Head Over Heels - Paired with a new stunt partner for the year, you quickly fall head over heels - no pun intended - for Violet Lanes. 🌸🔥
Opposites Attract: As the star of the football team, Vi Lanes can't risk her reputation by associating with the nerdy Class President. It won't stop her fucking you, though. 🔥
Violet Riffs and Honey Kisses: Rock Star Vi x Bimbo Singer Reader 🌸
Their Little Plaything: Series Complete; Bonus Scenes On-going. Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader. 🔥🖤❤️🩹🌸
Got a Lil Sugar: In Progress. Sugar Mommies Cait & Vi x Sugar Baby Reader. 🔥🫦🌸
Siren's Call (Pirates!Caitvi x Siren!Reader): Work In Progress, Not Published
Never Let Go (Divorce!Caitvi x Wife!Reader): Work In Progress, Not Published
Love Me When You're Ready (Angsty Soulmates AU, Popstar!Reader): Work In Progress, Not Published
A Royal Arrangement (Angsty Queens!Caitvi x Consort!Reader): Work In Progress, Not Published
[Untitled] Caitvi x Wolf-Hybrid!Reader: Work In Progress, Not Published
[Untitled] Office AU (CEOs!Caitvi x Intern!Reader): Work In Progress, Not Published
Forget Me Not (Monsters!Caitvi x Reader, Monster!Jinx x Reader): Work In Progress, Not Published
[Untitled] ABO AU (Alpha-Emperors!Caitvi x Omega-Servant!Reader): Work In Progress, Not Published
One-shots
Collateral: Dark 1920s gangsters Caitvi x Reader. Your husband tries to make a deal. Fortunately for you, Caitlyn and Vi give you a better one. ❤️🩹🔥
On Your Tail: Dark Vampire!Cait x Bunny-Hybrid!Reader x Werewolf!Vi. You've been your village's sacrifice for the monsters for five years running. But this year feels...Different. 🖤🔥
On Your Tail (Jinx Hunt AU): Not canon. A few months after Caitlyn and Vi bring you to Castle Kiramman, a surprise visitor shows up. 🖤
At Her Pleasure: Knights!Caitvi x Princess!Reader. Sers Caitlyn and Vi are appointed to be your personal guard, and you delight in torturing them for it 🌸🔥
Academic Misconduct: You didn't think starting your new job at Piltover University would be this... troublesome 🔥
Princess!Caitlyn x Princess!Reader x Knight Vi: Work In Progress, Not Published
Add Some Spice (Older Sex Worker!Caitlyn x Reader x Vi): Work In Progress, Not Published
Pairing: Sugar Mommies Cait & Vi x Sugar Baby Reader
Words: 4236
Synopsis: You come to a much-needed realisation about your life now; and another new face comes to town
Warnings: None
When you and Cait finally emerged from the bedroom corridor, you were blissfully following along behind Cait as she held your hand. You couldn’t control your dopey smile as Cait led you back into the living room, popped you onto the couch, and took your tea to warm back up.
The difference in your mood was definitely noticeable.
Your shoulders were no longer quite so tense; the uncertainty that had clouded your expression earlier had faded considerably, replaced by something softer and more familiar; a genuine smile spread across your cheeks, brightening your face.
The living room itself had descended into a sort of controlled chaos. Powder was sitting upside-down on the sofa across from the large one you were seated on, Ekko next to her, his arm resting over her stomach.
“You’re back,” Powder announced.
Cait picked up her own mug of tea, taking both of yours to the kitchen area and placing them in the microwave to heat up. “We weren’t gone long; we were making up your room.”
Vi smiled at you, then paused. She was clearly taking in your more relaxed expression, your at-ease posture. She glanced over to Cait, then back to you, then back to Cait.
From the kitchen, the blue-haired woman gave her Wife a small, secret wink.
Vi immediately understood, her grin widening, which she quickly hid behind her hand.
You, thankfully, missed the entire exchange. Because you were being cornered by Powder.
“Okay,” she declared, shifting into a more upright position against her boyfriend. “Now that you’ve recovered from meeting me-”
“I wasn’t recovering,” you denied.
“You absolutely were.”
Vi put in, “Powder…”
“I’m very overwhelming.”
“That’s so true,” Ekko said.
Powder gasped dramatically. “Traitor.”
A soft laugh escaped you. The nervousness from earlier hadn’t vanished entirely, but it no longer felt overwhelming.
The penthouse suddenly felt familiar again.
The introduction had happened, the scary part was over.
And now, with the initial shock behind you, you could actually focus on getting to know Vi’s little sister and her boyfriend.
Powder, meanwhile, had apparently decided she already liked you. “So, Y/N, Vi’s told us nothing useful about you.”
Vi rolled her eyes.
“Come on, spill. Tell us everything. Dogs or cats? Favourite type of cheese? Favourite ancient philosopher?”
Cait returned with your teas. Sitting down next to you on the sofa, she draped her arm around your waist, sipping her drink that was now the perfect temperature.
You took your tea from her, and inhaled slowly. “Okay… Here goes…”
“So, that went okay…” Vi smirked, climbing into bed beside you.
You stopped scrolling on your phone, your head resting against Cait’s shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it did?”
She leant over and kissed you. “I’m proud of you, baby.”
“I went blank.”
“Only because you were surprised,” she refuted, wrapping her arm around your hips under the covers. “When you came back, you were perfect.”
“After Cait made me feel better,” you blushed.
Vi chuckled. “Tell me what she did.”
Your cheeks flushed harder. “Well… You can guess.”
“Oh, I know she made our sweet girl come, but I want to know what she did.”
You swallowed thickly. “She used her fingers.”
“Oooh, did she?” Vi started running her fingertips up your thigh, nudging your sleep shorts higher. “And that made you come?”
“She didn’t squirt, though,” Cait pouted, slipping your phone out of your hands, and putting both your and her phones on the bedside table.
Vi tutted playfully. “Naughty girl. You know you’re supposed to soak our hands.”
“Should we make her do it now, Violet?” Cait asked, shifting next to you and starting to place kisses along your shoulder and neck.
The butch hummed. “I think our girl needs some more practice with the strap. If she’s good and makes me cum, she can have her turn. Otherwise…”
Cait chuckled. “Otherwise she doesn’t get to cum tonight? Oh, I like that.”
You whimpered. “Wait, that’s not fair. I’m still learning!”
Vi slipped out of the bed and headed over to the toy box. Cait slipped her hand around your throat, tugging on your ear lobe with her teeth.
“Well, this will be a good motivation for you, won’t it? Now, come on, darling; time to practice.”
The shopping trip had been your idea, as you were finding that you desperately needed new clothes.
You had planned the afternoon with Mel a week ago, before you knew of Powder’s and Ekko’s visit – or even existence. You’d asked Cait and Vi that morning what you should do about it, as you weren’t sure what the plan was now that you had visitors.
But they had told you to go. Cait was going to work from home for the morning, just to tidy things up so she could have a few days off at such short notice, and Vi was going to take your guests out for the day until Cait was free to join them. You were welcome to tag along after your shopping spree, but the three of you knew you would most likely wait for them all to come home. You would have dinner ready for them when they did, which Cait and Vi were fine with.
Which was how you found yourself standing in the middle of a private dressing room in an expensive lingerie shop while the fitter measured you from various angles.
You glared at yourself in the mirror and sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe I’ve actually put on so much weight that I need new bras,” you grumbled. “Bras are supposed to survive anything!”
Mel looked up from her phone. “What are you talking about, ‘so much weight’?” She looked over your body intensely. “Angel, you don’t look any different.”
You shook your head and cried, “Tell that to everything I own! Tops, jeans, dresses... And now my bras!” You looked down at the peach-coloured garment currently preserving your modesty. “This was my favourite bra, I’ve had it years.”
The assistant smiled at you cheekily. “I can tell.” She tucked her measuring tape into her pocket. “You’ve gone up one band and two cup sizes. I’ll go get some options for you.”
You gawked at the lady as she stepped out of the dressing room, discreetly closing the door behind her.
“A band and two cups?” you gaped, staring down at your chest.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” your friend joked.
You glared at her. “The straps aren’t real, Mel.”
“Unfortunately for you.” She smirked back at you. “What do Cait and Vi say about your...” her eyes trailed down to your chest, “New offerings?”
You frowned. “Nothing, not one word! The traitors! Two cup sizes is definitely noticeable!”
But she just chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect them to complain about their girlfriend’s growing breasts and bum. You seriously expected them to criticise your body for minute changes when they’re both helplessly in love with you? They might as well complain about their steaks being too juicy. Your ass looks fantastic, by the way.”
“Nothing fits me anymore. I liked my old clothes.”
“You can still wear most of your old clothes, you never really wore anything skin-tight.”
“Not comfortably.”
Mel placed her hand on your arm. “Angel, I’ve never seen you happier or healthier, and we’ve known each other since pre-school.”
You looked back at her face, your eyes feeling a little damp.
“You’re healthy; you’re eating better; you’re not constantly stuck in fight-or-flight; you’re getting better rest… You’re actually able to enjoy your life now. Changes to your body are perfectly normal in those circumstances. Cait and Vi know all this, and I can guarantee that they do not care. At all.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then Mel smiled. “And for what it’s worth, it genuinely isn’t noticeable. I had no idea until you told me.”
You blinked away some tears. “Really?”
“Really.”
The frustration you’d been carrying all afternoon eased. Not completely, as you still needed a lot of new clothes. But perhaps the situation wasn’t quite as catastrophic as you’d been making out.
By the time you returned to the penthouse that evening, you were carrying enough shopping bags to suggest you had personally attempted to stimulate Piltover’s economy.
The afternoon with Mel had been expensive. Not outrageously expensive – at least not by Cait's and Vi's standards – but certainly more expensive than you were accustomed to spending on yourself in one afternoon. There were several new bras and dozens of pairs of underwear in various styles; jeans; tops; dresses and skirts; and various other items Mel had steadily piled into your arms.
The lift finally deposited you at the penthouse floor, and you made your way through the living space, shopping bags bumping gently against your legs. Your home was empty as you crossed through to the bedroom corridor, dropping off all your bags in the main bedroom.
You freshened up in the bathroom, then headed back out to start preparing a lasagne for dinner for everyone.
Soft classical music filled the kitchen when the elevator dinged from the entryway, announcing everyone’s return. Although Vi’s and Powder’s loud and excitable voices did that first.
“Y/N? We’re home!” Vi called.
