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djstinkyfartz · 20 days ago

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𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢𓍼ོ

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛: 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚔𝚊 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 [𝚘𝚌], 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 [𝚘𝚌 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍], 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐 𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝚙.𝚜. “𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢” 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚙𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍/𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐. 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍.

you weren’t okay.

neither of you were.

you were dying.. slowly, cruelly. your body had turned against you in a way no one could undo. it was a quiet kind of betrayal, coded deep in your own cells, unfolding piece by piece as you faded. and sevika was dying too. just slower. just loud enough to scream every day and still be alive the next morning.

she had proposed to you three years ago, with trembling fingers and a heart too full to beat steady. those years that followed were the only ones she would ever call good. the world had collapsed to the size of your body in her arms. you were her home, her anchor, her peace. you were the only thing she had ever loved without fear, without restraint, without wondering if she was meant to.

she didn’t propose the way she’d first planned. the original idea had been… obscene. filthy, even. she had thought about slipping the ring into your mouth mid-rimming, letting you taste the weight of forever on her tongue before you ever saw it. she’d thought it was funny, honest. but she knew you. knew you would have killed her for ruining something sacred with something so vulgar. so instead, she swallowed the laugh, bent the knee, and offered you everything in the most clichéd way possible. it wasn’t what she wanted..

..but it made you say yes.

it was supposed to be your happy ending.

but six months ago, your body wrote its own ending instead.

your immune system began attacking you. your cells, the very things meant to protect you, no longer recognized you. they saw you as a threat. a stranger. an enemy. and so, they tore you apart. your liver was the first to go, eaten alive by the thing designed to save it. sevika—who’d once laughed in the face of fire, who’d spit blood and come out swinging—had no weapon for this. no fists could fix it.

because it was the cruelest thing she’d ever witnessed. and for the first time in her life, sevika knew that whatever was happening.. was bigger than her.

but if the sickness is bigger than her, then it isn’t for others who knew it. for doctors.

she poured every coin of brass she had into treatments, into comfort, into time. precious, dwindling time. but there was no cure. no relief. just the slow, suffocating reality of watching you slip through her fingers no matter how tightly she held on.

when science failed, she turned to violence. screamed at doctors until her throat bled. held every surgeon in zaun—and piltover—at gunpoint. demanded miracles, begged for anything that would buy her another day with you.

⋆｡˚ ✧˚ 𓍼 ⋆｡˚ 𓍼 ✧˚ ⋆｡˚

the hospital smelled like bleach and blood and plastic. too clean. too fake. like they were trying to cover up the rot of truth with chemicals and clipped voices. it was the most luxurious and groundbreaking medical institution in all of topside.

so if this failed.. something would break even more in her.

sevika stormed through the hall like a storm on two legs.

nurses moved out of her way before she even raised her voice. one look at her—the trembling jaw, the too wild eyes, the blood on her knuckles—and they didn’t ask questions. they just vanished behind swinging doors and flimsy curtains.

she found the head surgeon near the nurse’s station. some older man with tired eyes and a clipboard. he turned, startled, when she grabbed him by the front of his white coat.

“you’re not doing enough.”

his mouth opened, but she didn’t give him time.

“you told me she had weeks. it’s been days. she’s in pain. she’s getting worse, not better. and you’re sitting here filling fucking paperwork?!”

“miss—sevika, please—you have to understand, this disease isn’t cu-“

“that doesn’t matter.” her voice cracked. she wasn’t yelling anymore. she was begging through her teeth. “fix her. i don’t care what it takes. tell me what you need. a new fucking liver? organs? just say it.”

he hesitated.

and she saw it.

the pause. the flicker of defeat in his eyes.

and something inside her snapped.

she shoved him hard against the wall, her forearm pressing into his throat, the other hand already reaching under her coat for the cold weight of the pistol she hadn’t carried in years. not since she’d left the undercity behind.

“you don’t get to give up,” she hissed. “not when she’s still breathing. not when she still opens her eyes and looks for me.”

“call the security-” he shouted at the nurses.

“let them come,” she growled. “i’ll kill everyone in this building if i have to. just to buy her another fucking hour.”

the silence was sharp. ugly. one of the nurses had started crying.

the surgeon didn’t move. didn’t fight back.

because what could he say? what could he offer?

there were no miracles here.

only machines. beeping. slowing.

sevika’s hand trembled. she slammed the gun to the wall beside his head, metal clattering to the floor. her breath hitched. once. twice. then broke apart completely.

“please,” she whispered, chest heaving. “i’ll bring you anything..”

“please.. she doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

the surgeon swallowed, gently easing her back. “i’m sorry,” he said softly. “we’re doing everything we can.”

but it wasn’t enough

and she was getting scared.

⋆｡˚ ✧˚ 𓍼 ⋆｡˚ 𓍼 ✧˚ ⋆｡˚

the door slammed open.

sevika stumbled through, reeking of smoke and stale liquor, her steps uneven but somehow still deliberate. blood, dark and flaking, crusted her knuckles. her cloak hung crooked off one shoulder, dragging behind her like it had barely survived the night.

she kicked the door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. her eyes swept the space. the couch, the kitchen, that corner where you sometimes curled beneath a blanket like a ghost too tired to move on.

“baby?” her voice cracked low, rough around the edges. shaky, like she wasn’t sure it still worked.

silence answered.

she stepped deeper inside. something cold and heavy coiled in her chest.

then, from the bedroom.. barely above a whisper

“sev..?”

she was already moving. “yeah. i’m here.”

you were sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, your hands trembling in your lap. but it was your eyes that stopped her in her tracks. wide. distant. not fixed on her.. but through her, like she wasn’t even there.

you blinked. once. twice. slow and uncertain, like you were trying to clear a fog that wouldn’t lift.

“i think.. i think something’s wrong,” you said, voice thin and distant, like it had wandered far from your body.

“everything’s dark.”

“what?”

you swallowed hard. “i can’t.. see.”

she crossed the room in two strides, dropping to her knees in front of you. her metal hand curled gently around your thigh while her other reached up to tilt your face toward her.

“baby,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “you’re lookin’ at me, right?”

a pause. “..no?”

her chest tightened. her hand shook as it traced your cheek, your jaw, then cradled the back of your head like you might shatter in her hands. “it’s okay,” she lied. her voice split open on the second word. “it’s just the meds. or your sugar. we’ll fix it. i swear.”

you didn’t even realize you were crying until your lips trembled and warm tears rolled soundlessly down your cheeks. “i don’t want to go blind, sev.”

she pulled you into her chest like she could hold your body together with pressure alone.

