nyxavia

[nyxavia]

baby momma. (ii)

amab!vi x fem!reader || just pure fluff about moments with their daughter (5 y.o) || part i here! (nsfw)

the morning sun spills through the curtains, catching on the shimmer of dust in the air and the tangle of pink ribbons in vi’s lap.

"she moved again," vi mutters with a crooked grin, carefully threading a tie through your daughter’s wild curls. "hey, c'mon, sweetheart. if you keep wigglin’, you’re gonna make me mess up again."

“but it tickles!” your daughter squeals, kicking her socked feet on the edge of the couch. “mama, it tickles when you pull!”

vi chuckles, low and easy. she’s sitting cross-legged on the rug, wearing a pair of grey sweats and your oversized "property of vi" tank top—one she stole, altered to fit her broader chest and shoulders, and now wears with shameless pride. her arms flex with the gentleness of someone who could break necks but chooses to braid ribbon instead.

you lean against the doorway, arms crossed, watching vi fumble with the final loop of the second pigtail. her tongue peeks out in concentration. there’s a smear of toothpaste on her jaw from when your daughter ambushed her earlier, and her knuckles are still bandaged from last week’s sparring match, but the way she’s kneeling here now, patient and proud, feels like everything.

"okay. done." she grins and lifts the little girl into her arms. “whaddya think, huh? cute enough to take over piltover?”

"only if she learns how to punch like you," you say, walking over, ruffling your daughter’s hair (despite the pigtails). “you gonna teach her that next?”

vi smirks and taps your daughter’s nose. “what’d i say about using your fists, baby?”

your daughter parrots: “only if someone deserves it!”

vi beams. “that’s my girl.”

you arch a brow. “remind me again which parent was supposed to be the responsible one?”

she shrugs, one arm still full of giggling child. “you. i’m the cool one. i do pigtails and justice.”

you kiss her anyway. her mouth is toothpaste-minty, warm, familiar. her free hand catches the back of your head like she’s afraid you might float away if she doesn’t anchor you.

when you pull back, she whispers, “you gave me everything. i mean it.”

her eyes flick to the girl in her arms, then back to you.

"i didn’t know i could be this kind of happy, y’know?"

you rest your forehead against hers. “yeah,” you whisper. “me neither.”

it starts the same way it always does.

the bell rings. kids pour out like a flood — sneakers slapping the pavement, backpacks bouncing. parents wait in tidy little groups, chatting politely under sunshades, sipping iced coffee from compostable cups.

and then there's vi.

leaning against the hood of your beat-up car, arms crossed, biker jacket unzipped just enough to show a sliver of ink on her chest. aviator sunglasses. combat boots. one foot resting on the bumper like she owns the whole damn parking lot.

she doesn’t even try to blend in.

some of the other moms whisper. that’s her? one of the dads nods toward her like she’s an urban legend. the one with the tattoos?

vi doesn’t notice — or doesn’t care. she’s too busy scanning the crowd of kids for one tiny, familiar face. and when she spots her, all that tough-guy posturing melts like sugar in coffee.

“there’s my girl,” she murmurs.

your daughter sees her at the same time — and breaks into a sprint.

“mamaaa!”

vi crouches instinctively, arms open wide. she catches her mid-run, lifts her clean off the ground, spins her once.

“heyyy, there she is! you run faster every day, i swear.” she presses a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, still smelling faintly of strawberry shampoo. “good day?”

“i got a gold star on my picture!” your daughter beams, digging into her backpack. “it was us in the park. with the ducks. i made your hair pink, like you used to have!”

vi laughs, genuinely. “gorgeous taste, clearly.”

she holds the crayon drawing like it’s a priceless artifact. her fingers — bruised from last night’s training — handle it with ridiculous care.

as they head toward the car, vi lifts her daughter onto her hip, one hand casually carrying the tiny purple backpack that definitely has sparkles on it. she doesn’t even flinch when glitter transfers onto her jacket.

from the sidewalk, another parent stares.

“is that your… uh… partner?” they ask you, hesitantly.

you follow their gaze to vi, who is now crouching beside your kid, fixing the velcro on her shoes like it’s an olympic sport.

you grin. “yeah. that’s my partner.”

they nod slowly, clearly stunned. “she looks… intense.”

you shrug. “she does. until you see her braid a unicorn into our daughter’s hair and cry at bedtime stories.”

the rain starts around noon.

not the loud kind — just a lazy, steady patter against the windows. the kind that makes the world feel smaller, cozier. like the apartment is its own little island and everything beyond the glass can wait.

vi had been up early. real early. something about a supply run for you, or fixing the busted heater in the hallway, or “beating claggor’s pull-up record, for pride, babe.” you’d rolled your eyes, but she kissed your shoulder and went anyway.

by the time lunch rolls around, she’s back. hoodie on. hair damp. and somehow still full of energy — until she isn’t.

you come out of the kitchen with a warm cup of tea and stop cold in the doorway.

vi’s passed out on the couch. arms spread. head tilted slightly back. one leg kicked halfway off the cushions like she lost a wrestling match with a pillow.

your daughter’s curled up right on top of her. tucked perfectly in the space between vi’s chest and shoulder, little face smooshed into the soft curve of vi’s tank top. her hand — tiny, chubby-fingered — is clutching vi’s hoodie string like it’s a lifeline. she’s drooling. just a little.

vi hasn’t moved.

except—now she does. in her sleep, her arm shifts protectively over the girl on her chest. just enough to pull her in. her brow furrows like even unconscious, she knows who she’s holding.

you smile. quiet. warm.

you set the tea down. pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over both of them. vi doesn’t wake. her breathing is slow, steady. her kid’s even slower.

you sit beside them — careful not to shift the weight — and just… watch.

vi, with her scarred knuckles, her fighter’s arms, her tough shell… soft as melted chocolate now. snoring faintly. totally unaware that her daughter’s drool is soaking into her shirt.

and still, you’ve never loved her more than in this moment.

later, when she wakes up…

vi (groggy): “hey. did we—ugh, is she drooling again?”

you (grinning): “yup. all over you.”

vi (sleepy laugh): “good. means she’s comfy.”

[nyxavia]

ARCANE SPOILERS, EIGHTEEN+

vi being a confirmed munch! she would literally give the best, the sloppiest, nastiest, most beautifully divined head ever received. you’re telling me she wouldn’t get on her knees for her girl at any moment. vi is the type to insist, even when you’re desperate to get your hands on her, she aims to please and that’s exactly what she’s doing to do. doesn’t matter where you are or really when it happens, she’ll see it through. practically doing tricks on your pussy, her tongue fucking in and out of your coveted hole, splitting your split open with her tongue, slurping at every drop, coating her gorgeous face with your cum. powder blue eyes so dilated, they’re almost too dark to function. she looks at you through her eyelashes, needing to see the look on your face when you cum, greedy hands digging into the roots of her hair, pulling you even further, the tip of her nose teasing your clit until you’re coming undone for her as her mouth pushes you through the best euphoric orgasm you’ve ever had just to be met with “ready for another, cupcake?”

[nyxavia]

yuhhh i love older!rich!vi.

older!rich!vi x fem!reader || partly nsfw ;; dom!top!vi ;; sub!fem!reader small smau: [ 1 / 2 ]

she looked like everything vi used to like—legs for days, crimson lips, laugh like sin.

and still, vi couldn’t even remember her name.

the music pounded, bass shaking the leather seats of her private booth. lights flashed red, blue, gold—but all vi saw was the blank screen on her phone.

still no reply.

the girl next to her leaned in close, perfume sweet and sharp like honey knives. “you’re distracted,” she purred. “work?”

vi downed her drink. “something like that.”

she threw her head back and laughed, bold and pretty. vi pretended to smile. her hand itched. she opened her banking app.