“In here!” you returned, turning off the heat under the pan of meat sauce that had been slowly simmering away.
Bodies turned the corner from the entryway corridor, and the penthouse suddenly burst with life.
Something you were still getting used to.
“Hi, darling,” Cait cooed softly, coming over to you and kissing the side of your head. She wrapped her arms around you from behind. “Did you have fun with Mel?”
You nodded, scooping out the first meat layer into the dish. “Uh-huh.”
She kissed your neck. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable. I’ll be right back. Okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
Cait noticed your short answers, but didn’t address it immediately. She kissed your shoulder again, stepping away, and heading down the corridor after Powder and Ekko who were announcing that they were going to shower before dinner.
Vi hummed happily, taking her turn to approach you. “Hmm, that buys us a little time. How are you, baby?”
“Good, good,” you said, a little distracted as you placed the dry pasta sheets onto the first layer of meat.
“Smells fantastic,” Vi complimented, wrapping her arms around you from behind. “I don’t mean the food, sweetheart,” she chuckled in your ear.
You smiled softly, your mood lifting little by little. “What did you all get up to?”
Vi started regaling you with the tails of their day and everything they did together. At one point you gave her a small mouthful of grated cheese as you sprinkled some on the layer of cheese sauce, earning a happy moan and a soft squeeze of your waist.
“Cheese tax,” she joked.
Cait came back down the corridor, changed into a soft pyjama set, her makeup removed. “Did you buy the entire shopping centre, darling?” she teased.
You grumbled as you started on the next meat layer. “No. Just a lot of it.”
They both chuckled light-heartedly as Cait started making a pitcher of fruity cocktails for everyone.
“You’re both traitors, you know.”
Your comment made them both freeze.
Cait stepped closer, the empty pitcher still in her hand. “Darling, what do you mean?”
“I’ve gained so much weight, and neither of you said a single word to me about it,” you pouted. “The bra-fitter said I’ve gone up two cups! You just let me walk around like… Like some pregnant elephant, and didn’t point out once how chubby I am now!”
To your horror, Vi started laughing. Not mockingly, or cruelly; just genuinely amused. Beside you both, Cait’s composure didn’t fare much better as she resumed making the drinks.
You looked between them. “Why are you both finding this funny? I’ve gone up a whole dress size! And my bras don’t fit now!”
Cait recovered first. “Because there wasn’t anything to say, my love.”
You stared back, hand frozen in the bag of grated cheese.
Vi’s voice was soft in your ear. “Because bodies change.”
Her answer was so simple.
Cait nodded, pouring some alcohol into the pitcher. “You’ve been eating regularly, and sleeping properly. You’re in a healthy routine; you’re not under as much stress as you were a year ago…” She shrugged lightly. “A small amount of weight gain isn’t particularly remarkable.”
Vi nodded in agreement. “Honestly, I barely noticed.”
The statement earned a look of betrayal.
“You ‘barely’ noticed?” you demanded.
Vi immediately realised her mistake. “No, no-”
“Meaning you did notice.”
She squeezed you a little. “I mean, I noticed your tits bounce a little more when we fuck you, and your ass has a little more jiggle when we spank it-”
“Vi!”
“I noticed you looked happy.”
You paused.
Vi shrugged, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I noticed you have more energy. And I noticed you smile a lot more now.”
Your eyes became wet for the second time that day. You sniffled a little, lifting your chin. “Okay, you’re both forgiven.”
That only made them laugh harder, but you let them.
Your body had changed a little, but that was okay. It was just another part of moving forward.
The next few days passed far more easily than you had expected.
Once the shock of Powder and Ekko’s arrival had worn off and you were more accustomed to their chaotic energy, life in the penthouse settled into a new rhythm. A louder rhythm, certainly, but not an unpleasant one.
Powder seemed physically incapable of existing quietly. She drifted through the penthouse like a small hurricane, somehow managing to be everywhere at once. One morning you came into the kitchen to find Powder perched on the counter, stealing fruit from a bowl while Vi complained that normal people used chairs. Another afternoon you discovered the two sisters engaged in an increasingly ridiculous competition to determine who could balance the most objects on their head.
The current record holder was, apparently, Ekko.
Nobody seemed happy about this.
Evenings were spent together. Sometimes you all watched films. Sometimes you played board games that inevitably devolved into accusations of cheating; Cait informed you that Monopoly had long-since been banded in the Lanes household as games tended to end abruptly in physical fights between players. Once, Powder and Vi spent nearly an hour arguing over a childhood story, each insisting the other had remembered it incorrectly, whilst Ekko supplied increasingly unhelpful commentary from the sidelines.
Through it all, Cait watched with the familiar amusement of someone who had long ago accepted that the sisters were fundamentally incapable of behaving normally around one another.
You found yourself watching, too. Not with the uncomfortable ache you had felt on that first night.
Not anymore.
Instead, you found yourself slowly becoming part of things. Slowly getting more involved, slowly getting a little closer.
Powder made that process surprisingly easy.
She had all the subtlety of a charging rhino and approximately the same respect for personal space, but she was also relentlessly welcoming. Within two days she was treating you as if she’d known you for years, dragging you into conversations, asking questions about your hobbies, and occasionally appearing beside you without warning simply to share whatever thought had most recently entered her head.
Somehow, despite the chaos, it was difficult not to like her.
The biggest surprise, however, was seeing Vi as a sister.
You had only known Vi as a Sugar Mommy, as Cait’s Wife, and only more recently as a girlfriend. This confident, occasionally reckless woman who threw herself into life with both fists swinging.
But around Powder, there were glimpses of something younger. Softer.
She still teased relentlessly, of course. That would never change.
Yet there was also a fierce tenderness there. A protectiveness that seemed instinctive. The sort of love that had been built over years of scraped knees, shared bedrooms, inside jokes, and surviving difficult things together.
It was beautiful to watch. And a little bittersweet, as it only reinforced how fucked up your own upbringing had been. Cait was the sole only-child between the three of you, but you might as well have been too.
Still, you found yourself smiling more often than not.
The penthouse felt fuller.
And you were learning that that was… Good.
It was on the fifth day that Vi’s phone rang shortly after dinner.
She shot up off the sofa, a grin spreading across her face. “Yes! He’s here!”
Powder immediately sat upright. “Hell yeah!”
The two of them practically launched themselves toward the entryway corridor.
You blinked, but didn’t panic. You knew who this was, you knew what was about to happen.
“Vander!” both sisters cried simultaneously.
The voice that answered was deep enough to seem to vibrate through the walls. “Easy there, you little gremlins, I’m here.”
You followed Cait’s lead and stood up off the couch, nervously squeezing her hand as you, her, and Ekko headed a little closer to the entryway.
And you immediately froze.
The man standing in the doorway was enormous. Not merely tall… Enormous.
Standing about 6’3” tall, the man’s broad shoulders filled the space in the corridor. His arms looked like he could break concrete with ease. He had a thick beard threaded with grey and the sort of weathered face that suggested a lifetime of hard work.
Then the giant laughed, and the entire impression changed.
The sound was warm and gentle. Comforting.
Powder was already wrapped under one of his arms, Vi on his other side.
“You took forever,” the elder sister grumbled.
“I just drove three hours, drop the attitude,” he teased, ruffling Powder’s hair, earning immediate protests.
You watched the exchange carefully. The ease between the guardian and his daughters was unmistakable. There was no obligation, no sense of duty. They were a family, plain and simple. The kind of family that genuinely enjoyed being around each other, and loved each other deeply.
Something you were still getting used to.
Eventually Vander's attention shifted toward the three of you standing a little further away. He managed to shrug off the two sisters, playfully ignoring their teasing protests. Vi took his bags and started heading back towards the bedrooms, and Powder ran to the kitchen to get her dad a drink.
“Cait,” he greeted warmly, pulling her into a hug.
“Hello, Vander,” she replied with just as much affection for her father-in-law.
Vander released Cait, then turned to Ekko. They embraced tightly, patting each other’s backs as men often did.
Then his attention turned to you.
Immediately, every nervous instinct in your body activated.
“Well,” he said kindly, “You must be Y/N.”
You swallowed, and spoke politely, “Good evening, sir.”
Beside you, Cait was visibly trying not to smile.
Vander offered his hand; you shook it. Rather, your hand disappeared into his.
“Nice to finally meet you.” His smile widened slightly. “I’ve heard good things.”
By bedtime that evening, it was impossible not to notice how deeply these people loved one another. The way Vander automatically checked that everyone had eaten enough dinner before accepting a plate from Powder. The way Vi and Powder still bickered constantly but gravitated toward him. The way Ekko slipped effortlessly into the family dynamic despite not sharing their surname. The way Cait smiled whenever she watched them.
It wasn’t perfect; no family was.
They interrupted each other, argued, teased mercilessly, created noise wherever they went.
Yet beneath all of it sat something solid, and unshakeable.
Love.
It didn’t need to be earned. It wasn’t withheld as punishment. It wasn’t used a tool to manipulate each other.
It was the kind that existed even when people were annoying, or when they disagreed.
As you sat on the sofa, curled against Cait in what had become your preferred spot since your guests’ arrival, watching another ridiculous argument unfold, you found yourself studying Vander. Watching the way he laughed, the way he listened, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at his children.
Children. Not biological, not by blood. Yet unquestionably his.
The thought lodged itself somewhere deep in your chest.
Because for the first time, you were seeing a father who didn’t rule through fear, or pain.
He was a parent whose presence made his family feel safer, not smaller. A man who had somehow raised two fiercely loving adults despite everything life had thrown at them. And as Vander reached over to steal a cookie from Vi’s plate – promptly earning a cry of betrayal from his eldest daughter – you found yourself smiling.
Family was… Good.
The penthouse was quiet that morning.
The city beyond the wall-to-ceiling windows was only just beginning to wake, the pale grey light of early morning stretching across the skyline. You padded down the corridor from the bedrooms towards the living area, still rubbing your eyes tiredly.
It was a little earlier than the three of you would normally rise, but you knew that trying to sneak those last 30 minutes would do more harm than good.
You rounded the corner, and jumped in surprise.
Vander sat at the kitchen counter, reading a newspaper as he sipped his black coffee. He looked up when he heard your soft squeak. “Morning, Y/N. Didn’t expect anyone else up this early. Vi said you normally wake up together?”
You recovered, trying to get your heart to slow down. “Good morning, sir-”
He smiled softly, shaking his hand a little. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’, sweetheart.”