“you’re not,” she murmured into your hair. “you’re not. i won’t let it happen.”

“what if i-”

“don’t,” she cut in sharply. her voice fractured at the edges. “don’t you fuckin’ say it.”

she gripped you harder. her embrace was soft, too soft, meant for comfort— but her flesh hand was growing colder. colder than the metal one.

then she pulled back, just enough to take your hand and guide it to her face.

“memorize me.”

your heart clenched. your throat closed. you couldn’t even find the breath to speak.

“right now,” she whispered.

your fingertips brushed over her brow, slow and careful. down the slope of her cheek. across the scar that tugged her mouth into that permanent scowl. you touched her lips. she kissed your fingers as they passed, barely holding herself together.

“i got you,” she whispered. “i got you. i got you.”

over and over. like if she repeated it enough, the universe would have no choice but to obey.

and you believed her.

⋆｡˚ ✧˚ 𓍼 ⋆｡˚ 𓍼 ✧˚ ⋆｡˚

a few days later, it was gone.

..no flicker behind your eyelids. no shape. no shadow. just… nothing. a still, heavy black. like sinking into an ocean without a bottom.

you heard sevika sitting beside you.

she hadn’t left the house since. no drinks. no visits to the knuckleheads. she hadn’t been out to the harbor. hadn’t seen silco in almost six days.

you didn’t speak for a long while. just breathed. counted her exhales when your own turned shaky. listened to the soft scrape of her thumb dragging across your wrist.

“still with me?” she asked quietly.

you gave a slow nod.

“good.” a pause followed. “let’s talk.”

you furrowed your brow. “talk?”

“yeah,” she said, gently. “i’m gonna tell you everything in the room. everything you can’t see. and tomorrow, i’ll tell you about tomorrow. and the day after that. and every day after that too.”

“okay,” you whispered.

she adjusted on the mattress. you felt the shift in weight, the warmth of her body beside you.

“there’s a mug on the windowsill. the one with the chip on the handle. you made me keep it after i said i’d throw it out.”

you smiled, barely.

“there’s sunlight on the floor. it’s yellow. looks like a ribbon.”

a long silence stretched out between you.

“the sheets are blue,” she added, her voice quieter now. “they smell like you.”

your hand twitched under the blanket. she reached for it and held it in hers.

“i feel like you’re tired,” you murmured. “you sound tired.”

“yeah,” she breathed. “i’ll live.”

her thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and steady.

“you know what else?” she asked, leaning closer, her voice husky and low beside your ear. “you’re still the prettiest thing in this whole fucking room.”

you let out a broken laugh. then cried a little.

not because you were afraid. but because she made it okay to be.

sevika held you through it. she kissed your temple and rubbed slow circles into your back while your shoulders trembled.

“my angel,” she whispered, “..sent down just to save me.”

⋆｡˚ ✧˚ 𓍼 ⋆｡˚ 𓍼 ✧˚ ⋆｡˚

January Third.

the night was cold and quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against the windows and filled the corners of the room. shadows stretched long across the walls. outside, wind drifted slow over rooftops, soft and aimless.

you whispered her name.

“hold me.” your voice was faint, frayed at the edges, barely more than breath.

sevika stopped breathing. and not for just a second.

she knew then. in the weight of your whisper. in the silence that followed. it settled in her chest like a stone, that aching shift in gravity. like the world had tipped, like something irreversible had just happened and was still happening all at once.

she didn’t cry. didn’t scream. her body moved before her mind could catch up.

she gathered you into her lap with both arms, held you like a prayer, like something sacred. her forehead pressed against yours. she was trying to share breath, to push life back into your skin through closeness alone.

“you can rest.” she said.

the words tasted like blood. tar. poison.

it broke her, saying it. the hardest thing she ever let herself speak. a mercy, and a blade. but you needed it. needed to know it was safe to let go. that she would not hold it against you. that her love wouldn’t die with you, but stretch on, root deep, grow wild through every breath she took without you.

she didn’t know if you heard her.

but you smiled. Just barely.

you wanted to say thank you.

you wanted to tell her you loved her.

you wanted to promise that you’d find her again, in a gentler place. a softer world. one where you wouldn’t have to be sick. one where her hands could hold you without shaking.

but your body wouldn’t let you.

so instead, with the last ounce of strength left in you, you moved her hand from your cheek and brought it to your lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. It was soft. barely there. like something remembered more than felt.

you’d kissed her hand a thousand times. sometimes messy and loud, sometimes slow and reverent, but never like this. never like it was the last thing you had left to give. you always had more love in you. you always did.

but then you went still.

your chest stopped rising. your mouth didn’t move. your lashes didn’t flutter.

sevika didn’t understand, not at first. she sat there, still holding your body, still waiting for you to lift your head and say something sweet. some tired joke. some soft little, “i’m still here.”

but you didn’t.

the silence stretched. heavy. hollow.

“no.”

it came out low, rough.

he pressed her fingers to your wrist.

her other hand shook as she touched your throat.

“no.”

louder now. almost a snarl.

her hands moved—shaking, frantic, useless—as she cradled your face.

“don’t fuckin’ do this.”

she was supposed to be prepared for this. but something cracked. something she’d been holding in the whole time you were sick.

she pressed her forehead to yours. her voice cracked. her whole chest heaved like it was too full of something she couldn’t swallow down.

“don’t fuckin’ do this to me, baby.”

she rocked you. once. twice. like movement could restart you.

your mouth hung open a little. your eyes, still closed, like you were just asleep.

but you weren’t.

you weren’t.

“no. no, no—no!”

the sound that tore out of her didn’t sound human. it was broken glass, and gravel, and something wounded beyond repair.

she held you tighter. clawed you against her chest like she could keep you in her arms forever if she just didn’t let go. her lips smashed against your temple—again and again—as if kissing you hard enough would make you come back.

