âLet them, honey.â he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. âThatâs all they can do.â He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. âThey should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. Iâm a married man, after all.â
GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;
WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;
WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.
NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3
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THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY. Â You donât like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you canât ignore Gojo Satoruâs invitation. Even if you want to.
Heâs been so good to your Kento and heâs always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world.Â
The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people â he gave in and threw the party.
Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties.Â
But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kentoâs company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.
You find that youâre at least enjoying the buildingâs architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside.Â
Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential.Â
Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.
The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.
You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality â only the best of the Gojo clan headâs tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste.Â
That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.
âI regret wearing this dress.â You tell yourself in a small mumble. âItâs too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menuâŚâ
You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.
You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.
You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore.Â
She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawkâs as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too â but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions.Â
But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things.Â
Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair. Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum.Â
Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.
You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.
âDo you think she really fits in here?â one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.
âI heard sheâs not even a sorcerer.â came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. âYet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they donât dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!âÂ
You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobitoâs circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them.Â
But you knew that wasnât the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasnât the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students.Â
Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.
From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice.Â
To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.
âGood evening.â came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement.Â
She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.
âEvening.â You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. âWhy are you alone? Whereâs your darling at?â
âOh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.â She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. âUgh, I hate those freaks. I canât believe sheâs around them. Theyâre not even worth an ounce of her giggles.â
âGetoâsan has to make good with people somehow.â You pointed out to her, humming. âConnections are just connections. But youâre her lover. Itâs been some years. Breathe, Sho.â
She rolls her eyes, before smiling. âYeah, yeah.â
âHow have you been?â
âGood, as always.â Shoko retorts back, humming at you. âI just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldnât let me hit.â
You laugh at her bluntness. âI do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.â
 âOh the things we do for love.â She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasnât hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. âYouâre doing well against their scrutiny, I see.â
âBarely. But I do find myself enjoying it.â you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shokoâs company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.
Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.
âAh, her again. I thought she wouldnât be here after she got exposed for her affair.â Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. âCareful, sheâs liable to sprain her neck with how much sheâs been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.â
You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shokoâs dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.
âLet them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.â Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. âTheyâll keep wondering because they canât figure it out. Youâre different, and they hate not understanding something. Itâs their worst fear.â
You exhaled a breath you didnât know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shokoâs words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasnât defined by othersâ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.
âThanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.â you said, voice steadying.
She gave a small shrug, the kind that said donât make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. âNow, letâs hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someoneâs getting cursed tonight, and it wonât be me.â
She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you werenât as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.
You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.
âIs it true? Sheâs the one married to him?â another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.
âYes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.â another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice.Â
You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.
The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.
âWho does she think she is, that no name wanna be?â The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet.Â
The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. âWhat a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?â
Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them.Â
âHonestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.â she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Arenât you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?â
The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply.Â
âHow dare youââ
âIsnât that the truth?â Shokoâs laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawamiâs reddening face. âYou think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!â
The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish oneâs face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar.Â
âYou cannot talk to us like that!â she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. âMy husband will hear of this!â
âNow, now, lady Kawami, you shouldnât treat my guests like that.â The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. âItâs so disrespectful, donât you think?â
Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.
âAh, Gojo-sama.â Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. âI didnât mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand thatââ
âOh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.â Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. âI understand that youâre boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I canât have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friendâs happiness.â
The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawamiâs mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.
Shokoâs smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. âWell, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.â
He winked at her. âAnything to make sure tonight stays interesting.â
The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did.Â
You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you werenât alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.
The roomâs atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojoâs playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.
âGood job not throwing that plate, masterful control.â Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. âWouldâve been a waste of good food.â
You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. âShouldnât you be saying that to yourself, Sho?â
âWell, I mean, thatâs true.âÂ
Gojo laughs. âShoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.â
âHm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.â
âOh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.â
Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he wasâNanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.
He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? Itâs a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close. Â
He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojoâs smirk, and Shokoâs knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. âI see I missed the entertainment.â he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.
Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. âAh, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely ladyâs honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.â
Kentoâs brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. âThey deserved it.â she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.
With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring.Â
âAre you alright?â he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.
You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. âI am now.â
The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.
Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. âWell, now that weâve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of societyâs finest theatrics?â His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelierâs light like a pair of miniature suns.
Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. âYou never change, Gojo.â he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.
âAnd wouldnât it be boring if I did?â Gojo countered, raising a brow.
Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. âUnwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!â she said.
You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.
Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguruâs younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.
Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.
The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leaderâs wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.
âTheyâre watching again.â you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.
You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.
Kentoâs presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the roomâs golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.
âI donât like the way theyâre looking at you.â You whisper to him.
âLet them, honey.â he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. âThatâs all they can do.â
He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.Â
âThey should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. Iâm a married man, after all.â
A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kentoâs words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leadersâ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.
Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.
The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.
âKento, baby.â you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.
âHmm?â he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.
âThank you, baby.â you whispered, squeezing his hand back.
His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. âThereâs nothing to thank me for, honey.â he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. âItâs simply the truth.â
ââââââââââââââââââ
IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you canât help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when youâre jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.
You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.
The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.
It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.
Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.
When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.
âYouâre so goodâŚ.â you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "KentoâŚ.." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him.Â
The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.
For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.
And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.
His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.
You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.
"Canât believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But Iâd follow you anywhere. Iâll make love to you anywhere you want me to."
His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.
As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldnât help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.
âThis is dangerous, you know, baby.â you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
âGood.â he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldnât have it any other way."
Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion.Â
And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.
Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.
Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught.Â
His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.
In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface.Â
"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldnâtâ"
His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Donât you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."
His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.
"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "Youâre mine. No one else matters."
You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.
Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.
"Iâm jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."
"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust.Â
His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.
The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.
As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldnât hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lustâsomething primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldnât explain.
"Youâre so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need heâd been building in both of you. âMy wife is so fucking beautiful.âÂ
His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.
The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.
The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from painâno, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadnât expected.
All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.
Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled.Â
"Youâre mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what heâd just spoken.
The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.
His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.
"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."
You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didnât feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it.Â
âGood baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.â
His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.
Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.
Kentoâs hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.
"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And Iâll make sure you never forget that."
His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldnât tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.Â
Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.
As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync.Â
Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.
But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillnessâa soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity.Â
You both hadnât noticed the soft creak of the door, hadnât heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.
Kentoâs gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didnât flinch, didnât move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality â theyâre done when he makes love to you.
Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didnât care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.
You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.
His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. âForever.â
The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didnât need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.
You were his, and he was yours.
Forever.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x you#kento nanami x y/n#kento nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#kento nanami smut#nanami smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk fic#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk nanami#nanami kento#kayu writes ! ! !
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・â *ďžâ +*â .â â§"Into the looking glass."・â *ďžâ +*â .â â§

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII
Post format: Multipart series
Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader
Word count: 5k
Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?
Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, Bullying
Color indicator: Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible


Another dull morning, you think to yourself, rolling over to turn off your alarm. You pick up your cellphone and blearily swipe your screen as you clamber out of bed. Itâs embarrassing to admit, but you really didnât notice anything was wrong until you stood up and looked in the mirror. You blink, poking at you face and staring where your reflection should be, but isnât. You wave your hand in front of the mirror. Nothing.
You look around, only to realize that your surroundings are different, too. The room youâre in is plain, cramped, and completely devoid of character. Itâs almost liminal, in a way. Eerie in its emptiness.Â
You need to get out of here.Â
You nervously reach for the door and twist the handle. The doornob moves with you, but the door remains fixed in place. Your phone buzzes, and you fish it out of your pocket, quickly turning it on. Youâve gotten a text, but the number is blank.
You have not chosen an avatar yet. Please choose one from the mirror before leaving your room.
Well, that woke you right up. Is someone watching you? You swerve your head around, checking the ceilings and corners for cameras. You try the door again. You go in circles, turning the whole room upside down. You try the door. Nothing. You check your phone. The same message appears as soon as you open it. You swipe it away out of habit, but it refuses to budge. Freaky. The time hasnât changed since you woke up, either, though youâre sure youâve been at it for more than fifteen minutes by now.
You decide to take a peek at the mirror again. You try to remove it from the wall to look behind, but your vision goes white the second you make contact with itsâ surface. Your vision clears, and in front of you is a grey figure of ambiguous gender. It looks almost made of clay. Your phone buzzes.
Player avatar selection.Â
Select a sex. Sex cannot be changed after starting the game.
1.) Male 2.) Female 3.) Hermaphrodite
Well, youâve either fallen asleep or been drugged. Not knowing what else to do, you choose female, watching in horror and fascination as the figure morphs to accommodate your choice.Â
>Next
Other customization options soon come up. You give the figure your ideal height, weight, and features. You change her skin tone, hair color, texture, and eye color. You watch as she slowly comes to life as your ideal. The person youâve always wanted to be.Â
Your phone buzzes just as you finish touching her up.
Set Name
Youâre about to name her when the text fills itself in with your name instead.
Welcome, [First]! 1. Start Game!
You grimace, and hit play.
âââââââââ
When you come to, itâs 07:00 again, and youâre still in that room. You glance at the mirror, only to see your avatar glancing back. You wave your arm in front of it, and she mimics your movements perfectly. You make a lewd gesture, and she does, too. Creepy. Is this really a dream? Youâre startled out of your thoughts as your phone buzzes once again.
Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity!
If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad.Â
The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Donât forget your uniform and backpack!
1. Next
Your face pales as you read the text. Thereâs no way. You hit next, reminding yourself that youâre only in a dream, and that no one can harm you in a dream. Your phone opens to its home screen, where you see various apps, some of which are labled.
-Characteristics -Social -Traits -Journal -Stats -Feats
You open characteristics and take a look. At the very top is a color chart indicator. description of your bodyâs appearance and condition, underneath are familiar stats.
