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shouyuus · 2 months ago

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18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

#⛈ monsoon season #this is my essay titled: SEE LOOK I CAN FIX HER HERE IS THE PROOF #♨ steamy #arcane #vi x reader #vi smut #arcane smut #wlw fanfic #arcane vi smut #vi x you #arcane x you #vi arcane fanfic #x reader #lesbian #to say this is self indulgent would be such a heinous understatement lol #but yes i can fix her just gimme a chaNCE I PROMISE I CAN DO IT GIMME #this started out as like a weird love letter to pitfighter!vi and also to zaun bc i do not think they get enough love (in the show)#and also i have a thing for the beauty in brutality and love as an all consuming obsession and both those things r tru in vi so #also like my toxic trait is actually absolutely wanting like fucking the JUMIN HAN equivalent of a lover like #yes be SO obsessed with me that you want to lock me in a cage be SO obsessed with me that i consume ur every waking thought

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orchidseason · 15 days ago

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dom!caitvi ‹𝟹 how they punish you when you disobey them

caitvi x fem!reader

warnings ‹𝟹 word count 2.6k, FILTH, threesome, bratty sub!reader, impact play (ass, face, cunt), hair pulling (r!receiving), kissing, oral/face sitting (caitlyn!receiving), strap blow job (vi!receiving), strap in v (r!receiving), orgasm denial, derogatory, modern!au, allusion to more sex

You went to the club they’d specifically told you not to. You went with the friends they’d warned you about countless times. You wore that outfit they said you shouldn’t wear in public. You went against every command they’d ever given, sneaking out while they were asleep, fully aware you’d be in a world of trouble if they ever found out.

What brought it on? A bratty streak, perhaps. Or maybe a desire to see the frustration in their eyes—to watch as they looked at you with disdain. It ignited something inside you, something like adrenaline.

It was around two in the morning now—not that you were aware, too consumed by the way time flew when you were having fun. Too much fun, really; you almost forgot that tonight’s escape was strictly forbidden. The lights blinded you, and the music had surely blown your eardrums out—but you hadn’t stopped smiling. The bodies pressed around you, the heat building up and leaving a shiny layer of sweat on your skin as you danced in circles. The rhythm of the bass was distracting, almost a blurring vibration from the object buzzing on your side, tucked inside the waistband of your skirt. Took until you walked away from the dance floor to grab a drink of water that you were aware of your phone ringing.

Once glance at the caller receipt and a chill runs down your back. Caitlyn Kiramman.

The call rings through and just then do you notice the amount of times she’s called you–they’ve called you. You feel your heart race, gripping your phone tight as you move your way through the crowd to step somewhere quiet. With a quick sigh, you pick up when they call again.

You lean against a wall, breathing in a deep sigh, the weight of your decision finally hitting you.

You hit the green button just as it rings again.

"Hey, Cait," you say, your voice unsteady, even to your own ears.

"Are you aware of the time?" she says, her voice icy—too controlled. Too calm. A cold shiver runs through you.

You glance at your phone again. 2:36 a.m.

"I—" Your words catch in your throat, your heart racing with a mix of guilt and the adrenaline still humming through your veins. The excitement of the night is quickly replaced by the heavy weight of reality.

"Do you realize what you’ve done?" Caitlyn’s voice is the sharp crack of a whip, yet it carries a sense of something darker—a warning wrapped in cool detachment. You can feel the weight of her gaze even over the phone, the silence between her words stretching like a promise of something you’re not sure you can handle.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “I didn’t—"

“I know,” she interrupts, her voice like ice, but there’s something dangerous beneath it.

The intensity in her words hits you like a punch to the gut, the reality of the situation fully crashing down. You’re no longer in control—Caitlyn is. You had your fun, and now you’re in for it.

"Look outside," Caitlyn commands, her voice steady but with a bite of authority that sends a shiver down your spine. "I have someone waiting outside for you."

Just as she’s said, your eyes glance outside the windows and there lies a car–the driver inside already making eye contact with you. Your stomach twists, the adrenaline from earlier now mixing with a rush of guilt. You knew this would come—knew the price for your defiance was inevitable.

"Now, before I have to come get you myself," she adds, a thread of danger lacing her words. The message is clear: she’s over it–and you’re sure Vi is too.

Taking a deep breath, you head toward the exit, your mind already racing with what’s to come. You don’t want to face either of them, but it’s far too late to turn back now. No worded apology will fix this.

The closer you get to the exit, the heavier your steps feel, as if the weight of your choices is pressing down on you with every movement. The music from inside the club feels like a distant echo now, swallowed by the pounding of your own heartbeat. Your mind flashes back to the night—your defiance, the rush, the adrenaline that now feels like a distant memory compared to the looming consequences you’re about to face.

