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justkeepshippingg · 19 hours ago

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Cherry bomb Part 2: a Caitvi Hate fuck fanfic

Vi's POV.

Summary: Caitlyn goes to rescue fight-club-always-fucked-up Violet (s2, episode 5) from the bar. Instead, she finds herself led back to her apartment. They realize they have nothing to lose. It gets slutty. Part 2/?? How do you love a woman and fuck her like you don’t?

Part one: Cait's POV

Caitlyn rolls her eyes, a giggle spilling forward that turns into a grunt when Vi unceremoniously shoves both fingers deep inside of her. Caitlyn aches with need, and she wraps her arms around Violet’s broad back, her shoulders hunching forward as she tries to get as close to Vi as possible. She squeezes her cunt against Violet’s fingers and it’s Vi’s turn to cuss. Push and pull; Caitlyn ruts her hips forward and Vi digs her black-painted fingers into Cailtyn’s hot, pallid hip, squeezing the flesh and holding her in place. Vi shifts tactics, turning her fingers over inside of Caitlyn – and making her laugh with the shock of it – and rubbing that spongey, wet patch right inside of her aching cunt. Caitlyn’s head falls forward, her breath coming hot and heavy in Vi’s ear.

“You sound incredible,” Vi says. “I could listen to you for..”

Forever, Caitlyn hears.

Vi must realize, because she drops to her knees, her fingers sliding out of Caitlyn with a wet sound so simultaneously sexy and disgusting that Caityn flushes from her cheeks all the way down the tops of her tits.

Vi drops her cheek to Caitlyn’s thigh, staring straight at her cunt as she asks,

“Are you ready for more?”

Vi is biting down hard on her own lip as she stares into the deepest part of Caitlyn, and it’s not just because her cunt is this perfect layered blossom of delicious purples and cherry pinks and blood-reds. It’s because of that, obviously, this is Cait we’re talking about, her Cait, but not her Cait anymore, and fuck she’s still kind of drunk but fuck if she isn’t locked in and fuck did she really almost say FOREVER TO THIS FANCY MOTHERFUCKER.

Vi still hasn’t kissed Cait on the mouth. They both know it. Her come is a sticky web all over Vi’s fingers, but her mouth is in the clear. Something about it feels too intimate, which is stupid since they’ve kissed, oh, a zillion times? But Vi is still so angry and she doesn’t want to give apparently-not-Ghost-Cait everything she wants. She wants to keep something for herself.

She wants to give Cait something to want after this is over.

When Cait ruined them… when she left Vi, she broke something irreparable. Vi can’t think about it. She can’t think about any of it. So she crashes out. She goes out on nights like this. She drinks something shitty and probably killing her and she doesn’t kill herself but she doesn’t not kill herself either. She scrapes away at herself bit by bit. Yeah, it’s probably like self harm, okay? Vi isn’t dumb. She knows what she’s doing to herself. She just doesn’t know how to exist in a world where this ridiculously tall woman with a dumb-beautiful face and even better heart (yeah, she hears it, gag her) isn’t hers. She doesn’t know how to get through the next day or week or month without Cait's happy-horny giggle pouring down her wet throat. She doesn’t know where to find warmth without this person that is clearly her person but who doesn’t want her.

But, right now, she does. Cait wants Vi. Vi doesn’t even have to ask. For once, she doesn’t have to wonder. She’s stared enough pussies in the face to know that this one – dripping, throbbing, practically inhaling and exhaling right in her mouth – wants her.

So does the woman attached to it.

“Vi,” Cait whines.

“What?” Vi plays with her. She matches the energy of her words with her movements and drags one finger, just her pointer finger, not the one Cait likes the most – that bitch likes her thumb, weirdo, and Vi loves her for it – across her entrance.

Cait throws her head back and moans. It’s all dark hair spilling down her back, too short to reach the table beneath her. Her narrow shoulders round and she arches. Cait’s cunt even has the nerve to shudder. Bottles jingle behind her and she swears the fire gets brighter.

Vi smiles. She might not always get along with its owner, but Cait’s pussy lives for her.

Her and her alone.

Yeah, Vi’s been fucking a lot of women, okay? But none of them are Cait. None of them quiver like this. None of them whisper that low, guttural “fuck” quite like Cait does, her fancy ass accent going strong as she aches for her. Vi likes women. She likes to make them come. She likes to let them ride her face until their thighs are quaking and bruised. She likes to let them suck her strap until their jaws are sore and their eyes are glowing with (happy, she’s not a monster) tears. She likes the way they look when they fall undone. Even the prissiest girl becomes a mess in the right situation.

Vi likes to find said situation.

But, fuck if Vi doesn’t like to undo this girl the best of them all.

Her finger still teases at Cait’s entrance, rubbing less than an inch, back and forth, a gentle prod that doesn’t at all give Cait what she’s shivering for. Vi looks up and Cait’s eyes are locked on hers.

“You have the prettiest pussy in the city,” Vi says without meaning to.

Cait’s eyes go wide and she groans Vi’s name. “Please,” she whines. “Please.”

Vi’s face flushes. She didn’t want Cait to know how badly she wants her. Fuck. She thinks quickly, and spits right in the face of that pretty pussy.

