“don’t worry, sweet thing.” : sevika

the room is dimly lit, candles fluttering. sevika hovers over you, hand on either side of your head. you’ve been pushing off this day for forever. it’s not like you don’t want it, if anything you need it. your holes practically pulse her name in morse code.

“‘vika”

“yes, sweet thing?” damn, her voice is hot. her breath ghosting against her neck.

“i’ve— i’ve never done this before.” her hand lands onto your waist to bring you closer, you shutter, she chuckled

“i can see that.”

“what?”

“don’t worry a thing, i’ll take care of you.”

the first thing she does is peel your shirt off, kissing down your neck. nipping, gently, at your skin. she’s sure to be soft, sweet—gentle with you for your first. fingers trailing down to your hips then one beneath your waistband.

“‘vika— fuck—” you hiss, she chuckled.

“i just wanna get you used to my fingers, can you handle that, baby?” her eyes on you, you nodded.

“words, baby.”

“y-..yes, ‘vika.”

the pad of her middle finger reaches your sex first. slipping beneath the folds, rubbing teasing movements. her other hand uses its fingers to curl around your waistband, pulling it down along with your panties, down to your calves. she entrusted you to shimmy them off, which you did.

spreading your legs she smiled, inching her mouth closer to your lips ( not the ones on your face ) she chuckled. “‘vika, what’re you doing?” you ask, she looks up at you, then down at your pussy.

“giving my girl some love.”

she practically makes out with your sex, first, soft kisses. then the kisses twisted into licking, licking and occasionally nipping. her hand settled your legs on her shoulders, her other hand spreading your sex’s lips.

“fuck, she’s gorgeous.” she compliments. you pussy’s arousal mixed with her saliva for the first time is a sight she won’t forget. “i might just get attached, baby.” with that her mouth locked around your clit, eyes on your face as it contorts.

“talk to me, darling.” : caitlyn kiramman

caitlyn and you have spoken about your.. lack of bodies as they say, she’s fine with it, willing to go slow. even when you throw hints that you’re ready, she doesn’t budge, you have to say it.

currently, you cuddle. the bed is firm beneath you, your side digging into the mattress. caitlyn hoisters an arm around you, the following arm also has an hand holding a book for her to read.

“caitlyn.”

“yes, darling?”

“i’ve been throwing hints all week, do you— do you not wanna do it with me?”

“huh?”

she shifts, sitting up, her other hand holding up her weight against the bed as she looks down at you. you continue to lay on your side until she pulls you to lay on your back so she can see your face. your face? it’s flushed. adverting her gaze until a hand on your jaw forces you to look up at her.

“you don’t understand how badly i want to do ‘it’ with you, sweetheart.”

“why won’t you take my hints, then?”

“i want you to say it.”

“what?”

“i want you to say you want to do it with me. say it to my face.”

“what’s next you want me to beg?” you say sarcastically, by her face she was genuinely considering it. you groan, soft and barely noticeable. the kiramman’s eyes narrow, her way of forcing you to speak. your lips part,

“caitlyn, i need you.”

“need me for?”

you huff, she chuckles

“i need you to.. uhm.. to.. fuck me.”

“huh? can’t hear you.” she teases. “i need you to fuck me.”

“if you insist.” she teased, leaning in. her lips crash against yours. caitlyn shifts. your back presses into the bed. she hovers above. hands in contact with your hips. her grip is tight as if she’s afraid you’d leave her like— well, that.

she’s hasty; needy. the woman whines, her lips against yours again. her groin drags against yours through your pajamas.

she hisses. bumping her hips again.. “hah.., that feels good.” she whines, again. you moan, she hisses as if the sound alone evens her pleasure.

“don’t sound like that..”

“hm?”

“i don’t wanna cum just from you moaning.”

“what?”

you giggle, her eyes narrow. arms and fingers curl around your thighs to pull them together and to her left shoulder. a finger hooks your panties and shorts, up and off.

“how about we scissor, hm?”

“cait, i don’t know to—”

“i do, ill teach you, darling.”

caitlyn tosses one of your legs, shifts. she places a thigh on either side of the leg that now lays beneath her body and against the bed. your other leg, up in the air. the woman had pulled and tossed her shorts and underwear in the process.

“i’ll do the work, then next time, you owe me.”

“owe y— mmh!”

her clit bumps against yours. you whine, she chuckles. her nails dig into your skin, she rocks her hips, slow and needy. faster—faster. then—

“ah..! cait— cait— feels so— i’m gonna—”

“fuck.. hah..talk to me b-.. mmh.. baby.”

caitlyn’s eyes lock on yours, well— until your eyes rolled back. she only seemed to move faster… then—

“i’m gonna cum!”

“then you take the controls .” : violet

things with vi always get a little heated. play fighting turns to kissing.. kissing twists into making out. now? you’re on the shared bed, her back pressed against the headboard, her wrists pinned by yours against the wood.

“vi..”

“yes, baby?”

her hands break from your hold, you let out a breathy giggle and she sets her hands on your hips. pressing you into her lap, leaning in too close. even if things get heated, she never pushes you too far. she presses kisses along your neck and shoulder, you hum.

“i’ve never.. done anything like this?”

“okay— oh!”

she looks up from your neck, you look at her. she laughs, you pout. “it’s not funny, violet.”

“violet, huh?” she breaths out.

“fine then, baby, what do you want me to do—take control, show me what you like.”

her words hit hard, you try to stammer out and answer, she just looks at you all clueless. hee hands on your hips rub, slow and steady. even if she doesn’t wish to push you, she subtly rocks your hips, grinding you against her sweats. you moan, she chuckles. “so you like this?” she hums, rocking you a bit faster. you work with her, moving a bit faster. “mmh— mhm.” you moan.

“fuck— you look so good on my lap, like this, moaning.” she says, breathless since in her eyes—you’re breathtaking. you rock, her hips grind upward. vi moans, not grunts or groans, but moans. she has always looked like a moaner.

“mmh— i could cum just at t—” her words cut off, she notices you. you’re hips are stuttering, your grinding growing rougher and faster. she chuckles, “you’re gonna cum from dry humping?”

“fuck off, vi.”

“no, no, just hold it in a bit…” she whispered, she grinds you down, you moan. she grinds upward, faster, whining. “i wanna cum together, baby, just—i’m so close— just hold it in a bit longer..”

“i can’t— i—” you babble, she hisses, moving faster until—the orgasm rips through you… and her.

“i like playing with my food .” : jinx

you sit on her work bench, her things shoved over by her so you could. she works on a bomb—no, a gun? who knows. you’re busy looking at her hands. not her nails, her hands. her hands are rough, damaged, yet slim and—

“yohoo, doll, are you listenin’?”

“huh? oh— i was.. distracted.”

“by my hands? what a pervy move, pretty girl.”

she knows those nicknames always get to your head. her hands leave the bomb—no, the gun— no, whatever the fuck it is. you’re focused on how she shifts the chair below to sit between your thighs, her hands landed on the plush skin to squeeze.