You reach the door and step outside into the cool night air. The car is parked just a few feet away, the engine idling as the driver remains silent, staring straight ahead. The man sitting in the driver’s seat doesn’t need to say anything; you can tell from the way he’s watching you that Caitlyn’s already made it clear what he’s here for.

The car door opens for you, but you hesitate for a moment, glancing at the club one last time. You could run. You could try to get lost in the night, to make a break for it and leave everything behind. But deep down, you know better than to think you’d get away that easily.

With a resigned sigh, you step into the car. The door shuts with a soft thud, and the man pulls away from the curb without a word. The city lights blur past, and the car moves through the streets with an almost eerie quiet. The tension is palpable, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you reach them. The silence feels suffocating, the weight of the situation pressing down on you from all sides.

Every minute that passes is another reminder that you’re out of control, and the reality of what you’ve done is starting to sink in. They may not be here right now, but you know they’ve already made sure you’ll pay for this. The man driving doesn’t say a word, but you can feel the gravity of the moment in the way he steers the car, his focus unwavering.

It’s not until the car slows down that you realize where you are—outside your place. He opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight before he drives off. You take a breath, trying to shake off the buzzing energy from the night, but it’s not quite as easy as you thought. You may have snuck away tonight—may have done what they told you not to do just to get a rise out of them—but now, stepping into the house, you can feel the weight of that decision hanging over you.

The living room comes into view, and there they are. Caitlyn’s lounging on the couch, perfectly poised, effortlessly elegant, head resting on her hand. Next to her is Vi—arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall, eyes glinting with something darker. Caitlyn looks up as you step in, her eyes immediately locking with yours and raises an eyebrow–Vi following. This was the moment you’ve been waiting for, this is what motivated you to have done the things you’ve done.

Caitlyn doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything at first, but her eyes never leave yours. The silence stretches, and for a moment, it feels like she’s waiting for you to speak first. To admit what you’ve done. But Caitlyn never rushes. She waits for you to come to her.

Vi, on the other hand, doesn’t have the patience for silence. Her arms uncross, and she steps forward, her eyes narrowing. “You think you’re clever, huh?” Her voice is low but sharp, full of frustration. She’s angry—so angry—but there’s something else in her eyes too. Something that only makes her more dangerous. "Sneaking out. Breaking the rules. You really thought you could get away with that?"

You meet her gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Maybe I wanted to see if you’d catch me."

Vi’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, it looks like she’s about to step forward and do something—anything—but Caitlyn’s eyes flick to her, and Vi freezes. Caitlyn doesn’t have to speak. She doesn’t need to raise her voice to get people to listen. Her eyes look back to you, “get yourself to our room.”

It’s all she says, and now she waits for you to scurry away like the little mouse you were. And you do, one foot after another you make your way down the hallway. You know what to do once you’ve walked in, but instead of doing it–you make one last taunt by keeping the skimpy skirt and off the shoulder shirt outfit on. You hear them talking outside, hushed whispers–one sounding like a melody, the other sounding frustrated–heated. Ten minutes later and they’re entering the room, your body shuddering under their roaming eyes.

“Firstly, you remember your safeword–yeah? Repeat it to me.”

You pick at your nail, “red.”

“Secondly. Repeat all the ways you’ve disobeyed so you’re aware of why this is happening.”

Vi walks off for a moment, walking into the walk-in closet while Caitlyn stands there waiting–eyes steady on you.

“I snuck out, I wore a skimpy outfit, I went with friends you don't like, and I went to the bar you told me not to go to.”

Caitlyn hums, “how we’ve decided to punish you is as follows. One, you won’t be coming tonight. Two, you will receive ten slaps to your cunt. Three, we will be using you until we feel you’ve learned your lesson. Understood?”

You nod and Caitlyn’s quick to grab your jaw tight–pulling you to face her directly–a gasp leaving you.

“Answer me” she says cooly.

“Yes,” you say, hands coming up to hold onto her wrist, “yes, I understand.”

Vi walks out then, strap settled on her waist. She maneuvers you onto your back, pushing your legs to either side of you–your short skirt riding up and revealing you bare to her. A huff escapes her at the sight, “such a fucking whore.”

She brings her hand down on your thigh, grinning at the gasp you let out. Her length slides between your thighs, rubbing just right on your clit.

“I bet your cunts still molded to this dick,” she whispers, watching as you clench around nothing each time she slides her length past your hole and up to your clit. You grip the bed sheets, rolling your hips. Her hands come to grip your waist, holding you still.

“Nuh uh, none of that.”

