"You Think You Can Even Last?"

"You think you can even last?"

"[...] let me try"

I BEG YOUR FINEST PARDON

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅Imagine stroking Vi's strap while making out☆

Warning ⚠️: 18+, strap on usage, heavy makeout, dry humping, mutual masterbation, fingering, overstimulation,dirty talk, dom!reader, sub!vi, vi being a whimpering horny mess, begging.

Vi's back thumps against the headboard, legs spread, clad in nothing but a sports bra and her harness. The strap-on- sleek, thick, and strapped tight against her pelvis rests deliciously between her thighs, already glistening faintly with lube and anticipation. Her chest rises in shaky breaths as you straddle her, palms splayed on her abs, your lips already slick with spit and her taste from earlier.

"Fuck," she breathes as you grind your hips down onto her thighs, smirking when her breath stutters again. Her hands twitch at her sides, aching to grab you, but you swat them away.

"Keep them there," you order, and she whines, a needy sound that vibrates against your tongue when you kiss her again.

Your hands move lower, fingers brushing along the thick shaft of the strap that's flush against her. It jolts a reaction out of her hips lifting, a sharp gasp sucked into your mouth as you start stroking it slowly, deliberately.

"Even though you can't feel it," you murmur between kisses, "You're still this fucking desperate, huh?"

Vi's head thumps back with a soft groan, her teeth dragging over her bottom lip like she's trying to suppress her whimpers, but she fails the moment your thumb swipes over the head of the toy.

"Shit- baby, I-" she pants, hips lifting again to chase your hand, her thighs twitching like every stroke sends a current through her body. "Feels like i can- feels like you're stroking me, fuck."

You smile against her jaw, such a mark into the side of her throat just to hear the sound she makes- a high, needy whine that makes your pussy throb.

"Look at you," you whisper, voice low, breath hot against her ear. "Whimpering like it's real. What would you do if it was, vi? If I was stroking your cock right now instead?"

She chokes on a moan, her voice wrecked. "I'd cum- shit- I'd fucking cum already, please-please, I need something-"

You cut her off with another kiss, deep and messy, all tongue and heat, and she keeps into it. Her hands twitch again, but she doesn't move them from their spot. And when you speed up your strokes- tightening your grip just slightly, dragging your palm all the way down the base and then back up to the swollen tip- vi actually sobs into your mouth, hips bucking hard like she can feel every inch of it.

"Look at you," you whisper again, dragging your lips down her neck. "Getting off from just this? You're so fucking easy."

"Only from you," she gasps, rutting up into your hand now, sweat slicking her abs, strap grinding against your palm like she's trying to fuck your hand. "Only for you, baby- fuck- please, don't stop-"

The headboard rattles again when Vi bucks her hips again. Her breath hitches in her throat like every upward grind is pulling more than just pleasure from her body; it's taking her composure, her control, stripping her down to something raw. Something soft. Something just for you.

And you love it.

"You're fucking soaked, Vi," You murmur, dragging your tongue down the column of her throat, tasting salt, heat, and desperation. "You're not even the one being touched, and you're dripping like a goddamn faucet.

"I-I can't help it," she stammers, her voice trembling with heat. Her head lolls to the side, exposing her neck to you like instinct, like she wants you to mark her there. "You- shit- your hand feels so good, and your mouth-fuck-"

Her words melt into a moan when your teeth sink gently into her collarbone, a warning nip. Your hands hasn't stopped, never stopped- its still stroking the toy strapped tightly to her, slow, steady, agonizing, your thumb dragging over the tip just the way you know makes her stomach clench.

Every time your palm pushes down, her hips lift to meet it. A rhythm's building. Relentless, dirty, controlled entirely by you.

You pull back just enough to look at her face - flushed, pupils blown wide, lashes fluttering from how hard she's trying to keep her eyes open. Her lips are red and slick from your kisses, parted like she's always ready for more.

