#caitlyn fanfiction

[thebigqueer]

"Violets, even among sweat" - Caitvi - One-Shot

Summary: Cait and Vi spend a few hours at a bar in Piltover after the war. Word Count: 4574 Notes: TWs for alcohol and past alcohol abuse. Also the fic is sensual but not sexual. Read on AO3

“What would you like?” Cait asks, placing a hand over Vi’s on the counter. “Tonight is on me.”

Vi looks around. It’s the first time she’s been to one of the Piltover bars, and she has to say, the scene doesn’t strike her as exciting the Undercity’s. Sure, it’s populated and there’s good music playing, but something about this place just doesn’t feel… familiar. She feels like she’s been dropped into some alternate universe, where the colors are less vibrant and the air feels heavier on her shoulders. 

But that’s a feeling she’s starting to get used to. Ever since the war, nothing’s truly felt the same. And she knows nothing ever will, not really.

Caitlyn’s quiet for a moment, her good eye piercing Vi, making her skin prickle. Vi tries to look away, but that’s not really something she’s ever been good at; Caitlyn’s gaze has always held Vi on a leash. 

Now the bartender stands before them, so Vi juts her head towards him. “Go ahead.” 

Caitlyn’s frown doesn’t relent, but she turns to the bartender anyway. When he’s gone, Caitlyn fixes her attention on Vi again. 

“You know,” she says, “if you’d told me you weren’t going to drink, I wouldn’t have brought you to the bar. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, but Vi can see her gaze shivering nervously, like she’s trying to see through a cloudy glass.

Vi shrugs, then rubs her finger against Cait’s hand. It feels strange, being able to touch her now after months of being haunted by her. “You seemed like you needed it,” she says, then makes a show of stretching out her arms and cracking her knuckles. “And I was in need of busting out a few moves on the dance floor, anyway.” 

This seems to relieve Cait of some of her initial stress, and the smile on her lips widens. “You? Dance? I’d like to see this.” 

“You don’t think I could handle that dance floor?” 

“I just didn’t think you were the dancing type.” 

“You don’t know me at all, then.” 

Cait laughs, and the sound of it makes Vi's chest bubble with warmth. The bartender returns with Cait’s drink and slides it over to her, and she leans forward to take a sip. But the entire time, her gaze is locked on Vi. When she lifts her head again, she sighs. “Can I ask you something?”

There’s that stone in her eye again. A solid determination, an ambition to get answers. Vi’s always found her persistence to investigate both endearing and the most obnoxious thing about her. “Am I going to like the question?”

“Probably not,” Caitlyn says, then takes another sip, almost as if trying to steel herself. A silence builds between them, a silence so solid that even the music pulsing around them and the blades of lights can’t cut through. Caitlyn fixes her gaze on Vi again. “What happened to you in the time that we were… separated?”

Vi’s stomach leadens, and suddenly she’s even more glad she decided not to drink. She raises an eyebrow. “‘Separated’ is an interesting way to put it.” 

Cait reaches for her hand again, this time desperation heavy in her touch. “Vi.” 

Vi sighs and leans back in her seat, fixing her gaze on Caitlyn. “I don’t think you’re going to like hearing the truth.”

“There’s a lot of things I don’t like hearing,” Caitlyn says. “That doesn’t mean I won’t be able to take it.” She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. “Besides, protecting my feelings has never been one of your priorities.” 

Vi looks again at Cait’s hand on hers, warm and heavy against her knuckles. Not until now, she thinks. 

But at the same time, as Vi looks into Caitlyn’s good eye, images of the past few months rage through her: blood soaking into the ground of the pit, both hers and her opponent’s; lights flashing against the bottom of a glass as she got another round at the bar; bruises on her knuckles pulsing the next morning after a long night of brawling. All that time spent festering her anger with everything - with Jinx, with Silco, with all of the stupid Topsiders who made her think they’d actually ever cared about the Undercity. And with Caitlyn especially. 

How badly she wanted to make Caitlyn hurt just as much as she’d hurt her. How badly she’d wanted to see her beg for forgiveness.

Vi takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment. Then she releases. “Things changed when you left,” she murmurs, taking her eyes off Caitlyn. She can’t bring herself to speak with that electric gaze trying to pierce right through her. “I became angry.” She tilts her head away, shying away from Cait’s reaction as she adds, “I started brawling.” 

Caitlyn’s eyebrows rise in surprise, and she makes a grunt of shock. “That explains why you looked like that when we saw each other at the camp.” 

Despite herself, Vi smirks at her. “You can pretend to hate it as much as you want, but I saw you staring at me.” 

Cait’s eye rolls.

“I started out pretty good,” Vi continues. “You should’ve seen me. Had a straight winning streak for a good while. And I thought it was helping - trying to punch my way through my anger. I thought that rage was what was fueling me. Sometimes when I was in that pit, I’d imagine my opponent was you, and… sometimes that would just work.” Vi shakes her head. “But I think that anger was only making me weaker. Suddenly all I could see was you, everywhere. When I was waiting for the match to start, I thought it was you in the audience. When I was at the bar, I thought it was you inviting me to dance. When Loris was taking me back night after night, drunk off my ass, it was your eyes staring at me from every corner.” Vi closes her eyes, holding herself in the memory of that pain. It feels like she’s running her fingers over a still-healing wound; even with Cait here now, in front of her, touching her, the ache of those nights still presses on her. Vi scoffs without amusement. “Loris even told me at one point I was so drunk I thought some rando guy at the bar was you. And I punched him.” 

She means the memory to be more funny, but Caitlyn releases a slow breath, as if pulling out a knife out of her skin. And Vi can’t really blame her; it really wasn’t that funny when she woke up the next morning with nausea heaving in her stomach and a headache pounding against her skull, with no memory of the night before and the weight of the Kiramman flag draped over her a constant reminder of everything she’d lost.

“I started losing the brawls after that,” Vi continues. “I don’t know. I guess you’d started to feel less like motivation and more like another weight on me, another person I’d failed.” Vi shakes her head. “I blamed myself a lot after that. For losing Powder. For not letting you take the shot at Jinx. For letting you convince me to be an Enforcer at all. For letting you convince me to turn on my own people. All I could think about, walking those streets and seeing your face plastered on my walls, was how I’d let it all happen.” Vi’s eyes tighten as she tries to breathe through the pain. “Who knows what would’ve happened if you’d taken the shot… Would we have been here at all? Would you have actually gotten a hit on Jinx? Would I have forgiven you for taking her, even after I told you I was okay with it?” She heaves a sigh and opens her eyes, and her gaze falls to the floor. “I don’t know. Maybe if I somehow convinced myself that Powder wasn’t still in there, I’d have let you take the shot. But there was no true way of knowing that, so I don’t really regret it. But it’s something I think about a lot.” Vi meets Caitlyn’s eyes again. “All the choices I made to get here.” 

Cait’s eye shivers again, the blue of it almost chameleon in the blinding lights of the club. When another ray of pink light slices over her, Vi is suddenly thrown back into the present, and the irony of the moment almost makes her laugh. Vi, talking about all the shit she did to herself just a few months ago, while upbeat music plays around them and couples grind on each other and people laugh, celebrating the end of the war. It’s almost comedic.

Cait’s mouth opens and closes, trying to catch a sentence out of the floating words of the people around them, but nothing really makes it out. Through the dim lighting, Vi can see a tear glisten in her eye. 

Maybe it’s mean of her, but now that she’s confessed all this, some part of her is glad to see that pain there. It’s a reminder to Vi that Caitlyn’s human after all, not just the commander she played.

“Can I be honest, though?” Vi asks. Cait’s eyebrows pull inward. Vi takes a deep breath and picks at a scratch in the wood counter. “That night that we separated in the sewers… I know I told you I was trying to protect the kid. But I think I was trying to protect Powder. I thought I saw her in there.” And, suddenly, the memory of her sister dangling from her grip strikes Vi: her eyes glowing purple in the light, the weight of her and Vander making Vi’s shoulder flash in white hot pain. The desperation in her sister’s eyes, but also a resignation, as if she’d accepted her end.

Vi remembers how strange her sister looked then, looking up at her with those wide, bewildered eyes. She wasn’t quite Jinx, not with that eerie peace in her eyes - but not quite Powder, either. She was someone new, someone who’d grown into their fate. It was a beautiful combination of both of them - a glimpse into the sister that she could have become, maybe in a different timeline. 

There’s no good version of me, Jinx had said. But she was wrong, so wrong; Vi saw nothing but goodness as she looked down at her sister, smiling up at her as she and Vander fell into the blue abyss below.

Vi looks up at Cait now, and she’s surprised to see Cait’s hand reaching out to her face. Her thumb brushes over Vi’s cheek, right over the tattoo over her cheekbone, and with a start she realizes she’s crying. 

“I’m glad I didn’t let you shoot,” Vi whispers, leaning into her touch. “I was right.” 

Cait doesn’t say anything, just holds Vi’s face in her hand. She closes her eyes and leans further into her touch. 

Vi never thought she’d get the chance to touch Cait so intimately again. To trust her to hold Vi. But here she is, doing just that, because what other choice does she have? 

“I don’t even think ‘sorry’ could cut all the… shit I put you through,” Cait rumbles, her thumb brushing against Vi’s chin. “But I really am, Vi. I’m sorry about all of it. I should have known better than to ask you to take on the task of being an Enforcer. I shouldn’t have let my anger blind me.” Caitlyn’s eyebrows furrow. “I was just so… so frustrated that she could take my mother away from me like that. I took that rage too far.” Cait bows her head. “I see that now. The consequences of holding onto that anger.”  

Vi holds her hand against the back of Cait's cupped against her cheek. She runs her fingertips along her knuckles. 

“You know what makes me feel so stupid, though?” Cait asks, shaking her head in bewilderment. “When Jinx was in the cell, she told me she didn’t even know it was my mother. God… how ridiculous I felt at that moment. Ambessa convinced me I was chasing justice… but I was just chasing revenge, and that too, a trivial revenge. I realized, then, that if my mother knew the things I’d done - used her maps to hurt the people of the Undercity, aligned myself with some selfish warmonger, imprisoned people under her name - she would have been so disappointed in me.” Cait scowls and shoves out a breath. “I can’t believe how blinded I’d become. I went against everything my mother ever taught me. I hurt everyone, just because I was hurting.” She looks back at Vi. “I’m so sorry, Violet. I’m sorry about the person I became. I’m sorry for hurting you. You don’t have to forgive me, but just know that I am.” 

Vi is quiet for a moment, taking in the sight of Cait. Without thinking, she reaches out for the loose hair framing Cait’s face. It’s grown so long in just the past few months. Vi remembers when it barely used to fit in her ponytail; now it whispers against the back of her neck with every bob of movement. 

For some reason, the thought of Cait’s hair makes Vi think of Jinx again. How easily she flowed when she was fighting at the Hexgates, like she was finally in control of her body. How free she was from those heavy ropes. 

Vi moves her touch to Cait’s shoulder, rubs her thumb against the space at the crook of her neck. “One thing I’ve realized,” she says, tilting her head, “is that sometimes forgiving is the best way to let go. I think it’ll take time to get back on our feet, but at least we have time now. That’s better than nothing.” 

Cait’s lips quirk into a smile, but it quickly falls away. She turns her head away from Vi’s touch and looks at her drink, but makes no move towards it; she only takes her hand away from Vi’s face and swirls the straw in the glass. She lets go of a deep breath, one that shakes as it comes out. 

“I just… I don’t know how I’ll ever atone for the things I did,” she says. “It’s going to be something I live with for the rest of my life. Knowing I became a puppet in the very suffering I thought I was fighting against.” Cait shakes her head. “I don’t believe I deserve forgiveness.” 

Vi’s eyes fall to her hands, which have begun fidgeting in her lap. Cait closes her eye and sighs. 

“I don’t think everyone’s going to forgive you,” Vi says, placing a hand over Cait’s fingers. They still under her touch, and Cait looks up to meet Vi’s gaze again. “And I wouldn’t blame them. But what matters, Cait, is the choices you make moving forward. You can’t change the past, but what you can do is show them - the Undercity, the Topsiders, everyone caught in-between - that there’s a future for all of us. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the past few months, it’s that the choices we make are what make us who we are. You can be self-pitying as much as you want, but the only thing that can change the person you were is the choices you make moving forward.” Vi lifts Cait’s chin. “And I know you’ll make good choices.” 

Cait smiles at her, but Vi can tell from the way it barely reaches her eye that she doesn’t truly trust her words. She doesn’t say anything, though. She brings Vi’s hand to her face and leans her cheek against her palm, then gazes up at Vi with that solidifying gaze of hers. Vi knows that if she had been drinking, just the sight of her would sober her immediately. 

“Now you’re making me think,” Cait says, “about all the choices that brought us here. All the circumstances that had to happen for us to meet.” She reaches out with her other hand and pulls Vi’s hair forward, watches the red of it flash in the light. With a start, Vi realizes just how long her own hair has gotten, too. “Maybe there’s a world where even one choice we made would never have led to us meeting. Maybe there’s a world where none of this would have happened.” 

“Then I’m glad I’m not in that world right now.” 

To Vi’s surprise, Caitlyn blushes. Another storm of bright lights flashes against Cait’s features, and with that, the world begins to crash in again. The music thrums underneath Vi’s stool, and she can feel it pulse through Cait, too. Even in this headache-inducing light, somehow Cait has never looked better - the light almost glows from within her. 

