#arcane library

[vintagerpg]

This is Shadowdark (2023), one of the most talked about RPGs in recent memory, certainly in the OSR neighborhood. It’s essentially the product of one person’s relentless labor — Kelsey Dionne, AKA Arcane Library — and a small pool of black ink swirlin’ artists — Lukas Korte, Brandish Gilhlm, Jesse Egan, Yuri Perkowski Domingos, Matt Morrow, Matt Ray, Mark Lyons and Abdul Latif.

But what is it? Boiled down to its essence, Shadowdark is a stripped-down version of 5E D&D, modified to provide something of the so-called Old-School experience. So, there are just four classes, combat is deadlier, exploration is limited by the necessity of torches (which introduces a lot of by-product problems for players to manage) and so on. In fact, exploration (and the finding of treasure) is really the core gameplay. In essence, Shadowdark does for 5E what Castles & Crusades did for 3E, though the end result here is more similar to something like Black Hack. There are modern comforts, like advantage and a luck mechanic. There’s new stuff, too. I have seen a lot of folks discussing the pros and cons of Shadowdark’s always-on initiative.

I don’t usually worry about time tracking or torches in my game, but Dionne makes a good case for doing so (in Shadowdark, torches last one hour of real time). It gives players something to always worry about and is more narratively interesting than encumbrance rules which I think have long been the other main way of messing with party traversal in a dungeon. I especially enjoy the GM section that encourages targeting the light and/or the holder of the torch.

It’s quite an accomplishment to deliver a system that plays well for both camps. Whether OSR or 5E player, the majority of the rules are recognizable, while the ones that aren’t should provide players pleasant surprises. That’s a rare thing!

[dnd-apothecary]

Arcane Library - my best-selling fragrance - is available for PRE ORDER!

Old leather books, a crackling fireplace, lavender incense and a hint of icy peppermint for that arcane ozone, you'll be transported to the wizard's tower or arcanist's library of your dreams!

Available as a candle, soap, or lotion: get yours here

[graycloak]

The Grimoire Encyclopaedia

As seen on [my instagram].

My copy of David Rankine’s The Grimoire Encyclopaedia (sic) from Hadean Press arrived today - both volumes. I knew they were going to be big … but 👀 I was not prepared 📚🤣

[atereaste]

Sevika as a housewife

CW: Smut

AN: do you know how hard it is thinking of headcannons for this woman? I tried my ABSOLUTE hardest to make it as cannon to her character as possible and I made sure to make it lengthy as possible. Also this was based off this one fanart I found on here that I sadly can’t find.

She’s usually up at 6AM. Not because she wants to but because that is when Anaya wakes. No alarm needed. She’s already halfway out of bed before the fussing starts.

Makes real breakfast like eggs, toast, potatoes, and a ridiculous amount of bacon. Claims it’s “for the baby,” but we all know who eats six strips before you even get up.

Has your coffee ready like clockwork. Never smiles when she gives it to you. Just grunts, “Mornin’. Go kick ass.”

She's not the apron-wearing, Pinterest mom type. She Never wears the classic housewife look. It’s all muscle tanks, joggers, band tees, and sometimes that old leather jacket she refuses to throw out. Cigarette behind the ear, not lit (she tries to quit for her daughter, but old habits never die).

Has her hair tied back, scars on display, robotic arm gleaming under the kitchen lights.

She doesn’t call herself a “housewife” but acts like one every day. If someone else calls her that, like a friend or a family member She grunts, lights a cigarette, and mutters, “Yeah. So?”

She acts like she’s annoyed when you tease her about being a housewife, but she secretly loves it.

Sevika never saw herself settling down, but once she did, it hit her like a punch to the chest, this quiet, domestic life? She’d kill to protect it.

Handles all the heavy lifting around the house literally and emotionally. Leaky roof? She’s on it. Baby teething and screaming all night? She’s the one pacing the hallway with her tucked to her chest, whispering calm nonsense. but she still makes your coffee just the way you like it every morning.

Keeps the house spotless but not fussy. Everything is practical, efficient, and deeply hers. You tried to buy decorative pillows once she threw them like a discus into the hallway.

Baby-proofed the entire house herself. Installed corner guards, outlet covers, and baby gates that require two hands and a prayer to open.

Her name is Anaya, a soft name that Sevika picked out, surprising you both. (You can change it if you want)

Anaya got your eyes and Sevika’s scowl. Chubby cheeks, big curious eyes, always grabbing her mama’s metal fingers.