Vi looks fucked already- and you haven't even really started.

"You keep bucking up like that," you tease, wrapping your hand around the shaft tighter, "I'm gonna think you forgot who's in charge."

Vi let's out a broken whimper, chest arching upward like her body's trying to answer for her, even if her mouth can't.

“I didn’t,” she gasps. “Didn’t forget. I swear, baby—I know you’re in control—I want you in control—just please, please don’t stop.”

Her voice cracks around the last word like a sob, and you reward her with a deep kiss, tongue pushing into her mouth, claiming her all over again. She moans into it, hips rocking hard now, almost desperate, grinding the strap against your hand like she can come from it alone. Like it’s real.

It’s intoxicating.

“You love being my good girl, huh?” You murmur against her lips, kissing her again before she can answer. “Look at you—writhing, panting, fucking needy from just this. You want to cum, don’t you?”

Vi nods frantically, one of her thighs trembling under your weight. “Yes, yes, fuck—please, let me—let me cum—need it so bad, please—”

You slow your strokes suddenly, just to hear the broken cry she makes. She bucks again, but you pull your hand back completely.

“No,” you say softly, fingers curling around the base of the strap, squeezing it but not stroking. “Not yet.”

Vi looks like you slapped her—but god, her eyes go even darker. Hungrier. Her bottom lip trembles.

“But—”

“No,” you repeat, firm this time, leaning in to press your lips against the shell of her ear. “Not until I say. I’m not done playing with you yet.”

You grind down slowly against her stomach, letting your heat drag over the edge of the strap, and she whines—loud.

Your hand slips down between her thighs next, cupping her soaked folds through her panties. She jerks, legs twitching open wider. She’s practically burning through the fabric, and when you press your fingers there, dragging them up the damp cotton, she gasps like she’s the one being stroked again.

“You’re this wet from touching a fake cock, Vi,” you purr, your mouth against her cheek. “What’s gonna happen when I let you fuck me with it, huh? You think you can even last?”

Vi’s hands claw the sheets beside her, knuckles white.

“Fucking—please, let me try,” she begs. “I’ll do anything—anything you want—just let me make you cum, please—need to feel you ride me, baby—”

You grin against her throat, then slide her soaked panties to the side and run two fingers through her slick folds.

Vi’s whole body jolts.

“Ohhh fuck—”

You rub slow circles over her clit, just barely, featherlight, still teasing, still in control. Her hips start grinding again on instinct, her strap forgotten as her pussy takes over—soaking your hand, coating your fingers, her need boiling over.

“You wanna fuck me so bad?” you whisper, fingers sliding just barely inside. “Earn it, then. Cum for me. Right now.”

Vi’s eyes snap open, and you watch them flutter shut again when you sink two fingers into her dripping cunt and curl.

She cums hard—loud, shaking, mouth open in a silent scream before it breaks into a desperate moan. Her thighs tremble, hips jerking wildly as she rides your hand, strap bouncing against her stomach, completely forgotten as her climax crashes over her like a wave she couldn’t stop if she tried.

You hold her through it—fingers deep, lips on hers, your mouth drinking down every gasp, and whimper as she melts beneath you.

Vi’s still panting. Bare chest rising and falling in sharp, stuttering waves, muscles twitching beneath you like she’s short-circuiting.

Her lashes are wet with tears from how hard she came, jaw slack, mouth parted like she’s still trying to catch up. The orgasm hit her like a truck—and she’s still feeling the aftershocks. You can see it in the way her legs shift, the way her stomach flinches under your palm.

And yet she’s still hard. The strap juts from her hips, glistening with your spit and her own arousal from earlier. She looks fucking obscene—spent and wrecked, but nowhere near done.

“Poor thing,” you murmur, dragging your soaked fingers up from between her thighs and smearing the slick across her stomach. “Thought cumming once would save you? That I’d let up just because you’re twitching?”