You ducked your head, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s just…”
“Force of habit?” he asked, his tone a little sad.
You headed into the kitchen area, looking at him from across the counter. “Yes. And yes, we’re normally up together. But I was already awake, and trying to sneak a little longer would make me more tired. So I thought I’d just start breakfast.”
“I was going to take everyone out this morning. My treat? Saves someone cooking, and we can all have what we want?”
You smiled. “Thank you, si—Vander. Thank you, Vander.”
You made a cup of tea, and sat on the stool next to him at the counter.
For a minute, neither of you spoke. But the silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just peaceful, both of you enjoying the quiet of the morning.
Eventually, Vander wrapped both hands around his coffee mug and looked at you. “Mind if I ask you something?”
You turned your head. “Sure?”
His expression grew a little more serious. “Vi’s told me about the lawsuit.”
You immediately knew where this conversation was heading.
You nodded slowly. “Oh.”
A brief silence followed.
Then Vander sighed. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” His fingers traced the side of his mug. “But I wanted to tell you something.”
You waited, your heart starting to pound.
Vander shook his head slightly. “I’m a parent. But every time I hear another piece of that story, I just don’t understand how anyone could treat their child that way.”
You looked down at your tea.
The familiar discomfort surfaced immediately: the instinct to minimise, to explain everything away, to make it all sound less awful than it was.
Vander must have recognised the expression because he spoke again before you could. “No. Don’t do that. I’m serious, Y/N.”
You blinked.
His voice remained calm. “When Vi and Powder were little, there were days they drove me absolutely insane.”
That earned the faintest smile. “I can believe that.”
“Well, you should.” His eyes twinkled briefly. “They were menaces. But there was never a day – a second – when I stopped loving them.”
The words landed harder than you expected.
Because they were so simple.
And yet they described something you had never truly experienced. Your parents’ love had always been conditional, if they had ever even loved you at all. After all, you had no positive memories of them.
Vander looked down into his coffee, consciously giving you a break of eye contact. “I don’t care who my kids love. I don’t care if they make mistakes. Lord knows I’ve made enough of those. But they’re my kids. And if somebody hurt them...” his jaw tightened slightly, “I’d do whatever it took to protect them.”
You stared down at your tea, unable to meet his eyes.
Because the kindness in his voice hurt. Not in a bad way, though.
Then Vander’s voice softened even further. “What happened to you wasn’t normal, kid.”
Your eyes suddenly filled with tears. You swallowed harshly, your throat burning. “I know.”
“Good.”
Another pause.
“You deserved better.”
You inhaled sharply. You nodded. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Probably because it’s true.”
A tear escaped before you could stop it, landing in your tea.
You hastily wiped more away; Vander didn’t pretend not to notice.
Eventually you managed a shaky smile. “Thank you.”
He smiled back. “Anytime.”
A comfortable silence settled once more.
You thought that might be the end of it.
Then Vander gently nudged your elbow with his, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.
One that looked remarkably familiar.
Oh no, you thought, that’s where Vi gets it from.
“You know…” he said casually.
You immediately became suspicious. “What?”
“If you ever decide to join Cait’s and Vi’s marriage, I’d be honoured to walk you down the aisle.”
At first the sugar cube idea was kind of baseless debauchery in my mind (Vi already carries sugar cubes for the horses + Vi is a little freak = Vi feeding you sugar cubes after you take it well) but I love how it’s been embraced as Just Something She Does, Actually. I love that it’s gone from like a sexy thing she’d do for the sake of being sexy to just her quirky love language. makes me wonder though how much time she spends around other people compared to livestock. Maybe she’s a bit antisocial and has had to work on other people’s ranches since she was young to help support her family, so she has all these unusual mannerisms like the sugar cubes, the clicking, “atta girl”, just because she’s meshed how she treats the animals with how she socializes with people. Either way I love our weird wife.
I love this!!! 🥹 Awkward!Vi is so cute!! 🥹 She's been around animals her whole life - just imagine a little family photo, in that sepia tone, of 3-year-old Vi in little cowgirl boots with a hat that's too big for her 🥹 She'd carry buckets of feed (that are almost as big as her) around the farm, trailing after Vander or another ranch hand as she scatters seed around for the chickens 🥹
As an adult, she doesn't fully understand the social norms (especially at a time when there were a lot of unspoken rules on etiquette) but she's got her manners; Vander didn't raise a feral mutt! But she absolutely just randomly gives Reader and Caitlyn sugar cubes or apples, as signs of affection 🥹
she's so sweet and loose after a few drinks, all flushed and giggly, eyes a little glassy as she curls up on the couch. she doesn’t even notice how long i’ve been watching her, how badly mommy wants her when she gets like this… soft, relaxed, and so easy to play with.
i pull her close, her head resting against my chest, and she just hums contentedly, too buzzed to be shy. my hand slips under her shirt, cupping her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers until she lets out those pretty little sighs. she’s so sensitive when she’s tipsy… every touch makes her twitch.
i keep refilling her glass, encouraging her to take another sip while my other hand slides between her thighs. she’s already soaked through her panties. i stroke her slowly, teasing her slick folds, craving how she whimpers and spreads her legs without even thinking about it.
“that’s it, baby… just relax for me,’ i murmur against her ear as i slide two fingers inside her. she’s so warm and wet, clenching around me while she shakes her head and tries to focus through the haze. her breathing gets heavier, little drunk moans slipping out as i curl my fingers just right.
when she’s properly squirming and drunk on both the alcohol and my touch, i bend her over the arm of the couch, pull her wet panties to the side, and press my strap against her. i slide in slowly, deep and steady, while she gasps and grips the cushion.
“shhh, babygirl. mommy’s got you,’ i whisper, one hand holding her hip as i start fucking her in long, smooth strokes. she’s so much louder when she’s intoxicated. every thrust makes her moan like she can’t control it.
i reach around to rub her clit while i take her, leaning down to kiss her neck. “look at you… such a needy, tipsy little thing. you get so sloppy for me when you’ve been drinking.”
she’s trembling, half-lost in that hazy, drunk fog, barely able to form words as i fuck her harder. i don’t stop until she cums hard around my cock, shaking and whimpering my name.
afterwards i pull her back into my arms, still buried inside her, and stroke her hair while she floats.
“my good, perfect girl… mommy loves you like this. all soft, drunk, and completely mine.”
Several weeks had passed since your meeting with Ambessa.
The lawsuits – multiple! – had slowly begun taking shape in the background of your lives.
The easiest one had been against your landlord. Ambessa had filed the necessary motions with the City Council and reported his illegal eviction. He and his scummy lawyer had tried to file a claim in return, citing that you had ‘harassed’ him for the duration of your tenancy – apparently asking him to get rid of the mould in your bathroom, telling him that the living space window didn’t open, and also that the floor was in abysmal condition classed as ‘harassment’ in their eyes – which supposedly justified the eviction.
Ambessa hadn’t needed a favourable judge to get that thrown out. The landlord had been forced to pay you compensation, and also cover the costs of the storage unit you’d moved your belongings into, in addition to being struck off the legal register for landlords.
Your former workplace was proving move difficult. They were refusing to acknowledge that they had done anything wrong by firing you after Christopher caused a scene in the office, and thus were dragging everything out as long as possible. Ambessa was still wholly confident she would win; it was only a question of when.
The case against your family was growing ever messier. There were witness statements to collect, records to obtain, documents to review, meetings to attend. It wasn't the dramatic, explosive process you had imagined when you’d told Ambessa to burn your family. Instead, it was painstaking and methodical, consisting largely of paperwork and patience.
For the most part, you tried not to think about it.
Ambessa thought about it enough for all of you.
Life inside the penthouse settled into a familiar rhythm. Cait and Vi went to work; you followed your daily routine, which was now starting to include some kinky side quests; evenings were spent together. Weekends were shared between dates, lazy mornings, and whatever spontaneous adventures you all decided you absolutely had to embark upon. And, of course, endless sex.
Outwardly, everything was good.
Yet there was one small thing that had been bothering you for weeks. Something you kept telling yourself wasn't important. Something you kept trying to ignore.
Every now and then, usually during play or whenever Cait and Vi were in particularly mischievous moods, they would encourage you to be bratty again. They’d obviously noticed that you had slowed down your tantrums and efforts in being demanding.
At first, you had tried because you knew they enjoyed it. Then you had continued trying because you assumed you simply needed practice.
After all, perhaps it was like confidence and would grow with time. Perhaps it would eventually feel natural.
Instead, every attempt left you feeling vaguely ridiculous and out of sorts. You would make a demanding comment and immediately feel like you were waiting for reassurance that you did it right. You would try to be cheeky, but found yourself wondering whether you’d delivered the line correctly.
Half the time you felt less like a brat and more like an actress who couldn’t quite commit to the role because you found the script utterly absurd.
The worst part was that Cait and Vi always seemed delighted. Which only made you feel guiltier.
Because if they liked it, shouldn't you be trying harder to make your girlfriends happy? After everything they’d done for you, why couldn’t you just do this for them? ‘Oh no, your beautiful, wonderful girlfriends want you to demand attention and gifts, which they always provide – hope awful it is for you!’
The issue finally came to a head on a Thursday evening.
Dinner had been finished for nearly an hour. The three of you were sprawled across the giant living room sofa, enjoying the comfortable sort of relaxation that came from full bellies and warm hearts.
You stretched across the sofa whilst Cait massaged your feet. Vi sat between you, absently rubbing her hand over your shins as she scrolled on her phone.
The conversation drifted lazily between topics until Vi suddenly grinned.
“You’ve been awfully well-behaved lately, sweetheart,” she teased.
You frowned a little, confused. “What do you mean?”
“It means,” she smirked, lightly squeezing your leg, “That you haven’t demanded something from either of us in over a week.”
You laughed, despite yourself. “Sorry to disappoint?”
“Vi’s right,” Cait spoke up, pressing her thumbs into the ball of your foot, earning a groan and making your leg twitch. “You haven’t insisted on any treats, anything new and exciting for yourself, or even that we focus on you for an evening.”
Normally, this was where you would play along. Make some exaggerated demand, pretend to be outraged, to give them what they were looking for.
Instead, you hesitated. Something in your chest tightened.
Your smile faded slightly. And before you could talk yourself out of it, you said, “I don’t want to brat anymore.”
The words landed softly, yet both Cait and Vi immediately went still.
You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly wishing you’d chosen a better way to begin this conversation.