The sight of her here, at this bar, makes Vi’s chest tingle. She’s reminded of those nights at the clubs in the Undercity, trying to drink Cait away, yet still seeing her in every flash of a face. How badly she wanted just one dance with her. How intangible she was then. 

And now, here she is, full and real and breathing under Vi’s very touch. 

“You know how you can start to make it up to me?” Vi murmurs, leaning in closer.

Cait’s eyebrow twitches nervously, and she tilts her head. “How?”

“Dance with me.” 

The nervousness disintegrates just as fast as it came, and amusement takes its place. “Dance?”

“Yes, dance. The thing you do with your legs?” Vi trails her hand down Cait’s arm, making sure to touch each and every bump of her sweater, until she reaches Cait’s fingers and holds on tight. Then she stands and tugs Cait towards her, and to her excitement, Cait follows. 

“Is this the part where I get to see you bust out your infamous dance moves?” Cait shouts over the music as Vi leads her through the crowd around them. It’s funny, Vi thinks, how suffocating all these bodies felt just months ago when she was in the Undercity; now, they feel familiar, like she’s returning home. Ironic, considering she’s anything but home.

Vi only turns around to face Cait when she finds an empty-enough space and smiles up at her. “No,” she says, looping her arms around Cait’s neck. “This is the part where you show me your infamous dance moves.”

“I never claimed that I have dance moves,” Cait says, looking around nervously. But there’s an amusement lingering in her eye, too.

“Then just follow my lead.” Vi pulls herself closer to Cait so that their noses are almost touching and she can feel Cait’s heart beat through her sweater, almost touching her own chest. 

Cait lets her hands rest against Vi’s hips, and for some reason, this touch alone makes something white and hot erupt in Vi’s chest. It’s not the first time they’ve touched each other - in fact, it’s actually probably the billionth time they’ve touched - but something about Cait’s hands on her, feeling her fingertips against her bare skin, makes Vi’s vision turn blurry. Scratch what she thought about Cait making her sober; if anything, she only makes her feel even more drunk. 

Vi watches Cait for a moment, savoring the realness of her body on this dance floor. She leans forward slowly and lays a kiss on her neck, then her jaw, then her lips. Cait’s grip tightens on her waist with each kiss, and in response, Vi kisses her harder. Her hands find their way up Cait’s neck and into her hair, up to the band holding her hair in its ponytail. When Cait takes her turn to kiss Vi’s neck, Vi starts playing with the band, tugging it further with each kiss until it finally spills, like the cleanest, purest water rushing through a waterfall. She swears she can almost hear the soft roaring of water as it comes down.

She tilts Cait away, and is pleasantly surprised to see the look of irritation on Cait’s face at pulling her away. “Your hair is so long now,” she murmurs against her lips.

“So is yours,” Cait says.

Vi runs her hands through Cait’s waves, feels the locks spilling through her fingertips. It runs all the way to just past her shoulders at its full length, and Vi can feel it tickling her lips as she leans in to lay another kiss on Cait’s neck. 

Then she leans her head against the space between Cait's neck and shoulder. She just wants to sit here for a moment, let herself be immersed in Caitlyn. Cait’s hands still at Vi’s waist again, and they hold each other in the music for a moment. 

“What happened to you while we were separated?” Vi asks into her skin.

The silence that follows makes Vi almost regret asking. But Cait’s grip doesn’t relent on Vi’s waist, only digs in deeper, like she’s tethering herself. 

“I became angry.” Cait lets out a soft breath, and Vi straightens herself to look at Cait in the eye again. “You know how the story goes.”

Another blade of light slashes against Cait’s face, right across her eye patch, and ignites her skin from within. Vi squints at her now, trying to soak in every detail that she can, but her mind wanders to those drunken nights at the bar. She remembers that rage that ignited her every choice, from demanding another round to glaring at any bar patron who even dared to look her way. But more than anything, she remembers the flashes of Caitlyn in every body, the way her ghost haunted her from behind curtains and from people’s smiles and from the shadows of the strobing lights at the bar. 

But now, here Cait is, live and in the flesh. 

And Vi doesn’t feel angry anymore. 

Cait’s gaze softens guiltily as she watches Vi, which only sends ice prickling through Vi’s chest. So she offers a slight shake of her head and smiles gently, and lays another kiss against Cait’s neck. Cait’s skin hums, and Vi takes this quietness to run her hands down her body, from her shoulders to her waist to her hips, making sure to savor every dip, every particle of heat that she can. She looks up to see Cait’s expression, and her stomach heats at the sight of her, whose lips are slightly parted as she breathes through Vi’s touch, her eyelid lowering as desire takes a hold of her. Vi takes this as her cue to glide behind Cait, and she pulls her body gently into her embrace, listens to her heartbeat thrumming through her spine. Vi tries to lean her chin against Cait’s shoulder, but she’s too tall and being on tippy-toes would feel awkward, so she opts to just lean her forehead against her shoulder blade. Even in the midst of all the sweat around them, Vi can only smell violets around her. 

Cait relaxes into Vi’s embrace. She shifts the weight of her head so that it lies against the top of Vi’s hair, and Vi smiles. She starts to sway, and Cait’s body follows her lead. Cait brings her hands to cover Vi’s over her waist, her fingers digging in for any space between Vi’s cupped fingers, and Vi holds on tight. 

They move softly like that for a bit, wrapped around each other. Nevermind that it’s a fast-paced song; Vi feels too encaptured in the moment to care about the fact that they’re moving too slowly. She breathes Cait in, takes her time in holding her. The pit of her stomach feels warm and golden as Cait’s body presses against her, as they slowly find the rhythm to the music. Then, to Vi’s surprise - and perhaps delight - Cait guides Vi’s hand beneath her sweater and lets it rest against her bare stomach. Vi can feel the lines of Cait’s muscles curving gently underneath her as she breathes, and she can’t help the jump in her eyebrows when Cait’s breathing hitches at her touch. 

“In public?” Vi murmurs against her, smiling into the back of her neck. “Didn’t know you were like that, Kiramman.” 

Cait’s head turns towards her, and from behind her neck Vi meets Cait’s eyes. There’s a slight irritated furrow in her brows, and when she spots the amusement in Vi’s eyes, her good eye rolls. “Just shut up and hold me.”

Vi bites her lip to keep from snorting. “Yes, Commander.”

She spreads her fingers out, tries to feel every single fiber of Cait’s warm skin underneath her fingertips. She closes her eyes and kisses the back of Cait’s neck while stroking her thumb against Cait’s ribs, and Cait sighs into her touch. Then Vi takes a different course - one arm keeps its place locked around Cait’s waist, while the other hand glides down Cait’s body, leaving the comfort of her sweater. The hand trails down Cait’s hip, down her thigh, and Vi takes her time feeling the heat of her leg. She loves the way Cait’s thigh spills into her palm, like it was made for her grip. Cait’s breathing hitches again and she leans her head farther back against Vi’s shoulder. Vi can’t ignore the way her neck arcs in the light, pale and clean - too clean. Maybe an invitation, maybe a muscle reaction. Maybe both.

So she shifts Cait’s hair to the side and kisses the empty space. She can’t reach her throat, not from this angle, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to trail her lips as far as physically possible. And even though it’s loud right now, Vi’s ears echo with the slight moan that slips from Cait’s throat, and she can’t help but to smile again. 

“Vi?” Cait murmurs, and Vi pauses her kissing to listen. She’s quiet for a moment, the kind of quiet that the music can’t cut into, and Vi takes her hand from Cait’s leg and wraps it around Cait’s waist again; she just wants to hold her now, to feel her as close to her body as she can as she waits for Cait to find her words. 

“Thank you,” she finally says. “For staying.” 

“Where else would I go?” Vi asks. And as soon as she says it, a heaviness falls over her. It’s a question she’s been thinking a lot about the past few weeks. Where else could she have gone? Maybe with Ekko and the Firelights. Maybe back to her dingy apartment. But none of those places would feel like home, not after everything that went down, not after all the people she’s lost. 

Then again, Cait’s house isn’t exactly home, either.

But Cait is. And right now, that’s all that matters.

“I’m not sure,” Cait admits. “But thank you. For choosing to stay.”

Vi breathes against Cait and closes her eyes as she presses her face into her shoulder again. A sudden wave of sleepiness takes over her - not exhaustion, but a warm comfort, and all she wants to do is lay her head down against Cait for the rest of eternity.

“Don’t worry,” Vi murmurs. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Cupcake.” 

[meshla-cyarika]

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello! I adore your writing. Can I request a fic with female arcane characters when they have a touch starved gf? (Definitely asking for a friend ahah 😅)

RAHHH. ARCANE LADIES LETS GOOO. tbh, im not that in tune with Mel and Sevika as characters so they may be OOC. Thanks for requesting!

Arcane Ladies w/A Touch-Starved Reader | Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: Headcanons of Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, and Sevika with a touch-starved lover and/or discovering said trait.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Lower Case Intended (Kinda?), Suggestive Themes (Mel/Sevika), Not Proofread, Short

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX ᝰ๋࣭𝜗᭡

- In a romantic setting (or really any setting), Jinx is touch-starved herself.

- when taking hostages or messing with those in her way, she will often touch them such as stroking her nail along their jawline or grabbing their chin when they're hurt and on their last limb.

- now she does this not because she's a bit insane and wants to add salt to their wounds but because she's curious. "What would this feel like?" "What would happen if I do this?"

- Much like most things in her life, curiosity is the main thing that gets her into trouble

- in terms of touching, you're not exempt from her touching curiosity.

- she'll drag her nails along your spine. cup your cheek and chin, and squeeze you like the baby you are to her.

- it's not until you linger after a hug that she notices your touch-starved like her

– since that moment, she made a mental note to cuddle you, kiss you, or poke at you more

– even if you tell her to stop annoying you or that she should focus on her work and not mess with you, she'll continue to poke and hold you.

– why? well because you're smiling through your complaints and she can't get over that smile you try to hide when you let yourself melt in her touch

–––

VI ﾒ

– much like her sister, Vi is touch-starved herself.

– y'all saw how she acted with Caitlyn and when she reunited with Jinx. She was all OVER them. With you, she's the exact same

– With her, you're more reluctant with touch. You want to hug her, cuddle with her, cling onto her like the clingy thing you are but you're scared to.

– you didn't grow up in an environment where that was normalized so it was out of your comfort zone to go out and cling to someone.

– in the beginning of your relationship, Vi was touchy until she noticed you weren't super comfortable with it.

– when she noticed, she had a discussion with you. – "Hey, are you comfortable with me hugging you 'n stuff? I noticed you get kinda tense when I first hug you." She'll ask you on a random night in the living room. You were hesitant at first, wanting to immediately ease her insecurities and tell her everything was fine.

– But if you lied, even if the lie was more a half-truth, your initial reaction to her touch would be the same. Tense at first then ease seconds into the touch.

– So, because you couldn't do anything but bite the bud, you told her

– Since telling, Vi said she'll help you work on getting more comfortable with touch.

– She'll even tease you when she notices you're more hesitant than normal.

– "Oh, come on," she'll tease you with her arms squeezing around your torso and your cheeks smushing to another. "You know you love it! Ease up, Mufifn."

–––

CAITLYN ᯓ

- With Caitlyn, you literally CANNOT get off of her. Can't blame you though.

- 6' foot something to cling onto? YUM.

- Caitlyn didn't mind your touchiness. She assumed you were that way so she didn't think anything of it.

- It wasn't until she met your family that she saw that your touchy side is something you keep hidden from your family, if not the world.

- You were so stiff around them, uncomfortable dare she say. You kept to yourself, restricted that pretty smile of yours, and you wouldn't let yourself ease into her touch.

- At home, she brought this up to you and you told her that being affectionate wasn't something your family did. To them, holding each other, hugging, expressing hellos and goodbyes with kisses was weird. Unfortunately for you, you're a naturally touchy person so you had to keep that part of you concealed.

- Caitlyn didn't like the thought of you hiding yourself from your blood kin. You didn't deserve that treatment so at home, after the event, Caitlyn went out of her way to be more touchy with you.

- she cradled your head when cuddling on the couch, gave you kisses on the cheek, and when she complimented you on something or congratulated you, she kissed the top of your head while giving you a polite squeeze.

– being super-duper-mushy-gushy-affectionate wasn't something she wasn't used to but she'll do anything for you. Plus, a couple extra kisses and squeezes haven't killed her yet.

–––

MEL౨ৎ

- You didn't care about touch all that much before your relationship with Mel. At the start of your relationship, you and Mel were younger so you had fewer responsibilities. All your free time, literally all of it, you guys spent with each other

- walking arm-in-arm while shopping, resting on each other on hot Summer days with your feet in a body of water, and mindlessly playing with each other's clothes or hair during late-night talks.

- but as she got busier, you saw her less, and seeing her less meant fewer touches.

- Mel wouldn't call herself touch-starved but starved for your touch.

– She'll miss your lingering touches on her fingers while you lay in bed, your lips on her back as you held each other, and your face in the crook of her neck.

– In a way, you both were touch-starved for each other. Maybe even a different word but this is a PG-13 space LMAO.