Purity: 7/7 You are angelic. Physique: 3/6 Your body is average. Willpower: 1/6 You are fainthearted. Awareness: 3/7 You have a normal understanding of sexuality. Promiscuity: 0/6 You are chaste and pure. Exhibitionism: 0/6 You are coy. Deviancy: 0/6 You are squeamish.
Everything seems to be in line with the stats for the beginning of a playthrough. Everything except one.
Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure.
ThatâsâŚnot good, if the blaring red is anything to go off of, anyway.Â
You scroll down. Your skills are all ranked as F, which is actually better than the âNoneâ stat they usually start as. Thatâs weird, but you arenât complaining. Your sex skills, howeverâŚare all at C. Thatâs super weird! You arenât sure what to make of it, so you choose to ignore it instead.Â
Your overall school performance is terrible, with Fâs all around the board. In real life, this would mean youâd picked the athlete trait, but your physique is baseline, and your athletic stat is also at F, so it canât be that. It must just be inconsistencies from being asleep, you reason. Thatâs why your stats are all over the place.
Your status is normal, aside from your allure. Which is maxed out at âYou look like you need to be ravaged.â You shudder.
You check traits. You have two.
Alien - You arenât from around here! RPG like elements have been incorporated into your reality for a smoother experience. Virgin - Your purity recovers faster. Your virginity might be worth something.
You open your journal.Â
It is the 4th of September, 2022.
-It has been 0 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term starts on Monday the 5th of September.
Current quests:
Visit Bailey in his office by 20:00 tonight to recover your ID documents and gain your independence.
Failure to complete quest will result in the day restarting
You turn your phone off and look around. Everything seems normal, too normal. You read somewhere once that itâs impossible (or perhaps just very difficult) to read clearly while in a dream. Could you have been drugged? Or did you take something and then forget about it?
You pinch yourself. Ow.
Well, thatâs not solid proof. People have reported cases of feeling pain in dreams before itâs just kind of really rare is all. Or, or! Maybe youâre not dreaming. Maybe youâre dying. Maybe you got into an accident somewhere, and now youâre in a coma. People hallucinate during comas, donât they?Â
You pinch yourself, again.Â
Itâs not real.
âŚYou might as well see what this quest is about.
You leave your bedroom, and walk to Baileyâs office. You donât question how you know the way there. You knock on the door and enter.Â
âI know why youâre here,â he says. âYou want me to release you from my protection, so youâll be an independent citizen. I could do that. But thereâs a problem. Youâve been living under my roof without giving anything in return. You owe me. Until you pay me back, Iâm not letting you go.â He picks up an envelope and flips through it. Dozens of identification documents are stored within it. One of them is yours. âÂŁ100 should do. To start with. I donât care how you get it. Knock on doors and ask for work. Rent yourself as a footstool. Steal it, even. Just have it a week from now. Or Iâll find a way to extract value from you.â
You nod and leave his office, returning to your room.
Your phone buzzes as soon as you close the door.Â
Quest completed. New quest added to journal. View Now?Â
Y/N
You hit yes.Â
Time-Sensitive:
Bailey wants ÂŁ100 on Sunday. Find a job and free yourself from his clutches.Â
Thatâs great and all, but maybe you shouldnât leave the orphanage todayâŚor ever. Not until you wake up. You decide to just download some social media apps and scroll for the rest of the day instead. You scroll until midday, when youâre stopped by your stomach growling. Can you get hungry inside a dreamâŚ? You feel uneasy as you climb off the bed. Your neck hurts from the uncomfortable position you had been in, but thatâs the least of your worries right now.Â
You leave your bedroom and enter the main hall. A trim girl happens to be passing by your door, so you stop her and ask about when lunch is. She looks at you strangely.Â
âWhenever you wantâŚ? Just go somewhere and get it. I donât know.âÂ
âI meant here, can we get food here?âÂ
âSure, if youâre underage. We have to provide for ourselves once we reach eighteen, though. You know that. Everyone knows that.â She leaves in a hurry. You go back to your room to watch âGootubeâ videos. Itâs not as pornographic as it sounds.Â
You stay on your phone for the rest of the day. It never seems to run out of charge. Finally, you turn it off and climb under the covers. You donât bother to wear pajamas. You sleep soundly, and wake up at 07:00 on Sunday, September 4th.Â
Wait, what?Â
You look at your journal again.Â
JournalÂ
It is the 4th of September, 2022.
-It has been 0 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term starts on Monday the 5th of September.
Current quests:
Visit Bailey in his office by 20:00 tonight to recover your ID documents and gain your independence. Failure to complete quest will result in the day restarting
But you didnât fail your quest! You completed it andâŚ
Itâs because you didnât get a job yesterday, isnât it?Â
You sigh and climb out of bed. Off to visit Bailey again.Â
âI know why youâre here,â he says. God, you wish you could skip dialogue in real life. Or in dreams, you guess. Bailey wraps up his speech and you leave, this time heading outside the orphanage to look for work right after.Â
As expected, you bump into someone almost immediately. A voluptuous woman grabs you. âYouâre the cutest thing Iâve seen all week!â She says, lunging for your clothes. You step back, but she catches you, lifting your sundressâs skirt and revealing your lace panties. You try to grab her hand and pull it away, but sheâs stronger than you. She pushes you to the ground, and you land painfully on the sidewalk. You let out an involuntary yelp as your elbows scrape on the pavement. Is she really going to try and molest you out in public like this? It would appear so, as sheâs currently straddling your legs with her knees, keeping them apart. You come to your senses when you feel a hand on your groin, and scream out for help.Â
A taut man comes to your rescue, chasing off the woman and helping you to your feet. He treats your wounds and gives you a pepper spray charge. You thank him and go on your way.Â
The dog pound is probably the best place to start with, you think to yourself while looking at the map on your phone. So you hop on a bus and wait for your stop, but not before a thin man sits next to you and rests his hand on your thigh. You shuffle away from him, and he follows you. You stand up, and he does, too. No one else is paying attention. You quickly walk to the most crowded area of the bus and sit next to a plush woman. She doesnât look happy, but doesnât say anything, either. The thin man watches you from his seat. You reach your destination, and he moves to follow you when you stand. Luckily, a tall man stops him, giving you a thumbs up as he blocks the thin manâs view of you. You give him a grateful nod and step off.Â
Your shift at the dogpound goes on without incident. Thugh the employees tried to get handsy more than a few times, they never took it further when you moved away. You even took your lunch break at the nearby cafe! Youâre surprised by how much character the place had visually, considering it comes from a text-based game.
By the time the dog pound closes, itâs nighttime. You pale at the realization. Itâs nighttime, and youâre in Degrees of Lewdity. Should you risk taking the bus? Or should you risk the streets?Â
If youâre on a bus, youâre there for less time, but itâs an enclosed space. If youâre outside, thereâs more places to run and hide. But hiding goes both ways.Â
You elect to go through the streets, sticking to the places that are the most open and well-lit. You get home without incident, though you swear you saw something in the alleys.Â
You collapse into bed and sleep for ten hours.Â
âââââââââ
Itâs 07:03 when you wake up. You have school today, so you look through your wardrobe for your uniform. You find it, butâŚwhy is it so skimpy? Sheer tights, short plaid skirt, tight shirt, platform mary janes and loose socks. You put it on, but the shirt is so tight it wonât button all the way, leaving a sizable amount of your cleavage and lace bra visible.Â
Speaking of which, arenât you only supposed to start with plain underwear? Why is all of yours lace? And why does it clasp at the front? You spend twenty minutes looking for a jacket, different shirt, or other way to cover yourself, but find nothing. Bailey bangs on the doors around the orphanage to wake the orphans up. You sigh and put your clothes back into your wardrobe before leaving.
You bump into Robin on your way out. Literally. He nearly runs you over.
âHey!â He says running towards you. He doesnât slow down in time and plows right into you. You help him up. âThanks,â he says, looking a bit bashful. âI didnât see you yesterday. Remember, you can visit me in my room anytime you want. I have something to show you. Iâm so excited!â He runs off, and you realize youâve forgotten your backpack, so you head back in and find it. It takes you another ten minutes to realize youâd put it behind the door. By the time youâre ready, itâs already half an hour past seven. You decide to see if Robin is still in his room.Â
You knock, and hear some crashing. Before you can ask if somethingâs wrong, Robin opens the door and hugs you. âLook,â he says, pulling you inside. Your eyes immediately land on the shiny new game console in the corner of the room. âIâve been saving up,â he says. âWhat are you waiting for?â He pats the bed beside him and you hop on. You watch him play for a few minutes, and the two of you walk to school together.Â
Though itâs literally your first time meeting him, you feel safer around Robin. Though you know he canât fight to protect you, having someone by your side does a lot to ease the mind. Plus, heâs one of the only decent people in the game. Youâre glad, but at the same time, youâre uneasy. You wonder if he notices youâre not his childhood friend. That you look like her, sound like her, but you arenât her. You wonder if heâd hate you, should he find out.