💸 [transfer: $6,000] for the time i wasted not choosing you sooner

the girl traced circles on vi’s thigh. “want to get out of here?”

vi blinked. thought of you in oversized hoodies, laughing at her terrible morning hair. thought of your silence. thought of how she traded soft for sharp and still ended up bleeding.

💸 [transfer: $10,000] for every second she’s not you

“no thanks,” she muttered, pulling away.

the girl pouted. vi stood.

outside, cigarette lit and half-forgotten between her fingers, she typed:

come home. or i’ll bring the damn club to your door.

💸 [transfer: $20,000] last one. unless you answer. then i’ll send more.

and then she was already walking. her driver knew the building. of course he did.

she was going to your apartment.

the door creaked open with the lazy grace of someone who’d just woken up.

there you were. messy hair, sleepy eyes, blanket still dragging from one shoulder. somewhere behind you, k/da’s "the baddest" was shaking the apartment walls like the universe was mocking her.

and you just blinked at her.

"…you here to get your money back? wait, lemme open the app—"

vi saw red.

literally.

the led lights in your room flashed crimson, and maybe that’s why she lost it. or maybe it was the fact you looked so unbothered—like she hadn’t poured her damn heart into your inbox for two weeks straight.

her hand hit the door, pushing it open. you yelped as she stepped in, crowding your space, slamming it shut behind her. in two strides, she had you against the wall.

“the fuck did you just say?” she hissed.

you blinked again. "…money? i said i’d send it b—"

“stop.” her voice cracked. “stop pretending like that’s all this was.”

your back hit the wall with a thud, her hands caging your sides. not touching you. not yet. just… there.

“you think i throw thousands at people for fun?” she laughed bitterly. “okay maybe i do, but not like that. not for you. this wasn’t about flexing.”

silence. k/da kept singing like this was a club, not a war zone.

“i came here at 2am looking like a damn mess,” she gritted. “i sat through some girl’s fake laugh in a booth that felt cold even with champagne. and you—”

she looked at you like you hung the damn stars and then stomped on them.

“you open the door like we’re strangers. like you didn’t wreck me.”

her voice dropped. low. hurt. deadly.

“so no. i’m not here for a refund.”

a beat passed.

then softer, almost whispering:

“i’m here because i’d give twice as much… just to hear you say my name like you used to.”

you didn’t say anything.

didn’t blink. didn’t even breathe, it felt like.

vi did.

one sharp inhale like she was breaking surface after drowning. her eyes flicked to your mouth—and stayed there.

“say something,” she whispered. “fucking anything.”

and you, with a damn near unreadable look, muttered, barely audible:

“…you smell like vodka and heartbreak.”

something inside her snapped.

in a second, her hand left the wall, found your waist, pulled you in like she’d waited centuries. the kiss crashed into you — messy, hot, desperate. she kissed you like she was punishing herself. like she was chasing every silent night you’d ignored her. like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

your hands fisted in her jacket on instinct. her ring clinked against your zipper as her other hand found your jaw, holding you still, grounding both of you in the chaos of it.

vi groaned into your mouth — low, frustrated, needy.

“do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” she breathed against your lips. “you think a girl like me begs? you think i send bank transfers like love letters for fun?”

another kiss. this time slower, deeper, more hers.

she pulled back just an inch, noses brushing.

“one word, and i’ll walk away,” she said, voice wrecked. “but if you don’t say it…”

her eyes, glassy and fierce, burned into yours.

“…i’m staying. and i’m not leaving that bed until you remember what we were.”

you tilted your head, breath still shaky from the kiss.

“okay, serious question.” you looked her right in the eyes. “if you were me… would you take you back?”

vi blinked.

and then, with the straightest damn face, said:

“if i were you, i’d take me back ten thousand percent.”

you snorted.

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.” she stepped closer, hand trailing up your side like she was already claiming her territory again. “and i’d reward myself with a beachfront villa in whichever country i wanted.” she paused. “wait. no. not a villa. an entire island.”

your eyebrows rose. “seriously?”

“seriously. i’ll get your name in big ass hollywood letters on it. you can choose the font.”

you laughed—like, genuinely laughed—and poked her chest. “okay, okay. solid effort. i’ll give you that.”

vi leaned down, brushing her mouth over your jaw, smirking. “so that’s a yes?”

you pretended to think. “that’s a maybe with benefits.”

her grin sharpened.

“close enough.”

and just like that, she scooped you up like you weighed nothing, carried you to your room, and tossed you onto the bed like a prize she’d just won back.

"arms up," she ordered, low and rough.

you hesitated, but only a second before obeying.

she pulled your shirt off, slow, deliberate. her eyes never left your face, like she was watching for even the slightest hesitation—except she already knew you weren’t stopping her.

“fuck,” she murmured, eyes trailing down your body. “i missed this. i missed you.”

her hands slid down your sides, firm, greedy. her mouth followed, kissing over every inch she missed, every inch she thought she'd never touch again. and you—god, you felt like you were burning alive under her attention.

“say it,” she whispered against your stomach. “say you missed me.”

you bit your lip, refusing.

she moved lower.

her mouth between your thighs was slow torture. precise. controlled. like a woman used to getting results.

you gasped, hands flying to grip the sheets, and she smirked.

“still stubborn,” she said, kissing the inside of your thigh. “i like that.”

then she flattened her tongue and dragged it in one long, slow stroke—

“vi—”

“say it.”

you moaned. “i missed you.”

that got her.

she groaned like the words turned her on more than anything else, and the pace changed. her hands gripped your hips tighter. her mouth worked you open with increasing hunger, and you were already shaking.

she didn’t let you finish the first time—pulled back, wiped her mouth, climbed up your body and kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“again,” she growled into your mouth.

you blinked, dazed. “what?”

“i didn’t come back for just one,” she said, voice wrecked. “i came back to ruin you. until all you remember is me.”

you barely had time to breathe before she was back between your legs, three fingers deep this time, curling just right, and her mouth on your neck, biting marks into your skin like she wanted to claim you.

“you’re mine,” she murmured. “say it.”

you whined.

she fucked you harder.

“say it, baby.”

“…i’m yours.”

only then did she let you break.

and when you finally collapsed under her, trembling and boneless, she wrapped you in her arms like you were a part of her.

like she'd die before losing you again.

[nyxavia]

i love the collective "men dni" in here i genuinely do.

[nyxavia]

I oil painted the Award Winning Bunker Scene on an 18 x 24 canvas awhile ago for my sweetheart and forgot to share it on here. 🤫

[nyxavia]

fratgirl!vi + jealous sex my love.

fratgirl!vi x fem!reader || nsfw content ;; dom!vi ;; jealous!vi ;; possessive!vi ;; spanking ;; petnames ;; strap-on sex.

vi’s grip on your hips tightens. hard. bruising.

“you think i didn’t see that?” she growls against your ear, voice rough from beer and possessiveness. “you were laughing at her jokes like she was funny or something.”

your breath hitches when her hand smacks your ass. loud. mean. her rings sting.

“she was funny,” you murmur, eyes wet, voice trembling—but vi’s already shoving your cheek into the bed, one arm around your waist to hold you still, the other dragging her strap between your slick folds, slow and heavy like a warning.

“oh, sweet girl,” she mocks, biting your shoulder just enough to make you squeal. “bet she doesn’t even know how wet you get when i fuck you dumb like this.”

you try to shift, hips rocking back instinctively, but vi pins you harder. her biceps flex beside your ribs. “nah, don’t run now. not when you’ve been so friendly.”

she pushes in with one hard stroke.

you gasp, a choked moan leaving your lips as she bottoms out, the strap curved just enough to grind right against that sweet spot. vi growls again, deeper this time.