“janna, you’re so pretty, i just wanna eat you.”

“eat me?”

“mhm..”

her voice trailed, that look on her face. she parts your legs further, her head laying on your inner thigh so you won’t close your legs.

“doll face, have you ever..?”

“ever..? oh! uhm— no, jinx.”

“ha! i knew it! let me.. fix that.”

“fix tha—”

the side of your knees hit the edge table, her hands roughly parting your legs. she pressed kisses along your thighs, slowly inching upward—until—

“ah.. fuc—”

“language, doll!” she jokes, her lips landing on your mound through your pants that her hands already move to strip off of you. with a thud and shift she tossed off your pants but oddly enough she kept on your panties.

“jinx. stop fuckin’ joking around.”

“don’t rush me, doll, i like playing with my food.”

jinx licks you through the fabric, her tongue flat and teasing. you would protest but you’re too busy shuttering and whining. she chuckles, leans in, and bites the mound. you know she wants a reaction, she got one. one where you whined and whimpered and fussed at her.

“just teasing.”

she licks again, dampening your underwear. her tongue moves as if she’s against your bare folds especially since you’re so wet that the fabric sticks to your skin. licks, sucks, smells, all things she does. she nudges your clit through the sticky fabric through your fabric.

“you taste so good,”

your words grow broken, your sentences are shaky. your hands in her hair, pulling you in, she licks and sucks until—

“cum for me, pretty girl. soak yourself.” she mumbles against your mound and you always listen so well to her.

and yes, she did make you continue after that.

“isn’t this better ?” : ambessa medarda

you sit on her lap, she scribbles into paperwork. reading glasses hanging low on her face. she glances over, your nose deep in your phone. eyes locked on the screen, she pats your thigh.

“hm? yes, bessa?”

“darling, how long have you been staring at that screen?”

“uhm.. i don’t know..?”

her hand lands on your thigh. her fingers slipping between the fat, rubbing up and down. ambessa is never the pushy type— well, she believes she knows what you want and when you want it. if she feels you want food, you will eat. if she feels you want time alone, she’ll give you exactly that. if she feels she you want to lose your virginity? you know better than to deny the general.

“you’re so pretty.” she hummed, she’s never been one for empty comments and compliments. “stand up for me.”

you stand, while in the process of turning she stops you. the front of your thighs digging into the wood of her desk. her hands rubbing up and down on your thigh, her eyes locked on you. her touch left, a soft click as her glasses settle on the desk.

“do you want this?”

you feel a tremor, you part your lips to answer—

“no need to speak, your body tells me everything i need to know.” she rubs you from behind, pressing her fingers into the fabric of your bottoms where she believes your hole would be. you moan, loud, your hands on the desk as you lean against it. “ain’t this better than playing on that.. device?”

“i’ll treat you so much better, this feels so good to you, hm?” she doesn’t even need the nod you give, you legs are shaking, practically trembling and begging for more. your hand clenched and wrinkled a piece of paper, she paused, pat your thigh a bit rougher “be good for me, don’t get messy with my things.” she says—no, she demands.

eventually, after teasing you, tempting you, questioning you. she removed your bottoms, arousal sticking and connecting you and your panties together with a string of it. she didn’t bother removing your bottoms all the way, let them pool at the floor and pushed her finger inside. you hiss, whined. she chuckles, pushed in deeper.

“isn’t this better than your device? hm?”

“y-.. mmh!”

“speak.”

“yes, ambess—”

“general medarda.”

“yes, general medarda!”

she chuckled, pushed deeper, curled. you whined, hips rocking back against her. she leans back in her chair, pushing her fingers in and out steadily. your arousal splashes and leaks down your thighs, she chuckles at this sight.

“you’re so easy.”

“mmh..! it feels weird.”

she pat your thigh.. well, the pat was more of a slap. “not weird. it feels good, doesn’t it, child.”

“yes! so good, general!” arousal leaks down your thighs, your legs. you whine, moan. ambessa moves faster and faster until— it rips right through you. fingers clinging onto her desk enough to create nail marks. “good girl.”

“pretty girls make pretty noises .” : mel medarda

“don’t worry, darling, you’ll be fine.”

“i’m not worried.”

“you’re shaking.”

mel hovers over you, thighs on either side of your head. her arousal dripping onto your face. she’s leaned forward, her boobs pressing against your stomach as her mouth hovers over your mound.

“you look so perfect down here, don’t worry yourself.” she hummed, leaning down to press a kiss. you shivered, she kissed again, you moaned. “you sound so pretty.”

she lands her mound onto your face, grinding, begging you to get to work on her. you do. janna, she sound so pretty. your tongue is nervous, as nervous as you are. it pokes at her likes she’s an experiment. the muscle, you only continue with a movement when she moans and praises.

“right there— ah..” she moans when your lips close around her clit. you suck, she moans. her lips close around yours. she licks, sucks, the coil in your stomach tightens. you pant against her mound, she grinds down. she works harder, you struggle to continue with the distraction of her lips and tongue.

“fuck! mel— i’m gon— gonna—“ she moans against the mound, you moan, she grinds hard. you reach your peak, she soothes you through it, even so, you and her both try to get her to the edge. when she makes it there? she soaks your face. the arousal dribbles down your face, your lips, you moan.

“i couldn’t wait until you were ready .” : grayson

grayson, your dear grayson—hadn’t pushy at all. not to the slightest bit. her desire for you, her need, all were hidden beneath loving gestures and lovey-dovey comments. lately, kisses have been lingering longer. lately, hands have been drifting. her restraint has been slipping.

how could it not? the more comfortable you get, the more of your body you not-so-accidentally show. from your chest in low cut shorts or stomach in low cut sweats or jeans. the smallest things tick a timebomb inside of her until— it explodes.

you sit on the bed, nose deep in a kindle she had bought you. grayson, fresh from work, huffing and making her way to been. goodness, you’re like a goddess to her. just—gorgeous. her hand reaches out to touch, to tilt your head. her head lowers to kiss, starting off slow. the kiss ignites from a spark to a flame in seconds. lips to lips, hands on —no, under your pajama top.

“darling, are you sure you’re ready?”

dear janna, what is she on about! of course you’re ready! even so, she’s beyond ready. she can’t wait until you’re ready much longer. your lips smack into her, tongue to tongue. she leaned in until your back hit the bed. finally pulling away with a grunt.

“i’m exhausted, doll—.”

“then let me work for you.”

“hm?”

the positions adjust, a yank of her arm as a swift movement or two.. you’re straddling her lap. she lays back against the headboard. worried eyes focused on you. “baby, you can’t take my strap just yet.”

“i—i know.” you’re fiddling. with what? her fingers. she smirks, her raspy tone making it sound like she can read your lustful mind. her hand angled down, pressing against your heat with two fingers. “good girl,.. how about you just rock for me for now.” as instructed your hips grind against her fingers. faster— then, she slowly pushes a finger in. thick, making you groan.