âIs something wrong, [First]?â You snap to attention.Â
âHuh? Oh, uh, no. Iâm okay,â you say. âI was just kind of busy yesterday, came home exhausted but couldnât sleep, you know how it is.â You wave your hand dismissively at him as you pass the school gates. âWhere are you heading? Iâd like to go with you, if thatâs alright. Since I didnât see you yesterday, and all.â Really, you just donât want to be alone here. But thereâs no need to say that.Â
Robin smiles, and the two of you hang out in the rear courtyard. Itâs nice, but you can feel him glancing at you when he thinks youâre not looking. It makes you uncomfortable. Has he caught on? You excuse yourself and head to the library. Maybe you should acquaint yourself with the other non-crazy person on campus. At least you wonât have to lie about your identity to Sydney.Â
You walk over to the counter near the back of the library. A tall boy with a strawberry blonde ponytail and glasses is stamping books behind it. You smile as you approach him. âGood morningâŚâ He says, yawning. âFirst time at the rental counter? You can rent out one book at a ti-â Sydney yawns.. âTime. You can also buy school-approved clothes here. Headmaster Leightonâs marked the prices way up, though. Students with a good record get special discounts.â He seems excited, though you canât place why.Â
âBooks can be rented out for two weeks at a time. You can renew your rental at any timeâŚâ He looks down. You look down. Sydney has stamped his hand. You smile.â...Letâs call that a demonstration of what happens if you return a late or damaged book. My nameâs Sydney, by the way! Pleased to meet you.âÂ
âIâm [First],â you respond. You and Sydney spend some time chatting. You notice that heâs oddly red.Â
âAre you feeling okay?â You ask, raising a hand to his forehead. âYouâre burning up! Letâs get you to the infirmary!âÂ
âW-what? No, Iâm okayâŚâÂ
âNo, youâre not,â you say, pulling him up by the forearm. You drag him to the infirmary, and he has to bend down to allow it. No one pays you much mind, though youâre sure you look a little silly, holding onto the forearm of someone much taller than you. You reach the nurse, who informs you that Sydney is perfectly healthy, though tells him to take a rest on one of the beds upon seeing the bags under his eyes.
âSee?â He says, smiling. âI didnât realize you were such a worrier.â You flush, embarrassed. Is pure Sydney supposed to tease people? His face softens. âThanksâŚfor worrying about me, thoughâ he says, then checks the time. âYou should probably get to class.â Right, youâd nearly forgotten you were at school. You thank Sydney for reminding you and leave as he waves you off.
You go to your science lesson. Despite your grade being at F, the lesson is actually pretty easy to follow, some of this you remember from your own highschool lessons. The bell rings and you leave the classroom, only to get shoved into a locker immediately. A boy with blonde hair covering one eye looms over you. You recognize him immediately.Â
âDonât get in my way again,â Whitney says, pressing his knee against your crotch. âOr Iâll put you in your place.â He releases you, but you know that wonât be the end of it. You hurry to math class, hoping Whitney will skip today. Youâre tense for the first twenty minutes of class, but slowly begin to relax upon realizing Whitney probably isnât going to show up. Nearly half an hour into class, the teacher River steps out for a moment. And with the kind of timing youâd only see in movies, Whitney waltzes in, his jacket thrown over his shoulder. You try to look away, but itâs too late. Whitney makes eye contact with you and grins. He walks over to the mousy girl sitting next to you.Â
âMove,â he says. She does. You turn away from him, but he grabs your hair, forcing you to look at him.
This is unfair, you think to yourself. Whitney isnât supposed to sit next to you unless youâre dating. Why now?
âWatcha lookin at, slut?â
This sucks. You want to go home. When is this dream supposed to end?Â
Whitney tugs at your hair even harder. âI asked you a question, slut.â
How did you even get here in the first place? Did you really die? Were you in a coma? Whitney yanks your hair back so hard your body goes with it, creating an awful screeching sound as your chair lurches back. River walks in just in time to see you fall on your back. Whitney is sent out. He turns to make a penetration sign with his hands at you as he leaves.Â
Math ends, and you head to English. Thereâs a crowd of students blocking your path. You peer over shoulders and heads to see the source of the commotion, and see a dark haired student on the ground, with two bullies standing over him. Your first instinct is Kylar, but you must be wrong. Kylarâs event shouldnât happen until a week from now.Â
You could try to help, but that would probably get you assaulted. Even if you didnât, your fellow students would think less of you, leading you to getting picked on later, and potentially assaulted more andâ
Fuck it, you canât ignore this. Youâre already shoving past students and blocking the bulliesâ view of the student. âLeave him alone,â you say. âI wonât stand for this.â One of the bullies, a thin girl, shoves you down.Â
âSit, then!â She says, the audience laughs. You pick yourself up and ram into the thin girl and her friend. You knock her off-balance and she falls to the floor, screaming as soon as she lands. âYou stupid bitch! You broke my tailbone!â The audience is laughing at her, now. Her friend is helping her up. âIâll get you for this! Mark my fucking words!â You shiver. Hopefully no one notices. You turn to check on the boy they were harassing, only to nearly bump heads with him. You jump back, and the boy smiles apologetically. Thereâs something else in his expression, but before you can figure out what it was, you make eye contact with him, and the whole world goes dark.
Tousled black hair, short stature, sickly pale skin and the greenest eyes youâve ever seen. Itâs Kylar. It has to be. âT-thanks,â he says. âI-Iâm Kylar.â Your face drops, but you arenât sure if he saw it before running off. The tips of his ears are red, you notice. You step towards the crowd, which is already dispersing. The remaining onlookers make way for you, though you feel a hand grope your butt as you leave. You turn, but no oneâs there.Â
You head into English class, already exhausted. Kylar watches you from the back. You ignore him. The plump boy sitting behind you sniffs your hair during the entirety of the lesson, so itâs hard to focus. You look down at your notes. Itâs an unintelligible mess. Is this what it means to have a grade F in English, you wonder?
Finally, itâs lunch time. You head to the cafeteria, passing by the headmaster on your way there. You swear you saw him checking you out. You shudder and speed up. Upon reaching the canteen, you are presented with three options.
Robin is talking with some students at his table, they seem to be arguing.
Sydney is sitting alone, several piles of books surrounding him.Â
Kylar is also alone, stabbing at his food with more violence than seems neccesary. Â
Despite your self preservation instincts, you walk towards Robin to see what the commotion is. The lean boy is accusing Robin of âlooking at him with disrespectâ. Arguing with him would be pointless. So you do the next best thing and smile as you spit in his face.Â
As expected, he doesnât take it well, and pounces on you immediately. He tears open your shirt, leaving you only marginally more exposed than you already were. You scream loudly, and Leighton rushes in. You suppress a smirk.
âWhatâs the meaning of this?!â He shouts, pushing past students to find you exposed on the ground, the lean boy holding you down. He scrambles off of you, and you fix your uniform. The lean boy tries to explain, but Leighton cuts him off and sends him out. Robin helps you up.Â
âAre you okay?! Why did you do that?âÂ
âI saw Leighton on the way over here. I figured if we caused a scene, heâd be the one to get in trouble for it.â
âDonât do something like that again! That was really dangerous!â You nod, though you donât really mean it.Â
Kylar watches from across the canteen. +Jealousy
The rest of lunch passes without incident and you go to History with Robin. The two of you chat about his game before class starts. You learn some interesting things about the history of the town. Nothing happens during history, and you leave feeling refreshed. You navigate the halls to your swimming lesson and change. You keep your eyes down, but swear you feel the stares of your classmates. You think you hear a camera go off, but when you turn, no oneâs looking at you.Â
A taut boy follows you around the pool, and doesnât stop trailing until the lesson is over. He keeps his distance, but it still makes you feel uneasy. The bell rings, and you donât see him again.Â
You meet up with Robin in the courtyard, but hesitate walking home when you see Whitney hanging out by the gate.
âCan we go out through the back?â
âThe back? Why?â You nod your head towards Whitney and his friends, and Robin makes an âOâ with his mouth. âI donât mind, but how will we get out?â Youâre about to answer when a realization hits you. Right. You havenât unlocked the tunnel outside yet, which means you canât leave unless you climb the fence.Â
â...Nevermind,â you say. âMaybe they wonât notice us.â You and Robin try to blend in with the crowd, but a hand on your shoulder quickly yanks you into the open.
âHold it, slut.â Shit. âYou didnât pay the toll.â
You grit your teeth. âWhatâs the toll?â Whatever, you have twenty quid to spare.
âFlash us your tits.â Thereâs a crowd circling around you. You notice people pulling out their phones.Â
â[First]...âÂ
âItâs fine, Robin.â You give him a strained smile as you unbutton your blouse. âHappy?â You ask, turning back to Whitney.Â
âNot quite,â he says, grabbing the front of your bra and unclasping the hook. Your breasts flop out. âThere. That wasnât so bad, now, was it?â You turn and quickly fix your bra, wishing it clasped at the back instead of the front like a normal bra. You and Robin speed away, then find a secluded ally to fix your shirt.
Finally home, you decide to check out some of the apps you didnât bother with yesterday.
Social             Â
Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible
Primary relationships:Â
Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40%
You smile. Itâs little different than the starting relationship in the actual game, but youâre slowly getting used to the inconsistencies. Youâre about to look at the next box when your eyes are drawn back up to the pink text. Wait a minute, doesnât that mean bad? You check the color chart to make sure.
But, why? Why is that bad? Isnât it good? Or, is it because his confidence is low? Maybe the key word here is âwantsâ. Still, wouldnât that count more as poor than bad? Whatever, no need to nitpick. Youâll check back in on it later. You move on.
âŚYou almost move on. Why is his love so high? And his lust, too?! Itâs gotta be a glitch, right? Right?
Right. You restart your phone and boot it back up. Nothingâs changed. You put that aside for now.
Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100%
Another different one. Also bad. Terrible, even. You arenât even sure what to make of it. You just met him, and his lust is already maxed out. His love is also surprisingly high, though only half as much as Robinâs is. You make a mental note to sit in view of the teacher during math going forward.
Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90%
Another case of inexplicably high stats right off the bat, though you arenât surprised with Kylar. You move on.
Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66%
Okay, youâre pretty sure those are all just angel numbers. Or, supposed to be angel numbers. Itâs kind of hard to do that with only two numbers. Though 666 is actually more of a demonic number, it still fits the theme. Aside from the strange percentages, youâre also concerned by the question mark next to âfaithfulâ, not to mention the fact that his purity is already so low heâs conflicted. You havenât even flirted with him yet!
You glance at the other named NPCâs. Theyâre all unremarkable, full of âhas no strong opinion of youâ aside from two.
Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesnât want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99%
Leighton The Headmaster Youâre Leightonâs favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85%
Your stomach lurches. Gross. You are absolutely repressing that shit.
You check your reputation next.
-The police arenât concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. -The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. -You are considered a normal student by teachers. -Your fellow students desire you.
You grimace at the last one. You make a mental note to buy a more concealing uniform.