“you’re mine,” she pants, thrusting rough, unforgiving, making the bed creak with each snap of her hips. “say it.”

“i’m—fuck—yours, vi, yours, i’m yours,” you whimper, fingernails clawing at the sheets, body folding under the weight of her jealousy.

“that’s right.” she fucks you harder. “don’t forget it.”

your knees are weak. you’re babbling nonsense now, face shoved in the pillows, her name leaving your lips like prayer. every thrust makes you feel owned, marked, ruined. exactly what she wants.

she pulls your head back by the hair just enough to whisper, voice low and dangerous:

“next time you smile like that at someone else—i'm fucking you in front of them.”

and god help you, the idea makes you clench around her, makes her hiss through her teeth and fuck you deeper like she knows.

“greedy little thing,” vi spits, slamming into you one last time before you collapse. “mine. only mine.”

[nyxavia]

I'm busy with c 0mm work rn so nothin new but here's a thing I did for Pillar some months back! c:

[nyxavia]

caitvi doodles inspired by the new concept art and storyboards from annecy !

[nyxavia]

“The writers nerfed vi’s character in season 2!!”

Did they tho? or are u just allergic to character development?

one big thing im so tired of seeing in this fuckass fandom is all the people saying shit like that. Her character was not nerfed or badly written in s2. it developed. as it shouldve. all those people saying that it was out of character for vi to join the enforcers and suddenly wanting to get jinx just didnt watch the show imo. jinx did a lot to vi in s1 and vi has EVERY right to feel resentment towards jinx for it. Me personally if my sister killed my whole family and then teamed up with the man who tried to kill our adoptive father I’d wanna beat her ass too. and saying that “vi chose cait over jinx!” is such a stupid thing to say to defend your dislike towards vi or caitvi. Powder chose jinx over vi when all vi wanted was her sister back and was willing to leave cait in s1 for that. She just didnt want jinx to shoot cait. that was all she wanted was her sister back and cait to not be killed in front if her face. but as i said powder chose jinx over vi so like c’mon yall.

also the caitvi haters pmo. Amanda has made statements which ARE CANNON BC SHE WROTE CAITVI BTW and yet caitvi haters are denying everything shes saying? Like sorry, just because you think “Vi deserved better and everything caitlyn did was awful and unforgivable and im now gonna compare this fictional character to a very awful man that existed in history and destroyed countless innocent lives that were real!” does not make it at all reasonable.

You’re feelings are not cannon.

stop acting like everything Amanda said abt caitvi is wrong when she’s the one who wrote the damn couple.

No, i do not think the things caitlyn did are okay. However, the acts she committed for one killed no one (deleted scenes arent cannon btw!) and as the writers have said, she used the gas only to target the chembarons and dismantle shimmer which was ACTIVELY MAKING ZAUN WORSE. even in her unhinged anger she still cared about taking down shimmer and silco’s goons despite actively wanting to hunt down jinx as well.

AND MIGHT I ADD ambessa was fuel for caitlyn’s fire. AMBESSA! wanted the violence. AMBESSA! did not care abt the innocent lives and AMBESSA wanted the war. not caitlyn. yall criticize everything caitlyn does while you are letting the things, silco, ambessa, jinx and other antagonists in the show had done slide. which is odd because i fear silco was the one causing harm to the under-city and using children for labour, and filling the streets with drugs, while also working with enforcers! so no, caitlyn is not perfect but no one in the show is. however caitlyn haters are somehow taking everything this woman does out of context and making it seem like she’s the worst character in the show.

(disclaimer no hate to ambessa. I personally love every character in the show except for viktor and silco. but i dont HATE them and im not gonna pretend like theyre terribly written characters and compare them to awful real people in history CAITLYN HATERS LOOKING AT YOUU!! 🥰🥰)

but for some reason vi, caitlyn, and caitvi haters just love to make up their own bs to defend their ass arguments and tell the writers of arcane that they’re wrong? about their own characters? and story plot and writing?

you can dislike the character, the ship, the story. but lets not pretend the reasons you dislike it is cannon.

like i said

YOUR FEELINGS👏ARE👏NOT👏CANNON👏

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. caitvi/caitlyn haters dni unless it is to have a RESPECTFUL, CALM, AND MATURE debate about the topic. which means not comparing caitlyn to mustache man or a very awful cult or calling her a fascist or me a fascist apologist bc for some reason thats a big thing yall like to do.

[nyxavia]

FRAT RULES, FUCK HARDER.

PAIRINGS: dom!frat girl!vi x sub!fem!reader

PREFACE: you’re the pretty girl she swore she wouldn’t fall for… and now she’s showing up to your 8am class in yesterday’s hoodie and a hickey the size of zaun.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: uhmmm i don’t even know what’s up with me lately, guess i’ve officially entered my smut era hahaaa 😭 like... who would've thought?? there was a time i literally didn’t know how to write smut at all—if past me saw what i’m writing now, she’d be absolutely shooketh 😭💀

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: strap-on sex ;; hoodie kink (?) ;; possessive!vi ;; cocky!vi ;; party sex ;; mirror sex ;; jealousy sex ;; overstimulation ;; public teasing ;; pet names (r: baby/princess) ;; vi has a strap collection don't ask me why. navigation.

1. vi meets you at a mutual party and makes it her life mission to get your number by the end of the night. she’s obnoxious about it too—grabbing the aux, playing some sexy slow jam, leaning on the doorframe with a red solo cup like,

“this one’s dedicated to the girl in the corner with the skirt i’m tryna take off later.” you swear you’re not into her. and yet.

2. she’s the type to crash your sorority movie night just to sit beside you, smelling like weed, cheap perfume, and danger. she’ll whisper things like:

“this plot’s shit… bet i could give you a better night in twenty minutes.” and you hate how your legs press together every time she smirks.

3. she wears crop tops with her frat letters, loose sweats slung low, calvin’s peeking out, and a backwards cap. tongue piercing glinting. she chews gum like sin. she knows exactly what she looks like when she sprawls across the couch and says,

“c’mere, i’ll make you forget your gpa.”

4. she rizz texts at 2am like:

“u up?” “u want sum chaos or sum comfort?” “im outside. bring ass.” and when you open the door? she's shirtless under her zipped-down hoodie, biting her lip, eyes red-rimmed and so so needy.

5. frat girl!vi always smells like beer, cologne, and sweat—but like… in a way that makes you insanely feral. her room's a disaster, but her bed is soft and warm and always has a hoodie of yours she "accidentally" stole.

6. she calls you “princess” and “baby girl” in public, throws her arm around your shoulder at parties and growls in your ear,

“bet none of these fuckers know what you sound like when you’re begging.” you shove her but your face is burning.

7. vi fights anyone who flirts with you at a party. straight up pushes a guy back by the chest like,

“back off, bro. she’s not single—she’s mine.” you haven’t even officially dated yet. that doesn’t stop her from marking you up every damn weekend.

8. she drives you to 8am class in her beat-up bike, still in her boxers, still buzzed from last night. one hand on the throttle, the other on your bare thigh, saying,

“why don’t you skip today and let me fuck that pretty brain right outta your head?” ma’am. please.

9. her tattoos peek out of her tank top when she’s lifting weights in the frat basement gym, smirking when she catches you watching. she drops the barbell and says,

“wanna ride something heavier, sweetheart?” the girls' bathroom has never recovered.

10. she makes you sit in her lap at every frat bonfire. she’ll wrap her arms around you and kiss your neck in front of everyone like it’s a damn claiming ritual, while whispering,

“tell me who you belong to, baby. c’mon. say it.”

11. frat girl!vi has zero impulse control when she’s drunk. she’ll pull you into a closet during a party, lock the door, and say,

“seven minutes in heaven? nah, we’re staying until your knees give out.” you emerge half an hour later. hair a mess. nobody questions it.