Her daughter is the only creature on the planet who makes Sevika melt. Big, soft cheeks, giggly snorts, and chubby hands reaching for her scarred face? Yeah. She’s a goner.

Sevika is not soft by nature, but you and the baby bring out a version of her that’s damn near unrecognizable to anyone who knew her back in Zaun. She's a "tough on the outside, but a absolute marshmallow for her girls" kind of wife.

I hope this is a safe space but Sevika 100% listens to jazz like deep, brooding stuff. She prefers instrumental tracks, trumpet, sax, stand-up bass. Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, John Coltrane, Chet Baker when she’s feeling tender.

Late at night, she plays old vinyl on a secondhand turntable she restored herself. The low hiss of the record starting is practically sacred.

She doesn’t explain her choices, but you’ve caught her pausing at certain solos like they say something she doesn’t know how to put into words.

It’s always on low volume in the background while she cooks or tidies the house.

Anaya’s lullaby is jazz. Sevika rocks her while humming along, sometimes adding her own quiet rhythm with her metal fingertips on the baby’s back.

In the early mornings, you’ll find her at the kitchen table with coffee, newspaper, and a Coltrane record playing gently. Hair still messy from sleep, house quiet except for saxophone and birdsong.

She has a hidden stash of photos of the baby on her communicator like hundreds. Pretends she doesn’t take them. You know better.

Wears a necklace you gave her with the baby’s initials on it under her shirt. Only touches it when she’s stressed or tired.

She slow dances with you in the kitchen while dinner simmers. No words, just the rise and fall of horns, her hands on your hips, chin resting on your shoulder.

If you’ve had a rough day, she’ll put on Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday, pull you into her lap, and let the music speak for her.

Once, you walked in and found her in the nursery rocking Anaya to “Naima” eyes closed, swaying in rhythm, completely at peace.

Surprisingly good at cooking. She doesn’t do fancy, but her food hits like, home. Lots of stews, grilled meats, and roasted vegetables. She seasons like a pro and uses that cybernetic arm to mash plantains like a boss

Savory over sweet. Her palate leans toward rich, bold flavors spices, sears, and anything cooked low and slow.

Heavy-handed. No measuring cups. It’s all instinct. She cooks with the confidence of a woman who knows she’s feeding people she loves.

“Trust me. If I’ve made it more than twice, it won’t kill you.”

Anaya strapped to her chest in a carrier while she stirs a pot.

She doesn’t always say she loves you. But she seasons your rice exactly how you like it. She cooks with one arm so she can hold the baby with the other. She leaves leftovers in the fridge labeled with your name.

Does all the errands while wearing the baby strapped to her chest like a living shield.

The grocery store staff are terrified of her. No one questions the tattooed woman grabbing eight jars of applesauce and staring down anyone who lingers too long in her aisle.

If anyone tries to say anything about her being a housewife, she dares them to say it again. Proud protector of her home, her woman, and her daughter.

NSFW

Sevika’s housewife vibe completely flips in the bedroom. All that restrained energy, all those controlled gestures unleashed.

She’s slow, intense, and hyper-focused. She watches your reactions like a hawk, cataloguing what breaks you.

Very much a giver. Obsessive about your pleasure. She doesn’t finish unless you do first , sometimes more than once.

Kitchen sex happened once after you teased her while she was cooking she bent you over the kitchen island with one hand still holding a spoon.

She didn’t even take her apron off. Just dragged your panties down, muttered “Should’ve behaved,” and wrecked you until your legs gave out. Afterwards, feeds you bites of whatever she was making, while you sit on the counter in just a shirt and nothing else.

She adores your body after having Anaya. Scar, stretch marks, softness she’s obsessed. She kisses your stomach like it’s holy ground. “You made her in here,” she murmurs against you Sevika’s housewife vibe completely flips in the bedroom. All that restrained energy, all those controlled gestures unleashed.

Some nights she gets overwhelmed by it goes down on you like it’s worship, mumbling thank yous between your thighs.

She doesn't need formal dom/sub labels, but there's power in how she touches you. In how you let her.

Sometimes she calls herself “Daddy” in a low growl especially when she’s fucking you from behind with your legs shaking and her hand around your throat.

But more often, she calls you “mama.” In reverence. In filth. Whispered against your skin as she takes you apart: “Let me make mama feel good. Let me take care of you.”