Vi moans softly, trying to move, trying to press her hips up into you, but her strength is shot. Her voice is raw, fucked-out, but it still pleads.

“I—I can take it,” she breathes, blinking up at you. “I can keep going. Please let me—please let me make you cum.”

Your eyes narrow as you straddle her lap again, letting the base of her strap rub against your soaked folds. Her entire body jerks, a sharp exhale bursting from her lungs as the pressure returns.

“Oh, you will, baby,” you purr darkly. “You’re not done ‘til I say you are.”

You grind down—slow at first, just enough for the thick silicone to drag over your clit. Your breath hitches, and Vi whines when she sees it—when she sees the way your eyes flutter, the way your hips move.

“Fuck—fuck, you look so good like that,” she chokes. “Riding me like it’s yours. It is yours—oh my god—”

Your nails dig into her abs as you adjust your angle, pressing the tip against your entrance, your body already so wet that it slides in easy. Her mouth drops open like she feels it.

Her hands grip the sheets beside her uselessly—tight, trembling, aching to touch you—but you don’t give her the satisfaction. You pin her down with a glare.

“No touching,” you snap. “You watch. You take it.”

Vi bites her lip, nodding like a good girl, and you sink down slowly onto the strap, inch by inch, until your hips are flush against hers.

The toy hits deep. Too deep.

You both moan.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so tight,” Vi rasps, her hips trying to buck upward again, but you slap her thigh—hard—and she jerks.

“Still moving without permission?”

“Sorry—fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it—feels so good when you take me like that—feels real, I swear—”

“Yeah?” You rock your hips deliberately, clenching around nothing but silicone, letting the sound of wet skin slapping fill the room. “It feels real?”

Vi nods frantically, mouth open, panting. “Yes—yes, it does, fuck, I can feel it when you ride me—feels like I’m inside you—I’m losing my mind—please don’t stop—”

You don’t.

You ride her like it’s your favorite way to get off—like her only purpose is being beneath you, hard for you, used by you. The base of the strap hits your clit just right, again and again, each grind bringing a bolt of electricity up your spine.

Vi’s gasping beneath you like every thrust is her orgasm. Her voice is thin, whining, broken.

“F-fuck—you’re gonna make me cum again, and I’m not even inside you, I—fuck—I can’t take it, you’re too much—”

You slam your hips down harder. Vi screams.

You’re chasing your own high now—your pace vicious, fluid-slicked skin slapping together, the room thick with heat and breath and filth. Your fingers grip Vi’s throat—not to choke, just to hold. Just to feel the way she trembles underneath your palm.

“You like this?” You pant. “Like being my toy? Lying there while I fuck myself on you?”

Vi can barely answer—just a strangled, needy moan.

“Yes—yes, I fucking love it—please keep using me, please cum on me—”

Your orgasm crashes like a tidal wave—violent, all-consuming.

You cry out, your body tensing as the strap grinds against your clit again, pushing you into overstimulation. Your thighs shake, stomach clenching, back arching as slick gushes down your thighs and over Vi’s stomach, soaking her.

Vi’s eyes are wide, stunned, in awe. She looks wrecked and obsessed and completely fucking ruined.

You don’t stop moving.

You ride out the aftershocks with slow, deep thrusts, your hands gripping her shoulders now, holding her down as she whimpers beneath you.

And then—

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum again—”

Her body jerks as she bucks upward wildly. Nothing’s touching her. Nothing—but the sight of you losing it on top of her is too much.

She came again.

Loud, messy, helpless.

Her thighs twitch. Her arms give out. Her back arches, and she sobs from how strong it is.

When her hips finally fall limp, you slowly ease off the strap, letting it slip out of your soaked pussy with a lewd, wet sound.

You both lie there in silence for a moment—breathless, sweaty, trembling.

But there’s no gentle touch. No soft smile.

Just your voice, low and dark, as you crawl up beside her ear.

“You’re mine.”

Vi doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yours.”