12. vi loves taking you to parties just to show you off—hand on your waist, other hand low on your back. she tells everyone,

“y’all can look, but if anyone touches her? you’ll be drinkin’ outta a straw ‘til graduation.” and then she turns to you and grins like the devil.

13. when you're studying in the library, she slides in beside you, unzips your hoodie just to leave hickeys on your collarbone. says,

“you’re doing great, baby. just needed to leave my signature, y’know?” you’re late to lecture. again.

14. she gets banned from your dorm after sneaking in one too many nights, but she still climbs up your window with the dumbest grin.

“romeo who? let me in, babe. i brought snacks and strap.” and you always let her in.

15. she gets absolutely feral when you wear her frat hoodie and nothing else. throws you on the bed and growls,

“you’re reppin’ my name now, huh? let me show you what it means to wear those letters.” and babe… you don’t walk straight for two days.

ཐི❤︎ཋྀ smut bonus:

1. vi has a whole-ass drawer labeled “emergency strap kit.” no, seriously. it has lube, multiple harnesses, cute pastel-colored toys and an engraved one she calls “the finisher.” if you're ever alone in her room too long, she’ll lean in with that low rasp and go,

“pick your poison, sweetheart. we’re not stopping ‘til the sun’s up.” she means it too. you’ve cried on that mattress more times than you can count—always in the best way.

2. she’s obsessed with eating you out while you’re still wearing her clothes—especially those loose-ass sweatpants that hang off your hips. she’ll tug them down slow with her teeth, spread your thighs and groan,

“fuck, baby… always so wet for me. look at this mess. i haven’t even touched you yet.” and when she does? you’re shaking. she pins your hips down. makes you say her name over and over like a prayer.

3. she moans when you moan. vi’s a vocal dom—gritty growls, filthy praise, shamelessly unhinged. she’ll be balls-deep in you with her strap, sweat dripping down her chest, hair sticking to her forehead, and she’ll pant:

“you feel that? that’s all mine. you were fuckin’ made for me, princess.” then she’ll grab your jaw and say, “say it. tell me who you belong to.” and if you hesitate? she slaps the inside of your thigh and starts going harder.

4. frat girl!vi loves mirror sex. like, she’ll drag you to her full-length mirror and bend you over in front of it, whispering,

“look at you, baby… fucked-out on my strap, droolin’ on yourself. that’s my good girl.” she holds you by the throat sometimes. not to choke—just to keep you watching. and when you come? she grins, proud as hell, and doesn’t stop.

5. she has this thing where she fucks you on her frat letters jacket like it’s a ceremony. drapes it under you on the bed and says,

“you’re mine now. no one else gets to touch you like this. say it.” and when you do, breathless and ruined, she just goes, “good girl. now scream my name.”

6. vi adores overstimulation. she’ll edge you at first—multiple times, licking you and pulling back, teasing your clit with her fingers and saying,

“you want my strap, babe? then beg. crawl into my lap and beg like a pretty little slut.” and when you finally get it? she makes sure you take all of it. hands on your hips, body flush to yours, murmuring, “you wanted this, didn’t you? be a big girl. take it all for me, baby.”

[nyxavia]

⌇ PUSSY DRUNKノ—DRABBLE

strap, pussy drunk!vi !

Vi tops you but she moans louder than you when her strap digs into your drooling cunt. She looks at you with her lust-filled, blue eyes— puppy eyes, really. She begs silently for more of your cunt even though she can't feel the strap, it's not a real dick. But she swears she can.

"You're tight," Vi grunts and shoves her strap deeper until it buries inside all the way.

"Oh, fuck," you curse and guide her movements. You need to guide her movements, she's too pussy drunk to make sense of anything that's happening right now. "Vi, ‘think you should lay down."

"No, I'm fucking you." Vi said through gritted teeth and snapped her hips forward, making you moan. You giggled right after.

"Hardly."

Vi glares at you, frowning, she knows you're right.

[nyxavia]

i need to be here more omg.

[nyxavia]

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

With love and endless gratitude

[nyxavia]

My name is Abed.

I’m a survivor from Gaza, holding on to hope in a world that has fallen apart around me. 💔

The life I once knew — my home, my family, my sense of safety — has been shattered by war. Today, I live among the ruins, trying to find a path forward through the rubble and heartbreak. 🏚

Every moment is a battle against fear and uncertainty. What was once ordinary — a safe place to sleep, a future to dream of — now feels like a distant memory. 🕊️

I share my story not to seek pity, but to keep hope alive — to believe that even in the darkest places, kindness can still find a way. 🤍

If my story touches your heart, please consider sharing it or offering support. Every voice, every act of care, brings me one step closer to safety. ✨

Thank you for taking the time to listen. 🙏

Post Link

^

[nyxavia]

SOMETHING NEW with caitlyn kiramman

୧ ‧₊˚ your sex life with your girlfriend, caitlyn, was sweet, but a little too…vanilla. so, you tell her exactly what you want, and she fulfills your wishes in more ways than you could think of.

pairings and aus. oldergf!caitlyn kiramman 𝑥 fem!reader

warnings. smut. swearing. light choking. orgasm denial. mention of a safe word, though not used. cum play. bondage/tying up. mommy kink. caitlyn being a big softie for her gf.

gabi’s quick thoughts. none. just this. sorry for the bad ending oops i really had nothing to say </3

word count. 5.5k

masterlist ‧₊˚ taglist

you don’t even knock.

your nerves are too loud for politeness, and your thoughts have been spiraling all morning. you need to say it now, or you won’t say it at all.

you and caitlyn had been dating for months, and she was absolutely lovely in every way. she was passionate, full of care, and she always told you how special you were to her, which, you appreciate. 

but, there was something missing. 

you and caitlyn first had intimacy around three months in. it was the most romantic and sweet thing you had ever experienced, and after, she held you for hours until the both of you drifted off to sleep. 

however, now a couple months later, you were wanting a bit more. it was relatively the same each time— you had gentle sex, with light kisses and fragile touches, cleaned up, and fell asleep. it wasn’t that you hated it— no, quite the opposite— but you were dying to try something new from time to time. you were just too scared to tell her. 

would she be down for it? or would it be repulsive to her? you had no idea. 

caitlyn was always pretty closed off when it came to talking about fantasies or things she wanted to try, which was a surprise, considering she had four years on you, and was way more experienced. you honestly didn’t have a clue if she was into anything other than standard vanilla sex, and at first, it didn’t raise any questions. but you were burning with passion, for such a deeper need that she could only fulfill. 

so, here you stood, right behind her closed door with clammy hands and a heart beating with anxiety. it wasn’t that you feel like you couldn’t talk about it, but everything was just so new, and the fear of messing up swallowed the desire to be direct with what you wanted. 

reluctantly, you pushed the door open, and stopped dead in the doorway. 

“cait, can we talk—?”

there are guards in her room. two of them, standing straight-backed near her window like they’re made of stone, and you have to take a double-take to make sure that they’re even breathing. caitlyn is sitting at her desk, reading something with too many signatures at the bottom, completely honed in. 

she looks up, startled, but clearly pleased to see you. her eyes soften, “darling—”

“i didn’t know you had people in here,” you mumble, one foot already back in the hall, regretting every step that led you here. you should’ve just waited, or called— but it was too late for that now. 

“what’s wrong?” she stands from her chair, already walking toward you, and you already know that there’s a slim chance you can get out of this. her voice lowers, gentle, like she thinks you’re hurt. her chin tilts, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

you hesitate. you were going to wait until tonight, to maybe whisper it in her ear while you curled up beside her, or maybe say it in a way that didn’t feel so serious. but now you’re standing here in front of her, heart stuttering, hands cold, yet the words are burning up the back of your throat.