Cait moved her hands to rest on your ankles. “What brought that on, darling?”
You fiddled with the sleeve of your (Cait’s) jumper. The familiar urge to backtrack surfaced immediately, to minimise, to laugh it off.
But you forced yourself to continue. “I’ve been trying for weeks.” The words came out in a rush. “Ever since we talked about it a while ago. I’ve been trying to do it properly because I know you both enjoy it, but…” You sighed heavily, knowing you were in too deep to go back now. “I don’t like it,” you confessed.
Silence.
You stared at your lap. “It doesn’t feel like me. I kept waiting for it to click. I thought maybe it was one of those things where I’d eventually get comfortable if I kept practicing. But every time I do it, I just feel like I’m pretending.”
When you finally looked up, both women were watching you carefully. Not with annoyance, or disappointment, but with concern.
“I feel stupid saying it out loud,” you continued. “Because it’s not exactly a huge problem, especially with everything else going on. But every time I try to act bratty or demanding for you, all I can think is ‘this isn’t me, I’m playing a character’. And I don’t like it.”
There was a beat.
Cait gently squeezed your shins, smiling softly at you. “Thank you for telling us, darling.”
Vi nodded. “Seriously, baby, well done for letting us know how you felt.”
You frowned, your heart pounding. “You… You aren’t disappointed?”
The pink-haired woman looked genuinely baffled. “Why would we be disappointed?”
“Because you like it.”
“We like you.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Vi shifted closer, resting a hand on your knee. “If you’re doing something you don’t like just because you think it’s what we want, then we want to know. We need to know that, Y/N.”
Cait nodded in agreement. “The goal has never been for you to perform a version of yourself that feels unnatural. Even when we were talking on the app.”
“We’ve always wanted you to be yourself,” Vi explained.
You felt something loosen inside you, as if a weight you’d been carrying for weeks was lifted. “You really don’t mind?” you asked, your voice soft and small. Relieved.
“Sweetheart,” Cait started gently.
Her tone of voice meant she was about to explain something so simple, yet so devastating to you.
You braced yourself.
“You spent your entire childhood being forcibly moulded into what other people wanted you to be; we’re not interested in continuing that pattern.”
Your eyes stung unexpectedly, your bottom lip suddenly trembling.
Vi squeezed your knees. “We don’t want you to pretend for us, sweetheart.”
The knot in your chest finally dissolved. And for the first time in weeks, you realised you didn’t have to keep trying to be a version of yourself that simply wasn’t there.
Cait and Vi didn’t want a brat; they wanted you.
And that, it turned out, was more than enough.
The date night had been lovely.
Simple, relaxed, exactly the sort of evening the three of you enjoyed most. You had wandered through the city without much of a plan, stopped for a pizza, lingered over dessert longer than necessary, and spent most of the evening talking about nothing particularly important. By the time you returned to the penthouse, you felt pleasantly tired, your arm linked through Cait’s in the elevator while Vi leant against the opposite wall, just watching her two girls hungrily.
You couldn’t wait to get on your knees for them.
The elevator doors opened.
Vi stepped inside first, then stopped.
The change was so sudden that you nearly walked into her. “Vi? What-?”
The butch raised a hand.
Your stomach tightened.
Two pairs of unfamiliar shoes sat neatly near the coat rack: one pair of trainers, one pair of knee-high boots.
Vi’s posture changed instantly. The hungry energy vanished, replaced by something alert and cautious. “What the hell,” she whispered, clenching her fists.
Then she began moving into the apartment.
Your pulse quickened as you curled into Cait. Logically, you knew the building’s security was excellent. The penthouse wasn’t exactly easy to break into.
That didn’t stop your imagination from immediately supplying worst-case scenarios.
Vi disappeared around the corner toward the living area.
There was a pause.
Then…
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”
The tension vanished from her voice so quickly that you blinked.
A second later, a delighted yell erupted from the living room. “VI!” a young female voice cried.
You couldn’t see what was happening, but you heard bodies crash into one another, a winded grunt from Vi, and then the sound of someone falling.
“What the fuck! Powder!”
Cait visibly relaxed, let out a small sigh, and took your hand as she led you around the corner.
You entered the living space and saw Vi sprawled on the floor, a young woman with bright blue hair in space buns on the floor next to her, who was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
The resemblance was obvious.
“You’re crushing me!” the blue-haired girl laughed.
Vi just squeezed her harder. “You love it.”
“I literally don’t!”
“Whatever, liar.”
Vi finally managed to disentangle herself enough to grab the girl in a headlock, playfully ruffling her hair, messing up her buns.
She immediately shrieked. “Vi, stop it! Assault! Ekko!”
A young man rose from the sofa, clearly trying – and failing – not to laugh. The second pair of shoes suddenly made sense.
“Don’t look at me, Pow,” he said. “I told you jumping on people was a bad greeting strategy.”
“It was a great greeting strategy,” Powder argued, still struggling against her sister’s impossible strength.
“You nearly killed her. She could have cracked her head open!”
“Oh please, this is Vi we’re talking about.”
“Missed you too, sis.”
The elder sister finally released the younger, stood up, and pulled her into a proper hug.
The teasing vanished immediately.
You watched the change happen.
One second they were wrestling; the next, they were simply holding onto each other, almost breathing each other in.
Vi’s eyes closed. “Hey, kid.”
Powder’s smile softened. “Hey. You totally forgot we were coming, didn’t you?”
Vi immediately groaned. “Shut up.”
Powder burst out laughing. “You forgot about us!”
Cait stepped in, chuckling softly. “We did indeed forget, Powder. My apologies.”
“You’re both awful!” she accused.
Vi released her sister, and as the girl turned, she saw you for the first time. “Oh! Hey.”
“Powder, this is Y/N,” Vi introduced you proudly. “Our girlfriend.”
The room buzzed with energy.
Vi and Powder slipped into their sisterly dynamic so naturally that it was almost startling. Within minutes they were talking over each other, arguing about things that clearly weren't real arguments, shoving each other whenever one made a particularly ridiculous comment.
At one point Powder stole Vi's drink. Vi licked Powder’s doughnut in return. The resulting scuffle nearly knocked over a lamp.
Cait and Ekko watched the entire thing with the long-suffering affection of people who had clearly witnessed this exact performance hundreds of times before. Occasionally Cait would interject with a dry comment, whilst Ekko would light-heartedly encourage the chaos.
You found yourself watching all of them quietly. Listening, observing. Feeling increasingly strange and out of place. Not because anyone had done anything wrong.
Because they hadn't.
That was the problem.
Everything about the interactions felt effortless, and completely natural. That special sort of closeness that came from years of love and familiarity.
The sort of closeness you had never experienced.
You never behaved like this with Christopher, even before your parents’ and pastor’s abuse got worse. You had grown up in a house with incredibly strict rules; not only because you were children and children ‘should be seen and not heard’, but because you were a little girl, which naturally made you more sinful and wicked than your golden-child brother.
You couldn't remember joking with Christopher. You never wrestled in the living room. You never had playful arguments that weren't really arguments.
You never felt safe enough to be ridiculous.
The realisation settled heavily in your chest.
“Sweetheart?”
You blinked.
Vi, Powder, and Ekko were all still talking, laughing, catching up.
But Cait had noticed.
The two of you sat in one corner of the large sofa, Cait’s arm draped around your waist as you rested against her. She held a mug of tea in her free hand, and you had one in yours.
Concern softened her expression. “Are you alright, darling? You’re very quiet.”
The question was soft enough that the others couldn't hear.
You immediately nodded numbly, your face fixed in a blank expression.
Her eyebrow rose, a clear indication that she wasn’t fooled.
You looked away, blinking your dry eyes a few times.
Across the room, Powder had acquired a cushion and was threatening violence with it. Vi was threatening violence right back. Ekko looked deeply resigned but still amused.
The entire scene felt absurdly… Normal.
And somehow that made your chest hurt more.
“I…” you hesitated.
The words felt childish and embarrassing.
Yet the feeling refused to leave.
You whispered to her, “I didn’t know family could be like this.”
Cait’s face softened instantly. She followed your somewhat blank gaze toward the pair of sisters currently arguing over absolutely nothing.
Understanding dawned immediately.
“Oh.”
“Yeah…”
The single word carried far more meaning than you intended.
Cait squeezed you gently. “Are you alright?”
You swallowed, nodding, blinking a few times. “Yeah. Yeah. Um…”
She lightly kissed your shoulder. “Come on. Let’s take a moment.”
Cait put her tea down and scooted off the sofa, though even that action looked flawlessly elegant. She gestured you to put your own tea down, which you did.
She took your hand, pulling you up. To the squabbling trio, she called, “We’ll go make up your room.”
She didn’t get a response as the three of them kept up their shenanigans, but neither of you minded.
Cait led you down the corridor towards the bedrooms. “Let’s get the sheets and towels.”
You grabbed the necessary items and then headed back to a guest bedroom you hadn’t really been in before. The room was nicely decorated, but neutral. Still luxurious, obviously.
Still, there were things to do: fresh sheets; clean towels; check the bathroom’s supplies; light a candle and turn on a low lamp.
Small, simple tasks.
Exactly the sort of tasks Cait suspected you needed right now.
The moment you slipped away from the chaos of the living room, the difference was immediate. The distant sound of Vi’s and Powder’s voices still carried down the hallway, punctuated by occasional laughter and what sounded suspiciously like another argument over absolutely nothing, but it was muted here. Softer.
Neither of you spoke whilst you set about making up the room ready for its guests.
Cait kept her eyes on you as you moved methodically around the room, folding blankets, smoothing creases, arranging things that didn’t particularly need arranging.
You tended to do that when you were overwhelmed. Kept your hands busy. Gave your mind something simple to focus on.
After several minutes, Cait handed you one corner of a fitted sheet; you accepted it automatically. Together, you stretched it across the mattress.
The familiar domestic routine was grounding. The complete opposite of the madness in the living room.
“They seem nice,” your comment came suddenly. Your eyes remained fixed on the sheet as you concentrated on tucking the corner beneath the mattress.
Cait smiled gently. “They are.”
There was a pause.
“Very… Loud.”
She laughed softly. “Yes.”
“Boisterous.”
“True.”
You nodded thoughtfully, as though confirming an observation. Then silence settled once more.
They continued making the bed. Pillows. Duvet. Blankets.
Outside, Vi’s voice suddenly echoed down the hallway. “That was my shoulder!”
Powder’s delighted laughter followed.