“okay, i’m sorry, darling. can you bounce on my finger for me, hm?” as instructed, you do. grayson kisses against your skin, a lot. your neck, shoulders, throat, even your jaw. all to soothe you. you bounce, slow. until, finally, you— “come on, let go, for me.” she rasps— and yes, it was that easy— you let go. you stain her pants, her fingers, even so she hums and kisses you through it.

tagslist : @lonerslug , @angelz-void , @supalcina , @macaronmedia , @angels-hideaway , @wishingonjellyfish

the mistresses of the home have rather.. unique practices. the kind that those who see and speak of it disappear. the kind of practices that leaves many a percipient.

you’re their trusted pupil. you’re young, malleable—compared to them.

it’s unbeknownst to even the eldest maidens their ages. the once young Ms. Stark, crackled open by age with paled skin and shaking limps can’t even see a difference between them now at the portraits of them aligned on the walls leading up the mansions stairs.

your purple uniform swaying, shoes clicking whilst your hands clench a tray. eyes down at the contents but you’re more of watching your feet hit the stairs and listening the wooden flooring scream beneath your weight. the carpet cushioning the sound from your ears. the red carpet, seemingly having older stains, deeper red hidden beneath its surface.

the tray? made of cold metals that cool your hands which is the last thing need in this house. a chill rushing up your spine when you make it up the stairs.

still watching the platter, foots not rushing to their door that you had hoped would seem farther than it truly is. its contents hold nothing but more silver. two silver cups. the golbet silver shining against the warm lighting of the house. the candles are so outdated, its flames pushing with the winds of the open door of their bedroom.

it’s unusual for them to leave the door open. beyond that you worry for the contents in the cups. it’s a deep red, almost too deep. Maroon-ish? it’s smell coppery? metallic..?

“Hello, darling.”

your feet stop, head flashing up.

caitlyn. caitlyn kiramman, the primary mistress of the manor, speaking the fact that she’s the one that supposedly owns it and not violet whom stands behind her.

“good afternoon.” you hum, tone meek and humbled by their looming presence.

“you seemed.. distracted, hm?” her blue eyes flickers down to the cups. washing its oxblood color swaying in your shaking hands.

their presence always feels so weird like your soul leaves with their entrance, only returning to you when they speak. caitlyn leans down a little, fingers reaching out to take a cup.

“yes—i was. i was worried for the contents in the cups. the smell is so coppery.”

you express with evident emotion, vi was the only one out of either of them that showed you an emotion.

the corner of her lip perking up on her left side. her dropping, body weight shifting. her muscles showing as she moves on the weight on her feet from leaning on caitlyn to leaning towards you to grab her drink.

“hm? really.”

“yes, it smells horrid.”

“horrid, hm? like what?” vi’s voice is teasing, low. her eyes moving from you to the silver light surrounding the liquid in the cup that influences the inside of her mouth to salivate. “blood?” she asks, earning her a glare from caitlyn.

“violet!” caitlyn whisper-yells, clearly not quite enough since you heard allowing a spark of fear to fuel the fire that already burns from past experiences in this house.

“darling, no need to fear.” she hums, her voice making your eyes look up into hers. her blue eyes always seem to glow in the soft lighting of the hall. the flames of the outdated candles on the walls trembling against winds so mysterious.

“nothing, like blood, splatters in this home without our knowledge.” caitlyn soothes, her voice ringing in your head. it’s like the near vibrations of her voice massage your body to serene.

“you’re sure?” you manage out, a soft shock in caitlyn’s eyes as you hesitate the equanimous state she had tried to put you in. “yes, darling..” her hand runs down your arm, her other hand seizing the cup. she’s smiling, though it seems planted there delicately. she takes your hand. her fingers twinged with a chill

your hands are blanketed by a glove and yet you can still feel the pain of her icy hand. one of your hands hold the tray still while the other allows caitlyn to kiss your knuckles. “i’m so sure, sweetheart.” she finishes, eyes looking up through her lashes to set on yours.

the serene feeling washing over you all over again. vi’s voice announces: “cupcake, shouldn’t we send off the maid for another cup?”

her hair a messy choppy cut, pinkish red, warmth of the candles hitting her feminine face on the right side. the smirk on her face that she hasn’t tried to conceal evident against the light.

“hm?” caitlyn’s midnight hit whipping at vi’s words. “oh. oh. yes.” caitlyn croons, eyes returning to you. “another cup for your mistresses, sweetheart.” she says, fingers never leaving yours, eyes watching over your neck.

the skin, the collarbone. the uniform conceals your body but the parts she cares for. the neck. the collarbone. it’s all so.. alluring to her.

“we.” vi declares, hands set on caitlyn’s shoulders. “will be in our chambers.”

“yes, ma’am.” you articulate. caitlyn won’t release you.

“cupcake.” vi grunts, caitlyn’s hands move slowly away as vi pulls her back. their feet clicking down the hall to the agape door. with a swift turn you leave to attend to your duties.

their voices whisper behind you in a conversation most likely more like an vocalization of their desires by how the first thing you had managed to eavesdrop on was vi’s orotund voice pointing how caitlyn is such a ‘awkward flirt-er’.

—————————hemat🩸phagy————————

made your way back, up the stairs, drinks full. Ms. Stark had randomly advised a multitude of drinks. four cups trembling in your palm with every step and every breath too deeply taken.

it’s like they had been waiting, you hadn’t need to struggle with releasing the engraved, delicate tray to one hand to knock if vi had opened the door to their chambers as soon as you stood infront of it.

her shadow looming over you, her smile plastered on her face. “oh? extras? how thoughtful.” she compliments, her hand closing the door behind you.

“my, i’ve never taken the time to really admire you.” vi mentions, leaning down. her teeth line fangs as she smile. your eyes avoid hers. dragging down her body instead. when you return to her face her smile had dropped, eyes looking at you as if she were a true admirer of your plain figure.

“did you.. uhm, finish the lash glass? i can take the cup downstairs to clean.”

her eyes has dropped down to the drinks, momentarily distracted by your neck.

“no. just, put the tray on the table there.” her voice dropped, pointing to the table near the chairs in the corner of their room. their room is big, enough for two one seater couches, a coffee table between them, and a bed too large even for two.

caitlyn’s legs are crossed, hands in front of her. her fingers curled around a book. eyes shooting up at the sight of you and staying that way as you set down the tray.

“i’ll be leaving n—“

“no. sit, please. join us this afternoon.” caitlyn insists, vi closely behind you. when you had looked back she gestured the other chair across caitlyn.

—————————hemat🩸phagy————————

throughout the awkward conversation with them vi’s fingers wander. unable to sit with the chairs occupied she stands by you. hands moving your hair, toying with it, pushing it back. exposing your neck, fingers “accidentally” touching the skin. a noticable shockwave running down your spine and surprisingly caitlyn’s too.

with a particularly invasive question you take a moment. vi takes that as a sign. leaning down, kissing at your throat, the side of it.