“honey, just tell me. surely it can’t be that—“

“i wanted to talk about… um… our sex life.”

it gets so quiet that you hear one of the guards clear his throat in attempt to mask clear discomfort, and caitlyn blinks. her cheeks flush instantly, a pink hue blossoming over her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears. you can’t feel her, but you know she’s burning hot. 

“oh,” she says stiffly, pretending to cough, “oh. well then, um…g-guards, you may be dismissed.”

they file out wordlessly, though one of them definitely walks a little faster than the other, and you swear that you can hear one of them pretending to gag, followed by a giggle as they leave. the door shuts with a soft click, and you’re left alone with her, the tension humming in the air like static.

you fiddle with the hem of your sleeve.

“i shouldn’t have just…said it like that,” you murmur out nervously, still messing with the loose frays on your sleeve.  “i didn’t know they were gonna be in here, and now you probably think i’m—”

“no,” your girlfriend cuts in quickly, “i mean— yes, they were here, but no, i don’t think anything bad. just… surprised.”

“you never talk about it,” you say, quieter now, trying to avoid eye contact as best you could. “…and sometimes i feel like i shouldn’t bring it up because you’re always so composed. i just feel like everything’s so taboo between the two of us.”

she takes your hands, thumbs brushing over your knuckles, and looks at you with sweet, glossy eyes. her voice softens, “oh, i’m sorry, darling. i just… i’ve never been the kind of person who finds it easy to talk about those things. even when i want to.”

you nod, heart slowing down. she was right— knowing her upbringing, that probably wasn’t her focus at all. sure, she’s had flings and short-lived relationships, but you were the first girl that she was really with. none of this probably came easy for her, and you didn’t blame her. 

“babe, i wanted to….um. try…some things?” you confess, twisting your foot against the hardwood floors awkwardly. you swallow, trying to ease up, “something new. but not just that— i want us to be able to talk about ‘it’ without it feeling so… fragile. like if i say the wrong word, you’ll shut down. i’m scared of that.”

caitlyn exhales like she’s been holding her breath since you walked in. she pulls you in, forehead against yours, a gentle hand coming up to rub the small of your back, lowering gently to the lowest part. 

“i’m not shutting down,” she whispers into you, “i’m just… learning how to be more upfront about things. when i was younger, it wasn’t really on my mind, you know, love?”

you close your eyes, leaning farther into her embrace, letting her arms fully close around you, circling around your back and up your shoulders. “do you wanna talk now?” you ask her, your voice low, but oozing with nervousness.

she kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then a little lower, lips brushing your neck, sending gentle chills up your spine. you shiver against her as she pulls your face up with her hands, eyes boring into yours. 

she cracks a gentle smile, “we can talk, and then maybe… we can show each other what we want.”

you smile, a little breathless.

“okay.”

and the moment the words leave your mouth, you see something shift in her. it isn’t anything like usual— hesitant and reserved, but instead, it’s something akin to a quiet focus. 

she doesn’t rush at all. she lifts your hand to her mouth first, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like it’s the most gentle thing in the world. her voice is barely above a whisper as her eyes flutter up at you— her usual glassy, bright blue eyes now shadowed over with something you don’t recognize. 

“tell me what you want to try.”

your cheeks heat, but you hold her gaze, careful not to falter. this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and now that the moment’s finally here, you want to do any and everything but back out. 

“i want you to stop being so careful. with me.”

she tilts her head, partially in confusion, partially because she wants you to elaborate more. so, you clarify.

“you’re always gentle, and so very sweet. which…i love that, don’t get me wrong— but i want more than just sweetness sometimes. i want you tell me what to do and when to do it— i just…i want you to do whatever you want.”

her eyes flick down to your lips. she’s listening attentively, taking in each word like it really matters— which, to her, it does.

you’re slightly nervous now, and a little embarrassed, heat flaring in your cheeks. you physically can’t look at her without doubling over, and you do so— falling into her, saying the rest against her collarbone, your voice barely above the sound of her breath.

“i want to see what you’re like when you’re not being nice. i want…i want you to be mean. rough with me.” 

something flickers in caitlyn, and you feel her nod, her hand coming up to gently stroke your hair. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you reply almost instantly, and that’s all it takes for cait. 

she doesn’t rush, but there’s a purpose to her actions now, a confidence that settles into her spine as she backs you toward her bed. the air shifts with it, and you feel your heartbeat speed up, anticipation curling in your stomach when she kisses you differently this time.

not the soft, tender brush of lips she usually gives you before sleep or bidding you goodbye. this one is deeper, hungrier, like it’s making up for every time she held back. her hands stay at your waist for a second, then trail lower, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, testing the waters just a little bit. 

she pulls back just slightly.

“i want you to tell me if i go too far,” she says, and she’s nothing but serious. you nod fervently, but she shakes her head, her index finger curling underneath your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at her. 

“tell me.”

“yes ma’am.” you squeak out, nodding again, your skin tingly and hot. 

“what a good girl.” she coos, and before you even have enough time to react, her hands find the hem of your t-shirt— which, is really her’s— pulling it off, her fingers brushing over every inch of your smooth skin like she’s committing it to memory. she kisses the space below your collarbone, then lower, and lower, and when you gasp her name, she murmurs “yes, love?” like she’s teasing, but her hands are shaking just a little.

she’s nervous, but she masks it well. you can tell she’s starting to ease up by the way she kisses you and grabs your ass, and not just a little tap like she usually does. her hands are roaming all around you, hungry for you, desperate to make you feel good. 

you reach for her shirt too— unbuttoning it, one by one, until her chest is bare beneath you, excusing a black, lacy bra that she’s wearing. her hair falls forward, brushing your shoulder, and she leans in again, mouth hot against your neck now, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch.

you discard her shirt to the floor like it’s worth nothing, grabbing her face to pull her lips back onto yours. you’re both messily trying to reach the bed, stumbling over shirts and other items that are scattered about her bedroom. 

cait pulls you down onto her crisply made bed, covers shifting as she flips you underneath her with a swift movement, not breaking the kiss. a tiny moan passes through your lips as her fingers toy with the waistband of your jeans, and you can practically hear your own heartbeat in your ears, anticipation rising. 

she shifts down to kiss your jaw, then your throat, then across your chest, slow and methodical like she’s tracing a map she’s read a hundred times but only now dares to touch. she presses her thigh between yours, and you arch into it, your breath catching in your throat.

“c-cait—”

“i know,” she murmurs, her voice dripping honey as she shifts down, her hand reaching the button on your jeans. as soon as she looks up at you for confirmation, you breathe out a helpless plea, and she nods, grinning. 

she slides her fingers onto the buttons, undoing each one carefully, amused at how shaky you get with each one she takes out slow and purposeful, until you’re gasping her name again, this time raw and open. 

with a little bit of force, plus your shimmying, she moves your bottoms down until they reach your ankles, sliding them off and throwing them behind her without another look. 

caitlyn gives you a half-smile when her eyes land on your pretty blue panties, the one with the lace and bow at the top that she had picked out for you. you offer up a sheepish smile, legs squeezed shut, “hi.”

“hi, pretty,” she gleams, tapping your thighs lightly, “open ‘em.”

you oblige, your legs spreading slowly for her, and she lets out a quiet giggle when she sees the giant wet spot at your core. she wets her lips with her tongue, “eager much, huh, babe?” 

you grow shy, your head falling into your shoulder as you nod silently. 

“let me take care of you.” 

caitlyn’s face falls in between your thighs, kissing them repeatedly, landing on all your sweet spots that she knows all too well. both her hands find the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, and you shiver at the new temperature of air. 

she, once again, throws your underwear onto the floor like it’s a piece of trash, cooing out at how pretty you look— and she tells you that, too. 