Cait closed her eyes briefly. “At least nobody is bleeding.”
“Yet,” you offered.
She nodded. “Yet.”
A few more minutes passed.
Then you spoke again. This time, your voice was even quieter. “How long are they staying?”
The question immediately revealed more than the words themselves.
Cait paused in the fluffing of a pillow.
Not because the question was strange. But because she understood what you were really asking.
How long would the penthouse be different? How long would there be unfamiliar people in your safe space? How long did you have to adjust? How long until things felt normal again?
“In the past it’s been about 10 days,” Cait explained gently. “Perhaps two weeks. It depends on the rest of their summer plans.”
You nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Okay.”
Cait set the pillow down and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” she said softly, holding her hand out for you to take.
You walked over, standing between her legs. She squeezed your legs between her thighs, wrapping her arms around your waist.
“Remember what we said yesterday? You don’t have to pretend around anyone. Okay?”
You twisted your fingers together. “I didn’t know they were coming.”
“No, sweetheart. We’re sorry. We completely forgot, with everything that’s going on.”
“It’s my first time meeting… Someone.”
Someone in their lives.
The evening made much more sense to Cait now. It wasn’t only the loud sibling dynamic, or the unexpected guests.
This was your first time meeting any member of either of their families. Not just in general, but as their partner. No warning, no preparation, no time to mentally rehearse, no opportunity to ask questions beforehand.
You had all simply walked through the front door and found yourselves face-to-face with someone important. To Cait and Vi, it was normal. It was simply Vi’s little sister and her boyfriend. It was Powder and Ekko. So simple, so easy.
To you…
Cait leant her head down, kissing your twisting fingers. “Are you nervous?”
You nodded.
“A reasonable amount?”
You shook your head.
She smiled kindly. “That’s fair.”
“I don’t even know why.”
Her voice was gentle, “Yes, you do.”
You thought about it, then sighed. “I want them to like me.”
“They already do.”
You looked unconvinced. “They met me an hour ago, and Vi’s taken up all their focus. I don’t think we’ve said more than three sentences to each other.”
“Do you think Vi doesn’t realise that?”
You paused. Your eyes widened a little.
Vi was keeping Powder’s and Ekko’s attention off of you, to give you time to adjust. Because she knew you’d be overwhelmed.
You fucking loved these women.
Your head surged down and captured Cait’s in a hungry kiss. She smirked against your lips, but returned your attention, sliding her hands down over your hips. You were moaning hungrily against her mouth, desperately getting as close to her as you could.
She pulled away. “Not in here, baby. Let’s go.”
Cait stood, taking your hand, and leading you out of the room. She looked down the corridor, checking to see no-one saw you both, then quickly led you into the main bedroom you all shared.
She hurried you inside, locking the door behind her.
“On the bed, baby. Skirt up.”
You perched on the end of the bed, hurriedly pulling off your panties – a soft peach colour, chosen that morning by Vi – as Cait rolled up the right sleeve of her blouse.
“We’re going to be quick, alright, darling? We’re already being so rude by staying away from our guests.”
Cait cupped your jaw with her left hand, suddenly sliding her middle- and ring-fingers of her right hand into your mouth. You started sucking on her digits without thinking, your body reacting purely from muscle memory.
She grinned cockily down at you. “You can do that for me, can’t you, baby? Be quick?”
You nodded eagerly, moaning softly around her long and slender digits as they slid past your lips.
“Yes? You’re going to cum on my fingers like a good girl?”
You whined, eyes flickering as you nodded again.
“Good.”
She abruptly pulled her fingers out of your mouth, pressed your tongue down with her left thumb, and spat onto your tongue. You groaned wildly, your hips bucking as she slid her spit-slicked fingers inside you.
“You really need this, don’t you?” she teased, keeping your tongue down and out, uncaring as both of your saliva started leaking down your chin.
“Yes, Mommy,” you mumbled as best you could, already starting to pant as your pleasure built.
Cait’s fingers didn’t start slow, didn’t ease inside you, didn’t let you get used to her. She immediately started a hard and fast rhythm, her palm slapping against your clit, the wet sloshing sound filling the room.
She chuckled. “It’s a good thing we had this room sound-proofed years ago,” she mocked. “Such a dirty girl. You didn’t need any warming up, did you? You were just ready to take my fingers like a good little slut.”
You nodded, gasping as her long digits hit your g-spot. She spat on your tongue again, then released your mouth, commanding you to swallow.
You obeyed, moaning out, “I’m always ready, Mommy.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed, sliding her left hand into the hair at the base of your skull. She held you tightly, tilting your head back. She looked down, watching her fingers slosh in and out of you. “This needy little pussy needs constant attention, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Mommy,” you whined, grinding your hips against her hand in a matching rhythm. “I always want you and Daddy. Always.”
“Why, baby?” she probed, running her nose up your cheek.
You let out a long breath, feeling your orgasm cresting. “Because I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
“We love you too, sweetheart. This is it for us all, do you understand that?” She met your gaze with intense focus. “You’re ours; we’re yours. We’re a three now, yes?”
You nodded desperately, your bottom lip trembling with emotion and your rising pleasure. “Yes. Yes, Cait. Yes.”
“Forever?”
“Forever,” you sobbed quietly.
She kissed you. “Then come, baby.”
You had no choice but to obey the woman you loved. Pleasure burst through your pussy, clenching down on her fingers, and she swallowed your moans into her hungry mouth. Your hips stuttered against her hand, but she kept up her movements, dragging out your pleasure.
“Oh, you didn’t squirt,” she pouted theatrically. “That’s alright; Daddy can help with that later.”
“I love you,” you wept.
She smiled back at you. “I love you too, Y/N.” She placed a gentle kiss to your flushed forehead. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. We need to get back out there.”
Ok what if one of the kits overheard caitvi calling Bunny a “dumb rabbit” ..
and then the kit call Bunny a dumb rabbit while throwing a tantrum because Bunny wouldn’t let him go outside after sundown…the Caitvi hear him
Ohhhh 😬... That's one of the few times Bunny loses her ever-loving fucking shit 😱 Caitlyn and Vi try to calm the situation down, but Bunny is too upset and really crosses a line with the kit - just guilt-tripping, emotional blackmail, the medieval-parent package (remember, that's how she was brought up by her parents and villagers and she hasn't broken the cycle yet!)
Kit: [cries] You a dumb wabbit, mumma 😭
Vi: 😮😠 Don't say-
Bunny: 😐😠😡 Oh, I'm a dumb rabbit, am I?
Kit: Yeah!! You don't let me outside! I want outside!😭
Caitlyn: 😠 Young man--
Bunny: Well, just go outside then 😡
All: 😐
Bunny: Yes, go outside if that's what you want so much. Go on. Go outside, with all the spiders that want to crawl all over you and lay eggs in your ears, and the foxes that will bite you and eat you, and the owls that will peck your eyes out--
Vi: Bunny, stop!
Kit: Noooo!! 😭
Bunny: Yes, go on. You called me a dumb rabbit for trying to keep you safe, so go outside if you know better than me 😡
Kit: [trying to hug Bunny] I don't want outside, mumma!!! 😭
Bunny: [shakes her head, crossing her arms, not picking him up] But you said you did, and you called me a dumb rabbit too.
Kit: I'm sowwy, mumma!! 😭 I'm sowwy!! 😭😭
Vi: [picks him up, trying to soothe him] See, Mummy? He apologised! 😬 He's sorry! 😬
[The tensest moment the Castle has ever known]
Bunny: [leans into the sobbing kit's face, snarls quietly] Don't. Ever. Call me that. Again 😡
Kit: I'M SOWWY MUMMA!!! 😭😭😭😭😭
[Bunny storms out, ignoring him as he cries for her, wanting cuddles and comfort, her own heart breaking]
How long does it take Consort and Caitvi to adjust to Elora's new attitude? How do they react when they find out about her arrangement with Sevika and Rose? Who finds out first and how?
I think Cait and Vi suspect that Elora is seeing someone but they don't know it's Elora. Reader finds out by accident a few months after the twins - that time she walked in on them.
Reader keeps it secret, until Elora gathers the courage to announce it. I can imagine they're all having a casual, intimate dinner together - the two throuples (even though Cait and Vi don't know about the Sevelrose throuple!) - and maybe Vi has had a drink and is teasing Elora about 'the colour in her cheeks' for the past year.
Elora blushes, but Sevika's and Rose's knees brushing against hers under the table gives her the courage to speak.
"Well... Uh... Your Majesty... I-I do have colour in my cheeks..."
Cait and Vi perk up; Reader's eyes widen but she stays quiet.
"Yeah? Good for you," Vi grins, lifting her wine to cheers Elora.
Is there more to the birthday ask? Will caitvi call her stupid? Fuck her brains out? Or even… fuck her gently?? Or is the whole situation just corked… until the next year????
Vi takes Bunny out the next day, lets her get whatever she wants (which we all know isn't the same as being gifted things on your actual birthday, but it's close enough for now). And that evening, after Caitlyn's awake, they'll go out for dinner - wherever Bunny wants. When they get back, they have a bit of cake, and then pleasure Bunny all night long.
The next year they do make more of an effort, getting her a few gifts, flowers, and a cake.
But they are 😒 the whole time, every year.
And yes, Cassandra gives her flowers and presents every year too 🤣
I think Caitlyn would love to jump into the sugar mommy role with Bunny 2.0 the moment she get her .. but Bunny would be so underwhelmed with the lifestyle
Caitlyn, handing Bunny her credit card: i told Vi to take you out shopping, get whatever you want 😏
Bunny: whatever i want? 🤩
Caitlyn: yes 🙂↕️
Then Cait gets a text telling her a 20£ has been spent from her account so she thought “ok .. maybe they stopped for a snack”
And then Bunny shows up with Vi .. having one bag that has a singular sundress
Vi: don’t look at me like that, she refused every high-end store we walked into. Her poor ass took one look at the prices and almost fainted 😒
Bunny: i mean .. i couldn’t just spend that much on clothes 🥺 . Also this dress looks so cute 😇
Caitlyn: …
Caitlyn: Now, Bunny [holds Bunny's chin, forcing her to look at her] Vi is going to take you anywhere you want tomorrow, and you are going to spend money. She will not let you come back until you've spent at least £5,000, do you understand?
Bunny: 🥺 But that's so much!!
Caitlyn: Do you understand? 😠
Bunny: 🥺 Yes, Caitlyn 🥺
[The next evening, Bunny and Vi come home with some houseplants]
Caitlyn: I refuse to believe this...