“ms. kiramman, you— you shouldn’t do that, caitlyn is—“ i huff, she doesn’t even listen. still kissing, grunting for you to answer caitlyn’s question.

eyes shut at this unruly act. when they open caitlyn looks strained. hands clenching her outfit, foot tapping. eyes on vi more than you—at vi’s lips on your neck.

“Miss—“ i barely produce, vi’s fingers inching to the back of your dress to loosen it against your body. “hm? didn’t i say keep talking to caitlyn. don’t mind me.” she insists, a bite being left on your neck. not too deep to hit blood like a oil like a gusher but for it to leak down a little, unnoticed by you.

your dress grows loose, until vi can slip the uniform down just enough to show off your bra. that’s when caitlyn snaps.

“i’m sorry, my dear, i can’t hold it together anymore.” she snorts, standing up and rushing towards you. “if we bite, we will make this up to you. right, darling?” caitlyn implies

vi scoffs in annoyance, kissing down to your chest. your dress bundles up at your hips in the seat. your hands which were originally clenching the seat’s arms or vi’s arms starts to hold vi’s hand.

caitlyn doesn’t join vi in her assault with biting and kissing my neck. she kneels. bunching up the excess fabric of the skirt of your dress. kissing up your legs, laying the fabric on her head gently. only, then, when her head is nothing but a bulge beneath your skirt, she starts her assault.

kissing at your underwear. her tongue flattening, vi’s fingers pulling (and struggling) with your bra. eventually she simply breaks the clips of the bra.

“sorry, i’ll repay you for that.” she apologizes, you can feel the false security beneath her breath. pulling off the fabric, yanking it off and pressing kisses and bites on your skin.

“ngh—.. wait!” you huff as caitlyn pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side. flattened tongue, sucking. your back pressing against the chair and slumping a bit. vi’s lips following, her hand sat on your other boobs to fondle.

mere moments pass of indulgence before you’re squirming. with bated breath they continue the onslaught. vi biting and licking your boob as she pleases while caitlyn nips at your clit, licking over to to soothe the hurt.

your orgasm hits quick, like a spring too tight shooting back into place.

while your first orgasm is like a finished transaction, theirs and their insatiable appetite isn’t. after licking and sucking you to a a state resembling a quivering leaf.

wolf!vi & farmer!reader : alone time

violet is sweet to you. you’re her sweet girl after all? an angel of sugary goodness sent to her by the gods she shames for making her this way; like a rapid beast. she’s flirty. not very secretive about much, open about anything but too deep in her past. her sister is a huntress, her pack is long gone. what you do know is that she’s a hungry girl.

not for human meat— well, sometimes. but for you. you smell sweet to her, innocence tastes the best. the first time you met she was sniffing you smell, memorizing it, loving it. when she first got her hands on you? she bit.

her teeth deep in your arms, thighs, neck, anywhere. not too deep to break blood but enough to sting. she’d make it up to you. calloused fingers, claw-like nails retracting to dig knuckle deep inside of you. she uses her fingers to distract you from the pain.

speaking of her fingers and distractions, she’s cruel. she is addicted, what can she say? you taste so sweet on her tongue, her teeth, her fingers. she’ll overstimulate you, claiming your squirt tastes the best. when you beg her to stop? she won’t. drooping her ears to act as if she can’t hear your pleading.

vamp!cait & farmer!reader : not-so quiet moments

caitlyn? she’s obsessed with the size difference between you two. yes, vi also loves how her hand can engulf your stomach but caitlyn? she loves it. the height gives her authority and my does she have a kink for that. she prefers you call her “miss” or “ma’am” or even by her last name, why? she wants to own you.

yes, the woman is sweet. she spoils you with all kinds of things, spends her free time with you on her lap or helping you on the farm. she’ll even take care of things you need before you know you need it. basket broke? she’s already got a new one for you. latter snapped? there’s one in the storage. dress got ripped? she’s already bought you six new ones in multiple colors.

you wear the things she buys you, you accept her help, you let her touch you, you’re hers. her woman. her farmer-girl. and her wife’s. she doesn’t let you get hurt, if you do? blood flowing? her demeanor snaps. your blood is sweet; like vi, she thinks innocence like yours tastes the sweetest. during sex she’ll bite, hold you down to really dig her teeth in. she’ll make it up to you. buy you pretty things or snatch the clothes from a victim of her hunger for you. she’ll bite your neck, shoulders, chest, thighs. even your clit wasn’t safe. she loves your taste, loves it when fog fills your senses and a nip makes you squeal. her problem? she thinks of you as hers. you go out without telling her, even if it is to a close by village? the village is burnt down and your rear is burning red, along with your cheeks. she’ll hit. not too hard, enough to get her point across.

vamp!cait + wolf!vi x farmer!reader

vi is one for praise. she’s a big bitter so when you prance around during the day with the bites on your shoulders from last night or maybe even the last hour, she’ll whisper:

“oh, janna, you look fuckin’ edible.”

“i just wanna eat you up, first i wanna savor you.”

caitlyn? she praises on occasion. she prefers you hide the marks from her. vampire marks on your neck while out in town could freak anyone out. she does praise you during the night, the moon high, you’re sure you’re alone, then—

“you look gorgeous, baby.”

“mmh, i could really use some of your sweet-tasting blood right about now.”

vi prefers disobedience, gives her the chance to fuck it out of you. whether you think of her as gp! or with a strap-on, her stroke game goes crazy. she’s rough. what else would you expect from a werewolf? she’ll use her strength against you.

caitlyn prefers obedience, she’ll fuck you into her way. she’s teasing with her thrusts. slow, only speeding up when you beg for it. if you beg for it be ready. she knows all the spots you like, she acts as if she’s studied you, like she knows what you think.

together? they overstimulate you. well, you just can’t keep up. caitlyn loves the feel of you on her face, it’s routine for her to force you to sit on her face even if you don’t wanna or if you’re sore from farm work. actually, especially if you’re sore from farm work. vi always fucks caitlyn when you’re on her face, rough hand on your cheeks, squeezing them and teasing you on falling apart.

“givin’ up already, pretty girl? come on, a few more hours.”

“i— i cant.”

“you will.”

don’t think that they’ll have sex with you without getting pleasure themselves. vi loves to facefuck you. hands in your hair, bobbing it for you? hm, her dream. caitlyn loves forcing you to finger her, especially when you’re already being stimulated. when you whine that you can’t? she’ll slap your clit, demanding you try harder.