Finally, you have your fame. This one should be normal, right? Youâve only just gotten here.
Sex: Unknown Prostitution: Unknown Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown Exhibitionism: Unknown Pregnancy: Unknown Combat: Obscure Kindness: Obscure Business: Unknown Socialite: Unknown Overall: Famous
What?! Famous?! How does thatâ Ugh, forget it. You keep reading.
The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.
�
WhatâŚwhat does that mean?
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#yandere#degrees of lewdity#yandere x reader#dol#yandere dol#whitney the bully#dol whitney#robin the orphan#dol robin#sydney the faithful#sydney the fallen#dol sydney#kylar the loner#dol kylar#dol pc#bailey the caretaker#leighton the headmaster#male yandere#yandere x you#male yandere x reader#male yandere x you#male yandere x y/n
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Introduction
What is Age Regression?
Age regression is when someone mentally shifts into a younger state of mind. This can be a voluntary or involuntary experience, and it's often used as a coping mechanism for things like stress, trauma, or mental health struggles. When someone regresses, they may act, think, or feel like a child, toddler, or baby.
Itâs non-sexual and should always be SFW.
People might use comfort items like stuffies, pacis, cartoons, or soft blankets.
It helps some people feel safe, comforted, and emotionally secure.
What is Age Dreaming?
Age dreaming (sometimes called age wanting in certain contexts) is when someone daydreams or fantasizes about being a different age, but without actually regressing. Itâs more of a creative, fun, or identity-based experience, and isnât always tied to coping or mental health.
It can be like imagining yourself as a kid, teen, or even a different age entirely.
Itâs often more about aesthetic, comfort, or self-expression.
Unlike regression, people in an age dream state usually stay aware of their current age and donât mentally shift.
Why Might Someone Regress?
1. Mental Health & Coping
To escape overwhelming emotions like anxiety, depression, or stress.
As a way to feel safe during or after trauma or flashbacks.
To manage dissociation or emotional shutdowns.
2. Neurodivergence
Many autistic and ADHD individuals naturally regress when overstimulated, under pressure, or seeking comfort.
Regression can help with emotional regulation or sensory overwhelm.
3. Comfort & Safety
It brings back the warm, safe feeling of being cared for or protected.
Helps with inner healing, especially for unmet childhood needs.
Some regress to recreate a childhood they never had.
4. Inner Child Work
Regression can be part of reconnecting with your inner child.
It allows people to explore past emotions in a safe, nurturing way.
Sometimes encouraged in therapy for healing purposes.
5. Just for Fun!
Some people regress because itâs cozy and fun!
Playing with toys, watching cartoons, or cuddling stuffies brings joy and relaxationâno deep reason needed.
Voluntary vs Involuntary?
Voluntary regression is when someone chooses to enter a younger headspace on purpose.
You decide when, where, and how to regress.
You might use triggers like cartoons, stuffies, or soft music.
It's usually done for comfort, self-care, or fun.
You stay aware of your current age even if youâre acting younger.
Involuntary regression happens without trying or planning itâit just happens, usually in response to emotional or mental triggers.
Can be caused by trauma, stress, overstimulation, or flashbacks.
You might suddenly feel younger, helpless, or confused.
Itâs often harder to control or snap out of.
Sometimes people donât realize theyâve regressed until afterward.
Disclaimers !
Note that age regression/dreaming is ALWAYS 100% NON-KINK/SFW. Age regression is usually used as a coping mechanism; do not make fun of anyone's regression. Respect a regressor's boundaries. SYSTEMS ARE 100% VALID WHEN THEY HAVE LITTLE ALTERS! Terms that are nsfw are such as cgl, ddlg, kink, littlespace (sometimes, unfortunately!) and most abbreviations. Appropriate abbreviations are things like Agere, Agereg, Petre, Agedre, Petdre, Cg (just caregiver, or crgv or a less similar to cgl abbreviation.) SFW meaning safe for work. all age regression is SFW. there is no such thing as NSFW agere; that's just kink invading privacy. Minors & Adults are both capable of age regressing or caregiving. there is not a "right" way to regress other than keeping kink out of the community.
A term for those who's age changes is called a "Age-shifter"! It's a term I came up with, but it works pretty well!
#sfw#age regression#sfw agere#sfw interaction only#agere blog#agere#sfw little blog#sfw only#fandom agere#agereg#sfw littlespace#agere game#sfw agereg#age regressive#age regressor#agere little#sfw caregiver#sfw blog#sfw regression#sfw dreaming#agedre#agere community#age dreamer#agere sfw#age dreaming#sfw age dreamer#agedre blog#agedre community#sfw agedre#safe agedre
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Omg, imagine you're twin to either Jacaerys or Lucerys (your choice) and, obviously, they adore you.
you're their sister. The apple of their eyes. The main actress of ever single wet dream they have since they reached age and your body started to change.
Maybe you're used to sleeping sandwiched between them. Maybe it's summer. Maybe you took off your nightgown because it's hot. Maybe Luke and Jace take it as their opportunity to explore you, maybe they chicken out after just touching your tits. Maybe you woke up because Luke and Jace are hard against you.

â ď¸: SMUT & DARK CONTENT. female!reader, dark!Jacaerys Velaryon, dark!Lucerys Velaryon, Targcest (older brother/younger sister & twin brother/twin sister), non-con somnophilia, non-con touching, underage dubcon (no specific mention of reader's, Jacaerys' or Lucerys' ages tho), sexual tension, dry humping, naked cuddling, spooning position, body worship, tits playing, reader is Lucerys' twin sister. no use of y/n.
The night was hot at Dragonstone, especially for you who had flown with your dragon just a few hours before try to sleep. Even after a fresh bath and with the windows open enough to let the breeze in, nothing seemed to help.
You shifted yourself a little impatiently, that long, loose hair adding more discomfort when it touched the pillow.
On each side of the bed lay your brothers. Jacaerys, the older one, slept like an angel with his face turned to the corner of the chambers, since you were moving so much that he ended up having to let go of your waist. Lucerys, your twin brother, was turned towards you, one hand under his own face and watching your obvious annoyance the whole time.
"I will not be able to sleep if you keep tossing and turning, sister..." Lucerys murmured softly, not wanting to be an idiot, but recognizing that he will not concentrate on falling asleep if things continued the way they were. "It is unbearably hot tonight." Seeing the drop of sweat running down your neck to the neckline of the nightgown, Lucerys felt his cheeks begin to heat up. "Jace and I can go back to our own chambers if you rather."
Your twin brother's suggestion made you sigh and shake your head. "No, Luke. I like sleeping next to you and Jace." You grumbled, shifting once again before feeling the older boy beside shifting to look at you and Lucerys, his brown eyes barely open due to the drowsiness.
"You should take off that nightgown then."
Jacaerys' words caught both you and Lucerys off guard. The two of you widened the eyes, confused about what had just been heard there.
"What? None of you have never slept naked in the summer?" Jace mumbled, sleep starting to dissipate as well as your resistance and embarrassment.
"Well... I did, but never with someone else around like this." You defended yourself, though, receiving a confused look from Lucerys, his face flushed with the image you put into his mind.
Ever since the years had passed and your body started to change, Luke felt that his love for you was no longer something pure and was almost turning into an obsession. You invaded all his dreams, they are always about the taste of your lips on his, what it would be like to be able to run hands between your tits, squeeze them together and suck both of them...
He even daydreamed about what color your nipples and cunt were.
Seven Hells, he would do anything to be more than just your twin brother.
Incestuous relationships were not unusual among House Targaryen at all. Marriage between family members was so common that everyone was already sure that you would marry one of your brothers. Perhaps it would be Jacaerys, since he was the eldest son and you were the only daughter. Or perhaps it would even be Lucerys, since you were twins. Either way, uncertainty ran through him for now, and the three of you were still quite young for Rhaenyra to even consider thinking about which would be the most suitable betrothal.
Both of the Velaryon boys shared an obsession towards you. A muse in the eyes of your brothers, being loved and adored in different ways by the two of them. Jace was more clear about what was going on inside his mind, not even trying to hide how much he had been attracted to you since the years have passed. He was the one who suggested that all the three of you should start sleeping together in the same bed, he was the one who made slightly obscene jokes to make you laugh, he was the one who always hugged you from behind while you slept, caressing the softness of your hips.
Meanwhile, Lucerys was your sweet and gentle twin brother, so shy that any look from you was a reason for him to run away back to his chambers, needing to use his own fist to pleasure himself, jerking off and picturing that it was your tight little hole around his cock.
He was the one who had to settle for lying in front of you, watching his older brother delight in the spoon position during the nights. A sight that often made him feel jealous and aroused at the same time. The way your lips parted to sigh when Jace breathed very close to your ear in his sleep...
It was no news to the brothers how many times they woke up from wet dreams, their white linen pants stained with the consequences of their desires.
And yet... Neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys ever imagined that they would really be in that situation, with you actually considering starting to take off the nightgown, fingers playing with its ties as the seconds passed.
"You do not need to worry. It is just so you can rest more comfortably between us." Jace said with calm voice, although Luke could tell he was controlling himself from simply pulling the fabric himself against your will.
"Will not it be weird for you, brothers? Having a naked girl in the middle of the bed?"
The boys almost had to hold back their laughter after that silly question. Weird would literally be the last word they used to describe the possibility of seeing their sister exposed like that in front of them. They had those dark desires for so long that everything now seemed like a dream come true. "Of course it will not be weird. You are my baby sister." Jace managed to keep his voice steady, licking his lower lip and then lifting his neck enough to get a better look at his younger brother. "And Luke does not mind either. Do you, brother?"
With his heart pounding in the chest, Lucerys shook his head. "I do not. It will be fine, sister."
Lucerys and Jacaerys had remained awake, wide eyes and dilated pupils ever since their sister agreed to take off the nightgown. They did not even move, as if in a silent agreement not to disturb the girl's sleep, not to wake you up before they had enjoyed every minute of the beautiful sight in front of them.