Quickies while Anaya naps. Always risky. Always worth it.

The dryer buzzer goes off? She ignores it. You’re already bent over the washing machine, her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

When you come out flushed and trembling, Sevika smirks and goes, “Laundry’s done, babe.”

You say one thing about being tired or tense and she’s immediately kissing your neck, dragging you to bed, muttering “Let me help you unwind.”

That always leads to you face-down in pillows, ass up, her mouth on you like she’s starving, refusing to stop until your legs are shaking.

She loves holding you by the throat not rough, but firm. Controlling.

She’ll squeeze just enough to make you whimper, then lean down and whisper, “That’s my girl. So fucking good for me.” You melt. Every time.

Her other hand always finds your clit when she does it. She knows exactly what you need and exactly how slowly to give it to you.

Sevika lives to use the strap on you. She takes her time choosing it, watching you undress, making you ask for it. She prefers when you’re tied down for it spread open, blindfolded, dripping for her.

When she slides in, she mutters, “Miss this, didn’t you?” and absolutely rails you through the mattress until you’re begging her to stop and she’s smirking like the devil.

She always says “We’ll be quiet.” You never are. Baby monitor’s on. House is still. She promises to go slow, gentle, quiet. Five minutes later, you’re sobbing into the sheets while she pounds into you, teeth in your shoulder, sweat dripping down her neck.

“Told you we couldn’t be quiet,” she teases afterward, licking her fingers clean.

You’ve never experienced focus like Sevika’s mouth between your legs. She doesn’t just eat you out she commits.

Buries her face, groans into you, holds you down when you try to run.

You’ll come once and she’ll keep going. Twice? She’s just warming up. She gets off on how wrecked you get under her tongue.

She jerks off to the memory of it later. Usually in the shower. Often thinking about the exact sound you made the third time you broke.

Sevika loves fucking you in front of the mirror. It's not just visual it's about power. She wants you to watch yourself fall apart for her.

She stands behind you, hand around your throat or arm across your waist, whispering filth in your ear:

“Look at that face. You see how pretty you are when you beg?”

She makes you keep eye contact with your reflection. Every orgasm, every whimper—“Eyes up. Be a good girl.”

Sometimes she fingers you from behind while you sit in front of the vanity post-bath. Just a towel, her mouth on your neck, and your reflection wet and wrecked.

Sevika gets off on almost getting caught. Like when Anaya napping, and she bends you over the kitchen table with the baby monitor in full view.

“Keep your voice down,” she warns right before she slaps your ass and shoves two fingers in.

She loves fucking you in places you shouldn’t be: laundry room, balcony, the hallway, even the nursery rocker (when she’s feeling especially risky).

One time, she forgot the curtains were open. Now the neighbors won’t look you in the eye and Sevika? She smirks every time.

You already have Anaya but Sevika still talks about putting another baby in you like it’s her life’s mission.

She’ll say it in your ear while she’s fucking you, voice low and wrecked:

“Gonna fill you up again. Look so fuckin’ pretty knocked up.”

Even when she’s not using her strap, she fingers you through an orgasm while kissing your stomach, murmuring,

“Wanna see you round with my kid again. You’d carry it so well.”

The idea isn’t just sex it’s ownership, devotion, obsession. She wants every inch of you marked by her.

Early morning. Anaya’s still asleep. Sunlight through the curtains. You’re in her old t-shirt and nothing else. Sevika wakes up hard, sees the little wet patch on your shirt, and groans,

“Still leakin’ for me, mama?”

She wraps an arm around you, pulls your tit into her mouth, and suckles while fingering you slowly from behind.

You’re half-asleep and already moaning, legs trembling as she rubs slow circles over your clit and murmurs, “You’re so soft like this. So mine.”

She makes you come twice before breakfast. Her face never leaves your chest.

I’m gonna make a part two of this but of just basic Sevika headcannons cause I have so many written just let me know if you wanna be tagged in that Ⓒ atereaste

[rosieandthemoon]

Book of Hours. French, 1400’s

[librarypapa]

Self indulgent babyre Jinx moodboard..

If anyone has any requests for agere arcane moodboards feel free to drop them in my inbox !