“i can’t cait— i can’t focus.”

na’vi!vi : who was going to kill the two of you that night. knife raised high with a fist clenched so sightly you’d believe she was angry enough to turn that blue skin a seething red. that knife already blanketed with the blood of maybe twenty humans, about to be twenty two. then the woodspirit lands, white and ethereal, once on your head. even so doesn’t hesitate in her steps. then her caitlyn’s shoulder, leaking with blood. lastly on violet’s knife. perching on it like an untitled cat in someone’s lap. she hesitates, knife lifted. that hesitation turns into a momentary pause then a full blown halt. a lowering arm and a grumbling sound.

if it weren’t for you, that night caitlyn’s rushed movement to grab the gun she had dropped a bit too far away would’ve blasted off to lead to another dead na’vi.

avatar!caitlyn : who is beyond hesitate to learn the way of the people. even as the tsahik entrusts her with it, speaking english with perfection despite that deep accent. caitlyn who hesitates to do much regarding the people even with your words of encouragement.

eventually she agreed to this training, can’t be harder than military training. and yet, she goes at every from an officer’s perspective, analyzing when there is no time for such.

avatar!cait : who looks at the home tree with worry, worry that makes lines of age across her face. her eyes already drooping from violets ‘training’ which is, most of the time, pushing us into rather… unsafe situations. now, looking at the base of the tree seemingly big enough to dominate a city on earth.. her face is etched with not glory or awe, but guilt.

na’vi!vi : who spends a lot of alone time with you. you study her, watch as she moves across leaves or branches. letting her make you laugh, catching on to what you say faster than most of the others slurring to mock your accent alongside it.

na’vi!vi : who calls you and caitlyn stupid nicknames she’s probably learned from misogynistic men inside the more colonized areas. generals and lieutenants with no regard for a woman’s comfort. and yet, when she says stupid things like ‘cupcake’, ‘sweetheart’ , ‘lovie’ , or even ‘cutie’ it’s rather soothing—to you atleast. caitlyn always complains about the word ‘cupcake’ coming from violet.

avatar!cait : who is attached to home base. suggesting that we leave, that we’ve learned enough—that the imperfections of her attire and avatar body will be fixed with such information. even if she now dresses and looks more na’vi she denies it. she insists upon return, looking down at you with hidden disgust.. dressed in such a.. native way. “it would be a better infiltration with better understanding” she explains, posh tone lined with worry. hand on your wrist, deep in the forest with violet lingering elsewhere on the hunt for the two of you as training.

you tried to reason, to whisper back to her that there is more to be learned but she only seems to be uninterested in your word. you’re just a researcher, one obsessed with the idea of living with her own research. a scientist she could leave, she should leave, but she won’t.

na’vi!vi : who invites the two of you to her clan’s spirit tree, the damn thing bellows in its own beauty. your eyes “sparkling like a kids’ on christmas”, as caitlyn says in her stupidly posh british tone that violet’s learned to mock to get a laugh out of you.

avatar!cait : who connected to the spirit world through that artificial kuru. in a moment she’s disconnecting with worry leaking from her pores in the form of sweat. at first she had seemed fine, the her tail had wrapped around your ankle, her hand on your wrist got tight when she disconnected and took a moment of thought before that worry had spread down to her legs.

na’vi!vi : who has joined you in your comfort against caitlyn. cooing in a mixture of slurred english and loving na’vi. hand on her shoulder until caitlyn calms.

avatar!cait : who makes up an excuse for her outbreak, something about the beauty of it all being overwhelming and not the guilt of it all looming over her shoulder like sins over a hypothetical saint.

that night the three of you mate, surprisingly so. violet explained it to be normal to mate beneath their god, “the eyes of eywa watches over the all of us” as she says while kissing into caitlyn’s neck. caitlyn is more.. possessive than originally thought, unwanting of violet’s touch on you until she allows it which doesn’t go well with violet. eventually violet’s biting into your thigh, met with scolding—even in a time like this caitlyn finds a way to scold.

avatar!caitlyn : whom seems to be out cold. limp by the time you all are done and the same by morning. even when you yell her name for help and shake her rapidly. a machine comes along to smash the spirit tree, bulldozing it while violet screams war cries and slaps cameras or lines of sight.

na’vi!vi : who hisses when you try to reason with her and bring her away form the wreckage. she blames you, or caitlyn. staring at you both with either dismissal or anger.

the night is dark, the house deep in a damp forest you grew you not be afraid of. while everyone is asleep, you’re busy picking apples. yes, it’s night. yes, you should be asleep. you never finished your farm work & you’ve been trying to make sure you finish all your work before bed. the ladder beneath you trembles as another brush of wind sends it into imbalance. you still, just for a moment, it settles against the dew-y grass and you continue.

a soft thud as each apple falls into the baskets you laid out beneath the tree. as you pick, you think. normally things a farm girl would think : how the wind is abnormally strong, how you wish you lived in the village — actually.. you don’t. the west village was burnt down a few days ago, people had been going missing for months and according to survivors two women burnt it down but not before damn near eating the villagers and sucking the blood from their necks. oooh, scary, huh. you could just imagine the stupidity, the villagers making up a story just to make you shiver in your boots.

hilarious. a distant twig snaps, boots jingling against the grass. a plant being squashed beneath the base of a shoe. the sound of voices, arguing in a low tone as if to not let you hear. suddenly, tap.

the ladder shakes as you loose your balance for a second. after getting stable you look back over your shoulder. “goodness!” you exclaimed. “sorry to .. startle.” a voice says. the tone is womanly, smooth, tainted by a british tint. “i told you i know where im going, i smell the fresh me—”

“no, you don’t know, we’ve been walking for hours, darling.”

“you always doubt me, cupcake.”

“not always, baby.”

“can i help you two?” you ask, they’re eyes return to you. you could swear the eyes of the women were red. the first to speak up was the woman with a british accent. “sorry to bother.., sweetheart..” she says, you noticed how she took a moment to look at you up and down. her gaze was less lustful and more — hungry. the woman beside her even took a moment to sniff, definitely sniffing you.

“i’m.. caitlyn. this is my wife, violet. we’re kirammans.”

kiramman. the name of the people whom live in the mansion deep in the forest. the only story you believe. you’ve seen the home, old, covered in vines, tainted by what could only be dried blood. some people say they’ve lived there for years while others say it’s just stories. either way, what you do know, whoever goes there don’t return.

“yes, hello, miss..es.” you turn your head, stepping down from the ladder, body coated in a thin layer of sweat, you swear you near another sniff. “how may i help you?” you repeat your question again

“yes, we wonder if you know the way to the nearest village?” she asks, you look up. goodness gracious, she’s tall. towering over you like a skyscraper! “oh! i would say the western but it was.. severely damaged..” your tone trails, thinking of another nearby village. your pointer finger shoots out towards the north. “i’m pretty sure the northern village is only a days walk away..”

“how’s the people there? are they sweet?” the other woman, violet, you were told, asks.

“sweet? well, they are pretty nice..” you answer cluelessly, your head tilted slightly, she groan.

“no, i mean their t—” violet was cut off. “violet! she wouldn’t know, look at her.” caitlyn sneers, glaring at her wife for the stupid question she was gonna ask YOU off all people.

“i wouldn’t know what exactly?” you ask, she lets out a breathy laugh. “nothing, hmm..” she hummed, patting your head. her hand goes from patting to stroking, stroking to gently trailing to touch your cheek.. then your jaw.. then your neck.