“i told you,” she whispered. her voice was soaked in grief, barely a breath. “i told you i’d take it. whatever it was. give it to me instead. why didn’t you—why the fuck didn’t you-”

her breath hitched. her hands slipped from your back.

she couldn’t finish the sentence. couldn’t find a version of this that didn’t end in her alone.

sevika held you until her arms went numb.

held you until the light outside changed.

held you until she felt the weight of you shift—not because you moved, but because something final had passed between you.

held you like she was trying to mold you into her. so that whatever took you from her.. would see her a part of you and take her with you as well.

she stayed like that for hours, cheek pressed to yours, whispering all the things she hadn’t said

⋆｡˚ ✧˚ 𓍼 ⋆｡˚ 𓍼 ✧˚ ⋆｡˚

sevika stopped living.

she didn’t call it grief. it was something worse. something black and permanent. the people around her noticed. they moved out of her way, avoided her eyes, said her name like a warning.

she was colder now. less human. more monster. and she liked it that way.

she broke what didn’t need breaking. killed instead of capturing. drank until her throat was raw. slept on floors. woke up in alleyways.

and still, each morning, her chest split open all over again.

because you’d made her promise to keep living.

and she hated you for it.

really fucking hated you for it.

she wanted to take those words out of your mouth with her hands. crush them before they landed. pretend she’d never heard them. never nodded. never kissed your temple and said, “i will, baby. i promise.”

but here she was.

and sevika knew.. it was a matter of time before she breaks that promise.

April First.

she stumbled through the front door, half a bottle down and the other half clutched in her fist. her fingers were numb. her throat burned. her body ached with the kind of pain nothing could touch.

she didn’t plan to wake up again.

but she didn’t even make it to the couch.

she slid down the side of the kitchen counter. sat there, back against the cabinets. the cooler beside her was empty. always was.

and then the air changed.

warm. thick. familiar.

a smell.

soup.

yours.

her favorite.

the scent wound through the room like your arms used to. soft and quiet and filled with things she couldn’t name.

she didn’t breathe. didn’t blink.

not until she saw you.

at the stove.

stirring. humming.

healthy. not blind. and still the prettiest woman she has ever seen.

barefoot. in that stupid sweater she always said was too big. your hair pulled back. smiling to yourself like nothing in the world had ever hurt you.

and sevika didn’t hesitate.

she got up like it hurt.

walked straight to you like you were gravity.

her arms wrapped around your waist.

her face pressed into your neck.

and she breathed. for the first time in weeks, she breathed.

“hey,” you said softly.

your voice landed on her like mercy.

“don’t you think you drink too much-”

“no.” her voice cracked. “you shut up.”

her grip tightened.

“you shut your mouth and let me have this.”

you went quiet.

her hands slid under the hem of your sweater, palms flat against your stomach. just to feel. just to know.

and then her mouth was on your neck.

slow. starving.

a kiss, then another. then another.

down the column of your throat. up beneath your jaw.

she kissed you like she was trying to memorize you. like her mouth could map you back into existence.

“i love you,” she whispered against your skin.

one more kiss.

“i didn’t say it enough.”

another.

“i love you so much.”

you turned in her arms, soft hands cupping her face.

“i know,” you whispered, brushing your nose against hers. “i love you too.”

then you kissed her. gentle. warm. real.

and she whimpered. actually whimpered into your mouth.

because she missed this. missed you.

and she knew it couldn’t last.

you rested your forehead against hers.

“we need rosemary,” you said.

she smiled.

“yeah?”

“i wanted to make you rosemary bread,” you murmured, smiling. “it goes well with peach tea.”

and that’s when everything broke.

her dreams never remembered details like that.

not the bread, not the tea. not they your eyes shined with all the love in the world.

she opened her eyes.

you were gone.

the stove was still on.

the soup was still there.

the smell still clung to the air like your hands had clung to her face.

she moved. lifted the lid.

steam hit her cheeks.

it was hot.

it was real.

she dropped to her knees and ate straight from the pot, greedy and desperate. it burned her tongue. she didn’t care.

and when it was gone, when there was nothing left,

she reached for the bottle again.

because if drinking could make you come back,

she’d keep going.

until she could feel you again.

until she could smell rosemary again.

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djstinkyfartz · 1 month ago

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⋮ ⌗ ┆beneath the rain, they bloomed.

𓏵 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: caitlyn & vi x fem!reader 𓏵 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄: they were once helpless pups in the rain—now they’re full-grown hybrids in heat, and you’re the only thing they crave, worship, and refuse to share. 𓏵 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: hey babes, i'm back with the continuation of my hybrid!caitvi au, much longer scenarios (and i also have a chat bot on janitor ai, the link is in my navigation, andd maybe this post will be a small help about creating scenario and stuff.) 𓏵 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): lowercase, partly explicit content (minors & men dni) ⤷ 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: german shepherd-hybrid!vi ;; black panther-hybrid!caitlyn ;; public jealousy ;; hurt/comfort smut ;; soft overstim ;; worshipping ;; dom!caitvi ;; obsessed caitvi vibey (?) ;; praise kink. ⤷ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.3k

previous part / navigation.

prologue.

it always rained in the city when things were about to change.

not just the soft kind of drizzle that kissed windows and made lovers huddle closer, no. tonight was the other kind—the kind that turned streets into ink and poured from the sky like grief. you hadn’t meant to walk this long in it, but buses were slow and taxis were ghosts after midnight. your shoes squelched every few steps, each footfall sending another ripple across the puddled sidewalk. the umbrella you brought had already given up the fight, bones snapped, fabric flapping in the wind like a wounded wing.

but none of that compared to the sound you heard next.

a cry.

faint. wet. fragile.

you stopped in your tracks. rain hammered the pavement, ran in rivulets down your jacket, soaked your hair. you tilted your head, listening.

there it was again. a sharp whimper, broken off halfway. not human, not quite. animal?

you turned toward the alley between two shuttered shops. cracked neon buzzed weakly above the doorway of a closed laundromat, casting the narrow alley in flickering purples and reds. the sound came again, softer this time. desperate.

you almost didn’t see them.

a collapsed cardboard box was tucked between an old dumpster and a stack of broken wooden crates. rain had turned it to mush, but somehow, it still held together—barely. you knelt beside it, heart already tightening.

and there they were.

two tiny, soaked creatures curled against each other. one had ears far too big for its head, trembling as it blinked at you with pale pink eyes that looked both alert and fading. the other was smaller but sleeker, dark fur clinging to a thin frame, one paw stretched protectively over the other’s back. their bodies rose and fell with the shuddered rhythm of survival.

they looked like pups—but not quite.

not normal, at least.

the one with the big ears let out a weak growl, a sound so pitiful it might’ve made you cry if you weren’t already drenched to the bone.

“hey,” you whispered, voice cracking, hands out in front of you. “it’s okay. i’m not gonna hurt you.”

the darker one bared tiny teeth. you didn’t flinch.