[callaclysm]

me (tragedy enjoyer): actually jayvik ARE dead. actually they loved each other more than anything and it was not enough. actually without ekko jayce’s vow renewal strategy wouldn’t have worked even though viktor folded almost immediately. actually what they did to each other could not be undone. actually you cannot hurt anyone worse than the people you love. actually they saved the world and it cost them everything. actually they died in each other’s arms knowing that the person they loved more than anything loved them just the same. actually there is nothing left of them but their legacy, which will paint them as bitter enemies. actually—

[sleepyminty]

I love when some stories and any type of medias does shit like this

[mcversipellis]

“Words tell stories. Specifically, the history of those words - how they came into use, and how their meaning morphed into what they mean today - tell us just as much about a people, if not more, than any other kind of historical artefact.”

― R.F. Kuang, Babel: An Arcane History

Inst @mchernovart

[an-au-blog]

modern academic au where viktor just can't get his peace and quiet in the library. Because every time he tries to study, there's this damned himbo that trails him around asking him what he's researching with a big goofy smile. It's always "do you want me to carry your books" and "oh I haven't read that one yet, is it good," and so on and so forth. And in his mind, it's like "just because I'm using a cain doesn't mean I need your help, and yeah of course you haven't read it, you're probably in with some sports scholarship or whatever" but he never voices it. He's the headmaster's portage and he can't go around being rude to random people in the library. Plus, it's not like the other man stays too long, he goes to classes and secludes himself to study as well.

Around exam season, the man stopped hanging off his arm so much, they didn't cross paths in the library or in the halls, but once or twice, Viktor would see him with books about physics, electronics and other things Viktor had been researching before. He never approached him, but he was a bit amused at the seriousness in his expression while he was scribbling something in his notebooks.

If the man WAS on a sports scholarship, perhaps he was reading those books to find a way to talk to Viktor more and in all honesty, it would have been the most someone had done to get to flirt with him, so what if he thought it was a little sweet... it wasn't as if he would expect though. No. His studies were far too important to be put on the back burner for a guy who thought a bone crushing hug (that usually lasts too long for it to be just friendly) was an adequate way to greet an acquaintance.

One day, Viktor found a notebook with research that could be groundbreaking one day. It was past closing hours for the academy, but he had keys so he was left to read all the notes throughout the whole night and even into the day. The neat handwriting, the diagrams, the brilliant ideas... whoever this person was, he was flowing in potential. And when Viktor turned each page he couldn't help but smile to himself, how silly and a bit narcissistic, to sign your name on each of them. Jayce Talis, Jayce Talis, Jace Talis, Jayce Talis, each page, just Jayce Talis, Jayce-

"Hey!"

A familiar voice called for him. Out of breath and disheveled, stood the man who had been trailing him around.

"Oh, I'm so glad I found it- I mean you-" He sagged with relief. But when his eyes flickered from the notes to Viktor and back, he seemed to get a bit sheepish. "I thought I lost them." A whisper to himself before he snapped his eyes back to Viktor. "Ah, uh... you read all of them?"

And there he was, flirting with the same lame excuse, Viktor thought.

"Yes," he decided to humour him a bit. Closing the book and pulling it away from the other. "I was hoping to return it to it's owner, maybe discuss some of the ideas in it."

The man didn't seem to take the hint as he sat across from him with a small smile. "Yeah? So you don't think it's an obnoxious or ridiculous idea?"

"Ridiculous? Perhaps a bit, but it is not obnoxious to want natural resources of this quantity to produce -" He stopped himself, this random guy didn't need to hear it. "Nevermind, you don't need to hear that." Viktor was ready to stand up until he felt a hand reach for his to make him stay.

"No, no! I really want to hear it! Every professor I've tried showing my research to has told me I'm being unrealistic. But I think that with enough time, and effort, it's possible!" His face was glowing. "I mean as far as energy sources go, this could save much for both the people and companies. See- " grabbed one of the notebooks and started flipping through it, "right here, I tried to make a model of-"

"Jayce?" Viktor asked in disbelief.

The other man looked up at him with that dumb smile again. "Yes?"

"Jayce Talis...?"

Jayce tilted his head in question. "Yes?" He asked with more hesitance.

"You are Jayce Talis?" Viktor lifted up the notebook, pointing at the place where the name was signed.

"Did I not introduce myself the first time we met?"

"No!"

Jayce laughed a little awkward chuckle and it made Viktor's chest constrict. With anger, probably...

"Well, I'm sorry, um. My name is Jayce." He reached his hand out for a shake. "Nice to meet you."