Bunny: We spent more than £5,000 though!! 🥺
Caitlyn: Those plants did not cost £5,000, rabbit, do not play me for a fool 😠
Bunny: That's right, they didn't. But we did loads of shopping, and donated everything to an animal shelter, a women's home, and a food bank ☺️
Caitlyn: ... [to Vi] Why did you allow this?!
Vi: She pointed out that you didn't technically forbid her from doing that 😒
Caitlyn: ... Alright, I'm making a list of requirements for tomorrow.
Stop 🥺 Bunny feeling bad for Vi being tied up even after all the shit she put her through 🥺 they dont deserve her istg 😔
Bunny: it’s been 2 hours 🥺
Caitlyn: so…? *sipping her wine*
Bunny: wouldn’t she be hungry? 🥺
Caitlyn: she’s not like you Bunny , she doesn’t need to eat every 2 hours 😒
Bunny: oh 😞 *ears drooping*
Caitlyn: i meant she doesn’t have the same appetite- oh forget it
Caitlyn and Vi both play a game to see how long it takes Bunny to cave with Vi being tied up 😈 Caitlyn ties Vi up in the bedroom whilst she keeps Bunny in the living room, and doesn't explicitly tell Bunny not to untie her 😈 So a while passes, and Bunny just carries on around the penthouse.
But slowly, as more time passes, she starts poking her head around the bedroom door, just looking at Vi tied to the chair 👀
Another hour passes, Bunny watches as Caitlyn 'gives Vi a drink' by pouring water over her head (Vi isn't complaining, she's loving this game).
Another hour passes, Bunny quietly asks Caitlyn if Vi needs a snack. Caitlyn says no.
Another hour passes, Bunny asks if she can give Vi a snack. Caitlyn says no.
Another hour passes, Bunny is starting to pace anxiously, telling Caitlyn that Vi needs a proper drink and some food 🥺 Caitlyn says no.
(Little does Bunny know that Caitlyn is sneaking Vi food and water when Bunny is out of the room for a minute or so.)
Another hour passes, and Bunny is upset, pleading with Caitlyn that Vi's been punished long enough. Caitlyn says no.
Bunny cracks.
After the last rejection, she sprints down the hallway to the bedroom, Caitlyn leisurely following along behind her, asking her what she's doing.
In the bedroom, Bunny starts frantically pulling at the chains around Vi's wrists and ankles, crying quietly as she does - she knows she's going to be punished, but she just can't stand Vi being tied up any longer.
Pairing: Polytrix (Rumi x Mira x Zoey) x English!Reader
Words: 3158
Synopsis: Your date with Mira continues
Warnings: Mommy/Daddy kink, dry-humping, butt plug, oral sex (r! receiving and giving), strap-on (r! receiving), anal sex (r! receiving), vaginal fingering (r! receiving), face sitting (r! on bottom)
Notes: I'm doing as much research as I can into Korea, its culture, and history, but please forgive any errors! Reader's race/physical description is not described, but she is British and racially not Korean.
The warm water cascaded over your shoulders, drumming softly against your skin as you sat on the floor of the shower, your legs still trembling. Your eyes were closed as you breathed heavily, your body shaking.
The door opened quietly a few minutes later, and Mira slipped inside, careful not to startle you. Her hair was a little damp around her face, some hairs sticking up from the exertion of your activities. Her gaze softened the instant she saw you slumped against the tiles.
“Hey,” she murmured, moving closer. “You okay?”
You tilted your head up, blinking at her, still feeling the rush of adrenaline and exhaustion. “How are you still standing?!” you asked incredulously, voice a little strained from moaning and panting for hours.
Mira smirked, leaning casually against the edge of the sink. “Stamina, I guess,” she shrugged, voice low and teasing.
You shook your head, laughing weakly, letting your shoulders slump further against the wall. “You’re impossible,” you whispered, half in awe, half in amusement. “I think I’m dying.”
She got closer and crouched so her face was level with yours, eyes glinting with mischief. “Did I wear you out too much, baby? Do I need to be gentler with you in the future?”
You summoned the energy to glare at her lightly. “Don’t question my ability to get fucked.”
“Look at you,” Mira murmured, eyes softening, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You did so well, princess. Better than I expected. You were perfect.” She tilted her head, brushing a stray damp strand of hair from your forehead.
You laughed, breathless and weak, letting your head rest back against the tiles again. “I feel like I’ve been run over.”
Mira chuckled quietly, the sound warm and comforting in the steam-filled room. “Then let me help you,” she offered, holding out her hand. When you took it, her fingers intertwined with yours, and she gently pulled you to your feet as she stepped into the shower.
For a moment, you just stood there, leaning back against her body, letting the quiet intimacy of the bathroom, the lingering warmth of the water, and the soft glow of the overhead light settle around you both.
Mira helped you wash your hair and body, her long fingers working miracles on your scalp as she massaged the shampoo on your roots. Whilst the conditioner worked on your hair, she squeezed your body wash onto your washcloth, gently running it over your body. A part of you wanted to feel embarrassed by her actions – the intimate nature of what she was doing, given that this was only your second date – but you just couldn’t. There was something about her, the way she carried herself, the way she looked up at you with care in her eyes… It made it impossible to feel anything other than bliss.
When she finished with you, she turned the water off and got you into a towel, wrapping your hair too. To your surprise, she led you back into the bedroom, where another surprise awaited you.
“You changed the sheets?” you asked softly, exhaustion creeping up on you.
She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to have to wait to go to sleep.” She gently helped you dry, then get into some light pyjamas. “How do we do your hair?”
You shook your head. “We can leave it wet for now, I can sort it in the morning.”
Mira frowned at you, as if you had levied a great insult. “I’ll do it for you.”
“No, no, Mira. It’s fine. You go shower-”
Surprising you again, she took hold of your chin, lifting your head a little. Bending down to get closer to your face, she raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “I said I’ll do it, princess.”
You whimpered, completely out of your control.
Mira smirked, her thumb stroking your skin. “Now, are you going to be a good girl and let me do your hair? Or do I need to make you be a good girl?”
You moaned. “Fuck… I-I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.”
She nodded approvingly. “Good. Where’s your brush, and what products do you need?”
You pointed to your bedside dresser. “There. With the oil, and heat protector.”
Mira diligently and carefully went through your hair care routine for you, gently brushing your hair, applying the oil through the length of your hair, and spraying the heat protector on. Sectioning your hair, she gave you a thorough and salon-quality blow-dry, amazing you that she was still able to function so professionally past 4am, after fucking you senseless for hours.
“There you go,” she said proudly, carding her fingers through your dry locks. “What do you do with it to sleep?”
You yawned, the heat from the blow-dry having made you drowsy. “I normally plait it.”
She nodded, looking for a hair tie. “What style?”
“Do you know how to French plait?”
Mira actually scoffed a little. “‘Do I know a French braid?’” she mumbled playfully under her breath. She arranged your hair perfectly – obviously – securing the end with the little tie. “There you go, baby.” She cupped your cheeks in her hands, kissing you softly. “You going to go to sleep whilst I shower?”
You smiled back sleepily. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl.” She kissed your forehead, and helped you get under the covers, tucking you in. “I’ll be back soon. Get some rest.”
You dozed whilst Mira showered, the sound of the running water making you drift off. You tried to keep your eyes open whilst she got ready for bed in your room, watching through heavy eyelids as she brushed, oiled, and sprayed her own hair with her expensive looking products. You lost the battle to stay awake when she started drying her own hair, the white noise of your hairdryer dragging you into a deep slumber.
You awoke late in the morning to Mira climbing out of bed. The tap ran in the bathroom for a few minutes, followed by the sounds of teeth brushing. The bathroom door opened, and the bed dipped again behind you. A warm, soft body held you close, and you drifted off again.
The smell of coffee finally roused you past noon. You rolled onto your back with a groan, rubbing your eyes.
“Hey, princess.”
You blinked your eyes open, seeing Mira leaning in your doorway, a steaming mug in her hands. She wore a matching tank-top and shorts pyjama set, her eyes adorned with a round pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
With the sunlight streaming in from behind her, she looked like a walking Goddess.
“Hey,” you smiled, knowing your expression was a little goofy. “Have you been up long?”
She sipped her coffee, shaking her head. “Not really. I was going to make you a drink, but I wasn’t sure if you prefer tea or coffee first thing. And you were still asleep; I didn’t want to wake you.”
You grinned back, heaving yourself up. “Can I get a coffee please? Milk, no sugar. I’ll freshen up.”
She smiled back, nodding. “On it.”
After you freshened up, you headed into the living room, sitting next to Mira on the couch, picking up the mug she’d placed on the coffee table. She’d even set out a little jug of milk so you could add your own.
You chatted on the couch for a while, both of you leaning in to the other. Inevitably, you started kissing again, your hands carefully exploring each other’s bodies after being too frantic and drunk the night before. You discovered the little mole just above her right breast; she discovered the faint white lines on your hips.
When she pulled you into her lap, kissing, licking, and sucking across your bare chest, you ran your fingers into her hair, holding her head to your skin.
“Fuck, Mira,” you groaned as she held your ass tightly, urging you to rock your hips against her stomach.
“There you go, princess. Good girl,” she breathed, squeezing your breasts and rolling your nipples.
She watched as you rocked against her, grinding your clothed pussy against her. You threw your head back, eyes closed as you concentrated on your pleasure. She whispered praise to you throughout, laving attention on your breasts as she watched you climb higher.
But eventually you whimpered, your hips stuttering. “I… I can’t cum like this,” you whined unhappily.
“You sure, baby? Don’t rush,” she encouraged.
“No, no,” you buried your face in the crook of her neck, shaking your head. “I need more.”
Mira chuckled lightly. “Okay, sweetie, I’ve got you.”
To your surprise, she wrapped her arms under your hips, and stood up off the low couch, lifting you as if you were completely weightless. How strong was she?!
She carried you back into the bedroom, laying you down under her. “Do you have any more spare sheets, or should we lay down some towels?” she chuckled.
You blushed. “Towels.” You briefly wondered how many spare sets you should get, given how busy your sex life had gotten lately…
Mira got out some spare towels from the bathroom cupboard, laying them down on the bed. “What do you want to do, princess?” she asked, hovering over you as she kissed your neck.