“i’m just gonna… take you somewhere warm, alright?” you murmured. “you can bite me later if you want.”

you peeled off your jacket and gently lifted them, wrapping them both in the fabric. they didn’t resist. maybe they knew they didn’t have many choices left.

they were light—far too light—and they didn’t stop trembling even when pressed against your chest. you didn’t care about the weight of the rain or the chill crawling into your bones anymore. you just held them tighter, kept walking.

your apartment wasn’t big. it was barely more than a studio with a heater that wheezed like it had bronchitis and a ceiling that leaked in one corner. but it was dry, it was warm, and it was safe.

you dried them off with the softest towel you had and laid them beside a space heater, then poured a saucer of milk—not knowing if they’d even drink it. the small one did first, tentative and twitchy. the bigger one followed, flopping over halfway through and burping loud enough to make you laugh.

you named them that night.

the pink-eyed one who huffed like she owned the place, with oversized paws and a stubborn growl? vi.

the sleek, quiet one who moved like a shadow and blinked with something far too intelligent in her gaze? caitlyn.

you had no idea what you were getting into.

weeks passed.

they grew fast. faster than any normal pups should’ve. vi’s ears finally matched her head. caitlyn started climbing onto shelves that were way too high for a creature her size. they learned how to open the fridge. they liked blankets. vi chewed through four of them. caitlyn stared at the ceiling like she was doing calculus.

they were weird. but you loved them.

you didn’t question the way their eyes sometimes seemed too human. or the way they made expressions that looked… knowing. you didn’t think too hard about how vi tried to mimic the way you opened doors with her paws. or how caitlyn watched you brush your hair, like she was memorizing every movement.

you didn’t question anything—until the day they weren’t pups anymore.

it started with the sound of something falling.

you rushed out of the bathroom, still drying your hair, only to stop dead in your tracks at the threshold of your bedroom.

the bed was a mess. so were the sheets.

and standing in the middle of the chaos were two girls.

naked. human-shaped. but not human.

vi had wild strawberry-pink hair that tumbled down in uneven waves, her ears still unmistakably pointed, fur-lined. a long, sleek tail swayed behind her as she bent forward on bare feet, panting like she’d just run a mile. her eyes were golden, animal-like.

caitlyn stood taller, wrapped in one of your hoodies—when had she learned to do that? her black hair spilled down her shoulders, eyes glowing midnight blue in the low light. her claws peeked out from one hand where she clutched the edge of the sleeve.

you said nothing.

they said nothing.

for a long, trembling second, all three of you just stared.

then vi grinned. sharp teeth. head tilt. same cocky little huff from when she was a pup.

“hey,” she said, voice raspy but smug. “told you we weren’t normal.”

you passed out.

when you woke up, it was to the sound of caitlyn’s voice.

“…she’s fine. her pulse is steady.”

“she’s gonna freak out,” vi muttered. “told you this was a bad idea.”

“i told you it was bound to happen eventually.”

“i liked being carried,” vi said flatly. “no stress, no pants.”

you opened your eyes.

they were sitting at your side—still hybrid, still unreal.

and they looked… worried.

caitlyn leaned in, brushing damp strands of hair from your face with clawed fingers. “you're okay,” she said softly. “we didn’t mean to scare you. we just… changed.”

vi snorted. “that’s one way to put it.”

you sat up slowly, eyes darting between the two of them.

“changed?” you whispered. “what are you?”

caitlyn hesitated.

vi leaned in, propping her chin on the bed. “yours,” she said, eyes gleaming. “if you want.”

it started with something so small.

so stupid.

you were sitting on the floor of the living room, cross-legged, hair tied up in a messy bun, sleeves rolled to your elbows, laughing.

caitlyn was beside you, elegant as always even when kneeling, showing you how to fix the broken old camera you found at a flea market. her claws were careful, precise. you’d been watching her hands—marveling at the way her long fingers moved with quiet confidence.

"you’re good at this," you said, eyes sparkling. "were you, like, a tech genius panther or something?"

caitlyn smiled—soft, rare. “something like that.”

you laughed again. “can i be your assistant?”

and that was when vi, perched on the edge of the couch with a ripped protein bar in hand, made a sound that could only be described as a growl.

you didn’t hear it, too busy giggling.

but caitlyn did. she stiffened. her tail flicked once behind her, slowly, like a warning.

vi stood up, the snack forgotten. her tail lashed behind her, heavy boots thudding on the hardwood floor.

“you always look at her like that?” vi asked, voice low, sharp.

you blinked, caught mid-laugh.

caitlyn looked up, cool and unreadable. “like what?”

“like she’s yours.”

“i don’t need to look like anything. i just am.” caitlyn’s voice sharpened. “you’re the one who sulks every time she hugs me first.”

“i don’t sulk,” vi snapped.

“yes, you do. you make that ridiculous sound with your throat and act like someone kicked your tail.”

“oh, i’m so sorry i don’t sound like a damn opera singer when i’m jealous—”

“jealous?” caitlyn’s eyes glinted. “i earned her affection. you just chase it like a puppy.”

vi’s ears pinned back. “say that again.”

“girls—” you started, heart lurching.

but it was too late.

vi took a step forward, shoulders hunched, hands curling into fists at her sides. “she brushed your cheek and you fucking purred. don’t think i didn’t hear it.”

caitlyn stood slowly. “and you whined all night when she kissed my forehead. are you really trying to argue dignity with me right now?”

“i’m trying to argue you back off—”

“enough!” your voice cracked like a whip, high and trembling.

both women froze.

you stood up so fast you nearly stumbled, eyes wide, chest tight. the tension in the room was like a stormfront, crackling, oppressive. vi’s claws were out. caitlyn’s pupils were slit.

you took a shaky step back.

“y-you’re fighting over me? like—really?”

vi’s expression faltered. caitlyn blinked.

“you’re both—beautiful, and cool and… claws and tails and i’m literally just trying to learn how to fix a camera—what the fuck just happened!?”

you looked genuinely panicked, your voice shaking, body stiff.

and then vi was moving forward, hands out, panic overtaking her pride. “wait—wait, cupcake, don’t freak out, i wasn’t gonna—like—we wouldn’t actually—shit, shit—”

caitlyn’s claws retracted instantly. “she’s frightened.”