"Viktor." He took it. "Likewise." And he found himself meaning it.

[homuraakemis]

Vi + books

[thegorgonist]

Who needs a ladder to reach high shelves when you have a flying broomstick? This library full of secret histories and arcane treatises is open to all who wish to study there--though you may need to bring some esoteric dictionaries... Prints here

[atereaste]

B.A.S (Both Ain’t Shit)

Fuck it, guess we both ain’t shit

Pairings: Caitlyn X Mel X Reader.

Warnings: smut (fingering), cussing, public sex.

A/N: I wanna thank my sister @2000blde and my friends @grosspube, Kya, and Sina for helping me out with this fic it was a loooong struggle and I promised them this. Also this was suppose to come out yesterday for Caitlyn’s birthday but I had a terrible tooth ache.

You don't know how you got into this messy situation. In a crowded room where businessmen talk about the latest stocks and celebrities discuss the juiciest drama going on.

But Mel and Caitlyn those two were nowhere to be found the two most important woman in the business world are in a janitor's closet fucking their girlfriend like it was your last day on earth.

The smell of cleaning supplies lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the heady scent of sweat and arousal. The small space felt suffocating, yet you couldn’t care less as their bodies trapped you between them. Mel’s lips were on your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin as she left her mark, making her dominance clear.

Their movements were relentless, urgent, like this was the last night they’d ever have with you. Mel’s low, commanding voice filled your ear as she whispered filthy promises, her hand sliding up your thigh, joining Caitlyn in their shared effort to unravel you completely.

The sharp contrast of Mel’s fiery intensity and Caitlyn’s calculated precision was dizzying, leaving you gasping, barely able to form a coherent thought.

You were theirs, and they made sure you felt every second of it, as if they truly believed it might be their last chance to claim you.

The party outside might as well have been on another planet. The world they ruled so effortlessly had been left behind, the only thing that mattered now being your trembling body between them and the sinful pleasure they were determined to wring from you.

Mel’s gaze is fixed on you, dark and hungry, like a predator sizing up her prey. Her lips curl into a teasing smirk, her golden eyes practically undressing you as though she can already taste you on her tongue. The way she watches you makes your pulse race, every inch of you aching under the weight of her attention.

“Relax baby let us take care of you” With a soft, reassuring voice, Caitlyn coos as her hands glide over the smooth fabric of your expensive black dress. In one fluid and practiced motion, she slips it off your shoulders, letting the luxurious material cascade down your body effortlessly.

The dress pools at your feet for just a moment before Caitlyn scoops it up and casually tosses it into the depths of the closet, Removing your bra the dark skinned girl is fast to latch her mouth onto your breasts sucking and biting on the sensitive nipple.

Their warmth surrounds you, the air thick with anticipation and unspoken desire. Neither of them moves with any urgency, but the tension between the three of you is almost unbearable.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn’s touch is agonizingly slow, her fingertips barely grazing the soft skin of your thighs as they travel downward. The featherlight sensation sends shivers racing across your body, your breath hitching when her fingers finally hook around the waistband of your panties. She slides them down with infuriating precision, her nails scraping gently against your skin as she goes.

When Caitlyn’s fingers find your soaked clit, she pauses, circling it just enough to make your knees weak. A strangled whimper escapes you, the anticipation coiling tight in your core. Sandwiched between them, unable to move or do anything but wait, you silently plead for them to stop teasing and finally claim you.

Caitlyn’s middle and ring finger brush against your folds she's teasing the fuck out of you and you fucking hate it both of them are touching you but this isn't enough whimpering out the blue haired girl snickers as she places her chin against your shoulder “what baby girl? You have to use your words you know this” she coos as her teeth nip at your shoulder.

Please Cait- Mel please fuck me” you mew as both women let out a breathy chuckle at your desperation. Happy at your begs, Caitlyn rewards you by shoving her thin fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal. Drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers fucking you with the correct quantity of pressure you arch your back against Caitlyn moaning.

“you're such a slut” she whispers in your ear. Her voice is enticing, she knows how to make your legs squirming, and desperate for more. She has that control over you that's what made you so attracted to her. Their touches are rough, yet gentle but you find yourself responding to it still begging for more.

“You like this huh? Us fucking you in public” Mel says wrapping her hand around your throat slightly choking Mel watches you closely, the smirk on her face growing as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Caitlyn's thumb presses down on your clit, and you can't help but buck your hips, the pleasure too intense to hold back.