– at night, you would wrap your limbs around her tight and in the morning, you'd cling even tighter. What do you mean it's time for her to go already? She just got in bed!! (it's been 7 hours.)

– with Mel, your touch-starving-ness doesn't go unnoticed. In fact, whenever there's a time she notices you're more touchy than normal, she'll make it up to you

– And you never once complained about her way of making it up to you.

–––

SEVIKA ⚠︎

- oh lord, where do i start with this one, hm?

– One, Sevika loves the crap out of your touch-starved-ness. She won't admit this out loud but she thinks its the cutest thing in the world.

- She'll see you go in for a hug or maybe a wrap around her arm but then decide against it because of your own insecurities.

- Sometimes she'll take matters into her own hands and wrap her arm around you, pull you into her lap, or sneak a kiss on your cheek but other times she likes to make you suffer.

– "Mm, what was that?" she'll tease with a smirk on her lips. "Oh, did you want to hug me? Kiss me? Cling onto me or something?"

- Tbh, if you're with Sevika, you gotta be a little bit of a brat, right? right. So, you'll refuse the allegations she put on your name.

- That is until she pushes and pushes and boom. Like a perfectly boiled egg, your shell has been cracked and peeled, and the softness of your personality has been brought to light.

– with embarrassment plastered along your body and face, you'll do what you were too shy to before. (Cling, hug, kiss, etc).

- Sevika plays a big game but she loves it when you cling to her because just like you, she's a bit touch-starved too. The only touches she gets on a day-to-day basis are punches, kicks, etc.

- When you swallow your pride at home, you'll pull her down to your chest and hold her tight. She'll ask what's up but you'll just ignore her and she'll melt into your body like you intended.

WC: 1,229

[perniciousgranma]

"It’s going to be a long road, and it’s not going to be easy” Caitlyn rubs her thumb across her cheek, “But I could use a partner.” Vi’s shoulders lower, she nods. “You have me.” Caitlyn walks one more step, rests her forehead against hers. “Are you sure?” “Yeah. I want this.” “Good.” Caitlyn kisses her, but feeling Vi’s lips somewhat stiff against hers, she leans back. “But you’ll have to trust me.” Vi says. “It won’t work if you don’t trust me.” “You too, Violet.” Caitlyn whispers, “It has to be both of us.” A pause, Vi’s forehead is still against hers, her eyes closed. Then, she breathes out: “You’re right. Ok. I can do that.”

From Chapter 5 of "The Dirt and the Road" -Now complete!! Read it on Ao3 ✨

[yameoto]

SUPERNOVA CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

kpop idol caitlyn X her insatiably horny junior

"Noona is so cool!"  You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. "Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Her talents are seriously wasted. Wah, her visuals are really otherworldly. Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants—" Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look, at that last one. “It doesn't say that.” You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

tw; dom/sub!caitlyn, brat!reader, idolverse, girlcock, semi-public sex, sex in dance practice rooms, mirror sex, handjobs, handjobs during vlives, voyeurism, mild age-gap, age hierarchy dynamics, use of korean honorifics. idol!caitlyn x idol!reader wc; 5.1k. ao3

notes: set in modern day runeterra. ionia encompasses the entire region of asia in league which i personally find stupid but i dont make the rules. fluff/smut/humour. derivative of korean culture (kpop idol au) + pokes a lil fun at stan culture. no prior kpop knowledge is needed (though it would likely help) the sex is filthy regardless. wrote this after finding caitlyn is only a 1/4 white like hallelujah jesus

CAITLYN looks stupidly good. Like stupid, stupidly good. Her grey sweatpants are slung low on her hips, waistband of her briefs peeking out. Sweat-slickened abs glare back at you, from the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The outline of her bulge is visible. These are all observations that you latch into like an IV-drip hooked-up to your wrist, in order to stay alive—lest you die from the fatigue. And boredom.

“Please,” You grumble, head slumped on your knee as your arm drops to the floor, phone abandoned Candy Crush side, up. “Please, please, please, can we go home?” 

“No,” Caitlyn huffs, hands on her hips, looking entirely too good as she takes a momentary (and you mean, momentary) break to swig a sip of water, before she hurls herself right back into it, sweaty and stunning.

The two of you have been trapped in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. Or, more accurately, Caitlyn has trapped you in the practice rooms for what feels like eternity. You would rather be snuggled up and content in the comfort of your dorms; rather than slogging away in the basement, like you’re still trainees clawing your way up the company ladder inch by inch—rather than the four-time daesang winners, face of Ionia’s girl-groups’, and other innumerable accolades under your belts that seemingly mean nothing to your fearless group leader. At least, at the moment.

You’ve long slunk to the floor, sleepy eyes tracing the way sweat rolls down Caitlyn’s nape as she re-runs the movements for about the zillionth time. Her shoulder-blades flex through the thin fabric of her shirt, sweat dampening into a darkened pool in a way that should be gross, but on her, it just looks sexy. The ache in your muscles has simmered to a low burn, by now. Jeez, your eyelids are slipping. Thank God you have your sweet leader to ogle. The sight of Caitlyn’s bulge peeking through those sweatpants is practically your sole motivator in keeping your eyes open.

“You know,” After what feels like a decade, you pipe up again, because time has begun to melds together. “You’ve got it. Seriously.” The swig of water that sluices down your throat is lukewarm and unsatisfactory. Fuck, you’re thirsty. “The stage is a week away. You’ll be fine.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrow at you through the mirror, incredulous.

“When in the world has fine ever been good enough?” 

Okay, sure. Caitlyn’s right. But she’s more than fine. Almost-perfect, actually—and come seven days—her dance moves will indubitably be heaven-sent and her ending fairy will probably trend #1 on three different social media platforms, and you will most definitely tug her ear endlessly about it, like the benevolent, supportive junior you are.

Seven days prior, however—and all you are is tired, grouchy, and maybe just a little bit horny. 

“I crave the sanctity of my blankets.” You lament, hand falling over your forehead as you languish on the floor, because the sun has probably set by now and you are seriously contemplating the possibility of dying of old age in this godforsaken practice room. (Not that that would be so bad, if Caitlyn were with you).

“You can go home, you know,” Caitlyn sighs, twisting around to face you, sneakers squeaking on the glossy wooden floors. 

“How am I supposed to sleep without my favourite member as a bolster?”  You pout, snatching on the chance to act a brat, immediately. Caitlyn just rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch upwards, so negligible that if you weren't so tuned in to all-things-Caitlyn, you might’ve missed it.

“Clingy.” She mutters, like she doesn't love it. Loves being your favourite. Not that it matters, because the glimmer of hope that flickers in your chest when Caitlyn crouches down in the direction of her bag—is immediately quashed when she only taps her screen, and the speaker rewinds all the way to the start. 

You’re really starting to hate this song.

“Are you serious? That’s not enough to rouse your cold, dead, heart?” You whine, because usually Caitlyn would've caved to your grabby-hands and doe-eyes by now (especially with the way you look; lips parted and shining with spit, water trickling down your chin down the column of your throat, from the leftover rivulets of your water-bottle.) Not that Caitlyn doesn't notice. She’s just really, really determined to get this right.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“You work yourself too hard.”

You stretch to a stand, elongated and cat-like before you slink over and sling yourself dramatically along Caitlyn’s back. Her expression contorts into exasperation. She attempts to turn her head, to face you—to no avail. Not when you’re pushing her up against the mirror and the pinning her down against glass with the power of aggressive spooning on your side. Her hand shoots out to brace against the mirror, as your fingers hook the hem of her sweats, and Caitlyn stiffens under your thumb, lips falling open against her will.

“Darling,” She inhales, in that addictive, throaty accent of hers. Caitlyn sounds almost pained, as she catches your wrists—though she neither takes them in or wrests them away. The both of you have full view of the rising tent in her groin.

“What?” You smirk, teeth grazing the shell of her ear, like the sneaky little bastard you are. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to practice with a boner, unnie. That must hurt.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitches, and her knees almost buckle, if it weren’t for the way your arms tighten around your waist and squeeze the growing problem at her crotch. Your fingers twine with the string of her trackpants, loosening them under slim, deft fingers.

“Honorifics? Really?” Her voice is tight. She’s screwed. You only ever whip those out when you want something, seeing as how you've been speaking informally to your technical senior  since your very first meeting, in trainee days, (an accident she so loves to recount on variety shows. “It’s not my fault you just looked so young and pretty, unnie.” You’d fumble in defense, eyes wide and doling out the extra sparkle for the cameras as they zoomed-in on your frantic apologies, laugh track sure to be edited in. “What was I supposed to think?”

“You’re lucky I was too kind to scold you,” Caitlyn sighs, and—in a dramatic show of theatricality—flips the inky-blue curtains of her hair behind her shoulder, much to the hosts delight. “I can be really mean, baby.” 

That had been a hit. Probably because of the way her drawl had lilted playfully and she’d cupped your jaw in the most egregious display of fan service you’d ever seen. Caitlyn’s always known how to wrap the media around her pretty fingers; and your stammer and ensuing blush had mercilessly crowded your feed for at least two weeks, afterwards.)

That’s in public, though. In private? 

Caitlyn is a puddle to the graze of your fingers along her hipbone, and the glide of your breath up her neck. Dark eyes meet hers, hooded and intent, reflected in the pane of metal in front of you. It’s certainly a sight to behold. The two of you are both dripping in sweat, Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed, bare-faced and glowing—hair tangled up in that loose ponytail that you've always found so much hotter on her, than any amount of hours in the styling chair could ever produce.

“I really need to..” Caitlyn’s protests sound weak even to her own ears. Especially when heat pools in hot, throbbing waves that rush straight to her dick, and she's cut off by her own gasp when you nuzzle in the nook between her shoulder-blades and your hands—beautiful, cunning hands—ghost over her crotch and squeeze. Her entire world lurches into a haze, body spasming upwards.

“Unnie,” You breathe, sweet and soft, like the devil in her ear, “please fuck me.”

Just like that, Caitlyn can’t take it any longer. A low, strangled noise rips from her throat, eyes fogging over and black eclipsing blue. Lithe hands coil around your wrists, and flips your positions entirely—thrusting you right up against the glass.

Her muscles are throbbing, hours of dance practice flaming up her bones; but she pins you down with the strength of a woman possessed, all the same. As far as Caitlyn’s concerned, she’s like a sleeper agent to your bedroom voice, and the fact could never shine with more clarity, than now (other than the time you’d done a Lola Shark impression in an interview and she’d gotten, to her horror, embarrassingly hard underneath the blanket thrown over her lap. She’d had to call in a bathroom break, to take care of it—much to your smug, haunting amusement).

In the mirror, you watch as Caitlyn’s breathing shallows into pants, tongue licking hot up the stretch of your neck to under your jaw. Neither of you miss the brief, smugly satisfied spark to your eyes and glowing hot between your thighs, even as both squeeze shut when you arch up against Caitlyn’s bulge. She grinds down against your ass, and you moan, so brazen she almost can’t believe it.

“Shit. You're so shameless,” Caitlyn mutters, breaths rushing harsh against your shoulder as she fumbles with the knot at your sweats, rutting hopelessly into the coil of your figure. The moment thread slips free, pants pooling to your ankles as you bend over, head thrown back—Caitlyn’s brand-name briefs soak with a splurge of pre so intense she almost thinks she’s come early.

“You want my fingers?” Caitlyn asks, just to be a bitch. Your eyes squint open to glare at her through blurry vision and through an even blurrier visage.

“Don’t joke,” You spit, voice hoarse with want. It's meant to sound demanding, but all it comes out is whiney, and Caitlyn’s laugh sends shivers down your nape.

There’s a millisecond in which your mind empties completely, and it's almost cruel how you can only see the reflection of Caitlyn’s cock curving upwards from her underwear rather than the real deal. 

Caitlyn’s grasp is like steel around your neck. She thrusts you forwards, your flushed cheeks smushing against the cool surface of the mirror as your stuttered breaths puff in grey clouds of condensation. A groan wrangles itself out of your throat from being manhandled like that, knees wobbling the moment you feel something hot, thick and so, so wet press insistently against the backs of your thighs. Arousal has already begun to drip down your legs, running down in rivulets and moistening the floor under your feet. Yours or Caitlyn’s—you don’t have the eyes to know.

“Unnie,” You breathe, shakily, voice raw. Your fingers are slippery against glass, and you whimper when the familiar stretch of two fingers sinks into your cunt. You slide open, just like that, and Caitlyn temporarily wrenches you back so that you can see your fogged-up reflection in all its full, filthy glory. 

“S’not enough,” You pant, back arching and ramming urgently against her digits she’s spreading you wide, with—so eye-wateringly slow. Maybe it’s the fact that you've been working yourself up, blatantly eyeing her down, for hours since your head checked out of training and your brain devolved into its most primitive urges in coping with your mind-numbing boredom. 

“Not enough?” She grins, sharp-toothed and devastating, adoring the upper-hand. “What? You need a third finger, baby?” The noise that tears out of you is almost like a wounded animal, and you'd be embarrassed if you weren't so overcome with need and prolonging this teasing sounds like torture.

So, you answer with the obvious, “Your cock.” You hiss through gritted teeth, because Caitlyn loves it when you beg for her dick and you’re too hare-brained and empty to do anything more than push back, impossibly deeper into her fingers. They sink to her knuckles of entirely your own volition, without her having to do so much as twitch. 