“no, no,” you mumbled, flapping your hands. “i’m fine. this is fine. just—just maybe don’t growl at each other over me? you’re both hot. i get it. but i am so easily startled, okay? like, horribly. i once cried because a toaster popped unexpectedly. so please.”

vi blinked. “a toaster?”

you nodded, still wide-eyed.

caitlyn sighed. “…you do have a rather delicate nervous system.”

“thank you for noticing!”

silence.

and then—vi snorted.

caitlyn raised a brow. you stared between them.

and then all three of you burst out laughing.

vi stepped forward first, wrapping her arms around you from behind, pressing her face into the crook of your neck. “sorry for growling. i just hate how she talks to you.”

caitlyn, not to be outdone, slid in on your other side, draping her arms around both of you, chin resting on your shoulder. “and i hate how she looks at you like she wants to eat you alive.”

you whimpered.

“that’s not helping, cait.”

“she likes it,” caitlyn purred.

you smacked her thigh, cheeks burning.

and vi just grinned into your hair. “she really does.”

the storm outside was gentle this time—more of a lullaby than a warning. rain tapped rhythmically against your bedroom window, a calming beat that should’ve rocked you to sleep hours ago.

but you were wide awake.

sandwiched between two warm, very still bodies. and they were watching you.

vi was curled at your back, one arm thrown lazily over your waist, tail flicking every now and then against the sheets. her breath was hot against your neck, and you could feel her resisting the urge to bury her face in your skin.

caitlyn was in front of you, arm tucked under your pillow, her leg draped possessively over yours, sharp blue eyes watching your every blink. her fingers traced idle, featherlight lines along your hip like she was drawing a map only she understood.

you shifted.

both of them growled.

quietly. but still.

your eyes snapped wide open.

“i can’t move,” you whispered, panicked but not… entirely upset.

“you don’t need to move,” vi murmured against your nape. “you’re right where you belong.”

caitlyn hummed in agreement, her nose brushing your forehead. “she’s warm. don’t ruin it.”

“i’m overheating.”

“you’ll survive,” caitlyn said sweetly.

“barely,” you muttered, heart doing gymnastics.

vi’s hand slid just a little lower across your stomach. her nose brushed your shoulder. “you smell good when you’re flustered.”

“oh my god—”

“don’t take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart,” caitlyn murmured, dipping down to kiss your collarbone. “you’re tempting fate enough.”

you stopped breathing.

that kiss burned through the thin fabric of your shirt like it was nothing.

vi’s grip on your waist tightened, and her voice went dangerously low. “that’s not fair, cait.”

caitlyn smiled. “you started it.”

“don’t care,” vi growled. “if you’re gonna touch her like that…”

she didn’t finish.

she didn’t have to.

because the next thing you knew, caitlyn’s lips were grazing your throat while vi’s palm slipped under the hem of your shirt, the heel of her hand pressing firmly against your stomach like she needed to feel you breathe.

you squirmed, a soft sound escaping before you could stop it.

and everything stopped.

both hybrids froze.

vi’s breathing turned ragged. caitlyn’s tail twitched once.

“say it,” vi murmured.

“say what?” you whispered.

caitlyn brushed your hair back with a reverence that made your skin tingle. “say you want this.”

your pulse thundered.

you turned your face, just barely, brushing your lips against caitlyn’s jaw as your hand reached behind to grab vi’s wrist. you didn’t push her away.

you pulled her closer.

“i want this,” you breathed. “i want you. both of you.”

and they fell on you like you were the only thing keeping them alive.

vi kissed the back of your neck, nipping lightly, growling low in her throat. caitlyn cupped your cheek and kissed you properly—deep, slow, possessive. like she’d waited months to taste you and wasn’t going to waste a second.

their hands moved together. soft. then firmer.

claws never hurt you. tails wrapped around your legs. teeth nipped at thighs. and mouths whispered sweet, sinful things as the rain kept falling outside, covering your cries.

you didn’t sleep at all that night.

and neither did they.

because now that they’d had you—really had you—they weren’t about to let you go.

you woke up to war.

or at least, the hybrid version of it.

the scent of coffee was thick in the air, but the growling—that wasn’t normal. neither was the sound of a plate shattering.

you stumbled out of bed wearing vi’s way-too-big shirt, padding barefoot into the kitchen with your hair an absolute crime scene. and then you stopped, blinking slowly.

caitlyn stood near the stove, graceful and completely composed, wrapped in your black silk robe like it was made for her. her lips were painted with that smug little smirk she wore whenever she was feeling competitive. her tail swayed behind her lazily, but her claws were out.

vi was shirtless in nothing but plaid boxers, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed and a vein in her jaw visibly throbbing.

“i said,” vi repeated, “i was going to cook her breakfast.”

“you were going to give her food poisoning,” caitlyn said coolly, flipping a pancake with the calm of a seasoned sniper. “she deserves actual nutrients. not mystery mush with hot sauce.”

“it’s eggs and beans,” vi snapped. “it’s got protein. it’s literally fine.”

caitlyn didn’t even look at her. “she nearly died the last time you tried to ‘fry something.’ you boiled oil, vi.”

“i boiled it with confidence.”

you rubbed your eyes. “what in the hybrid hell is going on—”

vi’s head whipped around. “cupcake!”

caitlyn’s ears perked. “darling. you’re awake.”

and like two wolves spotting the same piece of prey, they rushed you.

vi was faster. she got to you first, scooping you up with zero warning and pressing a kiss to your forehead that nearly knocked your soul loose. “you hungry, baby? i made—uh, okay, i tried to make pancakes.”

caitlyn slipped in behind you, hands sliding up your waist like they belonged there. “she means she burned the batter, shattered the spatula, and nearly set the toaster on fire.”

vi growled. “snitch.”

you blinked between them, still dazed from the heat of their bodies and the lingering ache between your thighs. “can i just… have cereal?”

silence.

caitlyn’s eye twitched. vi’s ears drooped.

“don’t you want my protein pancakes?” vi mumbled, crushed.

caitlyn pouted. actually pouted. “i was going to make a lavender honey latte for you…”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “you both literally destroyed the kitchen.”

as if on cue, something behind them sparked. a wire? a ghost? you didn’t want to know.

you sighed. “okay. one of you makes breakfast. the other one makes coffee. no fighting. no claws.”

they both looked at each other.

then at you.

then at each other again.