You moaned softly, your eyes drifting shut. “Well… You said last night… Uh…” Your blush grew darker. “Last night you suggested…”
She lifted her head away from your neck, flashing you a one-sided smirk. “Can you say it, baby?”
Your face grew hot. “You… Uh…”
“One more try?” she teased.
You bit your lip, murmuring softly, “You could fuck my ass?”
She hummed, as if in thought. “Hmmm. Are you making a suggestion, or asking me to do something?”
You made a pitiful sound, resting your hands on her hips. “Please fuck my ass, Daddy.”
Mira’s smile turned proud. “Good girl, well done.” She kissed you deeply, then pulled back a little. “Have you done it recently?”
You shook your head. “Only the plug last night. But I have done it before.”
She nodded. “We’ll take it slow then.”
Mira retrieved the strap from the bathroom, followed by lube, an inflating butt plug that Zoey insisted on getting, and a wand from the bottom dresser drawer. She picked up one of your pillows, placing it on the end of the bed, and a towel over it. “Come here, baby.”
You scooted down the bed, your heart racing in your chest. You placed your hips on the pillow, blushing when it propped your hips up.
Mira chuckled. “I love how you blush at everything.”
She knelt on the floor in front of you, easing your legs open. Her eyes kept contact with yours as she eased your legs back. “Hold ‘em open, sweetheart. I’ll need my hands.”
You whimpered, but obeyed, holding the backs of your knees, keeping yourself open and exposed for her.
She started by placing gentle kisses up and down your slit, lapping up the juices that had started to flow. “You taste so sweet, baby,” she murmured into your soft skin, humming softly. Dipping her tongue inside you, she wiggled it gently from side to side, basking in your moans.
Keeping her mouth on you, Mira opened the box for the plug, tearing open the protective plastic wrap inside whilst moving her lips up to suck on your clit. You tried to keep your eyes on hers, but the pleasure became too much and your head dropped back down.
Mira felt the starting size of the plug with her hands, and knew you could take it. She reluctantly let go of your throbbing bud, and flicked open the cap of the lube.
“You ready to get started, princess?”
You moaned and nodded, lifting your head back up, wanting to watch her.
Mira gently trickled some lube onto your back hole, smiling when you twitched from the cold. She ran the plug through the lube, coating it on all sides. When she was satisfied it was slick enough, she rested the blunt tip against your ring.
“Breathe, baby.”
She gently pressed forward, and your hole opened to accept the toy. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering, watching Mira’s hand move forward as she slid the short length of the plug inside you. It wasn’t even two fingers thick, and was still very short.
“Can I have more, please, Daddy?” you asked.
She smiled back. “Oh, you’re so sweet for asking.” She placed a kiss on the back of your thigh. “Let’s make this a little bigger for you.”
She held the air pump connected to the plug, clicked the toggle setting to length, and squeezed. The plug got a little bigger inside you, just enough to earn a moan.
“More, Daddy?”
“Good girl,” she praised, squeezing the pump twice more, delighting in your groans. “Do you want some width now?”
You moaned again. “Yes, please, Daddy. It feels so good.”
Mira toggled the setting to the plug’s width, then squeezed the pump again. Her eyes took in the sight of your hole opening a little as the toy expanded, understanding why Zoey had a fascination with stretching hers and Rumi’s hole as much as the two of them could stand.
“That feel okay?” she asked gently, rubbing your clit with her free hand.
You sighed happily. “It feels so good, Daddy. Can I have some more?”
She chuckled. “Of course, princess.”
Mira leant her head in, swirling her tongue over your clit as she pumped the plug once, twice, three times. You groaned each time, feeling the plug expand within you, stretching your hole, opening you up for her. It was one of the filthiest, more delicious sensations you’d ever experienced.
“More, Daddy,” you breathed, your head falling back onto the bed, eyes closing in ecstasy. Mira obliged, squeezing the pump until you gasped, your hips twitching. “Fuck, it feels good.”
Mira sucked your clit and ran her tongue around your leaking pussy hole until you climaxed, your back hole clenching around the plug as you did. She took in your moans and groans, watching you in your glory as your body shook and trembled before her.
“You’re perfect, princess,” she cooed. “So perfect for me.”
She rose to her feet and started putting the strap on. You caught her eye as she adjusted a buckle, both of you smiling at each other in excitement.
“Are you ready for me, baby?” she asked gently.
You nodded, and she deflated the plug within you, easing it out of your hole. You groaned as she did so, holding the backs of your thighs.
Mira put the plug down on a towel nearby, reaching for the lube and wand. She nudged the wand into your hand. “Use that as much as you want, sweetheart. I want this to be good for you, and for you to cum as many times as you can. Can you manage that?”
You whimpered. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll be your good girl.”
“Fuck,” Mira groaned under her breath, her heart pounding for you. She had to take a calming breath. “I know, baby. I know.”
Mira slicked up the strap on her hips, resting the tip against your hole. “Ready, princess?”
You nodded eagerly. “Please fuck my ass, Daddy.”
She moved her hips forward, slowly introducing the toy into your ass. You groaned at the stretch, your chest heaving as your hole opened up.
“Wand, baby,” Mira encouraged in a soft voice, lightly tapping your hand.
You nodded and obeyed, moving the wand down to your clit, and turning on the toy. The vibrations sparked through your clit, making you gasp.
Mira eased the toy further inside you, smiling proudly when she got all the way in, her hips resting against your butt. “Well done, baby,” she praised. “How do you feel?”
You exhaled with a smile. “Good, Daddy. It feels so good.”
“What feels good, sweetheart?” she challenged, smirking down at you.
“Your cock.”
“And where is my cock?”
“In my ass,” you whined.
“Say it all properly, princess. I know you can.”
You whimpered as the wand pulled you close to the end. “Your cock feels good in my ass, Daddy.”
She smiled down at you. “Well done, princess. Such a clever girl for me.”
Mira straightened up, starting to rock her hips back and forth, moving the toy within you. You moaned as she did, feeling the strap sliding in and out of your hole. The sensations, along with the vibrations from the wand, were making your pussy leak.
She gently held your ankles, pulling your legs up. You watched as she held your legs apart, slowly dripping spit onto the tip of the strap, groaning as you felt her push it inside you.
“Fuck, Daddy,” you whined when she did it again – withdrew the strap completely, then dripped more spit onto the strap, and fucked it into you.
“You like it when I spit inside you, baby?” she smirked.
You moaned loudly, your eyes crossing a little as the wand vibrated through your clit. “Yes, Daddy!”
“You want me to do it again?”
“Yes, please, Daddy!”
Mira pulled the strap out, and suddenly pushed your knees back to your chest, lifting your hips with the momentum. Pinning you in position, you watched between your knees as she sucked her tongue, harshly spitting onto your back hole. Angling her hips again, she slid back inside, filling you up all the way.
Her hips slapped yours with the new position, the blood rushing to your head, making you a little dizzy as she fucked your hole whilst the wand buzzed your throbbing clit.
“Gods… Fuuuck…” you cried, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out long. “Daddy, I’ll cum. I’ll cum, Daddy!”
She nodded. “That’s what I want, baby. Don’t hold back. Cum on my strap, princess; show me what a good girl you can be.”
She lowered her fingers to your pussy, sliding two fingers inside you, pressing up against your soft spot. You almost screamed, your holes clamped down around her, and you orgasmed until your toes curled. Your legs shook in her hold, your eyes rolling back in your head as your climax crashed into you like a tsunami, your throat letting out a long moan.
When you came down, Mira eased the toy out of your sticky hole, taking the harness off. She helped you scoot back up the bed, and settled herself over your face. You greedily ate her up, holding her hips down against you, moaning into her soft folds as she rocked against you.
“Fuck, princess,” she moaned, pinching her own nipples. “You eat pussy so good, such a good girl for me.”
After Mira spilled her climax all over you, and you eagerly drank her down and licked her clean, she helped you back into the shower, taking care of you for the second time.
pairing: academic rival! natasha romanoff x academic rival! reader
synopsis: you’ve always been top of your class—sharp, confident, and unbeatable. in your world, there’s no such thing as a worthy rival. that is, until natasha romanoff strides into your class with a smirk and a sharper argument that throws your entire carefully controlled world into chaos.
note: posting a lot 'cause i'm bored as hell. someone pls give me a hobby or a thesis deadline or smth. 🥲
also, to the anon who asked if i have a masterlist—i do now. yay !! here it is: bleu's intro & masterlist !! ♡
You’d always believed in one thing: there is no such thing as a worthy rival.
People either got in your way or trailed behind. You were always two steps ahead, first in every list, most respected, and most feared. That is, until Natasha Romanoff walked into your sophomore political theory class like she owned the world and immediately raised her hand with a better argument than yours.
You’d never hated someone faster.
And you’d never thought about anyone more.
For two years, the two of you danced through every class, every competition, every student council election like twin flames destined to clash. Professors took bets. Students whispered. Even the president of the university made a comment about how you two should “either get a room or co-author a research paper.”
You had no plans to do either.
That is, until your university’s elite debate championship dropped the bomb: final round—1 vs 1 debate: Natasha Romanoff vs Y/N L/N.
Of course. Who else would it be?
You were doomed.
Not because you thought you’d lose. No. You were doomed because last week, Natasha Romanoff looked you dead in the eye after a mock trial and said, “You blinked. I win.”
You did blink.
Because she smiled.
And your brain short-circuited.
—
You arrived at the auditorium ready for war—blazer ironed, cards memorized, hair sleek, lipstick perfectly placed. The student auditorium was packed, buzzing. Wanda, your roommate, waved at you with both hands from the front row while mouthing KILL HER.
Across the stage, Natasha adjusted her sleeves like she was getting ready for a date, not war. She wore her signature dark-red lipstick and a subtle smirk like it was custom-made. Her black turtleneck somehow made her look smarter. Infuriating.
The moderator explained the rules. Each of you got five minutes to open, followed by three rounds of rebuttals.
The topic: “Surveillance in modern democracy—boon or bane?”
You took the negative. Natasha took the affirmative.
Game on.
You were flawless. Your opening statement was clear, concise, cutting. The audience nodded, impressed.
But Natasha?
She spoke like every word was silk dipped in poison.
She paced slowly, making eye contact with the audience, then you, then the panel. Her hands moved just enough to make her point but never enough to be dramatic. And she had the audacity to say, “My opponent makes an excellent point—hypothetically.”
The crowd gasped.
You wanted to scream.
But you rallied.
The third round came fast. You delivered your argument with surgical precision—facts sharpened like blades, your voice unwavering, confident, borderline smug.