Caitlyn’s laugh is practically a goad in itself. The lush curtain of her lashes are lowered, irises swallowed up by the deep dilation of her pupils. Still, though, she takes her time in playing with you, just a little longer. Revels in the way you thrash around her fingers, fucking yourself back, desperate.

Herself is one thing. Her dick can only take so much, however. The ache becomes too much, too soon, and the second she runs her glossy head against the drenched, hot pulse of your hole—she can’t not shudder, knot in her throat, before her fingers slip out of your pussy and your consequent whimper is interrupted by the plunge of her cock.

“Hah, baby..” Caitlyn whimpers, eyes fluttering back as she fucks you against the mirror, nails dragging up your hips and digging into supple flesh. Never has Caitlyn felt so at home, submerged in the deep, velvet ocean of your cunt.

“Unnie—” You gasp. It’s the one word, echoing over and over, like an all-consuming siren song throughout your head—with each gasp that comes with every thrust of Caitlyn’s hips, motions growing sloppier as the exhaustion of hours of tireless exertion catches up to the both of you. She nips at your ear, then down the curve of your nape, to the unblemished skin of your upper back. Teeth grazing, pads of her fingers leaving scorching trails as she gropes up your body—your mind a jumbled, fuzzy mess. Her cock plunges in and out, still guided, though she never slips out more than mid-way; bodies sticking together like gum. Like she can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment—even if it is to pummel your cunt until you can hardly take it anymore.

It’s only when the pumps and rolls begin to slow into simple, gentle rocks, to absolutely nothing but a twitch—that your mind clumsily clasps onto a semblance of clarity, hasty and brief, like you know it’ll slip away and out of reach, soon. “Wha..?” You rasp, half-slurred, even if what you really want to whinge is; What’s goin’ on? Why’d you stop? And, please, please, please. Don’t stop. Keep goin’. Fill me up. Please, don’t ever stop— and other half-baked nonsense that you’ll be glad your tongue was too thick and heavy in your mouth to spill.

“I can’t mark you,” Caitlyn grunts, and your eyes sharpen, just a little. Her tongue peeks out from her lips as her expression looks disproportionately distraught, like it’ll be the end of the world if she doesn’t stake some sort of physical claim on you, eyes darting downwards to your unblemished shoulders with a low growl of frustration.

Distantly, that part of you is still clinging onto reality, knows she’s right. That your comeback is in a week’s time and risking a hickey or a bite-mark or worse (because Caitlyn is stronger and sharper and rougher than her delicate figure should ever have been allowed to be), is a bad, bad idea.

But the larger part of you—the part of you that is currently being railed by her unnie’s cock and trying desperately not to squirt cum all over the practice room mirror—rasps out a reckless, ragged, “Who cares?”, and that’s all the permission Caitlyn needs.

Caitlyn pulls out, and slams herself in again, grip on your waist, bruising. Your hands go sliding, uselessly against the steamy surface of the mirror, long fogged-up under the slick tangle of your bodies. She’s mouthing slurred nonsense into your ear, the music speaker knocked over by one of your ankles and emitting distant sounds from where it's rolled, to the other side of the room. Neither of you could give a single fuck. 

Not the least, when Caitlyn’s hand is sliding up your throat and thumbing over your gaping lips. It feels as if a pink-hued fuzziness has descended the room and become a thick veil over everything, and when her fingers slip into the hot, wet gasp of your mouth—it's only right for you to take the digits in your tongue and suck. 

“Ahnngh—Cait—”  

“When did I say you could speak informally to me?” Caitlyn husks, fingers pressing deeper into the roof of your mouth. In your reflection, you can see the razor angle of Caitlyn’s jaw as she nuzzles into your ear. The obscene glisten of your spit, coating her fingers and coasting down your chin as her digits languish between your parted lips. You look every bit like her precious fuckdoll, right now.

“Unnie—”

“Ah-ah.”

“Sunbae.” 

“Mm. That’s better.”

Her free hand skims up your shirt, slipping up the taut lines of your body and flicking idly at one nipple. You whine, garbled around the gag of her hand, and Caitlyn lets out a moan of content when your pussy tightens around her shaft.

“Fuck,” She pants, teeth sinking down into your shoulder and you buck, even though the pain barely registers with how Caitlyn barrels her cock in you, deeper, and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your thighs are shaking. “M’gonna—hfgh—” 

Her hips draw upwards, and Caitlyn cums like a faucet. All of it, inside you. Outside of you. Dripping from your still-leaking cunt and droplets getting fucked out with each, desperate thrust as she moans, guttural. “Take it—fuck—” Caitlyn groans, harsh and insistent as she pounds, your pussy squelching—so wonderfully wet—as your fingers scramble against the glass, her fingers cramming deep inside your mouth.

“Ah-ah—fuck!”

The two of you go crashing down, sliding down against the mirror and onto the floor with a twinning, indecipherable slew of obscenities, a boneless, panting heap, still moving in tandem. 

You both slump, slippery and sticky. The song on the speakers re-starts, yet again, from the other side of the room, though it's the first time it's even pierced your ears in the past forty minutes. Caitlyn groans, pushing her nose into the crook of your neck, arms tightening around your waist. The mirror is splattered in both your cum.

“We’re gonna have to clean this up, aren’t we?”

“..Probably.” You sigh, still leaking around her cock as you angle your head, the two of you slotting together like missing puzzle pieces.

Twenty-four hours and countless Kleenex wipes later (and really, cleaning your own cum from floor-to-ceiling mirrors—with two half-guilty reflections staring right back at you—is an uniquely humbling experience); it was totally worth it to see Caitlyn appropriately red, after the crash of post-nut clarity.

It’s your one, blissfully empty day before comeback promotions launch you all into full-throttle. You intend to enjoy it while it lasts. 

“Your latest Lotte CF went viral,” You pop behind her, totally innocously if weren’t for that familiar, impish glint in your eyes. Caitlyn sighs, not even glancing up from the stove, completely nonplussed. Probably because Caitlyn could record herself taking a piss and it would chart #1 on Melon.

“The seonjiguk is simmering.” She ignores you. You ignore her right back.

“Look at those dimples,” You beam like a little shit as you wave the video in her face. “Maybe you should go into acting. The GP would go crazy.”

“No thanks,” Caitlyn snorts, hand lifting upwards to stifle a brief yawn, sleeves coming up all the way to her knuckles. “been there, done that.” 

“Oh, right. All your Piltovian film connections.” You hum, idly tracing the underneath of Caitlyn’s elbow as you lean over her shoulder to watch her cook. She’s markably improved from her humble beginnings of blackened, bubbling slag (what was once instant Buldak), or the scotchmarks that still hail the kitchen tiles, to this day.

“Mhm. I was almost poached. My mother wanted me to—what was that? Follow in her footsteps.”

“Well, I’m grateful that you didn't,” You hum, into her shoulder. You poke her side, grinning. “Then you wouldn't have met me, and wouldn't that be tragic?”

Caitlyn scoffs, but you feel her sink a little deeper into your embrace, eyes flitting to settle onto the top of your head, as you nudge into her. You both, really are grateful.

You’re pretty sure Ionia is grateful, too. 

Whatever the day, it always feels like Caitlyn’s name has taken up a permanent residence in the nation’s newsites. ICE PRINCESS. AI VISUALS. ATTITUDE PROBLEM. Her quarter Piltovian and subsequent accent injects an ‘attractive exoticism’ (or whatever management had stapled to your files, at the dawn of debut), that had made Caitlyn internationally explosive, too. 

The Kiramman surname certainly helped. Caitlyn’s debut was like, the biggest plot-twist in nepotism, ever. It was like if Nicole Kidman’s kid suddenly became Hatsune Miku. Not to mention the fact the Kirammans are the largest benefactor of Hextech, whose global rollout of leading-edge tech has gone unmatched. Of all careers for the Kiramman’s mysterious, devastatingly attractive daughter to take—this is the one that took the entire globe off-guard. Including the great and glamorous, Cassandra Kiramman.

Of course, the initial shock long lapsed underwater, with the constant roil of the media waves. Caitlyn’s fame, however, has not.

“Noona is so cool!”  You mimic, voice pitching either higher or lower, depending on which of the plethora of comments you pick, at your leisure. “Caitlyn’s a CF goddess. Ah, her talents are seriously wasted. Is she an angel? Her visuals are really otherworldly—”

“Get that away from me.” Caitlyn swats your phone away with a scowl, pretty pink flush glowing on her features.

“Don’t act all coy,” You prod her so-highly-lauded cheekbones as Caitlyn huffs in annoyance, though begrudgingly leans against the touch anyways. You squish. “We all know you’re preening inside.”

“I am not!”

“Ooh, sexy. I love it when your accent comes out like that.”

Caitlyn groans, because you’re impossible, and just twists so that she’s facing you, back against the kitchen counter. You reach behind her to switch off the stove.

She hooks her fingers into the hem of your pyjama shorts, thumbing over familiar cotton. She sighs outwardly, propping her head up on your shoulder and slumping forwards to rest the cold press of her nose into the crook of your shoulder. Her fingers skim up your shirt, absently rubbing circles into the plane of your stomach.

“You know I hate it when you read those.”

“About how you look like an eepy bunny when you’re sleepy? Or that you have moles in the shape of a giraffe on your nape.” You arch a brow, looking past her as you flick through the blurs of text in various degrees of capitalisation, on your phone. A subtle smirk lifts your lips. “Hey. Is that true? Let me check.”

She scowls, and then almost looks offended that you don’t know that already (You do. Caitlyn also has a darkened, heart-shaped birthmark indented in the crook of her inner thigh—but that’s just for you to know, thank you very much).

Your voice raises a pitch. “Unnie looks so good I’m creaming my pants!”

Caitlyn fixes you with a flat, unimpressed look. “It doesn't say that.”

You grin, like the effervescent angel you are. “Yeah. That was just me.”

Oh, now Caitlyn’s cheeks go red. You push valiantly past the triumphant flutter in your heart, in favour of continuing your teasing. Hey—there’s no schedule today, the dorms are all to yourselves—and you’re on a roll. 

“Look. They wanna steal your eyes and put them in a boba drink.”

Thoroughly fed-up with your antics, Caitlyn snatches the phone out of your hand, and you immediately squirm, to lunging for it. Caitlyn’s ridiculous height advantage has the one-up on you, though, and you puff out an aggrieved yelp of protest when she dangles it above your head, like a dickhead.

“Hey, what the fuck?” You complain, like your comeuppance wasn't exactly what you were hoping for. Except you were more aiming for a pin-you-against-the-fridge, fuck-the-insides-out-of-you type of comeuppance. Not a sordid reminder that you need a stool to reach the top of Caitlyn’s head. “Don’t lord your freakish Frankenstein genetics over me!”

Caitlyn laughs, eyes flickering down. “Are you on your tip-toes right now?” 

Your eyes narrow, because you do not appreciate having the tables turned on you. Your hand shoots up to cup her jaw, tilting it upwards. Caitlyn softens, putty in your hands, adorable furrow in her brow melting away along with her pride as she sinks into your palm with a soft sigh, arm falling to her side.

There we go.

“It’s not my fault you avoid socials like the plague. I’m just doing my duty to take care of my leader’s PR. Your fans are starving.”

Caitlyn grumbles, “Well, let them starve.” though it comes out pinched between smushed lips, cheeks squishing like a dumpling. So heartless, like she’s not the industry’s princess and probably makes up a total of 50% of the company’s annual income. You know exactly why, as you cradle her face in her palms and watch as she leans upwards because no matter how disgruntled Caitlyn acts, or how shockingly humble she is under that front of aloof, arrogance–she definitely preens under attention.

Just. Only yours. 

“Hey, you know what? We should go live right now.”

“What—?” Caitlyn stammers, flabbergasted by the sudden change in direction, “Don’t—“

Too late. Within seconds, you’ve swiped your phone back from her limp hands and flipped the vlive on. Recording. Like, now. Damn, you're speedy. 

“Ah..” Caitlyn’s expression smooths over to that charming, impeccably gorgeous grin of hers that shows off the sharp curves of her cheekbones and has won her the hearts of a nation. 

You pull her to the couch, and under the scrutiny of the camera—Caitlyn acquises with little more than a subtle elbow to your ribs, when the both of you go thudding into the cushions with a low oomph.

Then, you flop against her chest, and the stream of hearts that ensue are absolutely incredible, comments rolling in faster than you can read them. There’s a reason why the two of you are the most popular pairing in the group.

“Hm. Is it on?” You muse, faux confusion tugging on your pretty features. Knitted brows and a plush little pout always do the job, especially when you add a sneak of tongue. No doubt to be screenshotted and re-uploaded countless times, within the next hour. “Hello? Can you guys hear us?”

Which is, you know, the perfect time to grab Caitlyn’s dick through her pants.

A choked noise resounds beside you, and you don’t glance over, for you’re too busy fiddling with the phone and the settings and all other kinds of bullshit that is really just an excuse for you to focus your attention on snaking a hand down Caitlyn’s waistband, just out of view of the camera. “Oh! It’s working. Did you miss us?” You beam, as Caitlyn struggles not to either sock you in the stomach or throw her head back and moan.