“…rock paper scissors?” vi offered.

caitlyn rolled her eyes. “fine.”

three seconds later, vi grinned in victory. “yeah. scrambled eggs, here we go—”

“you used rock again, didn’t you?” caitlyn asked, resigned.

vi shrugged. “rock is strong.”

you sat at the counter, still half-asleep, watching vi fumble with eggs and caitlyn prep a perfect cup of coffee with steamed milk and a cinnamon stick.

and despite the chaos, the tension, the hybrid-level pettiness… your heart felt so full.

because they were fighting over you.

your hunger. your comfort. your smile.

and somehow, that was the most intoxicating thing of all.

it started with a sneeze.

just one.

you didn’t even notice it. just sniffled, rubbed your nose, kept scrolling on your phone like normal. but vi froze. like full-on stopped mid-step, tail straightening.

“was that a sneeze?”

you blinked. “…yeah?”

she squinted. “again.”

you stared at her. “vi, i can’t sneeze on command—”

“again.”

then caitlyn poked her head out from the bedroom, eyebrows already furrowed in medical concern. “did she sneeze?”

“she sneezed,” vi confirmed darkly.

“shit.”

you raised both hands. “i am fine, oh my god.”

they didn’t believe you.

five hours later, you were in bed.

against your will.

caitlyn had taken your temperature three separate times—once manually, once with a digital thermometer, and once with a forehead scanner she swore was more accurate.

“101.2,” she muttered, pacing near the window with a tablet in hand. “slight fever. could be viral. need fluids. possibly tea. i’ll prep ginger lemon—”

vi was perched at your bedside, staring at you like you were glass. her ears were down. her tail was curled around her ankle. she hadn’t moved in ten minutes.

“breathe again,” she said quietly.

you cracked one eye open. “vi—”

“again.”

you sighed and inhaled loudly, theatrically.

vi nodded. “still alive. that’s good.”

“vi, it’s just a cold.”

she glared. “says you. your nose is red. your hands are cold. you made a noise like a dying squirrel twenty minutes ago.”

“that was a cough.”

caitlyn returned with tea and three different herbal syrups. “we’re monitoring your vitals every hour. i’ve written it down.”

“you what—”

“rest,” caitlyn interrupted, pressing a cool kiss to your forehead. “doctor’s orders.”

“you’re not a doctor!”

“she wears glasses,” vi said. “that counts.”

you groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your face.

ten seconds later, two warm bodies slid in beside you—caitlyn behind, vi in front. sandwiched again. pinned.

“guys. i’m not dying.”

“you coughed in your sleep earlier,” vi murmured, curling her arm around your waist. “it broke my soul.”

“i nearly cried,” caitlyn added softly. “but i didn’t want to get emotional. you know. in case it shocked your immune system.”

you poked your face out of the blanket like a disgruntled burrito. “are you both insane?”

they kissed your cheeks at the same time.

“absolutely,” caitlyn whispered.

“for you?” vi grinned. “yeah.”

by the time you drifted off, warm and exhausted, caitlyn had her chin tucked above your head, purring lightly. vi was mumbling something about making soup tomorrow, even if she had to fight the stove again.

and despite the sore throat and fever dreams, you had never felt more safe.

it was one compliment.

one harmless, off-hand, "hey, that color looks great on you."

the cashier smiled, scanning your snack items. you smiled back because—you know—politeness. maybe you laughed a little. maybe you touched your hair.

maybe that was a mistake.

because vi had heard it.

and vi saw everything.

from the moment that cashier's eyes lingered too long on the curve of your neck, vi was locked in. her ears perked. her nostrils flared. her jaw clicked. a deep growl started building in her throat like thunder crawling over gravel.

she took one step forward.

and caitlyn stopped her.

with a single touch to vi’s forearm and a soft, “let me.”

vi bared her teeth. “he looked at her like he wanted to breed her.”

the couple behind you in line choked on their gum.

“let. me,” caitlyn repeated, calm as a loaded gun.

you tried to pay quickly.

“you’re beautiful,” the cashier said again, fumbling with the change. “sorry. that was—uh—forward.”

“it’s okay,” you said, smiling weakly. “i—uh—appreciate it.”

which was when caitlyn stepped forward.

and leaned across the counter.

her smile was razor-sharp. eyes glinting. her voice? soft. deadly. like poisoned silk.

“she’s spoken for,” she said smoothly, claws tapping the countertop. “but thank you for the compliment. it’s nice to know some humans still value their tongues—before losing them.”

the cashier visibly paled.

you froze. “cait—”

and then vi was there, slamming down the candy bar you'd forgotten to grab.

“she already has someone who tells her she’s beautiful daily,” vi growled. “and it ain’t a cashier with a bowl cut and a barcode scanner.”

“vi—”

“let’s go,” caitlyn cooed, taking your hand as if nothing happened. “before she commits a felony.”

outside, you dragged both of them toward the car.

“what the hell was that!?”

vi shoved her hands in her hoodie. “that was restraint.”

caitlyn adjusted her coat, tail flicking as she looked off toward the street. “i let him live. that’s growth.”

“he complimented my sweater. that’s not a crime!”

vi glared. “he wanted your sweater off.”

you groaned. “i can’t take you two anywhere.”

but neither let go of your hands.

you sighed, giving in. “you know i’m not interested in anyone else, right?”

“we know,” caitlyn said gently, tugging your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“doesn’t mean we like people testing the limits,” vi muttered. “you’re ours. not theirs.”

you opened your mouth to argue—

but then vi kissed your jaw.

and caitlyn kissed your temple.

and just like that, your brain short-circuited.

“…fine,” you whispered, cheeks burning. “next time someone flirts with me, i’ll just bark.”

vi’s eyes lit up. “do it. i’ll wag my tail.”

caitlyn purred. “or growl. let’s match.”

you dragged your hands down your face.

what had you gotten yourself into?

(…love. you got yourself into love. violent, overly dramatic, hybrid love.)

it had been a long day.

your muscles ached, your brain was fried, and the only thing you wanted was ten solid minutes alone in hot water without someone either growling over your attention or stealing your snacks.

so, you bribed them.

“i’ll take a bath. alone. for twenty minutes. if no one comes in—” you said sternly, pointing at vi, “—there will be cuddles.”

“and popcorn,” vi added hopefully.

“and a movie,” caitlyn said.

you sighed. “…sure. but alone, vi.”

vi grinned with a wink. “fine. i’ll guard the door.”