Neither of the princes were devotees of the Faith, but they mentally thanked the Seven for making this possible to happen after so much waiting.
You were lying on your back, looking like the personification of The Maiden. Your dark hair covered the view of your nipples, leaving only the skin of your mounds exposed.
However, what made the boys' mouths salivate the most was the fact that you had your half legs open during the sleep, revealing your intimate part. Your pretty cunt had a thin layer of hair, a slightly musky but also sweet scent emanating from your core and making Jacaerys' and Lucerys' cocks harden further.
"It is the hour of the wolf..." Jace whispered to the younger boy, finally breaking the silence between them. "So she will not wake up for a while."
Lucerys swallowed hard, not knowing if he should follow his older brother's line of reasoning at that moment, even though his arousal was overtaking any rational and noble thought.
He should stop his brother, tell him that what they were about to do was wrong and disgusting, that he would never touch his twin sister without her true consent. He wanted to tell him that he would never do something like that.
But the only thing Prince Velaryon could say was: "What if she wakes up?"
"She will not." Jacaerys assured, moving closer and wrapping his hands around your hips, turning you carefully so he could stay glued to you like he always did. The feeling of having a naked female form against his pants was hot that he had to bite the lip to keep from moaning loudly or grabbing your ass. He needed to control himself so he could do what he wanted.
Although Jacaerys was in a battle with his self-control, he raised the head to get the younger prince's attention. "What are you waiting for? Put your hands on her."
Put your hands on her... Lucerys had to hold himself back from uttering a reprimand or flicking his brother's knee. His heart rate increased at such crude words, imagining how his twin would react to all of that â you were resting innocently, oblivious to the dark desires present inside both of their problematic minds.
The absence of sounds in the chambers was broken once again, as Lucerys lay on your side and ran his hand around your waist, the two brothers holding you like a prize and receiving a sleepy and confused moan in response. A sweet little noise, which would easily be difficult to hear if they were not completely silent at that moment.
They had you in different ways, Jace focused on holding you by the hip and Luke focused on holding you by the waist. As much as the physical proximity was kinda familiar, neither of them had ever shared such a intense level of intimacy with you until then. The heat from three bodies together and intertwined tightened their boners even more inside those linen pants, so desperate to feel every part of you, every inch.
While Jacaerys was aroused by the sensation of your backside so close to his groin, Lucerys felt his mind go into a frenzy at the feeling of your perky nipples brushing against his chest when he pressed it closer to your body. "O-Oh, shit..." He almost cursed himself at that boyish whimper. It would not be surprising if Jace made a joke about it tomorrow.
Each of the boys brought a hand to your breasts, letting their minds run wild as they enjoyed the softness of those mounds that fit well their palms, as if they had been made to please both of them.
It all seemed too perfect, exploring that female chest right there next to them and biting their lips to stifle any sounds of appreciation they might accidentally let out. They worked hard to keep themselves quiet, to keep secret the disgusting act they were about to commit â a dirty stain on the princes' false noble personalities.
What kind of brothers take advantage of their sister's unconscious body?
That was what snapped the boys out of their haze of pleasure, their previous perverse thoughts causing brief simultaneous headaches when they realized the gravity of what they had done. The line they had allowed themselves to cross.
Even if they took their hands off your breasts, the damage was already done, your eyelids fluttering open in confusion at the feel of two thick and hard things. Neither of them had realized until then that they had been grinding against their sweet sister all this time while letting their dark instincts speak louder. Jacaerys had not noticed the hard, clothed cock against your ass and Lucerys had not noticed the hard, clothed cock against your warm folds. At least not until you gasped for answers.
"W-What are you two doing?"
Answers that would not be easy to explain.
#venusbyline#venus' thoughts đ#tw noncon#targcest#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic#house of the dragon#hotd smut#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#dark hotd#hotd fic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#jacaerys velaryon smut#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jace velaryon smut#jace velaryon x you#jace velaryon#lucerys velaryon#lucerys velaryon x reader#lucerys velaryon smut#luke velaryon#hotd thoughts#hotd scenarios#h*rny hours#hotd headcanons#asoiaf smut
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push n' fracture ! â caleb ĺ¤ (f1 rider! au)
â ! lexical count : 5.7k words
â ! affinity : caleb (xia yizhou) x fem!reader
â ! essence : caleb doesnât do rivals. especially not when theyâre plastered across your skin. jealousy twists into something sharp and dangerous as possession takes over, and the line between love and obsession blurs. tangled, messy, and burning with tensionâthis is about claiming whatâs his, no matter the cost.
â ! precautionary : fem!reader, use of ây/nâ and feminine pronouns, f1 rider!caleb, sexual content, jealousy, possessiveness, intense physicality, car crash (non-fatal), semi-public setting, slight degradation, overstimulation, roughness, dom!caleb, rivalry-based tension, angry sex
â ! writerâs foreword : just crash-landed home from, brain leaking out my ears, and what did i do? rest? recover? touch grass? no. i opened my laptop and immediately started writing this unholy, feral filthfest. if this fic makes no sense or feels like a fever dream, blame the caffeine overdose and my sleep deprivation. also, send help (and snacks). preferably both.
â ! soundtrack in play : ohmami by chase atlantic
this is my only account. any similarities between this work and othersâpublished or unpublishedâare entirely coincidental. i pour a great deal of time, care, and emotion into what i create. it is against both my principles and my moral compass to plagiarize or steal from the work of others. i hold deep respect for the creators who came before me, and i would never knowingly compromise the integrity of their work or mine. furthermore, i do not condone the use of AI in the creation or replication of fanworks. everything here is original and made with clean intentions.
minors dni. this work contains dark, mature themes and is intended for adult audiences only. accounts that do not clearly indicate age in their bio or blog will be blocked without warning. this is for my safety and yoursârespect boundaries, respect creators.
you werenât even wearing his team hoodie.
no red bull colors. no little sticker of his number on your cheek like you wore in monaco. no subtle sign that you were hisânot even a glance in his direction. instead, your shirt clung to your skin in the dry desert heat, speckled with sun and cropped enough to bare your ribs when the desert wind blew. that tight mclaren crop tee clung to your skin, the bright tarocco tone screaming his rivalâs colors as you stood too closeâway too closeâto rafayel.
it all started with a laugh. just a laugh. nothing more.
youâd meant nothing by itâjust a shared joke with rafayel in the hospitality lounge before qualifying. rafayel leaned toward you with that signature half-grin, elbow on the counter of the lounge, head tilted just enough to make it intimate. charming. relaxed. fucking smug. his hand had brushed your arm when youâd thrown your head back, the soft trill of your giggle carried into the desert air. head tipped back, fingers brushing his arm as you caught his eye and giggled at something he said. a soft, unconscious motion. a friendly exchange. nothing malicious, nothing overt.
you shouldâve known. you shouldâve seen it in the way calebâs jaw locked during the driver briefingâhelmet held by its chin bar, fzipped up to his collarbone, gloves hooked around two fingersâand for the first time in his career, he wasnât thinking about tire temps or DRS zones. his jaw flexed tight enough to cramp as he watched rafayel lean in closer, and watched youâhis girl, the girl who should never let anyone that closeâgiggle and tuck your hair behind your ear like it wasnât a fucking dagger straight through his sternum.
âcaleb,â his engineerâs voice crackled through the headset. âyou alright, mate? you seem out of itâeverythinâ okay?â
he didnât answer right away. swallowed hard, blinked once. his grip clenched tighter around his helmet, the carbon fiber started to dent. ââŚpeachy.â
he didnât look at rafayel again. didnât need to.
heâd already decided.
iâll deal with you later.
P2 on the grid.
of course it was P2.
rafayel sat in his mclaren like he already had the win wrapped around his fingers, one gloved hand drumming rhythmically on the top of his wheel, the other giving a little mock salute to the crowd through the visor cam. caleb didnât look at him. his gloves were already tugged tight, helmet sealed, eyes locked forwardâbut all he saw behind the visor was the orange shirt stuck to your back in the heat with the stupid bold mclaren settled on the fabric right over your heart. his number and name nowhere in sight.
âradio check,â his engineer called.
he didnât respond.
âcaleb? radio check, mate?â
his voice finally came through, taut and venomous. âloud and fucking clear.â
there was a beat of silence. a pause on the line, âyou good, man?â
he forced a breath through his nose. âletâs just get this over with,â over the loud hum of the engine, all he could hear was the echoes of your laugh with that shithead rafayel.
âfive lights on,â the race director counted. âand itâs lights out and away we goâ!â rafayelâs launch was cleanâbut caleb was rabid. the red bull fired forward like a predator loosed from the leash, barely missing P3 as he launched straight into turn 1 side-by-side with the mclaren. rafayel closed him off with a hard brake, forcing caleb out wide on the dirty part of the track, but caleb didnât lift â not even when his front wing came within centimeters of rafayelâs rear.
âheâs driving like he wants to fuckinâ kill me,â rafayel spat over comms, his voice crackling. caleb didnât respond on his own. he was too busy chasing. he spent the first dozen laps locked inside DRS range, not even trying to overtake cleanâno, every move was calculated pressure. he drove like he wanted rafayel to feel him breathing down his neck. every brake was late. every corner exit was close enough to make the mclaren engineer panic.
âback off, caleb!â his own team barked at one point. âyouâre risking a collision!â but caleb didnât care. he wanted him to feel cornered. to know that he was prey. because he was. you donât put your hands on her, he thought darkly as he tailgated out of turn 10, and walk away unscathed.
you were on the pit wall by thenâwearing orange, stillâand caleb saw you glance up at the timing tower. every time his number lit up right behind rafayelâs, you tensed. he saw it.
good, he thought. watch me. watch what i do to the man who touches whatâs mine.
it built slowlyâtire wear creeping in, temps rising, his rear losing grip in sector 3. still he stayed out, defying every team call to box. lap 26, rafayelâs tires began to fail. the tires wore down. rear traction faded. lap times dropped. still, he didnât box. ignored every pit call.