If anybody notices Caitlyn’s pupils are suspiciously blown, it doesn’t come up. What does come up, is her ever traitorous cock that lilts immediately into your touch. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

“Aw, little Caity’s missed me, too,” You croon, as your sneaky fucking fingers stroke idly along her girth, underneath the veil of her sweatpants and just over the thin fabric of her underwear. Caitlyn visibly bristles, because, 1. You’re jacking her off. 2. She hates that your coo instigates a flood of love-bombing so intense, that the hearts on the screen almost completely obscure the both of you. 3, and the most important one; you just gave her dick a nickname! 

“Cait.” You tease out, eyes glittering, not even bothering to conceal your amusement as Caitlyn’s hips buck upwards, her fingers pinching against your sides, lips completely shut mum, for fear she’ll let slip a moan on camera. “C’mon. Say something. You missed them too, right?”

Gods. Caitlyn hates you. She really, really hates you. Just—not enough to not shove your hand away when it starts to peel away the waistband of her underwear. If only because the feeling of precum soaking its seat, sticking to her skin, and not because she’s itching for the sweet relief of your hand around her cock.

“..Hi,” Caitlyn forces her winning, boxy grin, and the years of practice make it an admirably unstrained effort. Maybe she really should go into acting. “Mm. Long time no see, hm?” 

“Unnie’s being awkward, today.” You snark, all sly, and Caitlyn shoots you a glare. She’s rewarded by the sudden, fervent warmth of your hand wrapping around her dick, and then the harsh tug of your fist that has her knees jerking upwards and her dastard slit spurting out a shiny, hot glob of precum. She swallows back a low, strangled whine, like a dry pill. Oh, Gods. She’s supposed to say something.

“Ah, just..—we’ve—ah—”

In a rare show of mercy (because apparently, you’re not out to throw both your careers to the dogs), you swipe the phone back with the most cherubic, triumphant grin to adorn your face, literally ever. Catilyn lets slip a barely-audible hiss as your fingers coil, just a little tighter, stroking up and down—thumb running back over the swollen, gloatingly shiny cockhead.

“We just had a long time in the practice rooms for our comeback, yeah? So we’re pretty tired. Right, unnie?” 

Oh, you're really pushing it, now. 

“Mm. We’ve been—working. Really hard.” She has to lean out of the screen to release a silent, desperate gasp, nails digging into the back of the couch as she tries to rut up into your hand in a way that doesn't obviously send the sofa, trembling. You idly thumb over her slit, smearing the thick, embarrassingly copious amounts of pre down her length. It twitches in your palm, as you ramble on about schedules and the comeback and spoilers and other things that have long become white noise in Caitlyn’s ears. Her hips chase your touch, brazenly, now. She barely even realises when you’re calling it quits; early, too. Because obviously, this was all just to fuck with her.

“Caitlyn,” You sing-song—smirking (supremely unsubtly), at the camera. “Say bye-bye.”

She only just registers the comment. Barely. “Bye.” Caitlyn’s voice is a low croak, hips arching upwards off the couch just as you end the live. Just in time, too, because—

“Oh, fuck.” Caitlyn releases the longest moan of her life, cum spilling over your fist, and she collapses back into the couch. Your phone falls from your hand, and you’re practically shaking with laughter. 

(“Little Caitey,” Caitlyn grumbles, after the fact, with your head nestled between her thighs in apology, “That’s preposterous. What’s so little about her?” Nothing. But there’s no fun in that, is there? At the slow, sly smile spreading on your face, Caitlyn groans. “What?”

“You referred to her in third-person.”

“..Please just suck me off already.”)

[straightoutthehexcore]

"𝙎𝙞𝙩 𝙊𝙣 𝙈𝙮 𝙁𝙖- 𝙄 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣--"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧: Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Ambessa, Sevika

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: At some point or another, you let it be known that you're a bonafide face-seat box-muncher, and they may or may not be into that ;D

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: NSFW themes (69, face sitting babyyyyyy), AFAB reader, may or may not be proofread (it's 1 am :D)

𝙑𝙞

"If I'm honest...? I've been hoping you'd do the honor of sitting on mine."

Is... is she serious? I mean, it's not like you're disappointed, just... wow. She looks like she knows how wet you are right now. It's insane. Her light blue eyes staring at yours as she cocked an eyebrow at you. All you can do is squeak and avert eye contact.

Fast forward, her grip on your thighs might as well be drawing blood while she hungrily laps at your clit, occasionally sticking her tongue inside to hear that gasp escape your lips. You can feel her smirking and can almost picture her smug expression.

You shyly kitten-lick at her clit, occasionally sucking, and she bucks her hips up for more. She only finishes once during this whole exchange, while her mouth is full and face is covered with your essence.

"Ugh, haven't had a meal like that in ages. Should do it again sometime, yeah?"

𝘾𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙮𝙣

"Excuse me...?"

She was genuinely shocked by your awkward flirting, but flustered no less. She was taken aback, but then invited you over later in the night.

She hovered quite a bit, as she was nervous about the position. She kept asking if you were okay, but when you pull her hips down to fully meet her, she lets out a surprised yet ecstatic gasp.

While you suck on her clit nonstop, Cait is shaking and overstimulated as all hell- sweating, moaning, being really loud for someone who is scared to get caught by her father.

Just as you feel her reaching a second orgasm, you hold down her hips and start thrusting your tongue inside her gummy walls only to quickly be greeted with her juices all over your mouth.

She collapses next to you and continues to pant, wordless and breathless. When you ask if she's okay:

"That was... unexpected. I-in a good way. Ugh, now I'm tired. Do you mind... staying the night?"

𝙈𝙚𝙡

"Is that so?"

If she had $1 for every time someone turned around, shocked, replying with something along the lines of "Oh-! Counselor-!", she'd be the richest person in Piltover. As if she's not already near the top, but I digress.

She handled this with grace, of course taking the opportunity to humor you. She found your reaction to her listening into your conversation with fellow enforcers (about which counselors you'd screw), while typical, no less endearing in a way. You're just lucky that you suit her tastes.

She didn't hesitate to get you alone and then instantly act. Her forwardness was flustering you and she knew it.

"What's wrong, all that talk and now you're scared? I'm giving you a chance, officer."

And of course this impression wouldn't do, so you undressed her and got to work marking her thighs and eventually sat her on your face. She moved her hips on your tongue while your hands ghosted along her gorgeous form. She didn't just sit on your face, she rode it. She looked down smugly and would commend you for your efforts throughout, with her heavenly gasps and her showing herself further into your mouth until she finished.

"I'm quite charitable, so now it's your turn~"

(She wanted to have you as a private investigator and has been looking into you for a while, you just gave her an "in."

𝘼𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖

"I don't think you can handle that, little lamb."

You two were already in the middle of sex at this point, getting freaky after things heated up. She was bathing and you were attending to her.

You moved to her private quarters where you suggested that midway through eating her out. She snickered at your request, but after enough begging, she allowed you to.

She hovered out of genuine concern for you, but when you almost demanded that she fully sat, she instantly obliged and laughed a little bit.

She pretty much sat there, acting unaffected save for a few sighs and some praise. She wasn't done for a while, but when she was, she patted your the top of your head.

"I may have underestimated you. May we have this opportunity again. Keep in touch."

𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙠𝙖

"You really think you wanna do that?"

You said this while drunk at The Last Drop, hitting on Sevika having ZERO idea who Sevika actually is. She found this endearing and said "fuck it." Literally. Left in the middle of the game she was playing, stole back what she put down to gamble with.

She thought it was cute, so she actually started kissing up and down your body first, leaving bite marks and hickies all over your skin, seeming to be fixated on your collarbone. Then, she started undressing herself in front of you, piece by piece.

She then immediately sat down on your face and went to work on you too. She let out grunts and sighs whenever you'd slightly bite on her clit, and she returned the favor only to earn a whine.

Your hands grasped onto her thighs as she started bucking into your mouth and you started to do the same. This didn't end for at least an hour, until you both finished within close proximity. Afterward, she lit up a cigar she had in her clothes and all she could say was...

"So... how much do I owe you?"

Rahhhhhhh 1 am writing about pussy eatingggg what has become of meeeee

I got this idea almost immediately after writing my Viktor headcanons so I needed to type it out or I'd forget it.

I hope this was a copious meal for the gay community, I need to sleep.

Rosey <3

EDIT: THANK YOU LGBT COMMUNITY FOR ALL THE NOTES ILY <3

[lunamonroeao3]

“I swear toward the qu– the Princess– with all my strength. And give my blood for hers. I shall guard her secrets. Obey her commands. Ride at her side and defend her name and honor.” She looks up from her kneeled position, their eyes meeting through her bangs, lashes fluttering.

The vows flow from her tongue like wine, her voice growing more sure with each sentiment. Truth bleeds from her lips, despite the years of avoidance the princess seems to keep between them. “I am your shield. I am your blade. Where you go, I will follow.”

-Heavy is the Crown

Thank you @peachesartplace for such an amazing piece 💕✨

[blusthings]

EDIT: the logo and outfit style are inspired by @cloudpinesapling 's design WITH tweaks!

When I first saw @thehomelybadger 's hockey au fic Run at the Cup I was like "hockey au??? I don't know anything about hockey why would I read this" but I'm so happy I gave this fic a chance. It's a heart warming story, with a beautiful ending🫶🏽🫶🏽

[sukunasbow]

mistletoe kisses with caitlyn kiramman

you glanced outside the kitchen window, looking out at the horizon as beautiful white snow flurried down and covered the city.

“it’s so peaceful.” you turned back around to face your girlfriend as she continued to frost the gingerbread cookies she baked.

“yeah, unlike decorating these hellish cookies.” caitlyn let out a frustrated sigh before placing the tube of red frosting on the kitchen island.

you walked behind her and put your arms around her, pulling her back up against your chest. caitlyn immediately melted into your touch, her frustration slowly fizzing away. “they’re just cookies, cait. stop stressing.”

“yes, darling, they’re just cookies.” she paused and turned around to face you. “cookies that i’m supposed to give to your parents when i meet them for the first time tomorrow! your entire family expects them for dessert since you mentioned i baked them.” she continued, starting to stress herself out once again as she repeated the situation.

“baby, they’re don’t care about some cookies. they’ll love you regardless of what you make or don’t make.” you held back a small giggle at her pouting lips, “just take some deep breaths.” you touched your forehead to hers. “i promise, they’re so excited to meet you.”

she closed her eyes and nodded. “are you sure?” her voice spoke in a low whisper.

“very sure.”

caitlyn opened her eyes to look into your eyes, “i love you.”

you smiled brightly and reached into your pocket, pulling out a small mistletoe bunch you had bought from a market earlier in the day. caitlyn gave you a confused look, her eyebrows scrunching up. “i love you too.” you laughed, holding the mistletoe above the two of you. she opened her mouth to question you further, but you quickly stopped her, “you gotta kiss under the mistletoe.”

caitlyn bit her lip to hold back her laughter, instead opting to listen to you and cup your face with her hands, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

[w1ll0wray]

hear me out, jinx X f!reader in a bridgerton like au.

where jinx is like the rebellious daughter/ward of a noble and she never really attends balls until she's forced to go in this one with her dad (preferably silco!) and in this ball she sees/meets reader who's so elegant, poised, and composed, like an absolute belladonna. jinx just falls for her and she ends up attending practically every ball that reader attends just to see her. but at some point, reader notices and confronts her about it.

pls :3

THE CHERRY ON TOP ft. bridgerton au jinx x fem!reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: to her dismay, the rebellious jinx is suddenly forced by her father, Silco, to attend the first Winter ball in order to show herself in society. though, when she catches a glimpse of you there, she can’t help but attend every ball hosted this season.

⊹₊⟡⋆warnings: dom!jinx x sub!femreader, bridgerton au, dukes daughter!jinx x marquis daughter!reader, rebellious daughter!jinx, carriage, cherry, fingering, reader!receiving, other characters mentioned, men or minors dni, smut, regency era.

wc. 2.9k

𐙚 note | I’d really appreciate it if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you:)

this was a request; I hope this reached your expectations!

“You will be attending the Winter ball with me tonight.” 

Jinx’s head snapped up from her breakfast, Her fork remains stuck in the chocolate-drizzled waffle, hand frozen in place as she pauses. 

“I will not.” She spouts out, shooting daggers at Silco’s face, his attention on the newspaper sprawled out in front of him. Jinx swallowed down her breakfast, sitting up from her seat at the dinner table, taking furious steps towards him. 

Banging a fist on the table, he doesn’t flinch at her attempt to spook him, rather amused, “You need to make an appearance again— you’re the duke’s daughter after all.” He hummed out the last part, sipping on his tea. She groans dramatically, rolling her eyes, “It’s not like you’d need me there.” 

“You’re of age. Who knows, you might meet some intriguing ladies.” He noticed the way she tensed up at the mention of girls, patting himself in the back for figuring out her secret. Jinx crossed her arms, hmphing, “Fine, but I’m not wearing a dress.” 

Silco shrugged, waving a hand in the air, 

“I’ll let you borrow from my closet.” Once Jinx left the dining room, he smiled at his victory, assured that his daughter wouldn’t be in a bar again. 

Jinx was irritated. 

The last time she attended a ball— she was so disinterested, to the point where they had to leave because she scared off the host’s son. Chuckling at the memory, Jinx’s joyful moment ended in a split second, the sound of violins bringing her back to reality.

To be exact, the ball was a bore. She stood next to the drink stands, the lemonade stinging her throat. She knew who would be at this ball—she was staring right at her. 