“you make it so hard to hold back,” she whispers honestly, “i…i don’t think i want to anymore.”

“then don’t.”

and she doesn’t.

“just—“ she brings her wrist up to her mouth, her teeth trapping the edge of a hair tie as her hands cup around her scalp, pooling her hair into a ponytail. she slides the elastic up her fingers and your eyes are glued to her, watching her nimble fingers dwindle, securing her hair and blowing a loose piece away from her face. 

your feel your eyes widen, just a bit. you don’t have much time to react before her middle and ring finger are placed against your sopping pussy, collecting your juices on her fingertips, spreading the wetness to your clit, teasing you. you shudder.

“w-wait, caitlyn,” you interrupt before she can go any further, and she looks up at you, “hm?”

“…nevermind.” you shake your head. 

she hums, but she’s not convinced. her hand slides up to your thigh, slower now, more deliberate. she squeezes it gently, “no. there’s something else.”

you bite your lip.

she shifts closer, blue eyes watching you with that sharp, focused look that always makes your stomach turn instantly. 

“you promised,” she reminds you gently, “that you’d tell me what you wanted.”

you hesitate. it’s not that you don’t want to— it’s just… different this time. harder to say. it’s more than just her changing her demeanor, it’s an action, once that you weren’t sure if she’d be interested in. 

“is it something you’re afraid i won’t like?” she asks gently, not pushing, but just out of pure wonder.

you shake your head.

“then what is it?”

your voice is barely a whisper when you say, “you’ll think it’s too much.”

caitlyn’s gaze softens, but she doesn’t let up. she leans in, brushing her lips just below your dripping core.

“tell me anyway.”

your throat works as you breathe out, honest, “i want you to tie me up.”

there’s a beat of silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. you can tell she’s thinking about what you just said, gears turning like she’s full of ideas.

she pulls back just slightly, just enough to see your face. “you want me to—”

“not in a scary way,” you rush out, cheeks burning, “just… soft. but firm. like you’re in control. i don’t know.” you look away from her, “gosh, i feel stupid.”

“look at me,” she says, and when you do, her expression makes you forget how to breathe. she’s not judging you or looking hesitant, but instead, her eyes are lit up like she’s been wanting to do that all along. 

“you’re not stupid,” she says slowly, “you’re perfect.”

you barely get a sound out before she speaks again, “stay right there.”

you nod, breathless, and watch as she stands up and crosses the room— calm and composed, but she’s got a new pep in her step. she opens a drawer at her desk and rummages around for a second before she returns with a soft, navy silk scarf and that look in her eyes again, the one that makes your knees go weak even when you’re lying down.

“hands up.” she orders, and it isn’t laced with that usual tenderness— no, this was a command, and you follow it.

you lift them slowly. you’re nervous and excited all at once, and the mixture is dizzying. she moves to the side of the bed and she binds your wrists together behind your back, gently but tight enough that you can feel it. her fingers linger after, tracing the new vulnerability she’s created.

“still okay?” she asks, watching your face to make sure you’re alright.

you nod again for what feels like the hundredth time, “yes, please. i need you.”

cait smiles. not her usual amused, aristocratic smirk— not at all. this one is deeper, much darker, and you whine at that, at that look, where you both know the exact same thing. 

she’s gonna make you fall apart. 

she kisses down your neck, your chest, taking her time while your arms stay pinned over your head. she moves lower until she’s sprawled underneath you, her nose laying on top of her clit. she starts off slowly, licking into you slow and precise, holding your thighs open as you gasp her name. you squirm and she presses your hips down with a firm hand, murmuring against your skin, “easy, love. i’ve got you.”

and you know she does. 

her tongue finds your clit almost instantly, toying with the sensitive bud. you sigh, basking in her touch, fingers curling in the sheets where you can, the scarf tight behind your back as your body arches helplessly.

you can’t even hide how loud the moan is. it slips out like a secret, but it’s still very audible. you weren’t expecting her to be this good at what you asked for, nor this focused. this deliberate.

caitlyn doesn’t say anything at first— she just hums low, like she’s pleased with herself. her lips are soft, her tongue precise, her grip on your thighs firm and immovable. it’s everything you asked for— commanding, but still cait, like always. 

then, suddenly, her lips pull away from you with a pop, and you whine out helpless, body shifting on the covers. she pulls her fingers to her mouth and wets them, eyes glued on you, lining them up with your wet pussy. slowly, she pushes them inside you— so deep that you can feel it so high up. she curls them tight and you gasp, and then, she’s gone. 

caitlyn pumps her fingers in and out in a harsh rhythm, fingertips curling as her thumb comes up to rub your clit in sloppy, quick circles. it’s nearly too much for you— it throws you into a haze of nothing but pleasure, the only sounds filling the room being your heavy breathing and the wetness from your cunt. she’s unrelenting, and it’s all you could ever want. 

you whisper her name like a prayer, squirming beneath her touch, but she tuts at you mockingly. 

“don’t run from it,” she murmurs, lips brushing against your sensitive thighs, “you said you wanted me in control, didn’t you?  i’m just giving you what you asked for.”

you whimper at the words, your body already on edge, your wrists aching in the best way. you want more. God, you want so much more.

you don’t even realize you’re crying out until her fingers quicken even faster— rapidly pushing inside you with practiced ease, curling just right, drawing a gasp from your throat that’s half-shock, half-desperation.

“f-fuck, cait—”

“that’s it,” she praises, voice low, “take it. be a good girl and take it.”

your legs are shaking, and she’s not even moving that fast. that’s the thing— she’s not trying to break you, but she’s trying to unravel you. 

her thumb circulates against your clit as her fingers work you open, and your whole body stutters beneath the intensity. you’re so worked up that you almost try to reach out before realizing that you’re tied up— you’re twitching, gasping, panting like it’s too much, but you don’t want her to stop. not even for a second.

she leans forward, teeth grazing your skin, “you like being tied up for me?” she asks you softly, but mockingly, “you like not being able to touch me? hm?” 

you nod desperately, your head thrown back as a string of curses slip through your teeth, “i love it,” you take a second to breathe, “i love it— please, c-caitlyn, don’t stop—”

your girlfriend chuckles— low, dangerous, but seemingly affectionate. her pace quickens slightly, and she’s cooing little praises beneath you as your back arches. you’re so close that it hurts.

“you’re so pretty when you’re like this,” caitlyn tells you, voice raw now, and her usual sweetness is long gone. “falling apart for me, making all these sweet little sounds— fuck, i need you.” 

you feel your walls tightening around her, crying out against her palm, practically begging for whatever else she can give. 

you feel your legs shake and your breath hitch, and you’re so close you feel like your body’s gonna snap. “c-cait, cait, baby— i’m gonna—“

but caitlyn… caitlyn has other plans.

just when you’re about to tip over the edge, she pulls back— fingers drenched, eyes dark, her breathing steady, while yours is completely shattered.

“you thought you were gonna cum, didn’t you?” she questions, thumb tracing a line over your inner thigh as she looks up at you with that look, and you shiver at that.

you nod, dazed and wide-eyed. “yes— baby, please, i—”

“did i say you could? did you even ask?” 

your breath catches in your throat again, this time from the shift in her tone. it’s not cruel, no, never cruel— but stern. in control, just what you had asked for. 