âcaleb, come in, weâre losing compound.â
ânegative.â his voice came back hoarse. âiâve got him.â
lap 28, rafayelâs grip was breakingâcaleb could see it in the rear twitch. turn fourteen, he closed in so tight the slipstream pulled bits of rubber into his halo. he couldâve tapped the diffuser with his nose cone if he wanted. couldâve unstitched the seams of that mclaren.
âfinal lap,â came the call. âno funny shit, caleb.â but it was too late for that. he already knew where heâd do it. turn 13. fast. blind. unforgiving. he waited for the right moment, nudged inside, and turned in early.
the contact was immediate.
carbon fiber shredded. both cars locked up in a scream of tire smoke and screeching brakes. rafayelâs mclaren spun violently off the racing line, back end slammed against the barriers, dust pluming into the air. calebâs red bull skidded into the gravel with a thunderous jolt.
yellow flags. double waved.
red flag. the race was over.
rafayel was out. calebâs engine stalled in the gravel. static choked the radio. âwhat the fuck was that?!â screamed race control. he didnât answer. not until he saw the red flag and the dust settle. not until he saw your face on the edge of the pit wall go white.
he didnât attend the press conference. didnât even unbuckle until a marshal banged on his cockpit. his PR rep trailed after him with panicked eyes and a clipboard full of damage control bullet points, but caleb walked right past him, suit still half-zipped, jaw clenched hard enough he could swear his teeth would crush with the pressure. they tried to stop him. camera caught his shoulder. reporters called his nameâhe didnât even turn his head.
no interviews. no apologies. no explanations.
let them speculate. let them talk.
he didnât give a single damn.
because rafayel wouldnât touch you again.
not after this.
you didnât speak the entire drive back.
heâd refused the medical tent. ignored the swarm of reporters like they werenât even there, brushed past the PR team screaming his name with a pace so brutal youâd had to jog to keep up. he didnât speak. didnât even look at you. just reached back onceâwrist tight, fingers wrapping around yoursâand yanked you with him through the mess of the paddock and straight into the red bull private lot.
the silence was suffocating. not tense in the way people usually meant itânot awkward, not uncomfortable. it was a pressure chamber. the kind that made your ears ring and your chest hurt. you could hear every turn signal click, every swipe of the wiper across the windshield, even the way calebâs grip on the wheel creaked under his gloves. he hadnât taken them off. still in his fireproofs, zipper low on his chest, collarbone glistening with sweat and dust, jaw locked so tight it looked like it might snap.
the door slammed shut behind you with a vicious bang!âa sound that echoed like a gunshot off the wallsâand it made your shoulders jerk involuntarily. he didnât say a word. didnât glance back. just stalked across the living room like the adrenaline was still burning through his blood, ripping open the fridge like something in it might anchor him, steady the fury in his bones. but even from where you stood, you could see the tremor in his hand. the way his fingers gripped the handle too hard. the tension still coiled in his shoulders like a spring wound to the point of rupture.
he wasnât calming down. not even close.
the silence throbbed around you, thick and charged. you shifted on your feet, breath shallow, heart hammering like it wanted to crawl out of your throat.
âcalebââ you started, voice small.
âtake it off.â his voice was low, sliced through the air like a whip.
you froze. your mouth parted, a breath catching in your throat. âw-what?â
he closed the fridge slowly. deliberately. then turned.
his eyes were black beneath the heavy shadow of his brow, dark and molten like they hadnât cooled since the second his front wing clipped rafayelâs tire in that brutal turn. he took a step toward you, slow and controlled, like a predator choosing exactly how to pounce. âthe fucking shirt,â he said, voice low and thick with venom. another step. âtake it off before i rip it off âya.â
your stomach dropped. you looked down instinctively. that stupid, traitorous mclaren tee still clung to your sweat-damp skin, streaked with grime and faint splashes of champagne from a podium that wasnât his. that bright orange logo burned against your chest like a brand, and suddenly it felt radioactive.
you didnât move. you hesitated.
and that was all it took.
two strides, and he was on you.
your back hit the wall so fast the impact knocked the breath from your lungs. the world narrowedâyour heartbeat screamed in your ears, adrenaline flared under your skin, and caleb was there, crowding you in, body a furnace, heat rolling off him in waves. his fingers hooked the hem and yankedânot teasing, not even urgent. violent. the fabric caught against your arms, dragged over your skin so fast it left a burn, your hair tangled and pulled, nipples tightening into stiff peaks in the sudden rush of cold air.
caleb tossed the shirt onto the floor like it disgusted him.
âyou wanna wear his colors?â he muttered, voice low and curling with fury. his breath hit your collarbone, his words too close, too hot. âwanna sit there in his fucking garage and giggle at his jokes while he stares at your tits through my windshield?â
tone wasnât raised. he didnât have to shout. it was the quietness that made it worseâquiet like a threat wrapped in velvet. quiet like a knife at your ribs.
you breath stuttered, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. âc-caleb, i wasnâtâhe didnâtââ
âshut it,â he snarled it, close enough for your lips to brush, and the force of it made your breath stutter. his hands came upâhardâgripping your waist, rough fingers digging into your hips like he meant to leave marks, like he wanted to brand you into him, carve out any memory of someone elseâs eyes on your skin. caleb dragged you forward, chest to chest, his heart thudding against yours like war drums.
âi donât want your pathetic excuses,â he ground out. âyou donât wear his name. you donât smile at him.â
the silence after was suffocating.
his fingers curled tighter around your sides. his mouth hovered near your jaw, breath ragged and warm, chest heaving with every inhale like he couldnât catch it. rage coiled off him in waves, not loud anymoreâjust molten, buried deep, a kind of fury that didnât explode. it consumed. slow. controlled. and it was deadly.
and it was all aimed at the thought of him touching you.
of you letting him.
calebâs thumb ghosted over your ribs, rough and possessive, tracing the bare skin now exposed in the absence of that damned shirt.
his mouth crushed against yours before you could speakâhot, brutal, punishing. all teeth and fury, like he wanted to bite the silence from your tongue, like tasting you was the only thing anchoring him to the present. he didnât kiss you so much as devour you, lips bruising, jaw tense with barely-contained rage, breathing you in like you were air after drowning.
his hands were everywhereâfrantic, careless. they slid down the arch of your spine, fingers pressing into every vertebra like he meant to memorize the shape of you, then sank lower, palms gripping your ass with bruising force. he hauled you against him so hard your breath fled, pelvis grinding to his through the fireproofs still clinging to his hips. he was already half-hard. already throbbing through the thin barrier between you. the press of it against your lower stomach made your knees tremble.
and then his gaze dropped.
his eyes caught on the denim. the sound that tore from his throat was less a breath and more a mocking scoff.
the low-rise shorts clung to your hips like sin, skin peeking out from under the frayed hem, teasing with that reckless kind of innocence that only made his fury burn hotter. they sat just high enough to hint at modesty but dipped scandalously low, hugging the softness of your waist like a taunt.
slowly, he reached downâdeliberate, fingers flexingâand let his hand splay flat over your stomach. his palm was hot against your skin. the heel of it rested against the waistband, and thenâwithout breaking eye contactâhe slipped his thumb beneath it. just the barest intrusion. a single brush of rough skin over the delicate swell of your mound, not enough to touch you properly, but enough to make your whole body jerk with a whimper.
âthese,â he sneered. âyou wore these to the paddock? while he was watching?â his voice dropped into a guttural rasp. you opened your mouth to protest, but his voice cut you offâdeeper now, dipped into something feral.
âhe was probably fucking imagining what you looked like bent over the pit wall in âem,â caleb rasped, and the way he said itâlike it sickened him, like it possessed himâmade your stomach twist.
his eyes darkenedâand in one swift, brutal motion, he popped the button on the shorts with a flick of his thumb. the metallic click echoed in the room like a shot. then his fingers gripped the zipper and yanked it down so roughly you gasped, fabric jerking against your hips before it slid down to your thighs, pooling at your feet in a useless, tangled heap.
he didnât stop. his hand moved fast, unforgivingâalready pulling your panties to the side before you had time to react. the elastic scraped the crease of your thigh, baring you to the chill of the room and the heat of him, and still, he didnât look away. didnât blink. just stared down at your cunt like it had betrayed him, like it belonged to him and had wandered somewhere it shouldnât have.
âc-caleb,â you stammered, your voice catching, high and desperate, âyouâre beingâ,â but the words dissolved on your tongue.
because his fingers were there, already brushing against slick heat, already groaning under his breath like it physically hurt him that you were wet for thisâwet for him, even now, even after everything.
you could hardly breathe.
your head lolled against the wall as his fingers fucked you openâdeep, firm, unrelenting. You were soaked, the wet sounds of it obscene in the charged silence, broken only by the staggered hitch of your breath and the rough rasp of his. your thighs were trembling, barely holding you upright, and caleb didnât let up. he wouldnât let up.
his voice curled against your ear, low and smug and absolutely feral. âyouâre not even trying to stop me.â your mouth opened but nothing came outâjust a soft, cracked moan. âyeah,â he hissed. âthatâs what i thought.â
he drove his fingers in deeper, curling them just rightâpulling a strangled sound from your throat. your hips jerked helplessly, and he groaned as your pussy clenched, dripping all over his knuckles.
âf-fuck,â you gasped, arms scrambling for purchase across his chest, clutching at the fabric of his fireproofs like he was your anchor. âc-caleb, iânnh, pleaseââ
you whimpered, broken and breathless, voice catching on each gasp. âi-i didnât meanânnh ahhhâd-didnât mean toââ
âyou wore that fucking shirt. wore his team, his number, his name. you meant it.â his teeth dragged over your neck, biting down hard enough to make your legs quake. âdonât act like you donât like this. like you donât love being fucked dumb right after i almost took him off the track.â
you sobbed out a noise that barely resembled his nameââp-please, iâoh, godââ
his fingers hit that spot again, and your body jolted, hips rocking into his palm like you couldnât help it. the muscles in your stomach tensed, fluttering around the edge of your climax. he felt it, saw it, and laughedâlow and delighted.