Her sister. 

Arms intertwined with her wife, Vi was greeting another couple, a toothy grin curved on her lips. Jinx huffed, frustrated by her sister’s presence. They grew distant after the wedding, Vi naturally occupied with her new life. Jinx envied the fact that she found her partner for life, the sight of them acting all lovey-dovey prompted her to look away. 

Regretfully, she’d been seen. 

“Powder!” Of course, only Vi would call her by that name. Jinx resisted the urge to scoff, whirling around to face her older sister. Engulfed in a warm hug, Jinx hesitantly wrapped her arms around her, resting her head on her shoulder, “Hey, sis.” 

Vi then explained how proud of her she was, Jinx’s appearance rare these days. After a couple of cheesy remarks from Vi, she left as soon as Caitlyn needed her help. Sighing, Jinx moved the glass she held around, inspecting the lemonade swirl around. Opting for sitting, she sat down at one of the empty tables, slouching into the seat and observing her surroundings. 

Blah, blah, blah. 

She scrunched her nose, weary of the social gathering already. 

Though, as her eyes roam around, her gaze lands on you. 

There you stood, in a soft blue gown with a high-waisted empire silhouette fitted just below the bust and flowing gracefully down with delicate puffed short sleeves. A sheer white shawl drapes around you arms, paired with gloves, hair styled in an updo. 

Jinx didn’t know why, but something about the way you stood out from the other ladies, posture excellent and the soft flutter of motion from your silk fan, got her intrigued. She didn’t dare come up to you though, resorting to only staring as you engaged with the other ladies, adding to your graceful demeanor. 

The night soon ended and Jinx left reminiscing about you. 

It wasn’t long until another ball was held. The moment Silco mentioned a ball, Jinx jumped up, “I’ll come with you!” Which left him completely bewildered. 

This ball, however, celebrated the new year outside, everyone dressed in darker colors. It wasn’t long until she caught you sitting with other ladies—Caitlyn and Vi being one of them. 

Jinx’s eyes nearly flew out of their sockets at the sight of those two beside you. As soon as Vi got up to grab some champagne, Jinx appeared, questioning her. 

“How do you know that girl?” She spat, voice low but anyone who passed by knew she was accusing her older sister of something. Vi frowned, brows knitting together, “Know who…?” 

Jinx nodded her head at you, dressed in a burgundy gown, giggling alongside Caitlyn. Her older sister sent her a suspicious glance, sipping on her champagne, “Why the sudden interest?” 

The blue-haired girl groaned, tugging Vi closer to lean into her ear, “I want to get to know her.” She demanded. Vi only chuckled, holding up her hands in defense, “She’s just one of Cait’s friends. I don’t know her well—“ 

“—Help me, then.” Jinx dug a finger on Vi’s chest, squinting her eyes, hopeful for a deal. Vi only defeatedly sighed, “Alright— I’ll try asking her about stuff. Meet me back here later.” She bumped her shoulders with Jinx, leaving her to sit back at the table. 

For the rest of the night, Jinx creepily watched from another table, one where Silco also sat at. The soft curve of your lips whenever you smiled at someone made her heart leap, irritated by Vi’s delayed answer. However, once the food was served, Vi got up to serve herself a drink. Jinx immediately sprang to her feet, ignoring Silco’s voice.

Jinx dangerously leaned against the table, raising an impatient brow, “So?”

Vi poured herself some champagne before facing her, “Cait said she was from a noble house— her father is desperately trying to find her someone to marry.”

Jinx frowned, glancing at you for a split second. Vi continued, “She has two older brothers so….good luck.”  She’s about to leave before Jinx forces her back, “I didn’t ask about her family history— I asked about her!” 

Vi scowled, rolling her eyes at her sister’s disturbance, “How about you go ask her yourself?” Her words caused Jinx to scoff. 

Jinx’s shoulders drooped, defeat evident on her face. Suddenly, a strong hand lands on her back, “I’m sure now is the perfect opportunity.” Vi forcefully tugs her along, ignoring Jinx’s complaints as they approach the table.

Once they arrived, the ladies looked up in confusion at the interruption, but curious expressions took over at the sight of Jinx. Cait was the first to wave, “You’ve finally decided to join us, Jinx.” She added, gesturing for her to sit. As she sat down, Jinx could feel your gaze on her. 

Peering up, Jinx nearly flinches, stunned that you were indeed staring at her. Though, to her surprise, you had softly smiled before facing the lady beside you. Jinx soon felt out of place, not socializing with anyone until one of the ladies had asked her a question.

“Jinx, what are your hobbies?” The lady was sat beside you, fluttering her fan. Jinx leaned back in her seat, hand holding a filled glass, “During my free time I like to practice my archery, hunting and— uhm— drawing skills.” She added the last bit after noticing the horrified gazes. The lady hummed, eyes wide, “…quite peculiar.” 

The blue-haired girl narrowed her gaze, frowning in disdain but kept her mouth shut. She then glanced at you, busy eating your ice scream topped with a cherry. You seemed content, watching the crowd. Thankfully, Jinx had a better view altogether, taking notes of the way the cherry left a red residue on your lips. Suddenly, your head snapped at her direction, but your eyes set on someone else. 

“Excuse me!” You called out, hand coming up. Everyone at the table glanced at the server approaching, holding a plate full of the ice cream glasses you had just eaten. Cait was the first to interrupt, “Don’t you think about it— you’ve had too much!” She shoved your hand down, waving at the server to leave. 

Speechless, Jinx watched as you showed another side of yourself, whining at Cait’s intrusion, “You know I’m not allowed at home— just let me have a bit more.” You tried to bargain, holding Caitlyn’s hands in yours. Though, Cait shook her head, pointing at the fruits in the middle of the table, “Have those instead.” 

You scrunched your nose, “I only like cherries.” Jinx let out a chuckle, prompting you to glance up at her, leaving her to feel overwhelmed and trying to avoid your gaze. 

That night ended with Jinx feeling unsatisfied with the lack of socialization she had done with you— all the other ladies somehow chatted with her except you. 

A few days later, Jinx had gone out for a stroll in towns square. It was a chilly morning, London weather unpredictable as usual. Silco had requested some errands to be done for him, so she accepted and headed first for the bakery. Usually, they’d send over a servant, but Jinx had felt so locked up in her chambers, that she leaped for the opportunity to get out. Smelling the delicious odor of bread, Jinx sighed in delight as she entered the bakery. 

Though, her whole body turns rigid at the sight of you and an older man chatting with the seller, your servants holding packages. Trying to swiftly avoid you, Jinx stood at the corner behind you, praying that you wouldn’t notice her. 

She shamelessly stared at your back, head bent down so that you wouldn’t spot her. You somehow shined compared to every other lady in the bakery, elegance radiating off of you. Jinx craved for a chance to speak to you— but every time she thought of it—  her heart beat quickens and she gets the urge to dig her own hole. To her dismay, once you turn around and start making your way out, you steal a quick glance at her for a split second before continuing. 

Jinx’s heard jumped out of her chest when your eyes met hers, feeling giddy all of a sudden. 

The next time she spots you is at the Spring ball. The moment you came into view, her whole body warmed up. You wore a soft pink gown, your hair down for once, a flower hair piece tucked in. There you sat, at another table, with your father—as did she. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off, your silhouette luring her into a deeper hole of desire. Her eyes trailed up to your lips around the cherry, sucking the ruby juices that escaped. Jinx had a feeling she wasn’t being slick with her intensive staring, but you just looked so beautiful and—

“—Who are you staring at?” Silco’s voice shook Jinx, forcing her gaze to break away from you. Jinx was quick to shoot back, “No one.” 

He sent her a skeptical glance, “Is it the Marquis’s daughter?” Silco detected Jinx’s silence, smiling at her shy behavior. 

“Perhaps you could go speak to her?” He suggested, encouraging her. Jinx only sighed defeatedly, “She’s so different compared to..me.” 

Silco only scoffed, sipping on some crimson wine, “Nonsense.” He then turned his head, “Marquis!” He called out, gesturing for the man to come over. Jinx panicked, whispering profanities when you followed after your father. Silco motioned for them to take a seat. 

Jinx didn’t acknowledge you, trying to seem unbothered. You, however, knew her little game.

You’d be labeled as a fool if you didn’t notice her piercing stares every ball. Eyeing the way her eyes trailed on the crowd, you scrunched your nose, trying to understand why she never spoke to you. 

On the first ball of the season, you felt her burning stare on you the whole event, as if stripping you of your garments. Even at the New year Ball, her eyes would bore into your side. You thought she hated you at first, but then you realized how different  she acted. Her fingers would fidget with her braid, or even the fabric of her pants. 

Silco spoke with your father, leaving you to sit across from Jinx. You tilt your head, inspecting her side profile. You’d be an idiot to not think she was attractive. Even after she had left in the last ball, your friends had whispered about her looks, describing her as dashing. 

You did your own search, digging through Lady Whistledown’s past newspaper for any information. The only thing you found was Jinx getting labeled as an ‘eye-catching woman who had a reputation of flirting openly’. You wondered if she changed since she didn’t seem like the type. 

“Jinx, would you like to dance?” 

Your sudden question stuns Jinx, forcing her to meet your eye. 

“I— Uhm.. Alright.” She muttered, taking a deep breath before holding out her palm for you to take. You glance at her manicured nails, smiling, “Thank you.” 

Jinx tried to seem composed, maneuvering you across the dance floor like it was her second nature. Your hand rested on her shoulder, the other intertwined with hers. Feeling her tense when you place her palm on ur back, you giggled, “.. never danced with a girl?” 

She murmured under her breath, “Not really.” like it was painful to admit. She avoided your eye during the waltz, but you didn’t appreciate that. 

“I know you’ve been watching me.” You whispered in her ear, innocently staring up at her as she forgot a step. She looked away, “I have no idea—“ 

“—Jinx, are you interested in me?” You instantly asked, flickering your gaze across her face. She didn’t answer, biting on her bottom lip. You huff out, “I asked you a question.” She twirled you around, your chest colliding roughly with hers, causing her to inhale deeply. 

You tightened your hold on her shoulder, head leaning in closer, your perfume surrounding Jinx’s senses,  “I would appreciate it if you could stop ignoring me and respond—“ 

In the midst of your words, her lips capture yours. Gasping, your eyes squeeze shut at the impact of her fingers tangled in your hair. She then pulls away, her lips parted, staggered with her actions. 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be.” She rasped, shoving your shoulder with hers, speeding away from the dance floor. You immediately grab her arm, aware of the numerous stares around you—especially your fathers. She turned her head, pausing when she realized you were following. 

“Take me with you.” You whispered, desire glinting in your gaze. Stunned, Jinx glances at Silco, noticing his triumphant look. Peering back at you, she finally cracks a smile. 

She tugs your hand and guides you out of the ball, into the carriage parking. Jinx immediately shooed her drivers away. The blue-haired girl pulled you in the carriage and not wasting any time in pressing her lips against yours. Grabbing her face, you giggled as she motioned for you to lay down on the plush seat. 

Her attention then laid on the silver plate resting on the opposite sofa, cherries and other fruits there. Wickedly grinning, she leans back down, her tongue slipping past your lips to wrap her tongue around yours.  Whining, your knee nudged her leg, desperate for more. 

She clicks her tongue, “Patience.” She whispered, peppering your neck with wet kisses. Biting your lip to reduce any noises, you arched your back, “Just get on with it.” You whined, forcing her head down. She yanked your hand off, lifting her head, “I said patience.” 

Her fingers then slip beneath your gown, trailing up to your thigh. Your hips twitch in anticipation. At last, she moves your lingerie to the side, slender fingers rubbing your pussy. Whimpering, your head tilts back, soft noises escaping your lips. Jinx inspected the way your brows furrowed, lips parting as she entered one finger. 

Distracting you from the sudden discomfort, she leaves a couple of kisses on your collarbone. When you buck your hips, she takes it as a sign to slightly pull out and plunge her finger back in. You sigh, eyes shutting closed from the ecstasy. A grin spread on Jinx’s lips as your folds suck her finger in, encouraging her to add another finger. Rocking her finger into you, you twitch, legs spreading to give her space. Entering another finger, you gasp, wrapping your arms around her neck. 

Moaning into her ear, her grin multiplies at the accomplishment of having you turn putty in her arms. Jinx suddenly speeds up the pace, ramming her fingers into you, eliciting cries from your pretty lips. She would mutter soft praises in your ear at each hard thrust of her fingers, licking your earlobe, “..so good for me.” She pecks your cheek, humming at each plea you let out. 

Once you came apart on her fingers, she praised you immensely, “Perfect girl.” She pulls her fingers out, coated with your cum. Lifting her wet fingers up to her lips, her tongue pokes out to lick, amused by your entranced gaze. 

She separated her fingers, mischievously grinning as a string of your essence connected in between, noticing the rosy hue spreading across your bashful expression. 

“Don’t be ashamed,” She sucked her fingers clean, “…you taste sweet—of course.” You sat up, your gown covering the spot Jinx just invaded. Turning your attention to the cherries, you picked one up, wasting no time in biting into it. 

Jinx stares as the crimson juices trickle down your chin, stretching her finger out to prevent it from dropping on your gown. Licking her index finger, Jinx hums at the taste of cherries. 