“well, n-no,” you admit, voice small, “but i thought—”

“you don’t get to think tonight,” caitlyn cuts in gently, and she leans up and kisses your trembling lips, “you asked me to take charge. so i am. you’ll cum when i want you to.”

your head drops back against the pillows, a whine building in your throat. she’s already kissing her way back down your body, hands pressing your thighs wide open again. 

you’re too sensitive now. every touch feels like a wild fire. your toes curl, your spine twists, and her tongue is back on your clit like nothing ever stopped— but you know now. you know she won’t let you finish, at least, not until you ask nicely— and even then, you know who’s really in control. 

and somehow, that makes it worse, yet so much hotter.

you cry out again, hips lifting, your legs shaking, and the feeling is so much stronger than before, but she pulls away just before you can get close. 

again.

“caitlyn,” you’re literally begging now, tears stinging against your eyes, “please, i’ll do anything, i’ll be so good. but i just need—” 

“i know,” she whispers, kissing the inside of your thigh gently, and it’s reassuring, “i know, darling. you’re doing so well. but not yet.”

you lose count of how many times she edges you like that— over and over, winding you up like a string she’s pulling tighter and tighter, and refusing to let you let go. she holds your hips down when you squirm, hushes you when you sob, kisses you so sweetly, and still won’t let you fall apart.

“tell me your safeword,” she murmurs, hands smoothing over your stomach with one hand, the other still buried deep inside of your cunt, fingers still at work. “just so i know you still remember.”

you nod through tears, eyes blurry and unfocused, “blueberry.”

she kisses your thighs, “good girl.”

then, she starts all over again. not completely— just enough to work you back up, her mouth replacing her thumb on your clit, and you feel like you’re seeing stars. 

you bury your face in a pillow, the need for stability gnawing at you. you can’t hold on, so you smush your face into the silky case, still wrecked. “please, cait…honey, i-i want to cum. i need to. i’ve been so…so good— and it hurts. please, cait!” 

caitlyn pulls away from your pussy and hums, thinking it over a few times, and then she grins.

“on my fingers or my tongue?”

you blink, gasping, surprised that she was even going to let you finish off. “wh-what?”

“you get one,” she tells you, “and you better cum hard, because i’m not letting you get another one.”

it doesn’t take much thought to answer her question. you choose her tongue, which she favors, and it’s inside you in seconds.

and when you cum— finally, completely, crying into the sheets— you scream her name like it’s the only thing that’ll save you. your whole body locks, and she talks you through it the entire time.

“yeah, that’s it, darling— cum for me.”

“such a pretty girl.”

“i know, i know, but you’re a big girl. you can take it.”

you don’t remember how long it takes for you to catch your breath. you just know that when you do, caitlyn’s right there, smiling. she’s brushing your hair back, her thumb tracing your cheekbone. “still breathing?”

you nod. barely.

“good,” she says, kissing you slowly, sweetly. “i love you.” she reminds you. 

you’re still laid out beneath her, body flushed and soft from the first round, when your free hands reach up to touch her again. your fingers trail up her clothed thigh, light and wanting, but she catches your wrist— not roughly. just firm.

you pause, eyes flicking up, “you don’t want me to touch you?”

caitlyn hesitates. she doesn’t pull you away, not exactly, but her grip lingers for a second, her thumb rubbing absent circles into your skin.

“i do,” she affirms softly, “i do, it’s just… i want to treat you tonight.”

you blink, a little breathless, “treat me?”

caitlyn exhales, and it’s a little shaky. her cheeks are flushed, and you can tell she’s nervous from something she hasn’t said yet, something she’s clearly been holding back.

“it’s stupid,” she murmurs, half-smiling like she’s already bracing to be teased, “i’ve just… i like being the one in charge. with you. i like taking care of you. and…” she trails off, lips parting like she’s not sure if she should finish.

“caitlyn,” you call out her her, and she hums. “baby, you can tell me. this is for both of us, and if you want something, i want you to let me know.” 

“okay,” she whispers slowly, more to brace herself than to respond to your statement. her eyes cast downward like she’s suddenly shy, and you blink up at her, surprised. “i’ve been thinking about something, a word— something i want you to say. but only if you’re comfortable.”

you nod, a little nervous now, but curious, “kiramman, spit it out.” 

you can tell she wants to, but she’s reluctant. she shakes her head and pulls you into her by your hips and kisses you, her fingers dancing against your nude hips, and you forget all about it. not wanting to push her. she throws your leg over hers, her hands roaming all over. she moans into you, “i want to touch you again.” 

you feel like your skin is ignited. you’re wanting more than you can handle, your sensitivity still heightened, but you don’t care. you let caitlyn flip you underneath her, let her place sloppy kisses all over your body, let her tongue graze your clit until your legs shake. 

she finds herself under you once again, her tongue drawing sloppy figure 8’s on your clit, then down to your pussy. you’re so sensitive that you’re already getting close, and caitlyn can tell— she always does. 

when you whimper out, she shushes you, “stop that, darling, let mommy make you feel good. it’s okay, i know— i’m not going anywhere.”

you stop. “caitlyn?”

she stops, and looks up at you. “yes?” 

“what did you just say?” 

she draws a slow breath in, “w-what do you mean?”

“let who make me feel good?”

there’s a pause, and you raise an eyebrow at her, smiling. she looks away for a second and almost laughs— and you know she’s embarrassed, which makes your heart squeeze. 

caitlyn sighs, “you’ve never called me anything like that before. but sometimes, when you let go like that… when you let me take care of you…” she swallows. “i think about you calling me…you know—“

“mommy?”

“right.” she agrees, looking anywhere but in your eyes. 

you stare at her for a long moment, heart skipping. caitlyn, flushed and trying so hard to stay composed, still has her hand pressed to your thigh. she's avoiding your eyes, which is rare. but you know her now— know her well enough to see the part of her that tries to hide when she's so vulnerable.

"you could've just said that," you murmur, voice breathy, warm. "you know i'd do anything for you."

her gaze finally meets yours, and something in it softens. she’s still shy, but she’s loosened up. "it's not just about the name, it's... what it means when you say it."

"and what does it mean?" 

caitlyn takes a breath, then crawls back up over you slowly, her body sliding over yours. her hand wraps gently around your throat— not squeezing, just holding— and the shift is immediate. she's in control again, and she knows it, basking in it. 

"it means you're mine," she whispers with a smile, “and i take care of what's mine. always.” 

you whimper at that, at the return of her weight. she watches you unravel beneath her again, and it must be all the permission she needs, because the next second, she's kissing you— rougher this time, messily, like this is the last time. 

quickly, her hands are between your legs again before you can say anything else, parting you with the same unrelenting precision she always has. she fingers you like she knows you inside and out, because she does. she’s so deep that it almost hurts, but the pleasure’s greater than the pain, and you moan out at that.

“cait, please—“ your sentence dies on your tongue, and just when you start to squirm, chasing the edge, she pulls back. 

“ask nicely.” she orders you, and without thinking, you plead, your head dropping into her shoulder. 

“please— m-mommy, please let me cum—“

the groan she lets out is deep, guttural, like you've just unhinged something in her. she doesn't waste another second— her fingers press inside you, slow but firm, and her mouth is back on your throat, your chest, anywhere she can reach. her other hand holds you down when your hips buck, and when you whimper again, she shushes you gently.

"just relax. mommy's gonna take care of everything."

and she does.

she builds you up so slowly you feel like you're losing your mind, touching you just how you like— soft but commanding, her pace teasing yet cruel. you squirm, and she tightens her grip on your hip.

you feel the coil in your stomach pulse, and you cry out, back lifting off of the covers, but caitlyn doesn’t stop. she just kisses your shoulder, “cum for mommy, baby.”

you feel everything in you snap open, your body shaking in periodic spurts, your back falling back into the sweaty covers beneath you. caitlyn helps you ride out your high and you swear you’ve died and came back to life. 

you both sigh and fall into the sheets, looking at each other before giggling silently. caitlyn cups your cheek, “was that…okay?”

“yeah,” you nod and kiss her plump lips, “more than okay.” 