âoh, baby⌠gonna cum, arenât yaâ?â he mocked, breath hot against your jaw, eyes glittering. âyouâre so easy. just a couple fingers and youâre already soaking me. dripping like a goddamn whore.â
âp-pleaseâahâplease, i canâtââ your words broke apart, swallowed by the sounds of your own whimpers as your orgasm built sharp and unbearable. âi-i c-canât hold it, caleb, iâfuckââ
âthen donât.â his hand gripped your jaw, forcing your eyes to his. âlet me hear how mine you are.â and you shattered. a sobbing, shaking mess.y our body locked up, thighs clenching around his wrist as you came with a choked cryâwet and slick and pulsing so hard around his fingers you felt your knees threaten to give out. caleb held you upright through it, murmuring dark praise between your panting breaths.
âthatâs it. thatâs my girl.â he pressed a kiss to your templeâmockingly tender, wicked and warm. âso good when youâre ruined.â his fingers slipped free with a wet noise, glistening in the low light. he brought them to your lips, eyes still sharp and burning. âsuck fâ me, will yaâ?â
you blinked, dazed, mind swimming in the haze of pleasure and want. slowly, obediently, you parted your lips, tongue flicking out to wet them just before his fingers slid into your mouth. the taste was warm, messyâyou, tangled with himâand the sound that escaped you was soft, shameless, utterly desperate.
calebâs groan rumbled low in his throat, eyes darkening as he watched every motion, every subtle shift of your tongue curling around his fingers. âgod, you look so pretty like this,â he rasped, dragging those soaked fingers out with a sharp pop that echoed in the quiet room. âdumb little mouth wrapped around whatâs mine.â
you whimpered, the sound raw and fragile, knees trembling as they brushed his in the cramped space. your body sagged into his, burning and unsteady, craving his touch like air. then that smirkâslow, sharp, slicing through the tension like a knife dragged through silk. his voice dropped even lower, slow and deliberate, thick with dark amusement. âthink weâre done?â
your breath hitched, caught in your throat as his eyes bore into yours, unblinking and heavy with promise. the room seemed to pulse around you, heat swelling in your skin, every nerve ending screaming alive. you tried to shake your head, but your voice was barely a whisper, broken and trembling: ân-noâpleaseâŚâ
his fingers curled in a slow, possessive grip against your jaw, tilting your face up so your lips hovered just inches from his. âbehave,â he murmured, voice rough like gravel. âbecause iâm nowhere near finished with you.â
his mouth claimed yours again, teeth grazing your lower lip as his hands gripped your hips, holding you so tightly it was almost painfulâbut you didnât care. you were already melting into him, breath shallow and fast, heart hammering against your ribs like a warning bell.
without hesitation, he ripped open his fireproofs, pulling out his thick, heavy cock, already leaking thick beads of precum, flushed red from holding back for too long. he shifted, pressing the full length of himself inside you, inch by agonizing inch, his body a hot, solid weight that filled every space. your breath hitched sharply, a stuttered moan slipping free as your walls stretched and clenched around him, tight and trembling.
your body joltedâsmack!âas he bottomed out in one punishing motion. he didnât stop to let you adjust. he just started fucking you. hard.
âis this what you needed?â he snarled, teeth at your throat again, biting downâhard. âsome real fucking? not the attention of some weak little paddock rat.â
you sobbed, arms flying to his shoulders, clawing for purchase. he drove into you over and over, hips snapping upâwet noises echoing through the room. your slick ran down your thighs, onto his, then pooling onto the floor.
âfuck, youâre mine,â he growled into your hair, voice thick with need and possession. His hips slammed harder, faster, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. âsay it. say it or iâll fill you up and walk out without another word.â
âiâiâm yours!â you sobbed, legs trembling. âcaleb, pleaseâiâm yours, iâm yours! a-always yours!â another slap to your assâsharp, loud. then his hand gripped your hair, yanked your head back, and his teeth sank into your shoulderâdeep, a bite so hard it made stars dance behind your eyes.
âyou wear my number. my colors. my fucking name on your back. not that mclaren shit or anything else. never fucking again.â calebâs hips slammed harder, faster, each thrust a brutal claim that sent your body shuddering beneath him. his teeth grazed your collarbone, sinking in deeply with a savage bite that left a bruised crescent burning hot against your skin. You gasped, head thrown back, breath shattering into sharp sobs that mixed pain and pleasure so fiercely your whole body trembled uncontrollably.
âfucking feel that, yeah?â he growled against your skin, voice thick with venomous hunger. your hands ripped down his sides, nails clawing cruel lines along his ribs as caleb dragged his teeth lowerâtrail of sharp bites blooming bruises along the curve of your tits, marking you with brutal possessiveness. âyou think that idiot could ever fuck you like this? make you cry out, beg, lose your goddamn mind? no chance.â
you whimpered, caught between sobs and desperate moans, hips jerking instinctively with every ruthless stroke. ân-noâ! only you, caleb! pleaseâfuck, please mmmâ!â your voice broke, breath hitching in a ragged stutter as your muscles clenched around him tighter, convulsing in waves of scorching overstimulation that stole your ability to think straight.
âbark fâme, sweet girl,â his teeth sank deep into your hip, biting down hard enough to draw a gasp, pleasure twisting with pain in a raw knot of sensation that made you cry out and claw at his back. âsay youâre mine. my filthy little wreck, mine.â
ââm yours! yours, caleb!â you sobbed, body trembling, tears stinging your eyes as relentless orgasms crashed over you, folding you in a violent, layered tangle of ecstasy. your voice came out breathless and shattered, âplease, donât stop! iâiâm gonnaâf-fuck, iâm gonnaâplease, iâm c-cumminâ!â
âtell me,â he snarled against your neck, voice low, dark, teeth grazing skin like a threat, âtell me who youâre cumminâ for. me or that pretty little fucker?â
his hips snapped up cruelly, deep and fast, dragging a sob from your lips. his hand stayed locked tight around your throatânot enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who owned every gasp, every tremble.
âyou!â you cried out, voice cracking on the edge of desperation. your nails dug into the fireproofs still half-wrapped around his waist. âyou, sirâonly you, ah, fuckkkâ!â
he grinned, vicious and possessive, like your surrender was his prize. âyeah?â he hissed, slamming into you again. âsay it louder. make sure even that bastard hears it next race.â caleb didnât slow. if anything, he fucked you harder, rough and relentless, like he was trying to erase any trace of rafayel from your bodyâif thereâd ever been any. one hand gripped your hip bruisingly tight, the other still curved under your jaw, forcing your teary eyes to hold his.
âdamn right,â he growled, sweat-slick and flushed, but no less in control. âsay my name. not âsir.â not âplease.â mine.â
your whole body jerked with each thrust, barely able to keep upright, tears streaking your cheeks. âcalebâ! caleb, iâmâiâm yours, i swearââ
âlouder,â he barked, voice edged in a snarl. âcâmon, sweetheart. want you hoarse for me. want that voice ruined so you canât say shit to anyone else.â
you shattered thenâcrying his name, choking on your moan as your body seized, shaking, breaking apart in his hands like it always did. and he didnât let up. not when you came, not when your body tried to squirm away from the overstimulation.
âtoo much?â he murmured mockingly, breath hot against your temple. âtoo bad. i havenât had enough yet. not till iâm sure he knows you walk funny tomorrow âcause of me.â
he crushed his mouth to yours, swallowing your desperate sounds with a hungry roar, his fingers digging deep into your hips as he drove you harder over the edge. your walls fluttered around him, clenching and pulsing uncontrollably as you teetered on the brinkâthen tipped.
your body convulsed violently, a flood of sensation so fierce it wracked every nerve ending. you cried out, a broken, trembling sound filled with pure, overwhelming need. his thrusts became more savage, relentless, âmine,â he rasped between clenched teeth, voice thick and harsh as he chased his own climax, âonly mine. gonna fill you up so fucking deep youâll be leaking my cum for days.â
the force of him stole your breath again as another orgasm ripped through you, your body arching wildly. you trembled, clinging to him, sobbing his name like a prayer. he chased you over the edge, one hand tangled possessively in your hair, the other bruising your waist as he came with a shuddering, broken groanâlow, guttural, right against your skinâhis teeth sinking into your neck as he spilled hot and thick inside you, every pulse of him a claim youâd never shake.
he stayed still a moment, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, panting like heâd survived a battle. thenâslowlyâhe pulled out. you whimpered at the sudden empty ache, your slick and his own, trailing down your inner thighs.
your body was still quaking when caleb carried you, trembling and ruined, to the couchâhis grip bruising, but reverent. his jaw was tight, his breath still shallow from the exertion, and the whole room still reeked of sex and heat and rage. your thighs stuck to his fireproofs, slick and smeared, and your chest rose in ragged, shallow pants as he laid you down like you were something preciousâbut barely.
"look at you," he muttered, his voice hoarse with raw satisfaction. "still shakinâ. you don't even know your own name, do you?"
your only answer was a weak, broken soundâsomething between a whimper and a plea. he chucked, low and dangerous, fingers brushing your jaw as his other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open again just to look. but thenâhe stilled.
his thumb stopped where it had been tracing, reverent in its own brutal way. his gaze, once burning with hunger, flickeredâhesitating. you blinked through the haze clouding your vision, and there he was again: caleb, not the fire-eyed predator but the boy who used to hold your hand under the covers during thunderstorms, the boy who always laced your shoelaces when your fingers were too cold to do it yourself.
ââŚfuck,â he murmured, and something in his tone cracked open. he exhaled hard and let your thigh fall gently against the couch cushion, his body sinking beside yours, no longer loomingâfolding. a different kind of tension took its place, quieter, older. his hand cupped your cheek again, softer now, trembling faintly.