“It’s good, right?” You feel the need to verify if she finds it delicious too. Jinx, however, just shrugs and grabs ahold of your hips, “You know what’s good?” Giggling, you straddle her lap, facing her directly. 

Jinx chuckles, watching you finish the cherry and throwing the seed on the platter before cupping her face. 

  “Now the cherry is on top.” 

creds to the dividers. thank you for reading! reblogs r appreciated:)

[prismkith]

arcane req teehee

any arcane characters you want (women+ please) with a partner that's a little weird/otherworldly. just a bit of a strange person ygwim

“Don't mistake me for the wind when she blows” 

Arcane women with a weird/otherworldly partner!!

Pairings: Caitlyn, Jinx, Vi, Sevika

Caitlyn:

-Finds it absolutely adorable. 

-With all the shit she has to deal with, being an enforcer and detective, and now practically one of the leaders of Piltover, your strange habits and anecdotes help bring color back into her world. 

-Loves coming home from a stressful day of work to find you in your own little world. Her shoulders immediately drop and her face softens, wrapping her arms around you and asking you what you’ve been up to, ready to listen to you go on and on about your strange little adventures.

-Once looked outside her window to see you barefoot with your pants rolled up to your knees, standing ankle-deep in a pond. Eyes closed, face blank and arms crossed just standing there in the water. When she asked you why you were standing dead still in a pond for thirty minutes you just replied “felt stressed” and shrugged your shoulders like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

Vi: 

-Was a little weirded out at first. She didn’t really understand what you were talking about half the time, and definitely labeled you as an airhead before she got to know you.

-Eventually, she began to slightly match your energy. You say some odd shit like “I wish we were two birds so we could sit on a branch together and sing all day” to which she’d reply “Type shit” and nod in agreement. 

-This girl is a WHORE for physical touch, not even sexual touch. Just any contact of your skin on hers. One time you decided to take a nap while she was sitting next to you on the couch, and without saying anything you put your feet on her lap so you could spread out but still be touching her while you slept and she literally melted. Girlie's heart exploded on the spot. 

-Loves to join you on little adventures. One time you asked if she wanted to join you in the woods to look for a really good stick. Like one of those big smooth sticks where you see them and go “damn that’s a nice stick”. She obviously said yes on the spot. 

Jinx: 

-Your twin flame. Absolute soulmates. 

-Didn’t question your quirks ONCE. In fact, she almost out-weirds you sometimes. You walked into her hideout to find her attempting to balance a stack of crackers on her forehead while in her underwear once so needless to say you’ve met your match. 

-Not super huge on physical affection especially at first, but loves it when you do the thing where you lay on her chest but you crawl inside her hoodie/t-shirt so your basically cuddling while connected to the max. 

-You two are never sitting where you should be and everyone else has coined it as “your thing”. Like for example, if you two are hanging out at the last drop you are both sitting on top of the table, rather than in the chairs or on bar stools and everyone just accepts it. You two regularly hang out on the ceiling rafters wherever you are, and If you knew each other before Silco’s death you definitely startled him more than once by doing so. (when he first saw you and Jinx together his first thought was literally “Jesus christ theres two of them”.

Sevika:

-Gonna be totally honest, she thought you were fucking annoying at first. 

-Like to be fair she had to deal with Jinx’s antics for years, so when you came along shawty was drained. 

-Nonetheless, you captured her heart anyway. She doesn't make fun of you per se, but imagine that one meme that goes “Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something we don't know how to hear anymore?” “I just want you to stop saying odd shit”. That's your dynamic. (secretly finds your quirks adorable but would never ever admit it) 

-God forbid anyone else say anything even slightly condescending to you, though. She does NOT play about you, you're literally the light of her life, and as much as she gets sick and tired of your habits, she is the ONLY one allowed to feel that way. Has beaten multiple people to a pulp for saying slightly passive-aggressive things to you. 

-Despite her slightly detached and no-bullshit personality, you know she loves you no matter what. She may not verbalize it much, but the way she shows you off is enough for you to know. Whenever you're out together she always has an arm around your waist or has you sitting on her thigh. Anything to proudly show off and announce that you're hers and only hers.

_______________________________

A/N: LOVVVVED THIS REQUEST! As a certified "interesting critter" myself i luv a good weird partner headcanon. Also this was my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me TT im still finding my bearings writing for characters lol. constructive criticism always appreciated!!

[meshla-cyarika]

Can I be honest for a second and say that one of my biggest fanfiction pet peeves is when someone will write their character or the reader insert as someone who should in theory be really badass (for example a Jedi or a Mandalorian, or an Avenger, or a soldier/fighter in general) and then make them really weak and basically not be able to handle themselves at all? Like come on realistically these mfs should be able to kill someone. Maybe this is just me being a girl who isn't girly, but I just want a character like this who can actually defend themselves and doesn't cry and need to be picked up by their s/o all the time.

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hii, i just read all and i mean ALL of ur fics, but i saw you wrote for arcane women and was wondering if you could write headcanons abt them with a socially awkward/anxious reader?? If not thats A-Ok 👌 with me

Sure! How is everyone doing after the first three eps? I still haven't seen it but the edits I've seen... oh boy.

"I Got You." | Arcane Ladies Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: How the ladies of Arcane(Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Mel) act with a socially awkward and/or anxious partner

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Spoiler Free, On The Shorter Side, Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX

– At first, Jinx didn't get that you were socially awkward. She was used to people being awkward or even scared around her so she thought it was the same case with you until you two got closer.

– After knowing that your awkwardness was just you and not your fear of her, she observed you in social situations and noted what made you more anxious than normal.

– For example, she noticed you're more anxious and timid in bigger, louder spaces but if a space was quiet and quaint, you would be just fine so she often took you to quiet places for dates.

– If Jinx notices you're anxious in places you typically aren't, without a doubt she's removing you from the situation and taking you home where you can relax. No words, just grabs and tugs.

– She's tried the pep talk route before but it ended up in her rambling and somehow planning a terrorist scheme aloud... (yeah, a few patrons quickly left the area after hearing that), so she decided to scrap that idea altogether.

– At home though she would prepare what she calls, "A Safety Nest". It was a place in your shared space that had all your favorite things and trinkets, and she usually kept the space dimly lit and played your favorite music to calm you down.

– In social interactions where you take the lead in conversation, Jinx would quietly encourage you with big, almost alarming smiles and "gentle" pats on your back. Let's face it, Jinx can be socially awkward herself.

– Once the conversation concludes, she'll jump on you proudly, ruffle up your clothing, and pinch your cheeks endearingly all while calling you weird nicknames and quoting what you said while mimicking your tone and cadence.

––

VI

– Before you've had your first real conversation together, Vi could sense that you were an anxious individual.

– You fidgeted with your body while speaking, didn't hold eye contact long, and used a decent amount of filler words to casualize your sentences.

– She thought it was endearing to watch you act and move as if you thought no one truly cared about what you were saying or were afraid of boring others but you never bored her. She didn't think it was possible.

– You had tells and quips that revealed themselves with each conversation you two had. You showed more and more of your personality the more you got comfortable with her too. Vi loved it.

– When you spoke to her, especially when you went on tangents about things you were interested in, she always showed signs of active listening by nodding and asking follow-up questions. Even days later, she'll bring up the topic again to see if you have any updates.

– She made you feel seen and heard, something you've subconsciously craved. And when you went on your worry rambles, she consoled you and tried her best to stop you from spiraling.

– You thought about a lot of things and oftentimes about things no one else thought about. Vi thought your brain must've been exhausted with all the worries, doubts, and judgments that were usually wrapped up as others' but were truly your own; it was a lot for one person to handle so she strove to let you know that you were not alone.

– Is there a night you can't sleep because of your racing mind? Vi is there, holding you or reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. She can't sleep until you do anyway so why not speed the process along?

– You often had yourself stuck with your head stressing and worrying about multiple things at once and Vi was always there to bring you down to Earth.

__

CAITLYN

– Caitlyn's an encourager and a comforter with you.

– She's patient and silently allows you to take your time when gathering your thoughts midconversation but she'll also be the one to say, "It's okay, take your time," in the sweetest way possible.

– If there's an instance when you two are out and about and you really want something but are too scared to get it, she'll spring into action and get that thing for you. (Even if it was just a napkin).

– The only time she's frazzled socially is when you both are in an unfamiliar area and need to ask for directions. She'll stumble over her words and try to get someone's attention but they're moving too fast to hear her soft words.

– She'll get frustrated and you end up comforting her, but after a few backrubs, she's ready to try again. Her voice is strong and powerful, and people have no problem hearing her.

– You secretly thank whomever you have to for her determination but there was no way in hell you were going to walk up to a stranger and ask for directions like a tourist... which you were.

– Since Caitlyn's job has her socializing with a lot of people, she can get burnt out easily. Especially if work hasn't been going her way lately but even if she's burnt out and tired, if you seem to be more awkward or anxious than her, she's more than happy to step up socially.

– When you both have someplace to attend to or some event that holds significance, Caitlyn will not hesitate to stage a "social rehearsal" with you. She'll make flashcards of topics you could bring up, you'll both dress accordingly for the event in her living room, and she'll pretend to be an assortment of people so you can get used to different personalities all at once.

– It may seem like this is all for you, but honestly it helps her too. Sometimes she misses the personal cues of conversation leading the other to think she's a black-and-white thinking who has no time for pleasanties. Not true! She's very pleasant... sometimes she's just shy.

– Shyness is not a crime!

– After talking with the host and a few others she has to talk to due to her job, her social battery is depleted. She's extremely thankful you're able to recognize this and suggest leaving early. What would you two do without each other?

––

SEVIKA

– Oh, man. This lady found your awkwardness charming as hell.

– Your awkwardness was different than all the nerds and scaly-beings she's forced to be around. You were cute, looked perfect sitting next to her, and your awkwardness, as mentioned before, had a certain charming quality she can't quite place.

– She'll see you in your workplace trying to make casual conversation or small talk but none of your topics seemed to be landing. Your coworkers would give you a thin pressed-lips smile that she wanted to strike off of them to your attempts and then scoff at you behind your back.

– You were authentically yourself and those bastards didn't know what to do with it. They were scared, not her though.

– When you two got closer and comfortable enough with each other that you could tease one another or make playful jabs at the other's expense, no doubt she would tease you about your awkwardness.

– With those gorgeous eyes of yours, you would look everywhere else but her own, prompting her to say, "You know you can look me in the eyes, right? I won't bite", with the stupidest most shit-eating smirk on her face. And then when you look at her, a bit shocked and playfully annoyed, her smirk would only grow. "Unless you want me to."

– Sevika never made your awkwardness seem like a flaw. Your awkwardness came with you and she wanted all of you so she often encouraged your awkwardness.

– If she caught you trying to "reel" it in or realizing that you've talked for a few seconds too long, she'll playfully scold you and tell you to continue or to "let it out". Y'know. As someone who seethes dominance does.

– There would be an instance in which you go to Sevika asking for advice to be "less awkward" and her only response would be, "Why? I like your awkwardness, you don't need to change it. Anyone else who thinks otherwise is a sad loser and don't deserve to be in your life anyways."

– like damnnnn, okay!

– Safe to say you never asked her a question like that again.

--

MEL

– Mel understands your worries about what others think and the awkwardness that can come with it so she likes to help you in any way she can.

– If you're stressed about a council meeting and afraid of what everyone's going to think about the new perspective you'd like to bring to the table, she'll reassure you and tell you she's right by your side.

– If she can't physically with her hand on the small of your back, she give you nods of encouragement, raise her brows proudly, and look at you with that sense of pride and admiration in her golden eyes.

– After the meeting goes well, which she knew would, she'll congratulate you with your favorite drink and a night in doing all your favorite things.

– Even if there were parts in the meeting that were rocky, like the council people asking questions you weren't prepared for or getting rowdy, she'll say you did an excellent job and what you presented will help the people of Piltover.

– Oh, and don't think for a second that she wasn't sending glares and daggers to those who stirred up your anxiety even more. If looks could kill.

– Mel sees that sometimes your awkwardness and anxiety result in people-pleasing and she would shut that down real quick. She's fallen into that dangerous pool before and knows how hard it feels when you disappoint others and how much harder it is to get out of that mindset.

– She can get quite spirited with her encouragement...

– "Well, if they don't like it, that's on them! They don't know something good when they see it." "I've learned that hard way that you can't please everyone. You might as well say what you have to now. They can get over themselves later."

– It's actually quite attractive to see her stand up for you, even if she was standing up for the possibility.

– Always keeping her words in your mind, you find yourself navigating through life easier and you only have her to thank.

WC: 1,705

[perniciousgranma]

They get back in the truck, VI has to speak: “I, uh- got a bit carried away back there. Sorry.” Caitlyn shrugs off her jacket, turns on the engine and the heating, wastes zero more seconds before climbing on to Vi’s lap, nose brushing against hers. “Are you sorry?” “No. I mean- I just-“ short-circuiting for a moment, Vi settles her hands on Caitlyn’s hips. “I’d thought you might have liked it a little more romantic.” Cait’s still a bit breathless, she smiles: “I liked it just fine. We can save the romance for our third time.” Vi blinks, “Don’t you mean our second?” Caitlyn grabs her hand. “No,” she says, and leads it into her pants.