And then she took the mic.
Natasha leaned forward, lips brushing the foam cover like it was an invitation. Her tone? Silky and laced with that Romanoff mischief that made half the room forget how to breathe.
"L/N," she said smoothly, eyes gleaming with something dangerous, "you’re making this almost too easy. You always do."
You narrowed your eyes, unsure if she was insulting you or complimenting you—or both.
She continued, "But don’t worry. I’ll let you explain your logic to me again... over coffee, maybe? My treat. Winner buys."
A ripple of laughter tore through the audience. You blinked, thrown off for half a second.
Did she just—
You slapped your hand over your mic and hissed, “Romanoff. Are you flirting with me right now?”
She tilted her head, all smug and no shame. “No,” she whispered back. “I’m distracting you.”
The moderator cleared their throat.
You turned back to the mic, mind rattled.
The final bell rang.
The debate ended.
And the audience? Lost their minds.
—
You stormed out of the auditorium with heels echoing your fury. Behind you, Natasha followed, calm as ever.
“You cheated,” you snapped, whirling around.
She looked amused. “By being charming?”
“By distracting me.”
“I only distract you because you like me.”
You froze. “Excuse me?”
She stepped closer, the hallway quiet and dim. “Come on, Y/N. You only argue with me like that because you want to see if I’ll push back.”
“I argue with everyone.”
“But you only blush with me.”
You touched your cheek instinctively.
Damn it.
“This is why you’re still single,” you said, crossing your arms.
She tilted her head.
“No,” she said, smile softening into something dangerous. “I’m still single because you haven’t confessed to me yet, Y/N.”
Your mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Your heart forgot how to beat.
And for the first time in your entire academic life—you had no rebuttal.
—
Back in your dorm, you paced while Wanda watched from the bed, popcorn in hand.
“Say it again?” she asked.
“She said—she’s still single because I haven’t confessed yet.” You paused. “Like, what even—what was I supposed to say?!”
“I don’t know, ‘yes, Natasha, I’ve secretly wanted to kiss you since Intro to Gov.’ Maybe that?”
“I’m not falling for her.”
Wanda gave you a look.
You fell back onto the bed. “This is bad. I can’t be falling for my rival.”
“You’re already gone, babe.”
You groaned and fell face-first into your pillows.
—
Fate, or some chaotic god, had a sense of humor. The next class project? Partnered research. Your professor announced the pairings with casual indifference.
Of course, the professor paired you with Natasha.
“She requested you,” your prof said casually.
“Sorry?”
“She said no one else could match her.”
Great.
Just great.
You met her at the library the next day, heart pounding.
“You look like you’re about to fight me,” Natasha said, sliding into the seat across from you.
“I am.”
She chuckled. “Good. I like it when you fight.”
You glared, opening your laptop. “Let’s just get this done.”
Hours passed in chaos. You bickered about citations, rewrote the thesis four times, and debated tone until your heads hurt. But each time her fingers brushed yours, your pulse jumped. When she leaned over to point at your screen and her hair brushed your cheek, you froze.
Once, she leaned over you to point at your screen, her hair brushing your cheek.
You froze.
“You smell good,” she murmured.
“Shut up,” you muttered, ears burning.
She grinned. “Make me.”
You stared at her.
“I will.”
“Do it.”
And just like that, the library air turned electric.
You broke the tension by knocking her water bottle over.
Twice.
—
It happened again at the library—but this time, it wasn’t her. It was Enzo—the third-year International Studies major who always managed to appear when Natasha wasn’t around.
Today, he came bearing coffee. Your favorite.
“You look stressed,” Enzo said, placing the drink beside your laptop. “Thought you could use this.”
You blinked. “I—uh. Thanks. That’s… really sweet.”
He grinned, leaning against the table a little too casually. “I was wondering if you’d want to co-present for Model UN next month. You’re kind of amazing, and it’d be an honor.”
Before you could even respond, a shadow fell across your table.
“She already has a partner,” Natasha said coolly, appearing out of nowhere.
Your heart stuttered.
Enzo straightened. “Oh. Hey, Natasha. Didn’t see you there.”
“I know,” she said. “Maybe next time, announce yourself with a trumpet.”
You choked on your coffee.
Enzo blinked, confused. “It’s just a coffee. No need to be—”
“Possessive?” she cut in smoothly, slipping into the seat beside you. Her arm brushed yours. She didn’t move away. “Good. Just clarifying.”
Enzo left shortly after, citing “a class,” but he looked like he might transfer universities.
You turned to her. “What was that?”
“Coffee makes me territorial.”
“That wasn’t your coffee.”
“No,” she said, voice lower now, “but you’re mine.”
You stared. “Excuse me?”
She smiled sweetly, pulling your laptop toward her. “Now. About that conclusion paragraph.”
You spent the next twenty minutes typing in silence while your brain combusted.
—
The moment it all came to a head happened on the rooftop.
You’d just submitted your joint paper—the professor emailed to say it was “the best submission of the semester.”
The sun was setting, city lights flickering awake one by one beneath your feet. You held a cup of coffee in one hand, a slice of banana bread in the other. Natasha leaned on the railing beside you, hair tousled by the breeze.
Neither of you said anything for a while.
“It’s kind of annoying,” you said finally.
“What is?”
“That we’re good at everything.”
She laughed, brushing a crumb off your blazer. “We are.”
You turned to her. “I didn’t think we’d work well together.”
“I knew we would,” she said.
“Why?”
She met your gaze.
“Because you’re the only person who scares me,” she said. “And excites me. At the same time.”
You blinked. “Is this your way of flirting again?”
“It’s my way of confessing.”
You froze.
“Y/N,” she continued, voice quieter, “I’ve liked you since you corrected Professor Ross on a constitutional clause in front of the whole class."
“That was two years ago.”
“I’m very patient.”
You didn’t know what to say. You tried to say something witty. Clever. Deflect.
“This is bad. I can’t be falling...”
“…for you,” you finished, barely audible.
You expected her to tease you. Maybe crack a smug grin or say something borderline insufferable.
Instead, Natasha just looked at you like she already knew. Like she’d always known.
“I know,” she said softly, stepping closer. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
You laughed, breathless. “We’re rivals.”
“Rivals don’t stay up editing each other’s citations,” she countered. “They don’t memorize each other’s coffee orders or steal pens just to watch you pout and roll your eyes.”
She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“And they definitely don’t make each other blush this much.”
You hated that she was right. And loved it, too.
Your lips parted to respond—but the rooftop door creaked open.
Wanda.
Of course.
She squinted at you both, eyes darting between your flushed face and Natasha’s proximity.
“I KNEW IT,” she screamed. “I KNEW YOU WERE FLIRTING DURING THE DEBATE.”
You groaned. “Wanda—”
“I’m telling the group chat.”
“You are not telling the group chat—”
But it was too late. She was already running back inside, shrieking something about ‘endgame lesbians’ and ‘slow burn finally burning.’
You turned back to Natasha, exasperated. “You’ve doomed me.”
“I’ll take responsibility,” she said, grinning. “Want me to draft a public statement?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re in love with me.”
You didn’t deny it.
—
You and Natasha showed up to your next class five minutes late.
Everyone stared.
You were glowing.
Natasha’s lipstick was smudged.
Wanda fist-pumped like she’d won the lottery. The professor didn’t even blink.
Later that week, your university released the final overall academic rankings.
You and Natasha?
Tied for first.
For the fourth time in a row.
She leaned over and whispered, “We’re good at sharing, huh?”
You smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
—
You didn’t sleep that night.
Part of it was the caffeine, but most of it was her.
You lay in bed staring at your ceiling, replaying the rooftop, the smile she gave you, the way she said “you’re mine” like it was a truth she never doubted.
At 2:41 a.m., your phone buzzed.
You stared at the message.
—
You met her outside your dorm, both in hoodies and sneakers, the city quiet and glimmering.
“I was hoping you’d say yes,” she said, falling into step beside you.
You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky I’m already in too deep.”
You walked aimlessly, passing quiet cafés and flickering lamp posts, your shoulders brushing now and then like it meant nothing. But it meant everything.
“You know,” you said, hands stuffed in your hoodie pocket, “when I first met you, I wanted to push you down a flight of stairs.”
She snorted. “I thought you were a robot. Like, no emotion, just pure ambition.”
You smiled. “You were the first person who made me feel… nervous.”
She glanced at you, eyes soft. “You made me want to be better. And I hated you for it.”
You stopped walking.
“So what now?” you asked. “Are we... a thing?”
“I hope so,” she said, then leaned down, pressing her forehead to yours. “Unless you’d rather we keep flirting through footnotes and rebuttals.”
You grinned. “Maybe both.”
She kissed you.
And it felt less like the end of a rivalry—and more like the start of something real.
—
Your friends started asking questions. The professors started smiling when you bickered in class. You still debated her over everything—lunch menus, political philosophies, even what the best seat was in the student lounge.
But now, when you won, she kissed you.
When she won, you let her.
She still brought up the Enzo moment sometimes.
“Would’ve punched him if he asked you out,” she muttered once.
“You can’t punch diplomacy majors.”
“I can try.”
—
You lost your next debate to her.
On purpose.
She kissed you right after.
You decided maybe losing wasn’t so bad.
Not when it was to Natasha Romanoff.
And especially not when she pulled you aside after the crowd cleared and whispered, “Still rivals?”
Is that weird that I'm fucking horny and want to know what azizi do to that man?
Like yeah dude tell me what you did when you fuck me!
God I wish I was reader just for that moment
You're not weird at all 😌 Now, I'm gonna add some emotion to this!
Rider bounces on Azizi's hard cock, uncontrollable moans escaping her throat. "W-What did you do next?" she asks breathlessly, her hands braced on his chest for leverage.
Azizi grips her hips, groaning softly as her tight cunt slides up and down his length. "I started breaking his fingers."
"One by one?" Rider gasps, pausing to roll her hips in circles.
They both groan at the change in movement, eyes briefly closing. Ambessa kneels behind Rider, kissing her neck as she cups her breasts, her own cunt grinding against her Husband's knee.
"Bone by bone, joint by joint," Azizi growls, tightening his grip on Rider as she starts lifting herself again.
The General chuckles at Rider's wild moans. "All this passion, little one, because our Husband maimed a man?" she teases, squeezing the Targaryen's breasts.
Rider whined. "Because he stood up for me. No-one... [moan] No-one ever has."