You squeal as the dark skinned woman grabs ahold of your face squeezing it making your lips pucker up “you don't want them to hear us hm? Be quiet dear” she demands as Cait continues to finger-fuck you roughly.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Mel questions as her eyes stay glued on your expression wet squelch noises coming from your cunt and the mixture of your moans that fill the closet you know the people outside can hear the nasty sounds your cunt is making. You nod your head as she scoffs at your fucked out face before pulling you closer to her.

Her lips brushed yours, soft and tentative at first, testing the waters. The faintest sigh escaped you as her warmth drew you closer. She deepens the kiss, her lips steadfast and purposeful, molding perfectly against yours. Mel hands slid up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. The kiss grew more passionate, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips before slipping inside, exploring you with a mix of dominance and tenderness.

Time seemed to pause as you melted into her, the rhythm of the kiss her touch became more insistent, her fingers tightening in your hair. Breathless, you broke apart for a moment, foreheads pressed together, before diving back in, chasing the electrifying connection only her lips could ignite.

“You two are going to drive me insane,” Caitlyn muttered, her voice low and breathless before quickening her pace. Her hand found your most sensitive spot, her thumb circling your clit with deliberate, maddening precision. Each slow, measured loop sent sparks of pleasure radiating through your nude body.

Her fingers thrust into you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm, each movement calculated to push you closer to the edge of control.

You were an absolute wreck. The hair Mel had spent hours straightening was now curling at the ends, damp with sweat and heat. The makeup you had painstakingly perfected was a ruined masterpiece mascara trailing faint lines down your flushed cheeks, lipstick smeared from the messy kisses.

But none of it mattered. Not the effort, not the mess, not the way you were coming undone under Caitlyn's hands, and not the way Mel is kissing you with so much passion. All that mattered was the desperate craving they awakened in you a need for more, for everything, from the two of them.

Your hips moved at their own accord grinding down onto Cait’s fingers with a raw, and unrestrained hunger. Each thrust sends a spark through your trembling body, her fingers curling just right, finding every spot that makes your head spin. Your breathing is ragged, a string of broken moans falling from your lips as you chase the release they’re driving you toward. Every inch of you is alive, burning, as if the only thing tethering you to reality is the pleasure they give you.

Mel’s gaze was locked on your face, her sharp eyes tracking every flicker of emotion—the way your lips parted in ecstasy, the glazed, desperate look in your eyes. Her other hand hovered near your mouth, two fingers slipping between your lips. You sucked on them greedily, swirling your tongue around them as if trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming sensations below.

A scoff escaped her, though her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Look at you,” she murmured, her tone half amusement, half hunger. “Such a pretty, fucked-out mess.” Without warning, she pulled her fingers from your mouth, eliciting a whine of protest, before gripping your chin firmly and tilting your face toward her.

Mel closed the distance, her lips claiming you once again in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive. The taste of her was intoxicating, and the press of her mouth against yours only heightened the heat pooling in your core. Caitlyn didn’t let up, her fingers curling just right inside you, as if the two of them had conspired to push you past the point of no return.

Mel’s piercing gaze never wavered, her sharp eyes locked onto your face as if she were memorizing every flicker of pleasure that crossed it. Her smirk deepened, a glint of satisfaction flashing across her features as she watched your eyes roll back, your body writhing helplessly under her scrutiny. The cool authority she exuded made every shiver coursing through you feel more vulnerable, more exposed.

Caitlyn, always precise, pressed her thumb firmly against your clit, the pressure sending jolts of electricity through your core. A desperate cry escaped your lips, hips bucking uncontrollably, chasing the ecstasy that had taken hold of your trembling body. The coiling heat deep within you grew tighter, winding with every calculated scissor of Caitlyn’s fingers inside you.

Mel, ever attentive, leaned closer, her elegant hand gliding down to meet Caitlyn’s work. Her fingers brushed over your clit in firm, deliberate circles, the contrast of their combined touches overwhelming. Each movement felt like a perfect symphony, their rhythms synchronized to push you closer to the edge.

“It’s... it’s too much…Mel, please,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation as you weakly tried to push their hands away. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the overstimulation threatening to shatter you. But Mel wasn’t the type to grant mercy. Her dark fingers caught your chin, tilting your head until you met her gaze. The closeness of her face, the sharp scent of mint on her breath, made your knees weak.