It might be the alcohol still burning through her veins, but Vi is pretty sure Cait’s cunt opens up wide and swallows.

“Stop fucking with me,” Cait demands, but the force of her words are undermined by the gentle undercurrent in her tone of voice.

Baby blue eyes on soft gray. Memories flooding both. Touches and kisses and brushes of skin against skin. Love, most of all, love, new love that felt so… impossibly forever. That word again. Fuck.

How do you love a woman and fuck her like you don’t?

Vi ducks her head and shoves her tongue against Cait’s clit to shut her mind off. Cait’s thighs immediately lock on Vi’s ears, and she feels more than hears the moans run down Cait’s throat, tearing through her chest and making their way down her lanky frame to meet Vi’s eardrums. Vi gives in just a bit, and moans right into Cait’s clit. She digs her short, blackened nails into Cait’s bare hips and tries to hurt the flesh there. Her own knees ache. She’s probably on those dumbass letters she kept writing to Cait because, well, she is a desperate idiot in love with a woman that she was allegedly never going to see again? But not desperate enough to mail them. Or maybe too busy fighting strangers and making them bleed and pounding shots with hotter strangers to make it to a mailbox and ruin her own life.

She hardens her tongue and begins to lick, slow and targeted, from the base of Cait’s clit above her opening to just under the head. She coaxes it forward, whispering tipsy nonsense about how pretty and lovely and sexy it is, inviting it to grow bolder, to stretch beyond its hood. She can be sweet to it because it’s not Cait, not really. This is between her and this clit, Cait be damned. And there it is, glistening and ready for her.

Vi wraps her lips around Cait’s newly visible clit and rolls her tongue over it, around it, beating it up until she knows Cait’s going to be bruised and maybe even in a little pain. Vi can feel her mouth filling with salt and wet and she drowns in it. She kneads Cait’s fleshy hips to hold her in place and keep her thrusting from ruining her and the clit’s moment. She rubs her face all over Cait, all too eagerly becoming a mess of black ink and bar sweat and Cait's precious come.

Vi'll admit it: she's pleased. She slides her face down Cait’s thigh and lays her cheek upon it, pausing until Cait looks down.

And, fuck. Cait. That face. Her high cheekbones are painted with her flush. Her pouty, girlish mouth hangs open. A flurry of curses escape from it. Her hair is trashed, sweat gluing blue baby hairs to her heart-shaped forehead.

I love you, Vi thinks. She turns and sinks her teeth into the soft belly of Cait’s inner thigh, and Cait screams out in a mixture of pain and pleasure and, even more pleased, Vi returns to Cait’s cunt. She wants to eat her. Sadly, she is neither cannibal nor vampire. But she wants a new angle.

She pivots, lifting Cait off of the table. Cait immediately wraps her legs around her, and, FUCK, they’re kissing, when did they start kissing? How did this happen? Who moved first? How did her tongue get in Cait’s mouth?

And, fuck, has Cait always tasted this good? Her sweet saliva guided into Vi’s mouth via her pink tongue, the way it blends into something that could probably just kill Vi right on the spot as it mixes with Cait’s own come in Vi’s mouth, the push and pull of lips on lips, the way they’re both grunting like they’ve lost their damn minds, Cait crawling inside of Vi with sharp nails and needy hips that buck and grind and do not apologize.

Cait’s tongue swirls along Vi’s top lip and Vi gives up on her original plans. Fuck it. She wants everything Cait has to give. Vi gives as good as she gets and lowers swiftly, letting her body hit the ground hard and hurting her own back – ever the gentleman, she thinks to herself, and then has to try to not laugh at her own quip – before she spins and shoves Cait onto the messy floor. She wants more mess.

“Take your fucking clothes off,” Vi barks.

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coffee-and-geto · 3 months ago

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satoru is the kind of husband who’s often absent. between missions, meetings, jujutsu high, and let’s not forget his clan, he spends his time running around instead of spending time with you — his wife.

it’s a routine. though sometimes, not seeing him can get really frustrating (not to mention the number of tears you’ve shed because of his absence). he’s well aware of it. poor guy feels guilty every second he’s away from you.

one evening, after spending the whole time of it crying over his absence, curled up like a caterpillar in the soft, cottony white duvet, you finally found sleep. a deep sleep, to be precise.

but apparently not deep enough, because in the middle of the night, the moonlight filtering through the windows wakes you up. you quickly realize something heavy is resting on your body. a warm, steady breath brushes against the skin of your neck, sending shivers across your whole body.

you squirm slightly under your husband, who’s lying on top of you as if you were his mattress. “satoru, get off me…”

“hmmm,” he hums, pouting and furrowing his brows. instead of freeing you, he shifts lazily on top of you, trapping you further in his arms. and you’re still wrapped in your duvet, too.

“satoru, i can’t move anymore.” but that doesn’t seem to matter. he clings to you like a koala to a tree. you sigh.

“i missed you.” he plants a soft kiss on your cheek, instantly melting your heart. “i love you.” he chuckles softly, eyes still closed, because he knows you don’t really hold it against him. “i’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” a promise he kept, to your delight.

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