₊⊹ taglist: @drunkinyourbenz

[nyxavia]

꒰ ♱ ꒱ sugar mommy!caitlyn kiramman headcaons ┆ fashion designer!caitlyn, sugar mommy!caitlyn, serious bdsm dynamic, mommy kink, bondage, sex toys (strap-on), lingerie and collars, free use kink, size kink, aftercare, oral (c!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), dom!caitlyn, sub!reader, femme!reader, age gap (reader in early twenties and caitlyn in her early thirties), i want her :( ♡  MINORS DNI ( 18+ )

♱ caitlyn was born into wealth, the kiramman name already highly influential. she had big shoes to grow into, and from a young age she had found an unusual way to transform the success of the family name into her own; fashion.

caitlyn had an eye for style since she was young, and began learning how to draw fashion sketches and develop new patterns as soon as she could wrap her small hands around a pencil. trained to sew by the seamstresses her parents often commissioned, caitlyn was equipped with everything she needed to dominate the industry; the skill, the knowledge, and the personality, all of which shone through every piece she designed.

she won awards as young as eleven years old for her creativity, was crowned best dressed in the yearbook as she graduated private school, and was praised for the uniqueness of her style. caitlyn had a natural gift; there was a rareness in the approach she took to fashion. something the industry wasn't used to.

inspired by the elegance of royalty, the dramatic flair of victorian era trends, and a feminine twist on traditionally masculine pieces, caitlyn carved her name into the industry by force. she wouldn't slow down for anyone.

she was driven by passion. if her latest line wasn't selling the numbers she wanted, she'd waste no time getting back into her studio to make something better. almost always, she'd make a comeback greater than the last. she bought a magnificent cabinet with the goal to fill it with awards and plaques to commemorate her success. the kiramman name would dominate catwalks—the high fashion industry was never the same as it was before she had touched it. other designers worked hard to keep up, but caitlyn's pace was relentless.

♱ she had everything she ever wanted. caitlyn had made her mother and father proud, she was reaching every goal she wanted. but she was lacking somewhere.

caitlyn could have any woman she wanted, she knew this and often was unafraid to use this to her advantage, but the older she grew, the less satisfying it had became to see a different woman each night. she needed someone loyal. for the first time in her life she felt stagnant. and then she met you.

the loveliest service she had received in any restaurant, michelin star or otherwise, had been from you. it was terribly busy but you had an eye for everything happening all at once. you handled it with a poise caitlyn hadn't witnessed before, and she rewarded you with a hefty tip and a request to have your contact details—it took her pulling a few strings to get this, but she could get whatever she wanted in this world.

♱ you were desperate. every calm reaction to meticulous dining requests and customer issues was due to your desperate need for tips, bills and rent piling higher and higher over your shoulders at the time. the moment caitlyn found this out, she wanted to assist you.

caitlyn hadn't considered herself the type for a transactional relationship like this, but it was an easy decision to make once the idea struck. she wanted devotion, you needed help. she could throw away as much money as she liked on you, it was pennies to her.

but most importantly, you revived her. caitlyn was quick to run to her studio, inspired by your beauty.

♱ soon, everything you owned was kiramman. your clothes, your makeup, your perfume, your shoes, your bags. she made custom pieces for you, her most special muse. you'd be posing in the middle of her studio for her to run her hands over your body with a tape measure, trying on half-finished pieces, modelling every new item for the catalogues and online store.

if you were to be seen publicly at her side, caitlyn would have you dressed as appropriately for the event as she desired.

♱ she had changed your life. from waitress to full-time model, and, unbeknownst to the public eye, her submissive.

your lingerie was kiramman. your collars were kiramman.

caitlyn was never cold. she was intimate and tender, a guiding hand. your mommy, who never punished, and only ever rewarded you. if you misbehaved, she never knew about it.

♱ caitlyn would give you anything you ever wanted. she ensured you were still making your own money via your modelling, but she gave you a sizeable weekly allowance as her baby, and 'bonuses' given to you at random if you needed a little extra to buy something you liked.

she kept you happy. financially or otherwise, caitlyn was very focused on keeping you close. if you were insecure or afraid, she supplied loving snuggles on her couch with her cats. if you were cold, she'd sleep by your side in luxury bedding. she had a perpetually warm body, her bosom the most comforting pillow to lay your head.

every kiss of caitlyn's was expensive, flavoured by hundred dollar lipsticks and sophistication.

♱ the filth of your sex life, which was certainly alive, was so special because it was something nobody knew about. people could speculate how your life was under caitlyn's wing, but they didn't know the ins and outs of her like you did as her sub.

it was part of your deal, after all. caitlyn could have you whenever she liked. if she wanted you, she would have you. you would kneel on the floor by her desk while she worked. she'd tug on your leash every now and then to remind you of your place and to demand your silence as she focused. she would bind your wrists with ribbon to restrain you while she touched your body. she'd tell you it's only so that you'll have an easier time being a good girl and not squirm too much.

if you were ready for bed, but looked too pretty in the sleepwear she designed, she'd pull your slip over your hips to curl those long, mean fingers into your pussy.

if you were bored, or looked lost, she'd call you over and coddle you, letting you suck on her clit to entertain yourself for a little while.

designing your lingerie was her favourite. it was always in her favourite colour. rich, custom made navy lace and silk were always her go-to fabrics to use. she'd design it so that you would match with whatever she wanted to wear as well.

she liked any position, from doggy, to cowgirl, to missionary. she was taller than you, stronger than you, and could manipulate you into any position. fucking you with her strap was the most therapeutic act. the continuous cries she pulled from your lips, the repeated 'mommy, mommy, mommy', and the tears that glimmered down your cheeks in the low light, were the most pleasing to her. she could overwhelm you so easily.

♱ aftercare was luxurious. caitlyn would immediately scoop you up, gathering you into her lap and letting the tactile sensations steady your heart. then she would ready a bath, treating it like a spa day. expensive soaps lathered over your body, not a single spot missed by her slow hands. you'd be dried with a soft towel after and put to bed in her arms as she enjoyed a cup of tea and a book, your breathing slowing as sleep finally overtook you.

♱ caitlyn could say it was simply transactional, and she took much pride in being such a great sugar mommy, but she didn't want to accept that you were much more than just her sugar baby. you were the loyalty she needed, the inspiration she needed, and you were so pleasant to look at she would feel her heart swell every time. especially at every photoshoot. she was fond of you. perhaps more than she should've been.

um, hi... hehe... now that i've finished my big ellie one-shot (posting on the weekend if you missed it) i am back to regular posts. until i focus on something else. which, i do have lots of longer fics lined up that i'll want to work on soon.

🏷️ @abbysdollie @valeisaslut @eriiwaii @emmap3rkins @jinxedbambi @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @angelxvs @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0 @tennisthatcher

[nyxavia]

someone had this thought with ellie and abby but the thought of vi and cait with a (high)femme girlfriend is killing me.

vi would think the things you get are so expensive its ridiculous. she indulges a bit into her hobbies sure but when she learns the amount you spend on your nails she nearly faints. takes her a bit to learn all of the different nail shapes and ur favorite designs because when you first ask her she's like "the normal kind babe idk". don't even get her started on the clothes you get. she'll stop complaining if you give her a little fashion show. which most of the ends with her groping you and begging you to let her fuck you with her fingers???

cait is more used to the expenses and normalcy of you frequently getting your nails and hair done. most of the time she's offering to pay for it anyway. if you ask her what shape you should get your nails in she will pause for a solid minute before telling you the exact shape that fits your hands and personality the best. she will also tag along with you to buy you some new clothes, folding when you beg and bat your lashes for her to try on some dresses with you. and if that ends with you on your knees eating her out while she's biting down on her hand for dear life that's nobody else's business!