“i don’t need a—oh never mind—”

and into the bath you went.

twenty-five minutes later—because you allowed yourself a little more soak time—you emerged from the steam, towel wrapped around your body, hair dripping down your back, and blissfully relaxed.

until you stepped into the bedroom.

and stopped.

because there—curled up together in a tangled mess of limbs and fur and rumpled fabric—were vi and caitlyn.

sleeping.

on your clothes.

your freshly folded stack of laundry was no longer folded. your favorite hoodie? wrapped around vi’s shoulders like a security blanket. your pajama pants? clutched by caitlyn, pulled to her chest as she purred in her sleep. a pair of your socks dangled from vi’s ankle. your underwear was tucked beneath caitlyn’s cheek like it was a freaking pillow.

you stood there, dripping, baffled.

“…what the fuck,” you whispered.

vi twitched in her sleep, tail flicking lazily across the floor. “mmph. ‘s yours. smells good…”

caitlyn mumbled something unintelligible and buried her nose deeper into the hoodie sleeve.

you blinked. once. twice.

your heart was a puddle.

you knelt beside them carefully, brushing vi’s hair back from her flushed cheek. she nuzzled your hand like a puppy.

“i said no invading the bath,” you murmured. “not a word about clothing pile nesting.”

caitlyn cracked one eye open. “wasn’t the bath. we followed the scent.”

“what are you, bloodhounds?”

vi yawned. “she’s mine, i’m allowed to sniff her stuff.”

caitlyn huffed, voice sleepy and soft. “ours.”

they both tugged you down into the pile.

you yelped. “guys—i’m wet—”

“we don’t care,” vi mumbled, pulling the towel loose to wrap her arms around your waist.

“you’re warm,” caitlyn added, dragging her leg over yours. “stay.”

so you stayed.

wrapped in your own clothes, in the middle of your room, cuddled between a purring panther and a grumbling guard dog who refused to let go.

and for once… you didn’t even want to fight it.

you didn’t mean to cry.

you’d made it through the whole day pretending you were fine. the fake smiles, the half-laughs, the tightness in your chest you swore you’d deal with later. and then “later” came. and it was quiet.

and in that silence—alone in your room with only your thoughts—you broke.

you didn’t sob. you just leaked. tears fell like they were too used to it. you curled into yourself on the edge of the bed, fingers clenching the blanket like it was the only thing holding you together.

you thought you were being quiet.

but they heard you.

of course they did.

vi was the first in.

no knock. no sound. just a warm body sliding behind you, big arms wrapping around your stomach like she could physically shield you from whatever it was eating you alive.

she didn’t say anything.

she just held you.

then came caitlyn—silent steps, graceful as ever. she slipped in front of you, kneeling between your legs, thumb already brushing at the tears you hadn’t wiped away yet.

“what happened?” she asked gently, voice low, velvet-soft. “what hurt you?”

you shook your head. “i’m just… tired.”

vi kissed your neck, a quiet, grounding thing. “you’re not just anything.”

caitlyn leaned in, her lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “we’re here. you’re safe. you don’t have to hold it alone anymore.”

something broke in you.

and you kissed her. hard.

salt still on your lips. breath shaking. like a confession. like a scream.

caitlyn moaned softly and kissed you back, deeper this time. vi’s hand slid up under your shirt, resting just beneath your ribs. she didn’t move—just held.

“can we…?” caitlyn asked, her forehead pressed to yours. “touch you like you deserve?”

you nodded.

and the world turned liquid.

vi was behind you, mouth hot on your shoulder, her breath ragged, starving. caitlyn was in front, undressing you with reverence, like every layer was a wound she was unwrapping to heal.

“you cry like no one’s ever held you properly,” caitlyn whispered, thumb stroking your hipbone.

vi bit back a growl. “then let’s teach her what it feels like.”

hands everywhere. mouths trailing heat. your back arched, your whimpering breath caught between caitlyn’s lips as vi’s hands spread your thighs. everything they did was slow, intentional. meant to be felt, not rushed.

you were worshipped.

you were undone.

caitlyn’s tongue on your chest, vi’s fingers sinking into you like they belonged there, both of them whispering your name like a vow. you sobbed again—but it wasn’t from pain this time.

it was from being wanted.

from being touched like you were precious. like they’d fight death itself to keep you safe.

and when you came, they held you through it. let you shatter in their arms. let you cry and gasp and cling like they'd never let you fall again.

because they wouldn’t.

not ever.

afterward, caitlyn cleaned you with warm cloths and shaky hands. vi curled around your side, kissing your temple every few seconds like a timer. you were tucked between them, bare and breathless, skin still glowing from where they’d worshipped it.

"you’re never alone," caitlyn murmured into your hair.

vi’s voice, low and sleepy: “you’re ours, cupcake. let us take the weight next time.”

and for the first time in a long time—

you believed them.

you didn’t notice anything at first.

sure, caitlyn had been… quiet. like, real quiet. not the usual cool, calculating caitlyn silence. this was the kind of silence that came with clenched jaws and pupils blown wide like twin moons. she watched you like she was trying to memorize your temperature.

and vi?

she was jittery.

kept pacing. kept growling at nothing. wouldn’t sit on the couch, just hovered behind you like she was working security at a club called touch her and die.

you were oblivious.

so you did what anyone would do when their two very warm, very attractive hybrid girlfriends started acting weird and strange and unreasonably tense.

you got closer.

“are you two okay?” you asked sweetly, peeking into the kitchen where caitlyn had been standing perfectly still for the past ten minutes, staring at the fridge without opening it.

her head whipped toward you.

you blinked. “…hungry?”

“no,” caitlyn said quickly. too quickly. “you just—um—smell different.”

you sniffed yourself. “is that a bad thing—?”

“no,” she said again, eyes sharpening. “it’s… intoxicating.”

you giggled. “aw. thanks—”

she stepped back. physically. like you were dangerous.

which was hilarious. you were literally in pajamas with a little duck on the front.

meanwhile, vi had buried herself in the laundry pile.

not doing laundry. in the pile.

you found her gripping one of your hoodies like it had offended her ancestors, nose pressed so deep into the fabric she was practically vibrating.

“vi?” you called gently.

she groaned.

“are you okay?”

another groan. louder.

“…are you hurt?”

“yes,” she snarled, voice muffled. “in my fucking soul.”

you frowned and knelt beside her. “what’s wrong?”

vi finally looked at you.

and her eyes were glowing.

“i’m trying so hard not to mount you right now, cupcake,” she said through gritted teeth.

you short-circuited.

“i’m sorry???”

caitlyn swooped in like a shadow.