“fuck. i’m starving.” the woman grumbles, violet is busy looking to the north, staring and smiling as if she can taste—as if she can see the people already. “i have some red apples if you want some!”

before she could answer you slipped from her grip to bend down and grab an apple from the basket. you felt eyes on you, more than two eyes. you turned, violet was staring. three apples, one for each of you.

“we don’t eat apples, we prefer sweeter things, isn’t that right, cupcake?” violet says, her tone rougher than before. her eyes twisting from a powder blue to a blood red, maybe it’s just a trick of the moon’s light.

“apple pie?”

“sweeter.”

“uhm.. cupcakes?”

“hmm.. sometimes, but sometimes something— someone can taste even better.”

“i’m not gay, ma’am.”

she bursted out in laughter, caitlyn chuckled. patting your head once again. “no, not like— maybe like that, but—” she giggled, her hand trailing down to your shoulder. her nails are long, the pads of her fingers against your throat. “we just— we don’t like apples. girls who are kind enough to give them though? they’re the best.”

“yeah, the sweet ones are the best.” violet says

“mmh.. yeah.” violet hums, sniffing, leaning in close to you.

“tell you what, sweet girl…” that’s new.. “since you’re so willing to feed us, we can always come over after we get some .. food .. from the northern village? come in your home, a nice little party. unless you’d prefer a picnic, out on the grass, eating, ripping the meat app—”

“violet, calm yourself.”

“well— as long as i finish all my farm work, then i’d love a picnic.” to be fair, you’re desperate for friends. being in the middle of nowhere is quite boring, no one to talk to but trees, plants, and the walls of your home.

“we’ll make sure we bring you back something sweet, if we forget, we’ll give you something even sweeter.” violet teases, caitlyn chuckles at her wife. the intertwine fingers, caitlyn initiating the touch. a soft hum, pulling vi towards the north.

“i’ll see you both in a few weeks, the village is far by foot!”

“more like a few days.” violet whispers to herself

“yes, of course, darling.” caitlyn answers, waving as she walks off.

“—— ‘s team ! ——, approaches the ice!” scream’s a female announcer, loud enough that it seems like she wouldn’t need the microphone.

the hush of skates fill the room. that sound? it is the only one on your mind. the kiss of your skates against the icy floor, the slight chill swarms you, coming from below. the screams of your parents behind you is numbed, along with the loving yells of fans. you’re swaying against the ice, gliding across the cold surface. anxiety is getting to you: your hands are shaky, along with your legs—seems like your balance is off too.

“chill, it’s just one game.” neya, your teammate, murmurs, hushing your anxiety to non-existence.

then, the swishing of moments. your team is already lined up, ready. here comes your opponents.

“the piltoverian team! here they come!” exclaims the excited voice of a male announcer.

now they stand before you, watching, waiting, eyes locked on you. vi, their center and captain. the zaunite woman is slightly unbalanced on her skates, her eyes hadn’t left you since she had saw you on the ice. her pinkish red locks are peaking through their helmet , slightly hidden beneath the bar-like guards.

she stares, whistling, mumbling distant teasing. the world around you grows clear. “you look nervous.” she claims. “you look off balance.” you shoot back. you notice how her posture shifts to looks bigger, taller. the instant fix of her balance as if she’s actually listening to you.

“how could i not be, infront of someone so pretty.” she flirts. you believe that she’s trying to get you off of her game. how can she even see you through the bar-like face guard over your face? the silver glistening with the light, the mouth guard in your mouth makes you seem puffy. you can bet you don’t look like yourself.

“i’m not your blue-haired beauty, focus on her— make it easier for me to win.” with a soft tilt of your head you arrow her eyes to caitlyn.

caitlyn’s eyes are flickering. her blue eyes hide nothing. those eyes show off how her eyes look at the puck, then you. they drag up and down your body, then down to the puck again. the motion is repetitive. you ignore it, even if you know that it’ll stick to the back of your mind. no way she’s checking you out, only analyzing. hopefully only analyzing.

your stick kisses the ice, waiting for the start, waiting with stiffened muscles. vi chuckles, it’s low, barely heard over the humming of the announcers mic.

with clacking and voices the game began.

the game drags. you started with the puck, ended with it in your goal. they’d start with it and end with it in their own goal. violet’s an aggressor. you’d knock into her and damn near fight to win the puck.

caitlyn is controlled, her movements are precise but she focuses on her thoughts. she try’s to predict. while she can be correct, some people aren’t as predict as others

it feels like a boxing ring. you, and them. caitlyn’s passes to vi were as if a new opponent was being tagged in. vi would change the boxing match to a WWE match knocking into you so hard you felt the air leave your lungs.

her hits against the puck looked like it would break the poor thing. it’s good that your goalie is hardworking. almost every hit was blocked. their goalie relied on the on-field players.

then— crash.

fuck. vi began yelling at her own teammate whom ran into her. it sent her straight to the penalty box.

by the end of the match it was close, caitlyn made it so hard to win. pushing against you or weaving around you. it was sickening how she’d subtly tease you with the puck even when surrounded by your not-so subtly aggressive teammates.

she’d giggle at your passes when you began to show exhaustion. she’s smirk at your messiness. even so her team still ended up losing.

it ended with a win for you. a congratulations from caitlyn, and a huff from vi.

you’re new—a rookie. you can’t believe you won! it seems like the media couldn’t believe it either. headers lined with your name within minutes. clips of the match loaded onto social media’s.

“—— won against caitlyn kiramman? how?” read an article header.

“violet lanes’ loss against the rookie: ——!”

“—— vs piltoverian team score: 6 , 5.”

“insane win from ——‘s team.”

people are putting you on such a high pedestal, even so. some hardcore fans of the piltoverian team cussed your way. they cursed you, publicly wished for your future losses to go famous.

“—— team’s win? insane shock to piltoverian fans.”

“‘we were just off our game, this is the last time’ a quote from the piltoverian team member: Maddie Nolan says.” read another story.

a week passes.

a week of training, work, and stress

game. now, the interviews?! your coach, with you being the talk of the team, volunteered you for them. you couldn’t counter argue, you couldn’t do much about it, especially with your teammates encouraging it.

currently your shoes click throughout the halls. the room is smaller than you’d expect. a table with chairs, a red flag-like thing pinned to the wall behind the chairs. the table clothed with cloths and microphones standing straight infront of yours and.. vi’s. your chair is pre-pulled out for you. the woman’s eyes are locked. her smirk is undeniable. even when you sit she’s staring. even whilst you adjust the outfit you choose to match the team colors or your hair, or your dress again. she’s staring.

“calm down, now, sweetheart.” murmurs vi, she watches. eyes on your face, your lips. goodness, those lips. her eyes were on them all game through the bars covering your face. now that she can see, that she can analyze? you’re prettier than before.

without the puff of the mouth guard and bars over that pretty face you look nicer. “i’m calm.” without the mouthpiece you sound nicer. your voice is smoother. you’re nervous, not the ‘on field’ kind of nervous but obviously nervous.