She moves her length away, her hand replacing where it once was–fingers circling your clit. Whines spill from your throat, pleasure building before she snaps her hand right down onto your cunt. All that pleasure slips away, the feeling now burning. Your eyes snap open, looking up at Vi.

She’s rubbing your clit again, “count. What number was that?”

“One…”

She cracks her hand down again. “Two...” And again. “Three–!” And again. “F-four–!” Repeatedly until she's reached ten and your cunt’s swollen and red. She spreads your folds, “fuck–look at you. Turned on by that?”

You’re panting on the bed, chest rising and falling–happy you got that out of the way. Behind your head you hear the bedsheets rustle before Caitlyn’s straddled right over your head, glistening cunt right over your face. No words spoken as she grabs your hair and jerks your head forward onto her. You understand, licking a stripe up her–hearing her moan above you. It’s then that Vi pushes in, her length spreading you out wide. You momentarily stop eating Caitlyn out to cry out as she slowly drives each inch in. Caitlyn’s disapproving of you stopping, so in response she lowers her hips to push herself against your nose and lips again.

Vi takes notice and slaps your ass, “don’t get lazy. Eat her out.”

Your tongue works on her again, your moaning vibrating against her clit just right. Vi’s now nestled in you, grinding her hips up–tip of her pushing against that spongy part, the one that lets you see stars. With Vi fucking into you, and Caitlyn rubbing her wet cunt all over your tongue–you’re in heaven, mind floating away. You may have enjoyed the club for the time being, but this is where you feel you belong.

Vi sets a pace, one that could be described as rough–bruising. It repeatedly hits that spot, one time you swear you saw white flash in your vision. You try your best to be consistent with Caitlyn, but at this point you just have your tongue spread–letting her work you how she wishes. She reaches her edge first, body suffocating you for a moment as she comes–thighs shaking on either side of your head. When she sits up, you gasp for air–sputtering on your moans as Vi continues to use you like a rag doll. She looks down at you, sweat trailing down her abs. She’s fucking you so good you’ve forgotton it’s a punishment and you weren’t allowed to come.

She watches as your face begins to contort, and hears the way your breaths get higher pitched. Caitlyn does too and she angles herself–hand gripping your face to turn towards her.

“Need to come don’t you, mm? Want to so badly? What is Vi fucking you so good?”

You nod at everything she’s saying and she connects her palm to your face–not too harshly but enough that it stings. She’s quick to grab your face again, forcing you to look deep into her eyes.

“Answer my questions, tell us. Or are you too much of a cock slut to think right now?”

You shake your head, “no! No, it–ah shit! It feels so good... thank you..”

Vi only hums in response. Caitlyn lets go of your face, rolling her eyes, “she’s too fucked out to give a good enough answer.”

She rests her hand on Vi’s hip, pressing a soft kiss to Vi’s cheek, “you can stop now, she’s had enough.”

Vi looks to Caitlyn, almost a little confused, “but I’ve just started–”

“I have other plans.”

Vi responds, pulling her length out despite your small protest. Now at this point your mind’s fuzzy, subspace having taken over–too consumed and focused on pleasure. All of what was bratty earlier is gone. And they know that. Caitlyn’s expression is amused as she speaks to Vi again, “have her suck you off. Do so until she’s teary eyed, letting you use her however, mm?”

Vi nods, leaning down to grip your hair, repeating to you, “hear that?”

You nod, “yes... yes, I heard her.”

“Then get on your knees.”

The blanket falls with you as you slide your body onto the ground, far-away eyes looking up into Vi’s. She slaps her length on the side of your cheek, chuckling at how your bottom lip lowers just slightly.

“You get dicked down for four minutes and you’re already a mess,” she comments, teasing her tip between your lips.

Your eyes shut when she slides it all the way through, tip hitting the back of your throat. Already tears spring to your eyes, hands gripping at Vi’s thighs. Vi holds onto your hair tightly, moving your head up and down on her length–face fucking you. It’s absolutely hot.

Caitlyn watches it from where she’s settled herself on one of the single-person couches in her room, watching the endeavor with a gleam in her eyes. The sounds of you swallowing her length, choking on it occasionally are the only sounds in the room–and it’s what the two of them want. For you to hear how embarrassingly whorish you are.

Vi pulls you off her length with a harsh tug on your hair, and you look all the more wrecked. Your eyes are blotchy, lips red, tears trailing down your face, chest heaving air. Vi looks back to Caitlyn, “what do you think?”

Caitlyn hums, “no. not yet.”

After a quick little kiss session, Vi leaning down to meet your lips for a bit–her length is being pushed right back between your lips, hips continuing their pace all the while Caitlyn’s lip quirks from where she sits.

caitvi x reader masterlist

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