"you okay?" he asked, and his voice was lower. wrought with guilt, with fear, with love. "talk to me, love. tell me youâre okay."
you nodded, just barely, then leaned into his palm with a broken little sound. âo-okayâŚâm okay,â you breathed, voice ragged but true.
he closed his eyes.
for a moment, caleb didnât say anything. just let his forehead press to yours. his thumb traced the line of your cheekbone like you might vanish if he didnât keep anchoring you to him. then, with careful arms, he pulled you into his lapâblanketing you in the throw heâd once haphazardly tossed on the couch. your legs curled over his, trembling.
âyouâre shaking,â caleb murmured again, his voice low and rough, like gravel coated in velvet. the heat radiating from his body pressed against your back was a fierce, solid warmth that somehow grounded you, but you could still feel the tremors racing through your limbsâshaky, fragile, like you were made of glass. his arms tightened around you, not crushing, but possessive, protectiveâas if he wanted to keep you from breaking apart entirely.
his lips brushed your skin like a feather in slow, feather-light kisses. first your bare shoulder, where the soft warmth of his mouth left a trail that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. then along the hollow of your collarbone, his breath hot and steady, carrying the faint scent of smoke and sweat from the raceâintoxicating and unmistakably him. when his mouth ghosted to the corner of your lips, he paused, lingering like he was memorizing your shape, tasting the faint salt of your skin, the quickening pulse beneath.
âyou scare the shit out of me sometimes,â he breathed, voice husky and trembling with emotion, the raw vulnerability undercut by the fire of his obsession. âthe way i feel about you... itâs not normal. maybe itâs because⌠i love you more than you realize.â
his hands roamed slowly now, tracing the lines of your body with a possessive tenderness that set your nerves alight. one palm slid down the curve of your side, fingers pressing into your hip bone, grounding you in the heat between you. the other curled in your hair, thumb brushing your temple softly, coaxing the tension out of your clenched muscles.
âyou donât have to say anything,â he whispered, voice rough but gentle. âjust be here with me.â
your eyelids fluttered open, meeting his gazeâdark, intense, burning with a hunger that softened only when it landed on you. the sight made your heart squeeze painfully, a sweet ache that spread through your limbs like wildfire.
your fingers twined tightly in the thick fabric of his fireproof suit, heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to break free. you curled into him, the solid beat of his heart against your palm a grounding anchor amid the storm of emotion crashing through you. no words cameâonly the soft press of your lips against his jaw, the whisper of a kiss that said everything you couldnât say aloud.
calebâs breath hitched sharply, eyes darkening with a fierce tenderness as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. his thumb brushed away a tear that had slipped silently down your cheek, his touch so gentle it made your breath catch. his smile was fragile, barely thereâbut real. like he was offering you a piece of his soul wrapped in vulnerability.
âyouâre everything to me,â he confessed, voice thick and laden with something bittersweet, a promise and a curse intertwined. âevery lap, every breath, every fucking heartbeat. you ruined me, and i donât ever want to be put back together.â
his arms squeezed you tighter, possessive and fierce, a silent vow to keep you safe and claim you utterly. the heat from his body seeped deep into your bones, steady and relentless, chasing away the shadows that lingered inside you.
your hand rose to cup his cheek, fingertips tracing the sharp angles of his jaw, memorizing the rough scrape of stubble beneath your touch. âl-love you..iâm yours,â you whispered, voice trembling but resolute. a soft, possessive smile curved his lips. âyeah,â he said, voice low and thick with pride, âonly mine.â
when he kissed you this time, it was differentâslow and tender, a deep press of lips that spoke of ownership and devotion, not just need. his mouth was warm and soft, roughened by days on the track and sleepless nights, and the taste of himâsmoky, faintly metallic, and utterly intoxicatingâsettled deep inside your senses. his hands cradled your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you that you were his, that you belonged here, to him, in this moment.
âsleep,â he murmured against your lips, voice husky but gentle, a soothing promise that wrapped around you like a blanket. âiâll be here when you wake up.â
your eyelids fluttered closed, sinking fully into the fierce, steady warmth of his arms. his heartbeat thrummed against your back, a wild, unyielding fire that burned only for youâand you let yourself be consumed by it.
caleb didnât sleep. not for a second.
he stood bare-chested in front of the fire, the room thick with heat and shadows that flickered like ghosts on the walls. the dry crackle of the flames filled the silence, but inside him, a storm still ragedâcold, sharp, relentlessâbut not for you, no, never.
his knuckles bore the faintest traces of dried blood where he'd gripped the wall to steady you, but the ache there was nothing compared to the sharp edge of his hatred for rafayel. the mclaren tee lay crumpled at his feetâa stubborn reminder that wouldnât fade.
he bent down and picked it up slowly, fingers tightening around the fabric, a silent vow burning hotter than the fire before him. with slow, deliberate movements, his fingers curled around the fabric, pulling it close. he traced the soft cotton absently, the smell faint but familiar, and it stabbed at him like a fresh wound. the colorâtoo bright, too loudâreminded him of everything he hated to admit. he fed the shirt to the flames, watching the orange cotton curl, blacken, and twist in on itself. the smell of scorched cloth filled the room, but it couldnât burn away the rancor that still coiled tight inside.
he didnât blink until the last ember faded to ash, eyes cold and unyielding, mind still racing with bitter thoughts.
rafayel had crossed a line.
and calebâs fire wasnât ready to die downânot yet, not ever.
# do not repost, translate, or upload my work to any other platforms. tumblr reblogs are welcome and appreciated, but reposting outside of this blog is not permitted !
â ⌠Š @ x1asirene, tumblr 2025 â§
#f1!caleb#f1!lads#caleb x reader#caleb smut#l&ds caleb#lnds caleb#lads caleb#love and deepspace caleb#caleb x you#love and deepspace#lnds imagines#caleb x y/n
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Suevi is an interactive fiction WIP - Chapter 1 out now!
This story is about finding love and surviving in Ancient Rome... as a Germanic slave.
[Demo Link]
Prologue - 5.5k words (without code)
Chapter 1 - 21.5k words (without code) - added June 8th 2025
[genres: romance, historical fiction, low fantasy, dark]
This book is for mature audience only (18+). It's currently still in early development and everything released is subject to possible change. The book will contain mature themes like slavery, abuse of any kind, sexual content (mostly optional), death of people and animals (the latter for food and sacrificial purposes), diseases, suicidal ideations, homophobia, transphobia, body dysmorphia, possible self mutilation, swearing, attempted non consensual intercourse (this is not a definitive list of triggers!).
There will be trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter.
This is a work of fiction. Wherever possible and plausible, I incorporate information that is available about how Germanic tribes lived, how Germanic slaves were treated, what life in a Roman city looked like etc.
However, especially about the Germanic tribes, and about the timeframe I chose, there is only very little information. They did have runes but only used them for ritualistic purposes, never to write anything down; they had no written languages. Because of that, actual legitimate information is extremely scarce, and the information that we have is mostly written from an "enemy" point of view - the Romans.
I might somewhat substitute with things we know about the vikings, which technically also were Germanic tribes, but they lived quite some hundred years after the timespan I aim for the main story of this IF to be set in (which is essentially shortly after/around 14 CE).
Other choices and possible changes of actual facts/information about the historical times and people are made for flavour and for the readers' comfort.
After a skirmish close to the Roman border, you are captured and transported to a city. Your capturer forces you into slavery and sells you off to a patrician family â wealthy Romans, in social and political standings only underneath the Emperor.
Desperately you try to adapt to these new circumstances â you don't even speak their language, know nothing about their culture... It's a whole different world for you. At first, you struggle to even communicate with the people that call themselves your "familia". Will you manage to live amongst them, or will you refuse to obey the rules and orders you are unfamiliar with?
What will your fate be? Will you stay with your new family, will you try to escape to your old family, or will you look for a better future elsewhere?
Will you try to abandon old beliefs and adapt to new ones? Or is the hold of the old Gods too strong on you to let go?
And what role does the person who enslaved you really play in all of this?
Customize your own Suevi â choose your sex, gender, sexuality, looks, the God you mainly pray to and your former occupation (depending on the tribe you are from).
Pick one of five love interests (includes one poly option):
Ing (Ingunn/Ingram), the quiet and angry Cherusci servant (f/m) [Tropes: Friends (to Enemies) to Lovers // Clueless Love // REDACTED]
Aquila (always named Aquila), the cheerful, friendly Roman artist (m/f/nb) [Trope: Sex first, feelings later â Fast burn fling, Slow burn romance]
D (Dewognata/Dagomaros), the Gaul weaver with a tragic backstory (f/m) [Tropes: Rescue Romance // (Not so) Secret Admirer]
Nefer (Nefertari/Neferkare), the chronically tired, sarcastic Nubian merchant (f/m) [Trope: Secret identity/Dark secret]
Xen (Xeno/Xenon), the gentle and wise Greek teacher (f/m) [Tropes: Single Parent // Child as matchmaker // Age gap]
Poly option: MC x Ing x Aquila
Find love, have a good time with no strings attached (flings!) or just do your own thing (and hopefully escape slavery).
FAQ
Support me on Patreon (extra content and early access!)
Support me on Ko-Fi (extra content and early access!)
Buy me a coffee (and have my eternal gratitude <3)
Popular tags (for each RO, RO reactions etc.)
Physical description RO's
RO Moodboards
Play the demo here!
Immersive playlist (Youtube Music)
Also, this is my first IF and I haven't written anything major really for the past 10 years â so I might be somewhat rusty in some parts and completely new to other parts (namely, ChoiceScript). If you have tips, tricks, resources to learn/get better and constructive criticism, or you found any bugs or mistakes in my demo, I'd love to hear from you!
Thank you so much for reading, I hope you'll enjoy my story!
#interactive fiction#if wip#dark romance#historical romance#choicescript#choice games#writing#hosted games#choice of games#if game#interactive game#suevi-if#wip if
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