“just let me do the talking so you don’t go and loose that new credibility by stuttering on camera.” she huffs.

the rest of the interview? you barely spoke, didn’t need to. vi took over, answering questions, she’s a natural. the only time you needed to speak was to answer questions she didn’t know.

with a click, and a ‘wizz’. the camera’s blinking red light went off. the producers talked with each other, something around weird behavior. you could’ve eavesdropped, you wanted to, but vi was quick to rush the two of you away. not to the exit were your coach was waiting.

she pulled you to a corner, a set stairs nearby and the chill of air conditioning beating down.

“so…” she says, worriedly checking around the corner.

“so? why’d you take me over here?” you groan.

“because, i did a favor for you.. and i was wondering where you’re staying. what hotel? if you know what i mean.”

it takes you a minute, a long minute. she’s proposing to you! not in a marriage way but in a intimate— inappropriate way.

“oh! the piltover inn.”

“yeah? you wouldn’t mind if i brought.. caitlyn? per chance?”

“no.” that answer came out too quickly.

“hm.. oh really?” she smirks, stares. the moment of eye contact seems like it could go on forever. it seems like she’s getting close, she’s moving smoothly.

“and.. what room are you in?”

the days in the kingdom: long, full of the grunting of practicing knights and the groans of working maids. mornings are long too, full off ‘princess preparation work’ which is just school work and tea. your life is in an constant repeat, repetitive and predictable. until they came along.

Violet Lanes, a knight. she was originally a prisoner, sentenced to life in the damp cells below the castle. why was she set free and forced into a knight job? who fuckin’ knows. Caitlyn Kiramman, a woman from a noble family, a family who’s had a knight for the castle generation after generation. why did those two specifically catch your attention? they’re women. women knights are rare, they normally quit first day into training.

the crazy part of all of this: they’re assigned to be your personal knights! hilarious, right?

birds chirp at the warm feeling of daylight, sun seeming to beam as if it’s the afternoon already. another boringly hot— you stand at the balcony, glancing down, wind brushing against the nightgown pushing you forward a bit. looking down, the knights you watch as if daily routine aren’t there. what the hell.

suddenly, voices, two to be specific. a jolt sends you to turn, knights. one, fully dressed with helmet firmly set onto their head. the other’s helmet is nowhere to be seen, hot pink hair in a weirdly choppy cut catching your eyes. powder blue eyes locking with yours. their armor gleams as they step closer, deeper into the light of the day until they were scolded.

“violet. you must ask before you approach royalty.” a british tone says, muffled by the helmet.

a loud scoff before gruff tone says: “may i approach, princess.”

clearing your throat you answer: “yes, yes you may.” boots clank as she draws closer, in the light she’s prettier. her face is feminine, the traits overshadowed by the scars and tattoo on her cheek.

“why are you outside this early?” she asks, glaring down at you, you glance back then up at her. you opened your mouth to speak but the words died on your tongue. fuck. this knight is a pretty one. “violet, don’t question royalty. you could be beheaded.” the other knight scolds. “may i—” you don’t even let her finish her sentence “yes, you may.” the other knight is taller, her armor more polished. the sword deep in her hilt, her boots more quiet as she approaches.

“princess..” she begins, glancing behind you and how the railing of the balcony digs into your skin beneath the surface of your nightgown. “if you may, can you step away from the railing? i fear you may fall.” she says, her voice soft like you’re a child, you’re not a child. “i will when .. she.. steps back” you insist, she jerks her head and the pink haired woman steps back.

“i assume you both are my new personal knights, if you don’t mind remove the helmet and tell me your names.” you say trying to sound professional as you were taught to speak to knights. knights are, according to your parents : brutes, big ugly, BROKE men whom need the royal family to get by.

“yes, caitlyn kiramman, at your service, princess.” the tall woman explains, a soft click and loud clank and her helmet is in her hands. she’s.. gorgeous! who said all knights were ugly? her features are sharp, every curve could kill but her eyes are as deep and delicate as the ocean. midnight blue hair tied into a low ponytail to fit beneath the helmet, not even a blemish on her pale skin.

“violet lanes.” the pink hair says, seemingly unknowing what to do with her hands since she had no helmet. “what happened to your—” she cuts you off “i forgot it.” for a moment you were shocked. she cut you off for one, most knights wouldn’t dare. caitlyn opened her mouth to scold but you just giggled. “oh? that’s fine.” your smile is bright, as radiant as the sun. caitlyn’s face is contorted into a soft smile to you but a irritated look to vi. vi laughs, her hand lands on your shoulder, caitlyn gasps, you laugh.

“quite the touchy type, huh?” you asked, she nodded. “it’s rare i get the chance to touch a princess, are all of their skins as soft as yours?” she questioned, fingers brushing against the skin of the side of your neck. “i’m not sure. i don’t go around touching just anyone, unlike you, huh?” she laughed off your sarcastic tone. her fingers lingered moments too long before caitlyn spoke up. “yes. knights are meant to be so touchy, violet. according to vol 2. page 76 line 8, ‘kn—” vi cuts her off, her hand leaving your neck reluctant to wave caitlyn off “yeah, yeah, whatever, fuckin’ nerd.”

“violet, no cursing!”

“fuck. fuck. shit.”

“violet, i swear!”

your laughter cuts off their argument and they look over.

“goodness, you both are hilarious.” vi glances over at caitlyn, confused at first but she goes long with it by letting out soft laughter. “don’t worry so much about the rules, many knights break them, many don’t get beheaded for it.” you state to calm caitlyn down. you step closer to her, taking the helmet from her hands, feet slapping against the stone balcony flooring. she was reluctant to hand it over but a tug from you and she released it.

“some do get beheaded for it though.” you tease, she jolts. you walk off, back into your room. through the open door they can see you set down caitlyn’s helmet on your bed before walking off to your wardrobe.

green , red , & blue .

cold wind against cool skin, the soft blow of winter. the kiss of the cold makes chills form and roll down their backs. patrol. something that’s normally as boring as watching pain dry. today? it feels different, something is up.

zing !

soft rustling, then a heavy thud. caitlyn’s head whips. the wild bushes and trees getting in her eyeline. someone—something had just fell.

“here!” vi yells, caitlyn hushes her before moving over. her boot buckle clicks as she walks. her and vi kneel, even so, they stand out like sore thumbs in the green forest. the blue sparkle hextexh’s gems are barely hidden beneath the bush. a deer.

“it’s just a deer.” vi pointed out

“hunting isn’t allowed in this area—.”

a wolf. inching close to the deer, it seems suspicious.

“see, a wolf.” vi points out as if now everything is fine.

“look, the puncture wound isn’t from a wolf, it’s from a gun, darling.”

“you’re—..”

zing !

another thud. louder. between the bushes they see the wolf, the hear soft whimpers. heavy boots, then deep growls. peaking through the small windows of the bush’s leaves they see a man, then another. holding hunting guns, grabbing the wolf by the ear just to hear it let out a weak growl.