“she’s in heat,” she said, glaring at vi. “and so am i.”

you stared between them, baffled. “heat? like… animal instinct heat?”

vi groaned. “you say it like it’s not ruining my life right now.”

caitlyn pressed a hand over her mouth, breathing slow. “it’s temporary. we’ll stabilize.”

you, brain still buffering: “so… this is like a… no-sexy-time moment?”

vi growled.

caitlyn hissed.

ah.

“or… maybe it’s very sexy-time and i should shut up?”

vi was already standing. caitlyn was already locking the door.

your back hit the wall. hard.

“you’ve been crawling all over us all day,” caitlyn said, tone dangerously soft.

“you’ve worn our clothes. touched our hands. slept with your face in my chest,” vi added, eyes wild.

“…i didn’t know—”

caitlyn’s lips brushed your cheek. “you do now.”

vi’s breath hit your ear. “and you’re not getting out of this room until we’ve burned it out.”

you lost track of time somewhere between caitlyn’s third orgasm and vi’s fifth growl of "she can take more."

the air was thick—warm and sweet with sweat, skin, and something heady you couldn't name. the sheets were ruined. the blankets were long gone. the mattress dipped from bodies constantly shifting, pressing, pinning you down so gently it broke your heart.

it had been hours.

maybe days.

you were half-naked and wrecked, sprawled out like a feast between two starved predators who didn’t want to hurt you—just love you until you forgot your own name.

your thighs trembled from vi’s mouth, still slick and twitching from the last time she whispered “just one more, baby, give it to me, you’re doing so good.”

and caitlyn?

she was kissing down your spine like she was apologizing for how long she’d kept you full.

"you should've said stop," caitlyn murmured against your back, voice wrecked with restraint. “but you looked so pretty when you cried.”

you whimpered, barely able to speak, hips twitching weakly as vi lazily ran her fingers along your inner thigh.

“too much?” vi asked, teasing.

your breath hitched.

she grinned, tongue licking over her teeth. “didn’t think so.”

the first night, they were careful.

almost reverent.

caitlyn had spread you open slowly, fingers precise, patient, mapping your reactions like they were coordinates on a battlefield. she touched you like every moan was sacred, like every twitch was her reward. she didn’t stop until you were arching up, crying out her name like a mantra.

vi had waited.

staring. panting. pupils wide.

and then she’d taken you.

not roughly—no. but deeply. fully. like she needed to feel every heartbeat through your cunt. she moved with maddening control, whispering broken praise as you sobbed into her neck.

“you’re perfect,” she growled, hips grinding against yours. “so fucking perfect for us.”

you didn’t last long. they didn’t let you.

they pulled it out of you again and again.

you cried. they kissed the tears away.

by the next morning, you were floating.

you’d wake only to soft fingers between your legs, a mouth on your chest, warm bodies holding you down with love. there was no rush. just endless waves of touch—soothing and dizzying.

vi licked lazily at your swollen folds, arms looped under your thighs. “you’re still dripping, cupcake.”

“because you won’t stop touching me,” you gasped.

“exactly,” caitlyn whispered, kissing the inside of your wrist. “we’re not done.”

when they slid inside you—together, fingers first, then something more—you couldn’t speak. just sobbed their names and grabbed for anything you could hold: caitlyn’s shoulder, vi’s arm, the sheets, the headboard. your legs shook. your voice cracked.

they kissed every inch of you through the tears.

“please,” you whined one night, body twitching, soaked and flushed. “i can’t—can’t—”

vi kissed your temple, breath hot. “yes, you can. you’re taking it so well.”

“she’s breathtaking like this,” caitlyn said from behind, brushing hair off your sweaty back. “so pliant. so obedient.”

you cried again.

and they started over.

you didn't leave the bed for two whole days.

they kept you warm, wet, worshipped.

caitlyn whispered sweet nothings between kisses, coaxing more sounds out of you until you melted. vi nuzzled your throat like a dog in love, rutting slowly against your thigh until her breath stuttered and she choked out your name.

they didn’t stop until your voice was raw, your body was glowing, and you had nothing left to give but soft whimpers and the word "mine."

which they echoed.

over and over again.

the world was quiet again.

no more ragged breathing. no more growls. no more teeth dragging along skin in desperate instinct.

just warmth.

just them.

you were nestled in the middle—limp, bare, and utterly spent. vi was curled at your back, arms thrown around you like she never wanted to let go again. caitlyn lay in front of you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm, her nose occasionally brushing against yours as her eyes fluttered open and closed.

the sheets clung to your skin like a second layer. your body ached in ways that were tender, glowing. and for the first time in a long time, you felt… whole.

no tension. no performance. just you.

and them.

they hadn’t moved in hours.

not because they were tired (though they were), but because every time you so much as shifted, vi let out a soft, pleading noise in her sleep, and caitlyn instinctively tightened her hold like you were already slipping away.

you weren’t.

you never wanted to.

your voice came out a whisper. a shaky, soft thing. vulnerable in a way that terrified you more than teeth and claws ever could.

“…i love you.”

silence.

you felt vi’s breath hitch behind you. caitlyn froze—her thumb pausing mid-circle on your skin.

you didn’t move. couldn’t.

you weren’t sure if you’d just made a mistake.

then—

vi sat up suddenly, leaning over you, her bangs falling across her face. her eyes were wide, glowing softly in the dim light. “say it again.”

you blinked. “vi—”

“please,” she whispered, barely breathing. “just… say it one more time.”

your heart cracked open. “i love you.”

vi made a sound—something choked and beautiful—and pulled you up into her lap like you weighed nothing, arms wrapping around you so tightly you almost cried.

caitlyn sat up slower, reaching for your hand with shaking fingers. she kissed your palm once. twice. three times. “i didn’t know if we were allowed to hope for that.”

you looked at her, lips trembling. “why?”

“because you could’ve walked away the moment we changed. the moment we started growling and snarling and touching you like we’d die if we didn’t.” her voice broke. “but you stayed.”

“i stayed,” you said softly. “because i wanted to.”

vi buried her face in your neck. “say it again.”

you laughed through your tears. “i love you.”

caitlyn leaned in, forehead pressed to yours. “then let us love you forever.”

the bed was still a mess. your bodies were still sore. there was a faint bite mark on your shoulder and caitlyn had a scratch across her collarbone from where you’d clung too hard.

but none of that mattered.

you were safe.

you were wanted.

and you were theirs.

now and always.

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