From chapter 4 of “The Dirt and the Road” - a Roadtrip Noir Caitvi AU! Read more on Ao3

(Final chapter will be out this week! join the ride!)

[yameoto]

RUSSIAN ROULETTE. CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

piltover / zaun civil war

tw; dark!caitlyn, prisoner!reader, blowjob, gunplay, gunjob? gunfucking, drastic power dynamics, degradation, humiliation, bondage, hate sex, bratty!reader, noncon. dead dove. rape. wc; 1.9k ao3 vers.

WHEN Piltover's oh, so fearless leader strides into your humble abode, you can already tell she's having a bad day. Caitlyn's eyes are bloodshot. Hells, she’s still in her uniform. The tresses of silken, inky locks are no longer taut ponytail—stray strands dangling, tangled, cheeks nicked with dried blood. You doubt it's her own.

Your first instinct, as a prisoner chained to the wall and completely at her mercy; is to act like a right fucking brat. Because that’s been working out so well for you, thus far.

“Rough day?” not that you could give a single fuck. “All tired out from gassing out children on the streets? Poor baby."

Caitlyn remains silent as she dismisses the guard with a flick of her wrist, and you're still talking. Yipping away like a dog snapping at her heels. "There are other ways to solve wealth inequality than killing all the poor people, you know." Her stare is glacial.

God, the mouth on you.

She’s considered moving you to her family’s personal prisons. Though, keeping Zaun's lauded revolutionary locked-up in the Kirramman's basement would draw a couple eyebrows. The dungeons under the council-room you so lovingly blew up, along with her mother, suffice.

“Paint a portrait,” You sneer, like the little shit you are. A bloodstain clinging to her sole, that she hasn't scraped off yet. "How 'bout you shoot a gloryhole and fuck that instead, princess."

So you do see the bulge she's packing. Good. She's been aching to unload in you, all day.

"I'm not in the mood for talk." Caitlyn says, coolly, shoving the cellblock door open and stepping inside. Clearly. Her cock is pulsing. She hasn't even made the effort of the usual charade, in drilling you with that perfunctory interrogation sequence—for the benefit of the enforcers stationed at your cell. (Shame. you take your petty joys in turning up your nose and spitting in her face, like some structured caricature of foreplay).

You have such tight lips. Caitlyn delights in prying them open.

“Knew you couldn’t resist. Come back for another round, already?” Somehow, you manage to sound cocky, even though there's a smear of her dried cum streaked just below your brow, from just this morning.

Caitlyn tries to be good. She really does. You just make it so hard.

“Hold this for me.” She orders, like you're one of her little soldiers waiting on her hand and foot. A snarky reply about the shackles around your wrists is on the tip of your tongue. No matter. Caitlyn forces the barrel down your half-open mouth anyway, before you could so much as say bang.

“Mmf—“ Cold metal forces your mouth apart. your eyes widen, pupils swallowing up your irises. This is new. For a moment, blind panic seizes your body, because there is a gun in your mouth. It's not like you don't know there's a guillotine with your name inscribed. (All, 'cut the head off the snake', or whatever eloquent, prissy-spun bullshit Caitlyn spits in your ear as her nails scrape the walls of your cunt).

It's been too long. The war could be over, for all you know. Though, you wouldn't put it past her to keep you past your expiration date.

Speaking of, Caitlyn doesn’t even bother to hush you. She only thrusts, further—far enough to bruise your throat and stop your incessant, muffled whining. Your gag reflex triggers. Unbidden, tears sprout, to burn behind your eyelids. Silently, you buck.

“Oh, don't be so dramatic. You’ve taken worse.” Caitlyn rolls her eyes, languidly pushing the pistol in, and out. In, and, out. She guides in smooth, composed motions—never letting up enough to allow you more than seethe, breathing harshly through your nose. “It’s good practice."

The fiifth time you gag, she finally lifts the barrel out. You were never one to waste the opportunity to snark, even if you really should be saving your breath.

“Holding a dress rehearsal for my public execution? I'm. You must really like me, doll.”

“Oh, no,” Caitlyn drags metal, over your lips. It's warm, from the time it’s spent crammed down your throat “for gagging on my cock.”

Even though you’re expecting it, you lash out—momentarily ripping the veil off your faux swagger. Caitlyn tuts, though she gets a vivid lick of satisfaction from seeing you, bare, for once (and goodness, how much effort you take), before shoving the gun back in place. You fix her with a glower that seeps with pure, divine, hatred—chapped lips puckering goadingly around its muzzle. Screaming for her, to just fuckin' do it, already. Caitlyn almost admires how you haven’t lost your rage, your viciousness. It's the one thing you have in common.

She swiftly upticks the revolver, and jerks it out, callous. The roof of your mouth snags on its sharp-whetted sights, and blood sluices down your throat. You can’t tell the taste from the metallic tang of metal. A string of pink saliva connects its spitsoaked barrel to your sputtering lips, chest heaving.

“Don’t have the balls to take the shot, huh?” You spit, as if there isn’t enough of that smeared over your chin, pooling helplessly into your collar.

“Should you be so lucky.” Caitlyn smiles, the bitch, as she swoops downwards, markedly unblemished hands grasping your jaw. Of course, you think, lividly. Of course Piltover’s own general doesn’t get her hands dirty.

Although, she makes an exception for you. How sweet.

Caitlyn foregoes further fanfare, pushing you downwards. Your limbs fold in on themselves—a lion, declawed. The feeble thrash of your arms, bound at the wrist and hastened to the iron-wrought wall—are no match for the demanding brace of Caitlyn’s thighs as she slides gracefully to her knees, elegant hand seizing you by the throat.

"But I’d make such a pretty martyr," You wheeze, hyperaware of the click of Caitlyn’s belt unbuckling. All of a sudden, you miss the cool sensation of a pistol in your mouth.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, adores this angle. How your eyes sear. Jaw clenched, hollows sucked in rage and hunger—as if you would blow the brains out her head if you could. Seething, at how she has the opportunity herself, but denies you the satisfaction.

Instead, you get this. She untucks herself at a leisurely pace, almost marvelling at the way her cock descends in a mighty shadow, darkening your face. You scowl. Her free hand shoots out to smush your cheeks, the moment you bare your teeth and open your mouth to talk back. So predictable.

“Perhaps if you didn’t spit your food out at the guards, you’d have the strength to put up at least a little fight.” Caitlyn teases, too lightly for the context, as she lines up her flushed, swollen tip against your furiously jammed lips. A gob of pre-cum spouts from the slit, marring your cheek

"Maybe I was saving myself the trouble of hurling it up after we're done."

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. Pushes her head up against your pursed lips. “What are you? The world’s most grating ventriloquist?” She remarks, snide. She's weary of playing games. She needs it, now.

How she's grown so painfully hard, over this whole ordeal. You'd think she’d feel shame over it—so turned-on by something she sees clearly beneath her—but who wouldn’t get off on using their worst enemy like this? You'd do the same, if you were in her position.

At least, that’s what she tells herself when she shoves her cock down your throat.

"Ah.." Caitlyn shudders, the same time muscle memory has you sucking. Her neck arches back in open relief, hips bucking as she presses you, nose flush against the trimmed strip of dark pubes.

Her strokes are torturously slow. The most humiliating thing is the plap, plap, plap sound of her balls slapping against your chin, resounding in the empty dungeons. there is no audience—probably because nothing about this screams Noble House of Kiramman—or even legality. then again, neither does launching nukes into Piltover's place of governance. Tomayto, tomahto.

She withholds her moans for your own benefit, just so you can listen to the obscene sound of yourself, suckling along her dick. Caitlyn’s drags are lazy, relishing the beautiful suction of your lips. Slips herself far enough down your throat, for your swallows to turn to audible gulps, as you try not to choke.

She's not quite yet done. Her fingers dart downwards, twisting your panties aside.

“I don’t even know why you bother wearing these. They’re disgusting.” Rock-hard, a sore reminder of how routine this has become. She hooks them on her pistol, before promptly flicking them across the room, revealing the miserable, glistening wetness of your cunt.

Fuck. Your pussy is sodden like a cat left in the rain, dripping all over the carpet—much to your self-loathing. Caitlyn’s smirk is unrepentant.

“You're getting off on this? You're even dirtier than i thought.” She muses, as you glower hotly upwards, cheeks full of her. “I do hope you used your tongue.”

You're briefly confused by the comment, because, well—you are using your tongue and more—until the slick heat of your pussy swallows cold steel, and you gasp—walls straining, clenching around the foreign intrusion. Caitlyn eases the revolver in, with surprising gentleness. not that it does you any good.

Your spine arches off the wall, mangled noise ripping from your throat. Caitlyn shoves her length in, deeper, an impromptu silencer. “Don't whinge, darling.” she husks, knowing you loathe the pet-name. "It's unbecoming."

She never hurries, despite having places to be. Is it her fault that it feels so good to fuck your throat, like this? To pulse her gun in your cunt, almost playful, as she watches with the hooded eyes how your pussy greedily slurps the pistol to its hilt, before coming out again, glazed with the evidence of just how filthy she knows you to be. Her finger slides over the trigger, voice coming out in a breathy murmur.

“Bang.”

Caitlyn cums in thick, gooey spurts down your throat. Her head lolls back, shoving your head to practically kiss the sharp angles of her pelvis as you take it. Of course you take it. All your bravado, and still, you swallow her load like a beaten dog lapping at water, all the while, her pistol stretches you open. You don't plan it. God, it's like your body has a life of its own—a Pavlovian response, to the taste and feeling of Caitlyn trickling down your throat—but you orgasm like your life depends on it. Maybe it does. Your legs quake, limbs jerking, shoulder-blades scraping against the gritty brick walls as your entire being yanks itself upwards, like a marionette on strings.

When she pulls the revolver out from your cunt, this time; it is creamy white that strings from your helplessly pulsating folds to its hollow. You hiss, cheeks burning, panting—scrabbling back. An animal backed into a corner.

Caitlyn holsters her revolver, dripping with your sweat, your blood, your cum. Always on her person, yet as uncocked as the day it was minted—chamber still full. It’s only purpose is to fuck you stupid. She stands, buckling her belt back up, as you lie there.

“I'll break you, yet.” She promises.

Blood rushes between your ears, back scratched to all hell, bruises at the back of your throat. She’s splattered all over you. You grin.

“Should you be so lucky.”

Caitlyn scoffs, and iron bars screech shut behind her. You know you'll see her again, come sunrise. Or; you’ll know sunrise, come Caitlyn, again.

Tomayto, tomahto.

[marvelousels]

oh fuck you! | 1

authors note — (pt 2 here!) my bad i just felt like writing this 😞plus this is absolute shit I haven’t written in months, manifesting my skills will come back I hope 🙏

pairings — caitlyn x fem!reader 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

mistakes like this — prelow playing!

CAITLYN could tell you were mad—anyone could for this absolute reason. It was in the way your shoulders tensed tightly, the way you wouldn’t even meet her eyes. And honestly? You had every right to be. Caitlyn didn’t blame you for it, she rather despised herself for this too.

She was quite conflicted at who she wanted. You or Vi? The thought spun in her head like a broken compass, never pointing in one clear direction and it was driving her mad.

And tonight, with you standing there looking the way you did—like you were carved out of starlight— it only made things worse. How was she supposed to think straight when you made it so hard to breathe?

She wanted to say something, to beg you to let her explain, but what was there to say? Words wouldn’t fix this, and she didn’t even have the right ones to try. Anything she said would sound hollow, an excuse rather than an answer. And wasn’t that worse? To throw more empty words at the mess she’d made?

Still, her hand didn’t let go of yours. It clung there, desperate and unyielding, even as her mind screamed at her to let you walk away, cause she’s fucking everything up. But she couldn’t—not yet.

“Can’t you just give me more time?” she asked finally, her voice quiet but steady. Her eyes found yours. “Once this task with her is over, I’ll figure it out. I’ll have everything sorted, I promise.” Her eyes glistening with plead.

She paused, her grip tightening just slightly, as if afraid you’d slip through her fingers before she could say more. “I know it’s unfair to ask you to wait, but I… I just need you to trust me. Just a little longer.”

“for me to just get hurt?” you say still not meeting cait’s eyes, she sighed as she looked away and back at you, you really had a perfect point and caitlyn couldn’t argue back. She knew there’d be a possibility where you’d get hurt if she chose Vi.

“please understand where im coming from, please.”

caitlyn pleaded her grip on your wrist still quite tight and you just abruptly pulled your wrist off her grip and turned around now your back against her.

“caitlyn, I’ve been here for you your entire life and this is how I get treated in return? seriously?” you scoffed in disbelief.

She frowned and rolled her eyes in response “yeah but that doesn’t make me really obligated to just choose you does it?” she said quite bitterly.

You chuckle and face her “oh you’re so right! don’t choose me. don’t choose me who was always there for you.” you kept ranting about all the things you’ve done for her and abruptly stopped and just gazed at caitlyn, some slight hint of sadness in your eyes.

“why—not me? cait, why not me?”

she wanted the earth to just suck her up and make her disappear cause her heart now felt like it had shattered, oh this moment was the end, genuinely.

“y/n— I-“ she couldn’t even speak, you just wanted to kill yourself at that exact moment.

“oh fuck you, caitlyn.” your voice breaking while you said that and tears filling your eyes, your throat hurting. Oh and how clichè, it was raining. Perfect.