“Move your hands, Y/N,” she said evenly, her voice laced with quiet authority. You shook your head, lips trembling, but Mel’s grip tightened, her eyes narrowing with a warning that left no room for argument.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she asked, her tone calm but sharp as a blade. A shiver ran down your spine, your resistance crumbling under her control. With a soft whimper, you let your hands fall away, surrendering completely to them. The static haze of pleasure filled your mind as Caitlyn’s fingers curled just right, hitting spots that made you see stars.

The room in the dim, tucked away corner of the grand ballroom where the celebration was in full swing faded from your awareness. Their hands, their bodies, their presence consumed every ounce of your focus. This wasn’t just pleasure; it was a claim, a deliberate reminder of their control over you.

“I’m…oh god…I’m gonna cum,” you cried out, your voice breaking as the pressure in your core reached its peak. Caitlyn’s fingers plunged deeper, her thumb circling your clit with relentless precision. Mel’s touch remained steady, amplifying every sensation until your body gave in. Your head fell back, a desperate moan tearing from your throat as your orgasm slammed into you, leaving you trembling and undone against Caitlyn’s shoulder.

But even as your body convulsed, they didn’t relent. Caitlyn’s pace quickened, her knuckles brushing deeper, her focus unyielding. Mel’s lips ghosted over your ear, her fingers resuming their torturous circles on your overstimulated clit.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Mel whispered, her voice rich with amusement. The overstimulation sent sparks racing through your limbs, making you shudder and squirm. But their determination was clear—they weren’t stopping until you were reduced to nothing more than a trembling, incoherent mess.

Just as the coil in your stomach tightened again, ready to snap, the crackle of a microphone interrupted.

“And now, Caitlyn and Mel, please join us on stage to accept your award!”

The announcement pierced the haze, pulling you back to reality like a bucket of ice water. Caitlyn stilled, her fingers still buried inside you as she let out an exasperated growl. “Perfect timing,” she muttered bitterly, withdrawing her hand with deliberate slowness that left you shuddering.

Mel chuckled softly, withdrawing her own touch as she leaned back with a smirk. “Guess we’ll have to pick this up later,” she said, her tone teasing but firm.

Caitlyn shot her a sharp glare, then turned to you, her hands already moving to fix your dress. Her movements were brisk but surprisingly gentle, her fingers lingering on your waist as she adjusted the fabric. “Hold still,” she muttered, though the intensity in her dark gaze betrayed her frustration and her jealousy.

Meanwhile, Mel smoothed a stray strand of hair from your face, her thumb brushing away the faint smear of lipstick on your jaw. “A bit messy,” she remarked with a sly smile, glancing at Caitlyn. “Though I suppose that’s your fault.”

“Enough,” Caitlyn snapped, running her hands over her dress to smooth out any creases. “We can’t walk out of here looking like we’ve been... busy.” Her sharp tone was tinged with irritation, though the flush in her cheeks betrayed something deeper.

Mel only shrugged, clearly enjoying Caitlyn’s frayed composure. “Relax, Cait. You’re the one who couldn’t wait.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes but said nothing, instead cupping your chin and tilting your face up to hers. “You’re mine as much as hers,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive. “Don’t forget that.”

The weight of her words hung between the three of you as Caitlyn released you and turned to the door. Mel followed, pausing to glance back with a wink before stepping into the brightly lit hallway.

Left alone for a moment, still trembling and breathless, you adjusted your dress, your mind spinning. The unfinished tension lingered, a promise hanging in the air. Whatever jealousy simmered between them now would undoubtedly ignite later, and you knew you weren’t escaping unscathed.

Ok I'm done my first post of 2025 I hope y'all enjoy as I enjoyed writing this (I didn't I haven't written smut since 2023 and I kept self doubting myself) if you wanna part 2 just let me know and I hope you have good day (and keep requesting stuff) orevwa :). Ⓒ︎ seulszn.

[yamenpalestine]

My friends, please repost—there are no donations. My children are in a very difficult situation. They need milk, food, and water.

Please save them.

[persimmontartkisses]

Would kill for a jayvik time loop fic that's just Jayce booping back to before the explosion, and trying to save Viktor from all the hextech shenanigans by having him not die in the council room in the first place, but nothing he does is working. Is that a thing already? Has someone written that tasty angst nugget?