“hands up! this is a no-hunting zone!” caitlyn didn’t even notice vi until she spoke up. vi had stood, holding out her badge in one enormous glove while the other balled up as if to hit one of the hunters. one hunter and turned to book it, vi tucked away her badge and ran after him.

“you are under arrest, put down the wolf or else.”

she jerks to tip of her rifle, the man drops the wolf immediately. the deer’s blood stains the grass, the wolf’s fur growing damp. the soft hum of the forest—the hushing silence, broken by humans.. again. the wolf whimpers, alive. the deer? it lays idly, dead.

after getting the men in cuffs, which was after a long struggle. the men were reluctant, rough, yelling and claiming the enforcers wrongdoing even if they have done no wrong. caitlyn was going to leave the wolf and deer, call the vet or something but when she returned the wolf was gone. a woman. kneeling by a tree, a gun wound near her leg, the same space where the wound was on the wolf.

no ears connect with the sides of her face. but the ears connect with the top of her head. the woman clings to the deer, nails digging into its skin. the sight is brutal. watching a woman rip through an animal’s body, piece my piece until the bone is off of the body. until blood leaks down her skin. the deer is long gone, the woman is rabid, shaking. at first caitlyn thought the woman was mad.

“hey! you—..” she paused, the moon breaks through the windows of the leaves above. the wind blows against skin, chills rolling down one’s spine. wolf ears stick out like a sore thumb, the ears droop deep into the mess of hair on the woman’s head. the pupils of her seem shaken, worried by the smallest thing. hands rushing around the deep to eat its raw meat fresh.

“hey..” caitlyn’s voice softens. “hm?” the wolf-woman hums. “don’t— don’t eat that.. how about you come with me and i’ll get—” vi rushes back, the glisten of the hextech gem hitting the light just right.. and—

bite

caitlyn was bit. teeth sunk into her skin in a way she couldn’t like. she wailed, pulled back. the wolf-woman whimpered and shifted away. vi rushed over to caitlyn’s side, a hand on her back while the other takes her wounded hand.

“she got you good.”

“yeah.”

“let’s get you back to get you fixed up.”

“and her.”

“and her, cupcake.”

demands .

caitlyn and vi, out of kindness, take you under their wing. they work during the day, you were left alone, curious. by they time they would return a mess would be made. normally, you sat around in your wolf form, far away from the two. you prefer the outside, luckily for you the kiramman estate has so much land it’s just like the forest. when you’re hungry? you hunt. now you can’t hunt. instead you hunt them. you have a problem with biting, pouncing, playing around with the two like they’re apart of your pack. they aren’t. you are apart of theirs. you follow their rules.

rule one : no biting. you left so many bite marks on her and vi they had to ban it all together. they’d be fine if you were in human form biting them, they’re lesbians. but huge wolf bites on their arms and legs does get them weird stares.

rule two : clothes are a must. in the wild you didn’t have to wear clothes. now you must, every day. unless it’s bath time. speaking of bath time..

rule three : don’t make messes you aren’t prepared to clean. baths are a hassle, you can’t seem to sit still. splashing water, making them accidentally get soap in your eyes or sensitive parts of your ears.

rule four : one they made recently—human forms only. they expect your trust, even after months of being in their home making messes, biting, ripping clothes, you haven’t transitioned from wolf to human form. now it’s a rule. one they slack to enforce but a rule they urge you to listen to.

trust .

“darling.”

caitlyn hummed, vi tilted her head. over the back of the couch.

“yes, cupcake?” caitlyn jerked her head, signaling vi to look at your form. human. they sighed in relief, vi patted your head. your head lays on her lap, your hair messy and knotted, you seem peaceful. asleep. for a wolf, you sure nap quite a lot now-a-days.

—

you stand, on two feet. glaring at the two on the couch watching a stupid show. caitlyn glances over.

“is something wrong?”

you don’t speak, just growl.

“no growling.”

your tail sticks up, her eyes narrow. your eyes narrow, you’re preparing to bite her. teeth baring slow, even in human form your teeth are sharp like a canine. caitlyn prepares, sighing roughly.

“hungry, i’m hungry.” you speak up, she fell silent. vi glances over, eyes narrowing before she nudged caitlyn’s side. “yes! i’ll— i’ll get you something to eat. are you craving anything?”

“raw steak.”

“okay.”

—

your shoes, sneakers, they stomp through the halls of the mall. you whined, whimpered, complained about the smell of the place. it is fair, the small smells of desperation and perfumes. but, you need new clothes.

“oh hush, doll face.”

“not my name.”

“sorry, pup.”

“not a puppy.”

vi ignored, walked off deeper into a store that caitlyn soon drags you into. the soft hum of stores soft music serves to irritate. the smell of the room is vibrant and overwhelming.

that day, they forced you into so many outfits that a pile formed in the changing room.

“how about this one, cupcake?”

a dress, in a deep black. slits cut into the sides to reveal more leg than necessary. something vi picked knowing you hate too much fabric on your body. the dress lays off your shoulders, the hairs on your arms against the cool feel of the mall’s hair.

“ehh— i don—”

“i like it.” they look at your face. “i like the dress.”

lust & fluff .

lately they’ve been.. researching. researching your kind, people whom can turn into animals. a lot of them stay hidden in the dark of the forest. the ones in the light? porn.

who wouldn’t want to have a bunny girl whimpering on their lap. who wouldn’t want want a woman with tentacles touching their body? a wolf? a wolf-woman? they’re addicted. the porn of wolf-women are always rough, never soft sex. the women make lewd faces, especially when the tail gets yanked. don’t get vi started on how badly she wants to yank your tail. fuck— it would be heaven. caitlyn? she’s obsessed with the ears. pulling, licking the insides, watching them perk and droop. only christ understands her need.

when they finally got it? they went all out. vi made sure you understood, explained what you’re agreeing to but you didn’t care. vi’s hand grabbed the base of your tail and now she uses it to make you move on her strap.

“fuuuck.., puppy, your so tight..”

caitlyn? her hand grip your ears. pulling you down by the ears. down into her cunt. you whine, moan—whimper into her wetness. damn— the vibrations of your voice feel good. the sharp teeth of your canines poke at her clit. she whines, her head tilting back against the headboard.

“keep going, baby. don’t let vi distract you.. mmh.”

vi is loud; like shes the one being fucked. groaning, moaning, with every thrust. the base of the strap on hits her clit every. fuckin’. time. she thrusts. suddenly, she digs deeper. your back arches, pushing you deeper into caitlyn’s mound.

caitlyn’s voice cracks, her head tilting back and—

“ah..! fuck— vi— go deeper.” caitlyn demands, vi pulls out. you whimp— no, she doesn’t even give you time. she slams back in, groaning, tugging your tail. you swear you feel the silicone punishing your cervix. caitlyn moans out, then vi. then they just grind, slow, their hips stuttering..

“fuck— so good.. one more time?”

“hm?” caitlyn lets you pull back.